Under a Greek Moon

by Carol Kirkwood

  She watched as a woman and a little boy played with a giant beach ball. The boy was a bundle of energy and she could see the woman was working hard to keep up. The multicoloured rubber ball was suddenly caught by a gentle gust of wind and came sailing over in her direction. Instinctively she jumped up and caught it. She’d been a netball champion at school and loved nothing better than a ball game. She threw it back to the boy and he came running towards her, tripped over his feet and went crashing down to the sand.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Grace gasped and ran forward. She was too late to catch him, but he didn’t seem to be hurt. Despite the fact he had a mouth full of sand, he was laughing his little head off.

  The woman came running over. ‘Alex! Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Grace. ‘I think that was my fault.’ She picked the boy up, saying, ‘I’m very sorry, Alex. My name is Grace, nice to meet you.’

  ‘Oh, he’s fine, aren’t you, Alex?’ the woman said, dusting the boy down. She was taller than Grace, with short spiky hair. There was something familiar about her, but Grace couldn’t put her finger on it.

  ‘This one is steel-plated,’ the woman said.

  ‘He’s certainly got lots of get-up-and-go.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ The woman rolled her eyes. ‘But I volunteered for this, so no complaining allowed. I’m his almost-auntie.’

  ‘Almost-aunties are the best sort. Anyway, I love playing with a beach ball,’ Grace said. ‘If you like, I could take over for a while so you can read your book’ – she nodded over at the woman’s towel, on which lay a copy of The Life of Pi – ‘and I can enjoy making a fool of myself. It will make up for Alex falling over.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely, I could do with the exercise.’

  ‘I want to play with Grace!’ Alex jumped up and down.

  ‘Come on, you can try and catch me.’ With that, Grace grabbed Alex’s ball and ran off to the shoreline, Alex laughing and chasing after her.

  For the next half-hour Alex had the perfect companion in Grace. While Roxy looked on, they splashed at the water’s edge, Grace pointing out the tiny fish that would nibble at his feet, making him jump, and they played endless rounds of catch. Eventually Grace realized she had lost track of time and delivered Alex back to Roxy.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex, I have to go now. A friend is taking me out on his boat and I don’t want to be late,’ she apologized. ‘I’m sure we will see each other again,’ she reassured him when she saw his face fall. ‘Are you staying on Ithos long?’ she asked the woman.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. It depends. I’m here with a friend and, well, let’s say she has some life stuff to do. It might take a while, it might not.’

  ‘Excuse me for asking,’ Grace said, ‘but do I recognize you? I feel like I know you from somewhere?’

  ‘My name is Roxy, I design clothes.’

  Grace tilted her head to one side, thinking, then her eyes widened, and she said, ‘Roxy Lennon? I love ROX! That dress that Kate Moss wore to the British Fashion Awards last year was incredible.’

  Roxy inclined her head in a modest thank-you. ‘I try to make clothes that I like. Kate Moss could make a paper bag look glamorous.’

  ‘I love fashion, you’re an icon!’

  ‘You’d better stop now, my head was big enough already!’

  ‘Sorry – fan girl. Not cool,’ Grace said.

  ‘I’ll take the compliment. Hadn’t you better run? You don’t want to miss your boat?’

  ‘Lord!’ Grace grabbed her things. ‘I’d better dash, lovely to meet you – bye Alex!’

  She ran off and Roxy shouted after her, ‘I hope he’s a dish!’

  Shauna felt like she’d been staring at her MacBook for hours, but in reality it hadn’t been very long at all. She’d been trying to conjure up memories of her childhood in Ireland, but as she gazed out at the horizon, the azure blue of the Mediterranean called to her and all she could remember was her father telling her, No one should be working when the sun is high and the sea is calm.

