‘No, I’ve just arrived.’
‘Oh, they were good.’
‘I know. I’ve seen them before.’
‘My name’s Adam by the way.’
‘Katherine.’
‘You’re American?’
‘No, Canadian.’
‘Oh sorry.’
‘It’s ok. It happens all the time’
‘Where about in Canada are you from?’
‘Toronto.’
‘What are you studying?’
‘Primary Education. I’m in my third year.’
‘Dito. I haven’t seen you about. I’m in my second.’
She picked up her tray of drinks. ‘Well then, maybe I will see you around, nice speaking to you Adam, bye.’
‘Yeah, hopefully, see you around, Katherine.’
After that, he did not see her for a week, and then, one morning between lectures, he literally bumped into her in the library, sending a pile of papers hurtling towards the polished wooden floor. That second encounter was the start of their life together, although such a prospect was furthest from their minds, as Adam crouched beside Katherine, apologising profusely, as he helped her in scooping up the intermingled pages of her journal articles.
Chapter 11
Gracie
Coffee brown eyes, large and deep, stare at Adam. A melancholic look he finds captivating but also doleful. There is a definite personality reflected through her gaze, he is sure of that. It radiates towards him, in warm currents, whenever they are together. The dog’s head turns
sheepishly towards the sound of a creaking door, her ears twitch, but she soon loses interest and again turns her attention towards Adam. Her nose twitches and nostrils flay. Adam pulls towards her eyes again. Eyelashes, short silk needles, blink involuntarily. Adam wonders if the dog is contemplating a decision to stay or move through the house in search of food, or a place to sleep.
She remains seated, content to feel his hand massage behind a floppy ear. She lifts her head and presses it luxuriantly against his kneading fingers. The dog yawns and smacks its lips.
‘A dog’s life, what a ridiculous saying,’ Adam says, out loud.
The rain slides down the window; he watches its trajectory along the glass. Giant tears falling from the sky, he thinks to himself and grins at the poetic substance of his thought.
He will need to take the dog for a walk soon, and hopes for a break in the weather. Fifteen minutes is all it will take, but the sky looks stubborn in its leaded complexion.
‘You had a long walk this morning, missing one this afternoon won’t do you any harm,’ he tells the dog, whose ears twitch at the word, ‘walk.’
Adam remembers reading somewhere that dogs can recognise around twenty words. The dog’s hopeful eyes scan Adam’s body language for any sign he is about to undertake the daily routine of fetching the lead from the cupboard and pocketing snacks, a poo bag, and mobile phone. Sometimes, all it takes is for Adam to retrieve his headphones from a drawer, to send the dog into an excited stupor, running into the hallway, sliding the rug along the floor, and standing to attention at the front door, tail wagging in anticipation.
He gives the dog a small treat, a peace offering, and pats its head. ‘Not to worry Gracie, this time, tomorrow, you’ll be home again.’
For the past week, Adam and Gracie have been getting acquainted with one another, after Adam offered to look after Gracie, for his sister, who is due to return from a holiday in Gran Canaria the next morning.
Gracie’s kennels was ravaged by a fire the day before Adam’s sister was due to depart, and he felt obliged to look after the dog.
He has become acquainted with the local dog walking community during his twice-daily walks. He ventures out at the same time each day, early morning and evening. Normally, he will come across the same dog walkers, offering a polite greeting: given their shared commonality, it feels the customary thing to do. Some often comment on Gracie, what a lovely dog she is, so well behaved, others ask after Gracie’s age. The conversation graduates to Adam’s, by now, well-recited monologue of how he came to be
watching his sister’s dog. These encounters skip around the periphery of conversation; after all, Adam is only a casual dog walker and will never be admitted into the Kelvinside fraternity of dog walkers.
He makes himself a coffee and checks his e-mails, one, in particular, catching his attention. A hot sensation jumps in his chest. He notices Georgia has sent it half an hour ago. It has his itinerary: flight number, flight time, Georgia will pick him up at the airport. She also reminds him to check in online a few days before departure and he grins at her thoroughness. It is now real. It will happen.
