Summer on the Turquoise Coast

by Summer on the Turquoise Coast (retail) (epub)

  ‘Why?’ Nina was glad she’d dived, she would not have missed the experience for the world, but why?

  ‘Because you needed a push. Because you never would have entertained the idea of going diving. Because I thought you might like it, and even if you didn’t, at least you tried it.’

  ‘I did love it! It was the best thing I’ve done in a long time, maybe ever.’ Nina finished the water, thinking furiously. ‘Is that why you booked the jeep safari? Is that why you crossed that stupidly dangerous river?’

  ‘No, not totally – I wanted to go. I didn’t want to spend the whole holiday flat on my back on a sunbed, with a vodka in my hand. Life’s too short for that, and whatever time I’ve got left is getting shorter by the day. And to answer your second question about the river – yes. But it wasn’t as dangerous as you make out.’ Her eyes took on a wicked twinkle. ‘Not if you can get a lovely young man to carry you across.’

  ‘Gran,’ Nina hesitated. ‘I hope you haven’t planned anything else for the sole purpose of getting me to try new things – like paragliding?’

  ‘Would you go, if I did?’

  ‘No and don’t you dare, you batty old bird! I’m really, really not going to do that!’ She twisted in her seat and gave her grandmother a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything.’

  Chapter 17

  Dear lord, Nina had never felt so hot in all her life! An oven came to mind as she helped Flossie out of the taxi and they stepped into the heat of a Fethiye morning. The city, with its lovely big harbour, was a half-hour drive from their resort, and on Tuesdays it held a market.

  Funnily enough, Flossie hadn’t particularly wanted to come. Nina would have thought she’d have jumped at the chance of mooching around stalls selling everything from pins to pianos (okay, the piano may be an exaggeration, but in a market this size one never knew) despite her protestations during the welcome meeting where they’d booked their various excursion.

  Instead of pleasure, Flossie had pulled a face when Nina suggested it.

  ‘Markets are for old people,’ she’d grumbled yet again, and she was still grizzling under her breath when she took Nina’s arm as they prepared to dive into the fray of people. Only Nina’s promise not to sulk (Nina never sulked, so she didn’t know where her grandmother had got that idea from!) when they went on the Sunset Cruise later that evening, had persuaded the other woman to go.

  ‘You drive a hard bargain,’ Nina had stated at the time, not fancying a night of staged games and cheesy entertainment. Right now, she was almost wishing Flossie had driven an even harder one – so hard it would have put Nina off coming to the market. The noise, the smells, the sheer volume of people, and not to mention the heat (had she already mentioned how hot it was?), were all overwhelming.

  Covering the market was a billowing mass of white tarpaulin, shading people below from the sun. Unfortunately, they also reduced any breeze (not that there was much of a breeze to start with) and Nina’s first purchase was a fan – the plastic and paper variety, painted with pictures of Turkish scenes, costing an arm and a leg, the seller obviously aware he had a captive audience.

  Nina was fascinated as they walked into the first aisle, the air awash with the scents of the herbs and spices piled into colourful, fragrant heaps in tightly woven baskets and open-topped jars. Huge melons, fat juicy grapes, olives, and oranges were amongst the variety of fruit on sale. Vegetables, nuts, cheeses, honey, Turkish delight – the list was endless, and everywhere she looked stall holders shouted their wares, offering portions to taste.

  The market was as much for locals as it was for tourists, Nina was pleased to see, watching the bescarved women wearing a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns, head, arms and legs covered, as they bartered for their weekly shop, filling bag after bag with glorious fresh-looking produce.

  Flossie kept a tight grip on Nina’s arm. ‘If I wanted to look at a sack of spuds I could have gone to Waitrose,’ the old woman muttered.

  ‘Look, Gran, bags. You like bags.’ Nina pointed to the next section of stalls, decked from floor to tarpaulin roof with bags of all sizes, shapes, and colours; handbags, shoulder bags, clutches, shoppers, evening bags, fancy rucksacks, briefcases, manbags… if you could imagine it, this stall sold it.

  ‘Lookie, lookie, cheaper than chips. Yes, lady, you want I show you a nice bag? For you?’ the man said to Nina, then grinned at Flossie. ‘You are sisters, yes?’

  He chucked the old woman under the chin. Flossie slapped his hand away and Nina supressed a laugh. There was no getting around her grandmother when she was in this mood. Good luck, mate, you’re gonna need it if you think you’ll get my grannie to part with money she doesn’t want to spend.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Nina muttered ten minutes later, as the man wrapped an enormous leather shopper (they knew it was leather because the stall holder had insisted on trying to set light to it to prove it didn’t melt like a plastic one would) and handed it to Flossie.

