My childhood shaped my whole world too, Penny thought, as she looked at the sea and, not for the first or last time, thought of her dad. How could she measure her grief? How did a person’s ability to carry on compare with how someone else coped with loss? There was no handbook . . . no ‘how to’ . . . no one-size-fits-all . . . no map.
Chapter 17
For Tess, the ebb and flow of visitors arriving on the island defined the days of the week through the summer. Looking after the Athena and the apartments returned to their annual, well-worn, and mostly smooth routine.
Occasionally, a small drama became an epic production. This particular Sunday had been no exception and by noon, yet another kitten with an infected eye had found its way to the front steps of the Athena, two large bottles of olive oil from the kitchen store had slid to their doom after a shelf collapsed, and Tess had missed Lily’s quick hands and feet, and quirkiness, as she usually provided comfort in the chaos, with a mutual roll of the eyes and a share in the madness. Ina from the village had come to help, but it wasn’t the same.
The boys and Lily’s away-day had been a catalyst for, or coincided with – she wasn’t sure – a down day. A day when Georgios had been at her side, in her mind, and yet painfully absent. He would have exclaimed loudly about shattered bottles of olive oil, cursed a little, then kissed her on the head, poured a beer, and mended the shelf. The cursing would have been more about the loss of the golden nectar bought from local olive growers, whose trees were hundreds of years old.
The kitten was easier to mend. There were still some eye drops left in the bottle the vet had given them for Theo’s kitten, Dora, who had now recovered.
Tess moved briskly from table to table, chatting, clearing, asking the diners if they were okay, and listening to stories of buses missed, dolphins seen on boat trips, fabulous ice cream discovered in Corfu Town, a new silver ring bought for a partner, and irritating mosquito bites. There was never – or rarely – anything new that she hadn’t heard as a complaint or praise.
Everything good, bad, and all points in between was exaggerated on holiday by the heat and heightened emotions. Even a small lizard minding its own business, nestling in a cool corner of a bedroom, became an international incident in one visitor’s eyes.
As she worked, with Spiro and Theo in support, she tried to pull herself back into the present, grateful for all that she had: for the full tables that meant a financially stress-free winter ahead and the friends who helped her carry on.
The only empty table was the small one by the sea wall, and she wondered what sort of day Penny was having. She smiled to herself as she imagined Guy, narrowly resisting carrying a flag or umbrella, leading the group and where he didn’t know stuff, making it up.
She’d heard him tell two older ladies that Roger Moore had dined regularly at the Athena when making a Bond film on the island years before. He’d built on stories from Spiro, about how he’d met the actor when he’d been making a Bond film – ‘Charming and wonderful man. We didn’t want him to leave Corfu.’ – and Guy had then invented the Athena tale around that. Tess guessed that Penny knew her Durrell history and a little part of her hoped that Guy would be kindly but firmly corrected if he went off on too many flights of fancy.
By mid-afternoon and the pull of a nap in cooler rooms, a lull interrupted the flow of diners and drinkers. Only Simon, the cookery doyen, sat with a day-old newspaper and a carafe of red wine, and a young couple contemplated food for the first time that day, after an early-morning return from Corfu Town.
Nic walked into this peaceful moment to receive a high-five from Theo and a warm hug from Spiro.
‘Have you eaten?’ Spiro was already heading in the direction of the kitchen, worried as always that people weren’t eating enough food to sustain them.
‘I’m fine. Good day?’
Spiro shrugged his shoulders to indicate it was normal for a Sunday and sat back down to admire Theo’s new drawing.
Nic looked across and saw Tess laughing at something a diner was saying; clearly a tall tale, as she appeared attentive and engaged.
He’d seen that face so many times over the last few years, knew what that smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes meant. She was having one of those days where the past was painfully present, when memories of Georgios turned on her, and reminded her of her loss.