Chapter 12
The Professor’s Letter
He is sitting outside at a pavement café, on Great Western Road; Gracie is slumped at his feet, slurping water from a bowl that a waitress has brought. Adam reaches for his coffee and leans back in his chair. Around him, murmured conversation blends with piped music that emits from the café’s interior. His mobile rings. The rumble of the midday traffic and screeching brakes make the voice distant like in a tunnel; the woman at the table next to him laughs, a high-pitched falsetto that at once irritates him. He frowns.
‘Hello, Sally, I can hardly hear you.’
‘I’ll be there in a second, I can see you.’
Adam looks. He can see Sally crossing the road, her mobile clamped to her ear. Adam waves. ‘I’ve got you a coffee.’
‘Lovely, did you get a slice of their lemon cake, I had it yesterday. It was to die for.’
‘I followed your orders to the letter.’ Adam grins.
‘Oh, you’re a darling.’ Sally quickens her pace.
She sits down beside him, flicking strands of hair from her nose.
‘I didn’t know you had a dog.’ She pats Gracie’s head.
‘She’s my sister’s; I’m looking after her while she’s on holiday.’
‘What’s her name? She’s adorable.’
‘Gracie.’
Gracie pricks up her ears and turns to Adam, inquisitively hoping for food.
‘I’m taking her home today; her holiday is at an end. No more treats for you.’
Gracie smacks her lips.
Sally takes a sip of coffee. ‘Ah, that’s better, my first caffeine injection of the day. So, how’s things, Adam?’
‘Fine.’
Sally brushes her hand through her hair then removes some stubborn strands from her face. ‘I suppose I’d better put this out, don’t want to be anti-social.’ She nods towards the ‘No Smoking’ sign. Adam watches the smoke exhale from her mouth before she drops the cigarette into an empty can of coke.
‘You would have thought the table would’ve been cleared before you ordered.’ She shakes the can and her cigarette hisses. ‘The standards have obviously dropped since it was bought over. I’m glad you phoned, I was meaning to do it myself but work keeps getting in the way. We’re so busy at this time of year, as you know, while you jump ship.’ She smiles sarcastically.
‘Thanks for coming. I wanted to explain why I’m doing this. It’s not a reflection on the department. I wanted to make that clear.’
She lets a smile grow on her face. ‘Adam how long have you known me? I could tell for months you’ve not been happy. It happens to the best of us you know. I took a break once, call it a sabbatical or whatever, it doesn’t matter but what mattered was that I knew it was the right thing to do at the time and you need to be sure of that too.’
Adam seems astonished. ‘What did you do?’
‘I went off and met up with an old friend.’
‘And who was this old friend?’
‘Professor Tzakis Konstantinos, remember I told you about him at the restaurant? He teaches ancient Greek and Roman history in the History Department.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘And guess where? At the Ionian University in Corfu. I was miserable, and he cheered me up…’ Sally pauses for effect. ‘We were both young and back then,
well, I was impressionable. It was the happiest six months of my life.’
‘Well, I never. Talk about skeletons in the cupboard.’
‘We thought we loved each other, I suppose we did, in our way, but it wasn’t real love, it was an escape, an escape from everything that was real. I thought I’d find all the answers to my questions. The answers were always there, inside me, I’d just not figured it out. You can’t hide you see.’
‘From what?’
‘From the person you are.’ Sally touches his hand. ‘Are you sure about this Adam? You’ve turned down the opportunity to do valuable research that could change people’s lives.’
‘At least if it’s a mistake then it’s my mistake. I’ll have no one to blame but myself.’
‘Ah, self-responsibility, I like that.’ She looks at him attentively.
‘Dr Williams, Head of Autism Studies, eloping with her Greek lover. What a scandal.’ Adam teases.
‘It wasn’t like that and I wasn’t head of anything back then.’
