Looking for the Durrells

by Melanie Hewitt

  ‘Have a good day. I’ll see you later,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Please, call me if you need anything. Whether I’m here or on the boat, it doesn’t matter. I can be there. Okay?’ he said.

  ‘Dimitris, I’ll be fine. How could I not be? It’s incredible here.’

  He nodded and said, ‘Great. See you later.’ Then, with a wave, he was gone.

  She watched him go. He walked away without looking back, the backdrop of the rising hills behind him, the olives, cypress trees, and pale houses like a painting.

  It was Nancy’s painting spirit that she tried to find, carried on the sea breeze, as she paid for her sunbed and established herself on the beach. It was so hot, the parasol’s shade felt like a friend.

  Dimitris had passed her a folded A4 copy of the White House menu, in case she wanted a preview and extra time to study it. It fell out of the pocket of her shorts as she sat down. She would look at it later.

  Glancing at her watch she saw she had just under two hours before her lunch reservation, so she decided to paint a few loose pictures of what she could see from this spot and then wander for half an hour or so, along the beach, before noon. She could then spend the rest of her time in and around Larry and Nancy’s home, either at her table, in the lounge, or out on the rocks.

  Squinting from underneath her sun hat and with her hand shielding her eyes, she stepped out from the shade to get a clearer view of the Antiopi across the bay. The becalmed yacht looked like a sleeping sea creature, rocked gently by the calm water around it. How had Dimitris bought his beautiful boat? Did he get a mortgage? Perhaps not, as he said he had a place in Corfu Town; but was that rented, she wondered idly?

  Laying out her paints and pencils, from her rucksack she pulled two small wooden boards she’d prepared the night before, with stretched watercolour paper.

  The White House was to her right, framed by smaller boats along the jetty, the hills, and edges of a green and lush bay. She told herself it didn’t really matter how she captured what was in front of her. Whenever she looked back at the little paintings, they would instantly carry her back to this day, this experience. More potent than a photograph, her paint carried all the emotions she was feeling, right down to her fingertips.

  Idly she thought about painting Dimitris. Which features would she find difficult to translate onto paper? Would he be a good sitter?

  She laughed at herself then, imagining the double pressure of remaining detached and professional, studying every inch of that remarkable face. ‘So, you’re conceding that today, are you?’ she spoke to herself, adding. ’A remarkable face, eh? That’s a neutral endorsement. What you really mean is beautiful, handsome, and magnetic; a face you want to reach out to and touch. More than a muse, or a model; a face you could fall in love with.’

  Out loud she answered herself with, ‘Yes, you could . . . I could. Perhaps I am.’

  Chapter 43

  Just before noon Penny sat on the wall outside the White House, checking her phone and glancing back through the photos she’d taken that morning. She’d had no response from Bruce to the message she’d sent, and hoped that would be the last of it; but she had a niggling feeling that, once she returned home to England, she might hear from him again. When Bruce wanted something, he was usually persistent and single-minded. If he wanted to talk to her, he would find a way. But that was something for another day, another place.

  Before lunch, in a setting anticipated with such joy, she cleared her mind, creating a blank canvas ready for all the sensations and images to fill it up.

  ‘Hello, Penny,’ Harry said, with Mary two steps behind, still studying a map.

  ‘Hi, have you had a good morning?’ Penny stood up, ready to walk into the restaurant.

  ‘Really great,’ enthused Mary, taking off her backpack to put her map away. ‘Nothing like a good walk to get you ready for a big lunch.’

  They didn’t ask her if she’d like to join their table, for which Penny was grateful. They must have picked up that she wanted to be on her own.

  Guided to a table on the small stone terrace that ran along the front of the restaurant’s sea-facing walls, Penny ordered a small carafe of rosé. She’d travelled into town that morning on the early bus so that she could have a couple of glasses of wine, and was thinking of treating herself to a taxi home. Harry and Mary sat a few tables away. She’d seen nothing of Dimitris since he’d wandered off to see his friend.