  Abandoning hope of getting anything written today, she decided to head down to the beach to meet Alex and Roxy. The long white boho sun dress and brown leather Birkenstocks she was wearing were perfect for the beach, so she stuffed a towel into her satchel, popped her favourite fedora on her head and set off for the old rusty gate that she’d seen Roxy come through earlier. The path led downhill to a junction where the path split in two. The beach appeared to be directly below her, but it wasn’t clear whether she should turn right or left. She shrugged and took the right-hand path, figuring that the worst that could happen was that she would end up in the town.

  There were a few twists and turns and, after a while, the path became very overgrown and nettles kept catching at her feet. Shauna thought she must have come the wrong way and decided to retrace her steps, but the path didn’t look the same heading in the opposite direction and soon she had lost her bearings.

  The sun beat down and Shauna regretted not bringing a bottle of water with her. The path was so overgrown now, with large bushes and branches obscuring the way ahead, that Shauna was starting to panic. What if she had come completely off the path? She had lost all track of time, the only sound she could hear was the cry of buzzards as they spied prey below and swooped down to seize it.

  She pushed on through the undergrowth and was starting to feel faint when she came to a clearing. She was higher up than when she had started; down to the left was the sea, ahead of her were olive groves, and above the tops of the trees she could see the upper tower of the Theodosis villa.

  Before she could process this, the heat seemed to close in on her. Feeling faint, she lowered herself onto a boulder underneath the canopy of an olive tree, took her hat off and fanned herself furiously.

  She sat there for a few moments, wondering how she could get back up to the path without fainting, when she saw a figure coming towards her through the trees from the direction of the villa.

  As the figure approached, Shauna could see it was a woman wearing a long kaftan. She looked to be in her seventies and her grey hair was tied up in a bun. Even after twenty years, there was no mistaking that face: it was Elana Theodosis, and the last time they had met, she had been ordering Shauna off the island and out of her son’s life.

  Chapter 27

  The only sensible shoes Grace possessed were a pair of Nike trainers, but that didn’t worry her. An uncle of hers had owned a sailboat and she and her parents had spent a few holidays sailing off Cowes, which she’d loved. Grace prided herself on having excellent sea legs and knew a bit more about boats than Christian gave her credit for.

  His boat was a cat-rigged yacht with a single mast. When she had clambered aboard late that afternoon, he told her to take a seat while he unfurled the sail and readied it for casting off. Grace surprised him by securing the bowline.

  ‘You steer and I’ll cast off,’ she told him.

  He scratched his head. ‘You didn’t tell me you could sail.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me!’ The dumbfounded expression on his face made her laugh. ‘You look so comical! Come on, let’s get going.’

  It was a perfect day for sailing. There was enough of a breeze to lift the sail and for the boat to move at a lick through the water, but the sea was calm. Grace relished the taste of brine on her lips as the wind whipped around her.

  ‘Is this your boat?’

  ‘I built it myself with help from Demetrios. He is a patient teacher.’

  The two of them made a good pair, Grace knowing what was needed and when, reading the wind as Christian used the tiller to manoeuvre the boat through the water, reading the waves and the wind as if he and the boat were one.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked him, as she rested on the side on the boat.

  ‘To Fengari Bay. You can’t reach it by land, only by boat. Hardly anyone knows it’s there, only islanders.’

  It didn’t take them long to reach their destination, and Grac
e was pleased that the midday heat had passed, making the late afternoon more bearable. There was a small mooring, and Grace jumped off the side, catching the rope that Christian threw her, pulling the boat in and knotting the line around the dock ring to secure it.

  While she waited for Christian to join her, she took in the horseshoe line of the bay. The cobalt sea meeting the chalk white sand was so inviting, she longed to take a dip but still felt a bit shy around Christian, so instead she pointed at the solitary boathouse tucked away in a secluded spot near the mooring. Unlike the boathouses and sheds in the harbour, the timbers weren’t weathered and ancient but bleached and new-looking. Clearly, a recent construction.

  ‘Who owns the boathouse?’

  ‘It belongs to Demetrios; he comes here when he wants to get away from it all. He says he can’t relax at home because the phone never stops ringing. This is where he taught me how to build a boat – we made the one I brought you here on.’