Tess looked up, saw Nic, and gave him a smile that confirmed her low ebb. ‘Busy day?’ Nic took Tess’s tray as she nodded. He followed her back to the bar. Theo ran up and grabbed his mother around the waist, the new kitten in his other hand.
‘Mama, I think the drops are working already. Look, her eye has opened.’
Nic knew that Tess wouldn’t want him to take the drinks order, or suggest she sat down and had a five-minute break. Tess knew he knew; understood that he had seen the truth behind her eyes, but knew he would never acknowledge it. It never helped her if she stopped. The hand that rested briefly on her arm as she stepped behind the bar to make up the order sufficed.
‘Theo, you’re doing a fantastic job with that kitten.’ Tess took her son’s small face between her hands and kissed him on the forehead.
‘Theo, shall we take a walk down to the harbour?’ Nic smiled at his godson.
‘We will go,’ said Spiro, taking his grandson by the hand. ‘There’s a new yacht on the horizon and I have some excellent binoculars. Perhaps the captain will wave to us. Before we go, ask Anna if she has some fruit, Theo. We need food for our journey.’
Spiro winked at Tess and walked away to wait for Theo on the steps.
‘I can do the welcome if it helps,’ Nic offered, taking his hat off and placing it carefully behind the bar.
Tess accepted gratefully, even though Nic wasn’t really needed at this quiet hour. He never made things more difficult, never asked anything of her, nor questioned her moods or decisions. That meant so much more than any email from an old friend in England, or the well-intentioned but casual ‘How are you?’ delivered with a concerned face by many others.
Tess knew, or at least felt, that they didn’t really want to hear how it really felt to be a widow. Even after only a few weeks had passed, it had seemed, understandably perhaps, that others had already moved on with their lives and expected her to do the same.
Slowly, she had adjusted and learned to live with a differently shaped family – part of which was Nic. And in the summer, when his Panama hat lay behind the bar and he sat with Theo and Spiro just enjoying the silence between good friends, or talking animatedly about the beauty of Corfu’s ancient ruined city of Paleopolis, all seemed well.
Nic was a unique and, at times, bafflingly vague man, but she realized he embodied a key part of the armour she wore to face the world.
Even when he wasn’t here.
Chapter 18
The journey home from Mouse Island was quiet. The afternoon sun had crept stealthily upon the group and sapped their energy, even before they returned to the car.
Penny glanced at a dozing Lily on the back seat, earbuds in place as she half-listened to her music, no doubt tired by the heat and her earlier revelations. Rich stared out of the window, thoughtful, reminiscent of a tired child after a day at the seaside. Guy glanced at his phone as the scenery flew by, then turned to Penny.
‘You didn’t tell us the reason you’re here and all the Durrells stuff. Why are you so interested in them?’
Penny sighed. ‘It started twenty years or so ago, when my dad gave me Gerald Durrell’s book My Family and Other Animals. I was 13, covered in spots, and it was a miserable February Sunday afternoon. Can you imagine turning the pages to find all this?’ Penny gestured at the sea in its best watercolour blue and the deep green cypress trees swaying rhythmically in the breeze. ‘I loved it so much that I promised myself I’d come here one day. I always assumed it might be with my dad or a friend. But I broke up with my fiancé at the end of last year, at the same time as my dad died. So, that’s why I’m here now, on my own, enjoy
ing the first chance I’ve had to make it happen – a dream come true, if you like, but not quite the way I imagined.’
Guy shifted in the passenger seat and adjusted his seatbelt. He hadn’t expected the answer she’d given and wanted to be reassured she wasn’t about to cry.
‘So, how’s it been so far? Why is it not quite the way you imagined?’ he asked.
‘It’s everything I thought it would be, but still nothing like I imagined. Does that make sense?’ Penny said eventually. ‘The original Strawberry Villa isn’t there any more, but it sort of is, as the view, the smells, the hillside, the trees, the sea haven’t moved. I looked out at one of the olive trees clinging to the hillside behind and wondered if Gerry had ever climbed it, or dozed under it, with Roger the dog lying by his side.’