  Lunch ordered, she rested her arm across the back of her chair, so that she could see the bay in front of her and the sea at her feet.

  Dad, you would have loved this, she thought wistfully, putting down her glass for a moment and reaching into her pocket for a tissue.

  Her face felt warm, but the tear that fell before she could check it was hot, carving a channel down her face, like lava. She dabbed discreetly at her face, making it look as though she was wiping rivulets of sweat away.

  It was good to be here at last, in this magical place, but this place needed to be shared with someone. Harry and Mary were a fussy, slightly eccentric couple, but they were very much a couple. They operated as a unit, a duo, friends and companions, sharing experiences, good and bad, still delighting in each other’s company.

  The splendid isolation that she’d imagined the holiday would bring her, a time to heal, had turned out to be more about other people than any other break she’d been on. So many lives, loving, complex, and beautifully imperfect, had become part of hers in so many ways.

  Other human beings were so important to her wellbeing, and the main ingredient of an enriched and loving life. But she also needed someone special to share it with.

  Looking around, she saw that the tables were full of couples, families, and groups of friends.

  Remembering why she’d wanted to be here, on Corfu of all places, she turned to the stone house and placed her palm flat on its cool exterior. On the other side of this thick and seemingly impregnable wall, two creatives had lived, loved, laughed, and discovered life and each other, in a moment in time, never to be repeated, punctuated by naked moonlit swims and the realities, as well as the wonders, of life far from the madding crowd.

  The love hadn’t lasted, the parting of ways had come, but it had been a life, an experience, something rich and unique that had shaped them. All the old wives’ tales and sayings about love and life started to flow into Penny’s head. As with all these things a thread of truth was woven through them.

  When the salad arrived, it looked like a still life: green peppers and shiny purple-black Kalamata olives, crumbling, creamy feta, tomatoes that looked like they’d been grown in a giant’s garden, and red onion glistening between the cucumber, all touched with a delicate herb-infused dressing. The rosé complemented it perfectly, making Penny feel as though she could eat this meal every day for the rest of her life. She closed her eyes to savour the moment again.

  When she opened them, Dimitris was standing in front of her.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Do we need to get back to the boat?’

  ‘No, not yet. There’s plenty of time. May I join you?’ He gestured towards the chair.

  ‘Yes, of course. Please do. Would you like a drink?’

  One of the waiters had clearly seen Dimitris arrive and looked over to their table.

  Dimitris turned and the waiter came over and a jug of iced water was ordered.

  ‘I was half-hoping you’d help me finish this carafe of rosé, but you’re our pilot, our captain, and need to keep a clear head.’

  ‘I can’t drink, but whether or not I have a clear head is another matter,’ he said, leaning on the table, his chin resting on his hands.

  Penny suddenly felt as though he was studying her more closely than he had before. Having finished her salad she leaned back, hoping an inch or two further back would lessen the intensity of the stare.

  Before he could say anything, she chatted nervously, curious but vaguely anxious about what he was going to say, subconsciously
wanting to delay it.

  ‘In case I forget to tell you, I’d just like to say that the Antiopi is exquisite. She’s a thing of beauty. How long have you had her?’

  ‘I bought her about eighteen months after I came back from London. I wanted to sail when I wasn’t fishing – any excuse to be out there, at sea.’ He paused.

  ‘Then throughout the first summer I was asked over and over again if I would take people up or down the coast, or around the island, and that’s how it started. From April to October I am on the water most days, whether in the Dora or Antiopi.’

  Penny wanted to ask how much the yacht had cost, but kept quiet.

  ‘Do you love the sea, or need the sea?’ she asked instead. ‘Or both?’

  He watched her closely, drinking his water and then looking over her shoulder to the bay. ‘Both, I think. It has been my life for a long time now.’

  ‘You make it sound like you’re 100 years old, but you can’t be 40 yet.’

