Third day!
So this was the smoking ruins of my life? I had decided not to phone Alex again. First of all I’d have to walk a hundred miles to get network and secondly, he was prepared to let me rot, that much was obvious.
I haven’t learned a single word of Greek, because Maddy and Paios sleep most of the day and when they are awake they hardly speak to each other, never mind speak to me. I’ve never been so bored in my life. If I could muster the enthusiasm, I’d kill myself. A minor plus is that I’m too scared to eat anything in this house, and so I must be losing weight. And I take it back about me being the only village resident with my own teeth. Maddy’s goat has teeth, proof being the chewed strap of my Gucci tote bag. In fact, it hasn’t only chewed the strap, it’s eaten a piece. I’d post-mortem the goat to get my strap back… if I knew how to do a post-mortem on a goat.
I took off my red woolly pom-pom hat that Paios loaned me and jammed it in the pocket of Maddy’s hooded dressing gown that I’d borrowed. I wear the hat to bed because I share my bedroom with two lizards. When I peered over the top of the duvet this morning, they looked harmless enough asleep on the ceiling. But I don’t let my guard down for a minute – they could easily scale the wall, slither along my headboard and crawl into my ear. And I would go mad with a lizard inside my head and end up in a lunatic asylum, sitting at a desk all day doing ‘painting by numbers’ and talking a load of bollocks to myself. Paios gave me a gummy smile and passed me a glass of transparent orange juice. I smiled back, feeling a spasm of guilt; I had to make the most of this, I had to. I’m not the type of person to shirk from a challenge. Especially a challenge that I’d set myself. Here I was and here I’d stay, on Corfu, with Maddy, Paios, the goat, donkey, lamb, dogs and the chickens. But… it’s not easy, I fretted witheringly. I flashed a sideways glance at my chewed Gucci tote. I loved that bag; Edward, a millionaire business associate of mine, had won it at a Charity Golf Day last year. Edward is super rich: he has a massive house in Mayfair, a villa in Barbados, a penthouse apartment in New York and a hotel in Corfu—
‘A hotel in Corfu!’ I blurted.
My elbow slid off the table, and my eyes grew wide with the impact of awareness.
I glanced wildly at Maddy and Paios. They exchanged a bewildered gummy frown.
‘A hotel in Corfu.’ I repeated, throwing up my arms in a mime of realization.
I sat straight, and tapped my chipped, cracked acrylic nails on the table.
‘Edward has a hotel, here on Corfu,’ I repeated for the third time in hushed, rushed tones.
Hot water. No lizards. Internet. Swimming Pool. Hairdresser. And, if there is a God, a nail beautician.
How could I have forgotten? And if I know Edward, his hotel won’t just be ‘a hotel’, it will be ‘the hotel’. I’ll stay there; it’s the logical thing to do. I nibbled my broken thumbnail thoughtfully. Alex said that I had to stay with Maddy and Paios, and that they would be offended if I didn’t. Well, I will stay with them, but not here. I’ll take them to Edward’s hotel with me. And if I have to, I’ll take the goat, chickens, the lamb and the donkey too. I shot to my feet, and paced the room in jittery anticipation. I’ll get dressed, climb the cliff for network and phone Edward.
I pulled the woolly hat back onto my head and strode with long, confident steps towards the bedroom, candlewick dressing gown billowing. Edward would save me, he would. I’ll force myself to cry on the phone to him, he’s a sucker for tears. Actually, I won’t have to force myself to cry, I’ll likely be howling anyway. In fact, I feel a bit nippy nostrilled just thinking about the cliff-face hike that I’ll need to do to get network. I pushed open the bedroom door with the flat of my hand. I’ll be lying on a sun lounger by tea time. I shot a wary glance at the bedroom ceiling, the lizards were still there. I won’t ring Alex. No… on second thoughts, I will ring Alex, why not? I might not admit that I’m living in the lap of luxury. In fact, I won’t. But I’ll be one hundred per cent honest with him… without telling him the truth. I whipped off the hat. Events had suddenly taken a turn for the better, I decided. I’d even go as far as to say I was glad that I’d come to Corfu.