Guy thought about all the things he’d tried to be positive about in life. So far, his approach had yielded nothing other than disappointment. Things had been everything he’d hoped they wouldn’t be, and just how he’d imagined. His family had never been the same after the day his mother announced she was going to live with someone else.
‘Yes, I see what you mean. At least, I think you mean you’re glad you’re here.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Penny responded and smiled, conscious that Guy had leapfrogged over the break-up and her dad’s death.
‘Great!’ Guy replied.
For the last few miles of the pleasant, winding road back to St George South, Penny drove in companionable silence.
On Corfu at a certain point in the day, the heat sometimes overpowered visitors and residents alike, and the cool of an air-conditioned room beckoned. For some, if out on the water, the sea air took the tiredness out of the humidity and a contemplative doze, or behatted sunbathe, replaced the full-on nap. After a day out, all four travellers were ready for time apart and a change of pace.
As they parted outside the Athena, Guy and Rich went into the bar, and Penny and Lily walked home, down the small lane.
Penny began to climb the marbled steps to her apartment as Lily wandered on to her staff accommodation. ‘I’m in Apartment 10 if you need anything,’ Penny called after her.
Lily waved her thanks and kept walking.
Penny mused how a place could be so exhilarating and energizing and yet leave her, at times, with a lethargy that almost felt like being drunk. Sensory overload? Too many new sights and experiences to process? Perhaps. But the less time there was to brood on recent months, the better. Today she’d seen someone else trapped in a similar way, but starting, she hoped, to share and acknowledge her pain.
She passed a couple in their thirties and noticed they were holding hands and carrying their beach towels, probably on their way to the pool. There was nothing like seeing an affectionate couple to bring home the stark reality of being on her own; to remember how it felt to have a partner, make plans, feel secure.
And Penny saw them everywhere – or at least noticed them more. She remembered a friend telling her that after she’d had a miscarriage, she’d seen a pregnant woman every time she turned a corner.
In the cool refuge of her room, her shoulders drooped and exhaustion hit her as she sat down on the bed, then flopped backwards with a sigh onto the soft cotton covers.
Flashbacks of Bruce when they’d first met appeared, causing her forehead to crease in a mixture of sadness and annoyance. Why did he keep making unwelcome visits, pushing his way into her head? The voicemail she’d decided to ignore was still not forgotten.
The remembered morsels and memories of happiness were just that – snapshots, rare moments and from long ago. In reality, now Penny had a chance to look back from a safe distance, their relationship had felt more like a habit than a happy union.
In moments of solitude, when the walls didn’t so much close in as host shadow-puppet vignettes of the good bits of her life with Bruce, she found herself raking back over the ashes of what had gone wrong and why.
Splitting up had been a relief, but even so, right wasn’t always easy and the dark room intensified her desolation and sadness. The fact that the only person she might have shared all of these thoughts with – her dad – had gone, completed the circle of grief.
With these thoughts running unbidden around her head, she fell into a dream-infused and sketchy sleep.
Chapter 19
That Sunday night the Athena evoked a quiet, mellow feeling that was unusual in the middle of a busy season, despite the natural lull between departing guests and those about to arrive.
Nic sat by the entrance with Spiro and Theo. The yacht Spiro and Theo had gone to look at more closely twinkled on the horizon, lit up like a small precious jewel, blinking from its anchorage.
A large coach pulled up outside and two reps from another tour company hopped off, as the driver started to unload the suitcases and holdalls. Tess looked across at Nic with a wry smile, as if to say, ‘Here we go. Give them twenty minutes to settle into their rooms and they’ll be back for food.’
There were of course many excellent options when it came to dining in St George, but as the coaches quite often dropped off new holidaymakers near the Athena, and as it looked so inviting, on guests’ first night the restaurant was invariably a popular choice, for which Tess felt eternally grateful.