  Grace turned and looked at the boat again. She hadn’t noticed before, but on the side was its name: The Selene.

  ‘Did you choose the name? Who is Selene?’

  ‘Selene is the goddess of the moon, she is revered in Ithos. Let me show you inside the boathouse. Demetrios won’t mind us being here, seeing as it is you.’

  It was cool and dark inside. A canoe hung from the rafters, held in place by ropes, and there were fishing nets and lobster pots dangling from the walls. In one corner was a hammock and an old battered leather sofa; bookshelves filled with classic novels lined one of the walls. Grace picked one up: Dr Zhivago. She leafed through the scuffed pages, thinking that the book had been read many times already, then scanned the rest of the shelf: Alexander Dumas, a number of crime novels by Elmore Leonard. There was also a book of love poetry by Sappho. Christian appeared by her side.

  ‘Demetrios likes his classic poetry,’ she said, and opened a page that had been bookmarked, reading aloud from it:

  Tonight I’ve watched the moon and then the Pleiades go down

  The night is now half gone; youth goes

  I am in bed alone.

  ‘How sad,’ Grace said. ‘Demetrios must be so lonely.’

  Christian shrugged. ‘He is very private and doesn’t talk about himself much. My mother says he had his heart broken when he was a young man.’

  ‘And now he’s divorced and alone again.’ Grace placed the poetry book back on the shelf. In the middle of the boathouse a tarpaulin covered a large object held up on blocks.

  ‘What’s underneath?’

  ‘That is Demetrios’s magnus opus, his masterpiece!’

  ‘Is it a boat?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can I see it?’

  Christian loosened the rope around the tarpaulin and together they pulled it back to reveal the boat beneath. It was about the size of a small speedboat. Made of wood, it featured a U-shaped cockpit with a wooden steering wheel and a hand-buffed mahogany consol. But it was devoid of a motor, or any controls; it still had the feeling of a work in progress.

  Grace ran her hand along the outside, enjoying the feel of the smooth wood under her fingertips, eventually resting on the curved letters of the name of the boat, which had been hand-painted.

  Beauty.

  ‘Demetrios has yet to finish it. He is often here alone working on it, but never seems to get any further along. I don’t think he wants to finish it.’

  ‘Who do you think Beauty is?’

  ‘Maybe she is the girl who broke his heart?’

  The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging around in the cool of the boathouse, eating the picnic Christian had packed. Grace found that, far from being reserved, Christian was easy going and fun; he laughed a lot and was interested in her. He told her that Demetrios had taken him under his wing as a fourteen-year-old.

  ‘I think he would have liked a son, someone to pass on his knowledge to.’

  ‘He could share it with Ariana, women can build boats too.’

  ‘Of course, but Ariana is no craftswoman, she does not have the patience. She likes dancing, music, fun, boys …’

  ‘She likes you.’ Grace elbowed him in the ribs.

  ‘Ariana doesn’t know what she wants. She will not like me so much when I have a middle-aged paunch and grey hair like my father. She is young – she needs to live a little before she thinks about settling down.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you with a middle-aged paunch,’ Grace laughed.

  He got to his feet and pulled his T-shirt over his head to reveal a deeply tanned torso, a washboard stomach and rippling abs. ‘So, Grace, we have the beach to ourselves. We would be crazy not to swim – I hope you remembered to bring a bathing suit.’

  ‘You’re so old-fashioned.’ She laughed, trying not to stare as he stood before her in only his swimming shorts. ‘No one says “bathing suit” in England.’

  ‘What should I call it then?’

  ‘A cossie … or a bikini.’

  ‘OK, I hope you have brought your bikini then. Not a “cossie” – I like the sound of a bikini better.’

  His eyes teased her as she stood up. Grace was glad she had worn her bikini underneath her clothes, but she was hesitant about taking her vest and shorts off in front of him.

  ‘Are you a good swimmer?’

  ‘Pretty good.’

  ‘I’ll race you – over to that large rock and back again.’ He headed towards the water. ‘I’m fast, you won’t beat me.’ Diving in, he started to swim quickly, his arms cutting through the water in a front crawl.