  ‘How much did I pay for that?’ her grandmother asked as they strolled off. She gave Nina the bag to carry.

  Nina did a quick calculation in her head. ‘He was asking ninety pounds and you got him down to thirty-five.’

  ‘I only saved fifty-five pounds?’ Flossie cried, dismayed. ‘It sounded like more than that.’

  ‘That’s because of the exchange rate. You did have a good deal,’ Nina added. ‘A leather bag that size would cost you at least three times as much back home.’

  Flossie huffed a bit, but Nina knew she was secretly pleased, especially when they stopped for refreshments and her gran insisted on transferring everything from her old bag into her new one.

  She was so pleased with it, she took it with her on the cruise.

  “Food, wine and dancing, and a romantic swim in the warm Mediterranean Sea under the silver moonlight” the leaflet had advertised.

  Nina guessed there wouldn’t be a moon tonight, though the boat did head out towards the setting sun, which more than made up for it. When she looked back towards the land, the mountains were lit up in gold and orange. There wasn’t going to be any swimming either, not for her, not in the dark. Things came out at night, and she wasn’t talking about the mozzies. There were much scarier things living in the deep than the cute little octopus. He might have a cousin for a start, a really big one with tentacles thicker than her waist. And sharks. They came out at night too, didn’t they?

  She wasn’t all that convinced about the dancing either, not on a rocking boat. She had enough trouble keeping her balance sitting down, let alone bopping around. She’d sick her dinner back up. There’d not be much alcohol either, for the same reasons: balance and the nausea factor.

  ‘See that mountain there?’ Flossie, hanging onto her new bag and wearing her finery even though they were going to some distant beach to have a barbeque and a dip, pointed to the peak rising above the resort. The tip of it shone white as if it was covered in snow.

  Nina nodded. It certainly was impressive. The whole area was very beautiful.

  ‘Nearly seven thousand feet high, it is,’ Flossie said. ‘The paragliders take off from there.’

  ‘Yeah, good luck to them. It’s nice to look at, but you won’t get me up there in a month of Sundays.’

  ‘It’s Sunday tomorrow,’ Flossie said slowly.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Nothing. Just saying.’

  As the sun dipped below the skyline, the boat reversed into a secluded cove. Or it would have been if it wasn’t for the three other boats already lined up as they drew alongside.

  ‘I like walking the gangplank,’ Flossie stated as they staggered off, the so-called gangplank bobbing with the waves. ‘It makes me feel like a pirate’s moll. I love a nice pirate. That one with the dreadlocks, he was lovely. What was his name?’

  ‘Jack Sparrow?’

  Three people within hearing distance joined her gran in a chorus of ‘Captain Jack Sparrow.’

  Music played, and the bonfire was in its full r
oaring glory. The smell of wood-smoke infused with barbecuing meat, hung on the night air, mingling with the cleansing scent of the sea. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to drag huge logs into position to sit on. Nina was handed a glass, which she took without thinking. She’d promised her gran there would be no sulking and she intended to live up to her word.

  Wine, nice and chilled, and tart on the tongue, was a perfect accompaniment to the evening. Despite there being quite a few people, Nina felt as though they had been marooned on a deserted island, and the atmosphere steadily soaked into her reluctance, rinsing it away until she felt relaxed and happy.

  She nudged her grandmother. ‘Thank you for talking me into this. It’s really pretty here, isn’t it?’

  Flossie stared at her for a while before answering. ‘Are you really glad you came?’

  ‘I am, and I don’t just mean tonight. The holiday has been fun.’

  ‘There’s plenty more where that came from – we’re only half way through.’

  ‘We’ve crammed a lot into a week, and there was me, thinking I’d spend lazy days by the pool and the evenings playing bingo.’

  ‘I bloody hate bingo,’ Flossie declared solemnly.

  ‘I’d have taken you for a bingo lady.’

  ‘You don’t know me at all, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Nina replied thoughtfully. ‘But I think I’m beginning to. It’s funny isn’t it, how us young ’uns,’ she bumped Flossie with her arm, ‘forget the elderly weren’t always old. That you were children, teenagers, once young like me. Pensions, and winter fuel allowances, and wrinkles and dentures hadn’t crossed your mind.’

  ‘It’s not until you get old you understand what it’s like, but you never really forget what it’s like to be young either, not really, not deep down. I think most old people just don’t like comparing what they were to what they are now, so they brush their memories with a layer of “it-wasn’t-like-that-in-my-day” and varnish them with nostalgia.’

  ‘That’s so insightful.’ Her grandmother’s words almost brought tears to her eyes.