With the foaming edges of the sea below and the beautifully arranged tables, the restaurant’s setting conveyed the impression it had been staged by a theatrical set designer – a homage to technicolour dreams and the undiluted charisma of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant.
Tess recollected sitting at a table by the sea with Georgios, on their first date. She had never smiled so much or felt so relaxed and happy. No doubt the passage of time, accompanied by hindsight and reflection, added an extra glow to the powerful memory.
Back at the bar, as Nic placed some clean glasses back on the shelves, Tess paused to whisper, ‘I think we’d better check that there’s a bottle of champagne or prosecco on ice.’ She nodded discreetly in the direction of a table she’d just guided a young couple to.
‘Ah, so you think you’ve detected an imminent proposal?’ Nic raised his eyebrows in mock excitement.
‘Maybe,’ said Tess. ‘Care for a bet?’
‘I would be foolish to accept, as I’m clearly in the presence of a gifted psychic and relationship expert,’ Nic replied and laughed.
‘Something funny?’ Lily asked, stepping behind the bar and picking up her apron and order pad.
‘Tess thinks the couple over at the far table may be engaged by the end of the evening.’ Nic tapped the side of his nose.
‘Well, she’s usually right about that sort of thing,’ Lily responded, tying back her hair as she spoke.
‘On to other matters – why are you here?’ Tess asked. ‘It’s your day off.’
‘I had a day off and then a good sleep, and thought you might need some help with the new-arrivals rush. I hadn’t got anything planned for the rest of the night.’
‘I can see I’m not needed here,’ Nic said. ‘My godson has disappeared with his grandfather, and I have a parrot that needs company,’ he joked. ‘Seriously though,’ Nic continued, ‘I do have some papers I need to look at. As you know, even in the holidays, Athens and the one or two students who don’t know how to stop, keep me on my toes.’
‘I absolutely understand the “being kept on your toes” bit.’ Tess smoothed the front of her dress and added, ‘I’m going to check on that champagne and prosecco . . . just in case.’
‘I’ve promised Theo I’ll be back on Wednesday to take him out to the olive mill. I’ve arranged with Kostas for him to see the whole process. The mill isn’t running, but all the machinery, the groves, the donkeys, and the shop can be visited.’
‘He’ll love that, Nic, and so I will let you go. I can’t bear to think of Ulysses with no one to talk to all evening.’
Nic grabbed his Panama and waved goodnight.
Chapter 20
Penny woke from a sleep in which she’d emptied the overfilled
filing cabinet of her head into a series of disconnected, anxious, and frighteningly real dreams. The atmosphere they’d created remained with her as she opened the shutters to let in the warmth and the dying rays of mellow light.
One of the many scenes that had played out featured the hospice that had become like a second home in the last weeks of her dad’s life. In her dream, through an open window, she could hear a car horn every few seconds, and knew it was Bruce, sitting in his old sports car, angry and impatient, expecting her to run out and leave with him.
Even the Durrells had made an appearance, joining her for a brief moment in Corfu Town as she sat with a coffee and cake, and they reassured her that they’d never left and were so glad she’d come to visit.
Still feeling odd and disorientated, although glad to be awake, Penny showered and found comfort in the simple routine of washing, dressing, and drying her hair.
As she walked along the now-familiar lane, the small lamps lit up as she passed them, and she knew that she’d head straight for the Athena for dinner. Her more adventurous friends might have said, ‘Why not try somewhere new? This is your chance to do whatever you like.’
But I am doing whatever I like, thought Penny as she walked across the small road to the Athena. This is what I like.
As her mobile buzzed unheard in her bag, she couldn’t help wondering if Dimitris would be there. There was no reason why he should be, he had his own place in Corfu Town, but then again if he was fishing tomorrow . . .
Located at her favourite table, Penny relaxed into her chair and took a few deep breaths of the evening air. The tang of dusty earth and wild mint wafted from the surrounding mountains.
Looking for the Durrells Page 9