Chapter Two
The crematorium-alert heat is beating down viciously, and so the mountain hike was as torturous as last time. How do people living on mountains breathe painlessly? Do they have an extra lung? I looked to the sky. A huge bird with a wing span the breadth of a dual carriageway was swooping and diving above me. Was it a vulture? It certainly looked like one. I bravely ignored it and sat under a leafy olive tree. My phone displayed the comforting flash of three bars of network. I scrolled for Edward’s number. Now, I don’t want to sound desperate, and so my brain checks the speech I’ve rehearsed for ‘detached casual enquiry’. I’m happy with it. It’s perfect, not too needy and not too pushy. Edward picks up on the second ring.
‘Sophie, what a lovely surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure? It not like you to call randomly,’ Edward said, with a perception that I could have well done without.
‘I often call you,’ I told him a little too defensively.
‘No you don’t!’
‘Yes I do!’
‘No you don’t!’
‘I do!’
‘You don’t!’
I massaged my temple for patience. I’m not in the mood to be nit-picking about how often I do or do not call.
‘Well, I’m calling you now.’
‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, and was it my imagination or was his tone cynical?
I give a reluctant- to- get-to-the-point-because- I-don’t-want-to-impose sigh.
Edward caught it.
‘Sophie, I have all the time in the world for you as you well know, but I’m rather busy and so—’
He’s busy? I’m busy… surviving!
‘Yes, yes of course, I’m sorry. The truth is that I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?’ I said, practically spitting the word small.
‘Of course, anything, name it and it’s done.’
Bless him.
Edward is a rock of dependability. I knew I could rely on him. I’m lightheaded with joy at the thought of moving into his hotel. I close my eyes to the vision of miles of golden sand tucked beneath steep cliffs and crystal clear waters. The sand is warm on my feet as I mingle, cocktail in hand, with the beach community.
Edward interrupted my reverie.
‘Sophie! What do you want?’
I play with my earring. OK, speech time.
‘Oh! Well, I find myself in a rather awkward situation. You see, I’m holidaying in Corfu and I’m staying with Alex’s relatives. And although it was very kind of them to offer me a room they simply don’t have the space. I feel as though I’m imposing. I think their kindness might have been as a result of a press-ganged sense of duty and obligation, which of course is hugely unfair on them. And so, eeerm, well,’ I’m annoyed with myself, I’m stalling. I clear my throat and get straight to the point. ‘I was wondering if I could stay at your hotel, and—’
‘Impossible. Sorry my darling but the British Ambassador is hosting a meeting attended by the Greek Minister of Citizen Protection. And together with their entourage and security the hotel has reached a full compliment.’
I’m whiplashed by disappointment. The hotel is sold out!
‘But Edward—’
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘Not really, I—’
‘I’m not sure how long the British Ambassador is staying as it’s an indefinite booking, so give me a call in a couple of days,’ Edward suggested cheerily and rang off.
Men are all the same – selfish and thoughtless. Why had I thought that Edward was any different? I stared at my phone. I have two texts from my best friend Bella.
Party. Hammered. Swedish with tattoos. Big black eye. Chewing gum in the lock of the door. Passed out. It’s only a little dent in Alex’s car.
I’d obviously missed a good night out. Oh to be home.
I miss u, I stole a bike, I was drunk. Here is a picture.
Bella will have to return the bike, how embarrassing. I called her. She picked up on the first ring. I cut straight to the point.
‘Bella, is your credit card maxed out?’
‘Of course it is, what do you take me for?’
‘I need to pay for a hotel room and I don’t have my own Visa card because me and Alex are saving for the wedding and I promised him that I wouldn’t waste money.’
‘Surely a room is a necessity if you’re staying in a hotel?’
‘I’m not staying in a hotel, that’s the problem; I’m staying with Alex’s family.’
‘And are they charging you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘And so why do you need a hotel room?’
I gave her a bullet point rundown on my predicament. She listened absorbed.