‘Well, what was it, intellectual flirting?’
‘We’re still good friends you know,’ Sally says, drinking more coffee. ‘After all these years, we’ve stayed in touch.’
‘Do you still see him?’
‘At the occasional conference… dinner and a night cap. We’re just two old friends now. There’s been a lot of water under the bridge for God’s sake. In between, we’ve both been married and divorced.’ She takes a slice of cake. ‘You must try the cake, Adam.’ Sally pushes the plate towards him. She pulls a piece of paper from her bag. ‘This is Tzakis’ mobile number. I’ve already told him you’re staying in Corfu. You can get in touch with him at any time. In fact, he’d love to show you the around the island.’
‘That’s kind of him, but he doesn’t even know me.’
‘He knows me, obviously.’ Sally pauses and smiles. ‘And I told him you were a dear friend I’d worry about, so he’s more than happy to help.’
‘It’s unnecessary but thanks, anyway.’
She studies him for a moment. ‘Do you know much about the boy?’
‘Enough.’
‘And the mother?’
‘I think this is hard for her. I get the feeling she’s almost been pushed into this. She doesn’t give much away.’
‘Is she pretty?’
‘Sally, it’s a professional arrangement, I never noticed.’
Sally’s nose creases as she laughs. ‘Really, come on Adam, is she attractive?’
‘Not in a classic way, but yes, she’s agreeable to the eye.’ Adam grins and then at once feels he has betrayed Georgia, as if he has tainted their arrangement. He feels a sudden rush of guilt. ‘It’s not like that.’ He corrects himself.
Sally grins apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I was only teasing. What about the husband, you’ve said little about him.’
‘I know. I’ve not met him yet. I don’t think he’s around much. He seems to be always away on business.’
‘Is he going to be in Corfu?’
‘Not all the time. I feel a bit awkward about that. He has some project in Spain. He’s into property development seemingly.’
‘It’s a long way from Spain to Greece. I couldn’t imagine he’d do that every week.’
Adam shrugs. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘So it’s just you, the boy and his mother.’
‘I suppose so, although, I think she gets some help around the house, there’s someone who looks after it.’
The day Georgia offered Adam the job, she enquired if he had any dietary intolerance. Her mother’s old housekeeper still kept an eye on the house in Corfu and would stock the kitchen ready for their arrival. He had wondered about the domestic arrangements but Georgia reassured any misgivings he might have had by indicating that the house was large enough for everyone to have their own privacy; with five bedrooms and three bathrooms, they wouldn’t be in each other’s way. He welcomed this information with a mixture of relief and exhilaration; it allowed him to concentrate on the coming months. A new enthusiasm dominated his thoughts; he researched the North West of Corfu, the villages and resorts, he trolled the internet for any information he could find, pictures, posts, videos on YouTube, anything that would illustrate the landscape and its character, the satiety of colour that infused the sky and sea. All of these were important to him, such lucrative knowledge afforded him a glimpse, hinted at even, what it would be like to live on an island, in a strange house, amongst people, whom a month ago, were mere strangers to him, who he would have walked past in the street. Now, they influenced the trajectory of his life for the next three months, they dominated his thoughts with a tightening excitement in his stomach, ecstatically happy but, at other times, he found himself withdrawn into a cavern of doleful self-doubt. It was a reminder of the gravity of his undertaking.
‘Have you any fears about this Adam? I mean, if it doesn’t work out, for whatever reason, you’ll find yourself in a bit of a mess professionally.’
Adam shrugs and then sighs. ‘I might have just made the biggest mistake of my life, I know that, but if I don’t do this, I’ll never find out. I’m willing to take the chance; I don’t want to live with the regret.’
Sally smiles sorrowfully. ‘No, I suppose not, regret can eat at you. But you, you’ve always been so calculated Adam. I’m going to miss you. Come on, we’re supposed to be sharing this cake. I’ve eaten most of it.’