  ‘No, not quite. I was 35 when I came back from England.’

  He looked vaguely amused now and Penny let the silence carry on, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘Can I buy you a drink? They have some amazing cocktails here.’ He smiled.

  ‘No, thank you very much. I’ve had enough alcohol. The wine is wonderful but heady and I think there are probably maritime laws about tipsy passengers. Coffee would be great though.’

  Penny took out her phone to show Dimitris some of the photos she’d taken.

  ‘Would you like me to take a photo for you, to prove you were here?’ he asked and when she started to shake her head, he insisted firmly, but with good humour.

  ‘Don’t move, Penny. That’s perfect,’ he said as he took the shot. ‘You have to have at least one photo of yourself on holiday.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said putting the phone back, changing her mind about showing him the photos. ‘I’d like to take a few more on the Antiopi. As an illustrator, I have so many photos, like a library where I can find any object if I need to draw it. Even a yacht.’

  Then before he could say anything else, she said: ‘Did you have a nice catch-up with your friend?’

  ‘With Maria? Yes. She’s a very special woman. My time with her always feels like a gift. I’m lucky to have her in my life.’

  The coffees arrived, the clock moving ever closer towards 2 p.m. It had been thoughtful of him to give her time on her own today, but she was glad now he was here. It felt good, it felt right.

  ‘Have you known Maria long?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, years.’’

  ‘I see.’ Penny hoped he couldn’t read her face. Maria had in nanoseconds become the worshipped, but coy, exquisitely beautiful, potential girlfriend he had pursued on and off since his youth.

  She sipped her coffee, inhaling the fresh, aromatic smell as she did. Then seeing he was doing the same thing, she laughed and said, ‘We look like one of those terrible adverts for coffee, where everyone takes their coffee far too seriously and the message is if they choose a particular brand, they will lead an enchanted life full of glamour, riches, and romance.’

  Before Dimitris could reply, Harry suddenly appeared. ‘Hello, both. I don’t want to interrupt, but Mary and I are finished now and we’re going to sit on the jetty. So, no hurry. I know it’s not quite 2 p.m., but whenever you’re ready to get back on the boat, we are too.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ Penny said, almost as though she were pleading for more time visiting a loved one in jail before execution.

  She wanted to be with this man, suddenly feeling brave enough to go with the flow of whatever it was, or could be. Less about feeling confident and sure, and more about not closing the door on what life could bring.

  She even felt courageous enough to fight the unseen Maria for him, who in her imagination was already indignant about her spending time with Dimitris.

  Chapter 44

  The journey home to Corfu Town had a quieter feel. Harry and Mary planted themselves near the front of the boat, sitting on the deck to enjoy the feel of the sea breeze as the Antiopi cut through the waves like a flying fish.

  When Penny looked over at them, she couldn’t tell behind their sunglasses if they were dozing, but Harry’s hand had fallen to one side and the pages of Mary’s book remained unturned.

  Basil was cleaning the cabin below, after offering everyone refreshments once again, which were declined with thanks. The lunch at the White House had left them all comfortably sated and content.

  Penny felt a little dozy herself and edged her way to the back of the boat behind Dimitris, where there was a small seating area. She’d taken a few photographs of the boat as they’d approached it from the water and then as they’d left Kalami behind.

  She breathed in the sea air and let the rise and fall of the boat lull her into, if not sleep, then a state of calm and peace.

  As she passed Dimitris, she smiled and pointed to where she was heading. He nodded and returned the smile. She understood why the sea pulled Dimitris out onto a boat every day.

  The light now was golden, and gilded the polished metal and sleek sides of the yacht, making each cove along the ever-changing shoreline look like an undiscovered Shangri-la. Penny watched Dimitris from behind her sunglasses. He had his back to her as he steered, but she could see his profile, just as she’d seen him for the first time in the Athena.

  It felt different now. He seemed different, less mysterious and more real.