‘If you don’t have the money to pay for a hotel then you will have to stay where you are,’ Bella informed me helpfully. ‘Consider the trip as a kind of boot-camp break. You’ve hardly eaten since you arrived. I bet you’ll drop a dress size. Sorry but I can’t chat. I’m ironing my Snow White costume for your sister’s fancy dress party tonight.’
So, no meaningful advice or sympathy from my best friend then. I’m wounded; at the very least I had expected a bit of chummy commiseration.
I called my sister. Her answer phone kicked in, so I left a five-minute voicemail begging for news and gossip. I called Alex and his answer phone kicked in, so I left a ten-minute voicemail pleading my case for an early flight home. I called my friends Jodie and Delia, both were engaged. My phone died. I have no battery. I have no way of communicating with the outside world. I am distraught. And it’s all my own fault.
The vulture is sitting on a rock opposite. I hold its beady glare. The vulture surrenders and looks away. I can do this.
*
I’ve come to dread meal times. Maddy and Paios are sitting either side of me, sucking on sandwiches (it’s what you do when you don’t have teeth). My eyes roved the living room, honing in on the teak boxed television on a tripod. When I turned the television on an hour ago, a bolt of electricity shot through my arm and lifted my hair extensions at the routes. Then a blue light flashed from the back of the plug to form a small mushroom cloud. I’d nearly died of fright. Paios threw a shoe at the screen and the black and white picture crackled to life. Apparently that’s how best to turn the television on. But I doubt I’ll bother, as there’s bugger all worth watching because there’s no Sky satellite. Last night we played linguistic charades. Maddy and Paios are both eighty, and they’ve been married for sixty years (I kid you not). After charades Maddy washed her pants and hung them on a washing line strung up in the lounge (her pants have legs attached and would make a good tent at Glastonbury) and Paios cut his toe nails. I’m not sure what thrilling activities we have scheduled for this evening, I’ll just have to wait and see. What had I been thinking coming here? No! What had Alexa, Alex’s mother, been thinking by sending me? I had visualised a magnificent mountain-top villa, with a school room overlooking the ocean. My language tutor would be a Johnny Depp lookalike and would spend four or five hours a day with me. The rest of the time I would be free to explore Corfu’s beautiful beaches and charming coves in a hired speed boat, which I would drive whilst standing, like a Bond girl. In the evening my Johnny Depp lookalike tutor would drive me to Kavos, one of Europe’s party capitals, where we would get rollicking drunk on buckets of happy hour cocktails.
As if.
It was the all-absorbing stillness that got to me more than everything else. The silence was deafening. I felt like every waking minute was designed to test my patience. I clawed at an itchy lump on my thigh. I lifted my leg to look. Actually, it was quite a big lump. I peered down my cleavage; now that I look at myself I see I have itchy lumps all over my body – where did they come from? I scratched my bum only to find a lump the size of a pebble. I’m miserable.
Edward’s hotel is sold out.
I have no credit card.
I have nothing to look forward to.
I am miles from anywhere.
I cannot charge my phone because my charger doesn’t fit the sockets.
And it’s ten whole days before I go home.
I’m ambushed by homesickness.
Chapter Three
My phone is charged. Maddy’s neighbour has a post-war electrical socket. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I make the hike for network fully aware that I risk vomiting up my tonsils and adenoids with exertion. As I trudge the mountain I fantasise about being scooped up in a helicopter by a search and rescue team and dropped by parachute at the Vodafone G–spot. I like this fantasy so much that I conjure a variety of conclusions, one including Prince William. On the climb I notice dozens of lovely flowers and shrubs but I’m too busy breathing to appreciate the flora properly. I haven’t bumped into the two grannies again, though I’m not surprised; I didn’t believe for a minute that they walked up here every day. Edward’s hotel might have availability now. I’m hopeful, hope is all I have. Or perhaps I can borrow my sister’s credit card? I’m confident, I have to be. I sit under the same olive tree and take my phone out of my pocket.
Edward’s hotel has no availability.
My sister’s credit card is maxed out.
Jodie and Delia have gone to Ibiza for the weekend. They were eating vodka omelettes.