Adam takes the plate and tilts its contents towards Gracie,
‘Your last treat before you go home, Gracie.’
‘I wonder if you could do me a favour Adam?’
‘What would that be?’
‘I wasn’t being entirely honest with you about Tzakis. I gave you his mobile number because I’d hoped you’d give him this.’ Sally hands him an envelope. ‘It’s a letter. If you don’t want to I’ll understand.
‘Most people send text, e-mail or phone these days.’
‘That wouldn’t feel right. In fact, it wouldn’t be right. It needs to be a letter. A letter is personal and intimate.’
‘Why don’t you post it then?’
‘I need to know he’s received it. I can’t just speak to him. It’s all in there.’ She gestures to the envelope.
‘Of course, I will. Not a problem.’
‘Thank you, Adam, this means a lot to me,’ she says with a relieved smile.
Chapter 13
Arriving
The air is warm as he walks out of the airport into a shroud of heat that seems to encase him. His shirt is already feeling uncomfortable and a burden. He flaps it to circulate the air. He knew it would be hot but all the same the intensity surprises him. As he walks, the brightness forces him to shade his eyes. Where did he put his sunglasses? I’m actually here, he says to himself, still not believing it.
He scans the immediate area, he can’t see Georgia, perhaps she has forgotten the day of his arrival or even the time? That wouldn’t be like her, she is too organised to make such an error. He has waited for her as planned, amongst the tour reps and smartly dressed men and women, displaying placards with surnames emblazoned in bold ink. He feels panic, which increases, as he pulls his suitcase towards a taxi rank. The address? He has no idea where he is going. Adam rummages in a small travel bag.
‘Adam.’
He looks around; Georgia is walking towards him flustered, an apologetic look on her face. She pushes her sunglasses onto the crown of her head. She is wearing a lilac dress, sleeveless, that falls to just above her knees.
‘There you are, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s ok, you’re here now.’ Adam smiles, relieved.
‘Theresa is watching Dylan for me; she was late arriving. I’ve parked over there,’ Georgia points to a car park. ‘It’s a bit away. You should get a trolley for the suitcase.’
Adam swings the suitcase into the boot and, as they pull out of the airport, he can feel his shirt stick to his back. The air conditioning placates his discomfort, as G
eorgia describes how both she and Dylan have, by now, acclimatised to the somnolent pace of life, in contrast to the hyper-bowl of the city life they have left.
Dylan has now settled and is feeling at ease with his new surroundings. Now that her son is benefiting from his new environment, Georgia has relaxed with an effervescence that grows with each day.
As they travel, it is clear they both feel nervous. It is the first time they have been in such a confined space together. Georgia’s arms are tanning; he also notices several freckles on her forearms as her hand taps the steering wheel to an inaudible beat. The change in climate has definitely agreed with her; he senses she is not as guarded as before.
‘I was thinking, you should take a few days to settle in before you start teaching.’
‘That’s kind of you.’
‘It’s only right. How was your flight?’
‘Oh, it was fine, not much leg room, though, it was good to stretch my legs once we landed.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t get you first class.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Adam says, apologetically.
Georgia smiles. ‘I’m just kidding.’
This is the first time Adam has heard Georgia using humour. It suits her. He takes it as a good sign. She is relaxing in his company; he has to relax in hers now.
‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘Just a sandwich on the plane.’
‘Not a cucumber one then.’
They both laugh.
‘I’ve asked Theresa to make some lunch for when we arrive at the house. I suppose if I was selling it, an estate agent would call it a villa, but it’s always been “the house” ever since I went there with mum.’
‘Great. I’m feeling hungry now.’
They drive along Riga Fereos, past retail buildings and farm houses. Adam notices a street vendor has set up a stall by the side of the road, cooking meat on a spit. He catches the word, ‘Apnaki’ scrawled on a placard.
‘Is it far?’
‘It’s on the other side of the island, close to Palaoikastritsa.’
The Boy Who Hugs Trees Page 7