  These thoughts and many others danced around in her head as she closed her eyes and the Antiopi carried them home.

  Basil’s voice made her open her eyes as he came up from the cabin and Penny spotted the old fortress ahead.

  She stood up to get the best view for the last few minutes on the boat, slipped, and banged her arm as she steadied herself.

  Dimitris turned around to see what was happening. ‘I’m fine, really. Just a daft thing to do. I forgot I was on a boat.’

  ‘How are you on the back of a motorbike?’

  ‘Motorbike?’ she asked, thinking for some strange reason of stunt riders in action films. An image of her clinging on and Dimitris careering around corners flashed before her eyes.

  ‘Yes. You said you took the bus into town this morning. I have a motorbike and when we get into port, I’m riding back to St George. So, I can take you, if you were planning on heading straight back.’ He checked her reaction, wondering what she was going to say.

  ‘Well, I was planning to get straight back, but I haven’t been on a motorbike before, so if there’s a knack to it and I don’t have it, you might regret making the offer.’

  ‘There’s no knack. You just hold on to me.’ He turned back to concentrate as they came into the port.

  Harry and Mary stood, ready to disembark. Basil handed them their backpacks.

  ‘Okay. Thank you. That would be great.’ Penny tried to sound more confident and cooler than she felt inside.

  ‘Great.’ Seconds later the Antiopi was safely back at her berth.

  After farewells to Harry and Mary and a handshake and tip for Basil, Penny found herself walking across the car park with Dimitris, who was carrying two helmets, one of which he handed to her as they reached his motorbike.

  The next forty-five minutes were both thrilling and terrifying. She got used to the sway and manoeuvres of the bike, the press of air, and how close she felt to the road rushing by.

  Even at just 30 miles an hour, the bike felt fast to Penny. They reached Benitses in what seemed like five minutes and Penny was able to glance quickly at home of the baklava, but was then distracted by an aircraft overhead.

  The sensations she remembered most, though, were her arms around Dimitris’s body and the sheer terror and speed of it all. She’d never been close enough to him before to feel his warmth, to hold onto him for this long. She felt like a twenty-first-century version of a Regency heroine riding behind her sweetheart on horseback.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to memorize th
e sensation in her mind in case it never happened again. She felt about 16, giddy, uninhibited, and part of the world she had, until a few minutes ago, felt as though she was just visiting – a tourist. Her face glowed, her arms still had a salty, suntan-lotion feel. She laughed out loud at the thought of what she was doing, where she was, who she was with. The joy of the moment bubbled up from inside like champagne.

  As they turned onto the Main Road in St George South, Dimitris slowed down and they glided to a halt outside the Athena.

  As he switched off the engine Penny unbuckled the chin strap of her helmet and took it off. She shook her head to revive her hair, before even thinking about trying to climb off –hopefully with as little fuss as possible.

  Putting one leg to the floor, it was easy to dismount.

  She stood on the steep pavement, but Dimitris didn’t move.

  ‘Thanks, that was an experience. I mean exhilarating,’ she added in case he thought she was being sarcastic. She smiled broadly at him, and handed back her helmet.

  He took it and looped it over his wrist. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘And thank you again. I’ve had a wonderful day.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m going to my father’s now, as we’re out in the Dora early tomorrow, so I’m staying here tonight. Are you eating here later?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Do you know the little bar near the harbour? The Mediterranean?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I had a drink there the other night.’

  ‘Would you like to meet up for a drink, say around 7 p.m., before dinner?’

  She felt a pull towards him in that moment, an urge to lean towards him and kiss him goodbye. So, she did. She could taste the salt on his mouth. ‘See you at 7 p.m.’

  He rode off and she stepped across the road and walked slowly down the lane to the apartments.

  It was just after 4 p.m. She felt tired and yet more alive than she could ever remember. There was an inner lightness, a skipping sensation in her middle, and an impulsive need to giggle, like a teenager.