Bella has met a new man. She says trying not to sleep with him on the first night was like trying not to hear a police car racing by, and so she slept with him.
Alex didn’t pick up.
I am distraught.
What amazing good luck! Maddy and Paios speak French, and my French isn’t too bad, and so we can communicate. I now know where I am. I am on Mount Pantokrator, the highest mountain on the island. And it’s beautiful – I’ve been to the summit in Paios’s truck. Life has taken on a whole different perspective now that I don’t have to walk and I have someone to talk to. Me and Paios drove along hairpin bends and steep roadside drops sprinkled with quaint villages and olive groves. And even though Paios is eighty years old, partial sighted and wears glasses as thick as a shark tank and a woolly hat pulled half way over his eyes, I felt totally safe. The views are spectacular. From the summit you can see the whole of Corfu, and Albania and Italy. Paios told me that the mountain road was used for the car chase in the James Bond movie For Your Eyes Only. I’m going to watch the film again when I get home. We’ve stopped half-way down the mountain for a drink. I’m sipping cold beer whilst gazing across the glittering Ionian Sea to mainland Greece. And the icing on the cake is that I have network.
I called Edward, no answer.
I called Alex, no answer.
I called Bella, no answer.
I called my sister, no answer.
I have no voicemails.
I have no text messages.
My happy bubble bursts.
No one cares. Disappointment stabs me; I’m paralysed by hurt, not a single word from anyone, even though they all know how upset I am. The silence between me and Paios stretches until there’s miles and gallons of the stuff. I have nothing to say and he is dropping off to sleep. The glittering Ionian Sea blurs.
Paios teaches me to play poker. Maddy teaches me to hand-wash enormous underwear and slap soft cheese into a cube with wooden sticks. Paios teaches me to down shots of Ouzo without vomiting a fountain and Maddy tries to teach me to milk the goat, but that doesn’t cut any ice with me. There is no way I’m getting physical with an animal. My initial joy at being able to communicate with Maddy and Paios dulls as I realise that there is a limited amount of subject matter that I want to communicate about. Time drags; there is no interruption to the boredom. I am so annoyed with Alex: he knows how miserable I am, he could at least text me. I feel deserted by my friends and my sister. I haven’t been able to speak to anyone for days, and I have no acrylic nails left.
I climb the mountain
and ring Edward.
A SUITE IN HIS HOTEL IS AVAILABLE.
I hurried down the mountain like a cat chasing a mouse.
The truck is packed and Maddy and Paios are onboard. I had to wrestle a live chicken from Maddy’s arms – she said it would do for dinner if she didn’t like the food in the hotel. I promised her faithfully that she wouldn’t need the chicken. The animals are being looked after by the next door neighbour for the price of two bottles of Ouzo, a barrel of revolting homemade beer and a pair of River Island flip flops. We are sorted. We are leaving the village.
This is the life.
Edward’s hotel dominates the seafront in the beautiful resort of Pelekas Beach. Clear water flanked by white cindery beaches provide a breathtaking backdrop to amazing sunsets that give way to sun-soaked days. I wriggled into my sun bed, glanced wistfully at the lapping ocean and sipped my margarita thoughtfully. Maddy and Paios were paragliding (my idea). I lifted my chin to a cloudless sky and gave them an encouraging wave, chuckling at the sight of their spindly legs dangling from the folds of a safety harness and puffy yellow lifejackets. Two excited faces folded in wrinkles resembling a couple of deflated paddling pools beamed at me. They touched down in the water, parachutes fluttering.
I abandoned my drink to a bamboo side table and pushed my new fake Chanel sunglasses up my nose and tilted my face to the sun. I wasn’t sure I liked my sunglasses, the lenses are so dark that I can’t see where I’m going, but they’d only cost seven euros and they look amazing. I don’t really need to see where I’m going when I’m sunbathing, I suppose. My phone rang. I sat up and burrowed in my handbag.
‘Hi Edward,’ I said in a skippy voice.
‘What made you think it would be Edward ringing you?’ Alex asked flatly.
SUNLOUNGER 2: Beach Read Bliss (Sunlounger Stories) Page 33