  ‘Big talk! I won a bronze medal in the county championships, I’ll have you know!’ she called after him, tearing off her clothes to reveal her red bikini with a bandeau top. Once in the water, her shyness was forgotten as she sped through the cool clear sea, determined not to be beaten.

  Shauna looked out at Elana Theodosis from under the brim of her fedora hat, her hair pulled up underneath it.

  ‘Chairiete? Boró na se voithíso?’ Elana asked.

  ‘Sygnómi … I’m sorry, my Greek is a little rusty.’

  ‘Can I help you?’ Elana said. ‘Are you lost?’ Despite twenty years passing, Demetrios’s mother hadn’t lost her striking looks. Intelligent eyes regarded Shauna with curiosity but there was no indication that she recognized her.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid I am lost. I’m staying up at the villa over the hill, and was looking for the beach, but I must have taken a wrong turn.’

  ‘It is easy to get lost on that path, there are many twists and turns to confuse the unwary traveller.’

  ‘That sounds like me.’

  Elana smiled. ‘I can show you a quick and easy way down to the beach, but you look a little sun-weary. Perhaps you would like something cool to drink first?’

  Much as Shauna wanted to get away as quickly as possible, she did feel rather faint. ‘I really must be going, my friends will be wondering what has happened to me, but a cool drink … well, that would be very kind of you.’

  ‘Kindness and hospitality is our duty on Ithos. Please follow me.’

  Shauna resisted the urge to point out that, last time they had met, Elana had been the very opposite of kind and hospitable. She followed in silence as the woman led the way through the olives grove to a small timber gazebo, under which there was a wooden table and chairs, set out with iced orange juice in a jug next to a couple of glasses.

  ‘My housekeeper brings this down from the house for me when I come to look at the olive trees.’ She indicated a chair. ‘Please, sit down and rest.’

  She poured Shauna a glass of the juice and handed it to her. Shauna was desperately thirsty, but tried not to gulp it down greedily.

  ‘Do you grow olives yourself?’ Shauna asked.

  ‘Sadly, yes. I have some gardeners who come and help me, but this was my husband’s passion. And now he is no longer with us …’ Elana said this with a tilt of her head, lowering her eyes. Despite herself, Shauna felt a touch of sympathy, knowing what it was like to
feel grief.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I also lost my husband not long ago.’

  Elana looked up. ‘You are young to be a widow, and for that I am sorry.’ She topped up Shauna’s glass. ‘You are young and beautiful; you will find love again.’

  Shauna suppressed a smile; this woman who had done so much to break her heart all those years ago had the nerve to talk about love!

  ‘It would make me truly happy if my son could help me out here, there is much to do, but he never has the time.’

  ‘What does your son do?’ Shauna couldn’t help this streak of deviousness, telling herself it was only her Irish nosiness at work.

  ‘He is head of our family business, but these days he seems to prefer hiding in his boathouse to running the company.’

  Shauna tried to imagine Demetrios working in a boathouse, but her mind’s eye could only conjure up the young man he had been. She found it hard to remember the glimpse she’d caught of the man he had become.

  ‘Perhaps it’s time for him to do something different?’

  ‘He may think that,’ Elana sniffed disapprovingly, ‘but the business needs him, and the family needs him at the helm.’

  Nothing had changed, Shauna thought; still the same demands, the same pressures on him. Was that why he was divorced? she wondered.

  ‘I am being rude. Tell me about yourself,’ Elana said.

  Shauna trotted out the line she always used when she met people who didn’t know who she was. She hated bragging and, when she wasn’t promoting a movie, she disliked all the attention her life in the spotlight brought. ‘Oh, I work in the media. I’m here because … well, let’s just say I’m looking for some peace.’

  ‘Well, this is a wonderful place for a holiday. We have a saying in Ithos: “Óla káto apó to fengári eínai edó”, which means “everything under the moon is here”.’

  ‘That’s a lovely saying.’