  Flossie threw back the last of her wine. ‘Yeah, I read it in a magazine, and been waiting for a chance to use it.’

  Nina held out her hand. Flossie shoved her glass in it. ‘Get me another, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Gran, you don’t fool me. You really meant it.’

  ‘Of course, I did! My glass is empty.’

  Nina smiled ruefully. Her gran clearly wasn’t much of a one for sentiment. ‘I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it anymore,’ she said to her. ‘But I just want to say one thing before I have any more to drink and you think it’s the booze talking – I love you.’

  Chapter 18

  ‘I hate you, Gran!’ Nina squealed as she was forced to run awkwardly down the slope, Mehmet at her back, his legs doing all the work, his hands operating the ropes.

  Ropes? Ha, more like thin nylon strings of death.

  Without warning, there was no more ground, no more earth; she felt as though a giant hand had taken hold of the chute and pulled them skyward.

  She let out a shriek, screaming, ‘Put me down, put me down, put me down.’

  ‘You okay?’ Mehmet asked.

  ‘Do I sound it?’ she cried.

  ‘You are safe. The thermals are good.’

  The only thermals Nina ever wanted to come into contact with were the clothing variety in the depths of winter. She’d give anything to be stuck in a freezing field right now, shivering her tits off, with a load of equally miserable pupils doing their Duke of Edinburgh Award.

  ‘Take me back,’ she shouted. ‘I don’t like it.’

  Her pilot (they really were called pilots – yeah, a pilot without a plane didn’t inspire her with confidence) chuckled. ‘Sorry, one-way ticket. Down. Relax and enjoy.’

  ‘Noooo…’ She knew she was hyperventilating, her own breathing sounded harsh and frantic and panicked in her ears. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, was the only thought in her head.

  ‘Arggg!’ The world tipped to the side as they came about, describing a huge circle in the sky at least a hundred feet above the top of the already stupidly high mountain.

  ‘Open your eyes and enjoy the view,’ Mehmet suggested.

  ‘I’ve got my back to you,’ Nina said, through a jaw so clenched her whole head ached – or was that the altitude? ‘How do you know my eyes are closed?’

  Another chuckle. ‘I guessed.’

  She gripped the ropes with knuckle-cramping hands, terrified that if she let go of them she would tumble, screaming, to her death. The sensation of turning ceased and Nina opened her eyes for a brief peep, hoping they’d descended a significant amount.

  There was land beneath her alright, and not too far away either; but it wasn’t the land she was hoping for. This particular land was the top of the mountain she’d unwillingly thrown herself off.

  They hadn’t gone down – they’d gone up!

  And there was her treacherous deceitful grandmother grinning up at her and waving.

  ‘I hate you,’ she mouthed.

  Flossie nodded and smiled.

  ‘You’d think I’d learn wouldn’t you,’ Nina muttered under her breath. ‘But no, the sneaky old bat out-manoeuvred me again. First the diving, then this.’

  Eeek. Another turn, gradual and graceful, with little sense of movement, yet the ground rushed by underneath, then abruptly dropped away. The only sound was the flutter of the canopy and a creak or two as the nylon ropes slid against one another.

  ‘I don’t feel as though we’re moving,’ she said over her shoulder, not needing to raise her voice. Any second now a pterodactyl would come swooping majestically out of the cloud and Nina wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised.

  ‘It is because we travel at the same speed as the air,’ Mehmet said. ‘No noise, no speed.’

  Now and again a voice reached them, reminding Nina they weren’t alone up here.

  Then without warning they were below the scant cloud and the whole world was spread out before her. She could see for miles, like being in an aircraft coming into land. Nina never knew the world could be so beautiful. She let out a sigh of sheer joy. Gone were thoughts of dropping like a stone; gone were thoughts of what she’d do to her grandmother when she caught up with her; gone was the crippling fear she had felt the second before the wind had taken the chute, blowing her into the abyss.

  A remarkable peace stole over her as she watched the ground grow slowly larger, coming closer with each breath she took, with each beat of her heart. She was curiously and abruptly delighted that Flossie had pulled her either-you-go-or-I-will stunt.

  She could cheerfully have brained the old woman when Flossie dragged her out of bed at stupid-o’clock, informing her that she was paragliding this morning. Nina could either come with her to the top of the mountain, or remain at sea level, to watch her grandmother float in.

  Float? Ha! Drop with the speed of a brick, more like. The conversation, as Nina recalled quite clearly, went something like this:

  Nina. ‘You’re not going.’

  Flossie. ‘I am, too.’

  Nina. ‘You’re not, I forbid it.’

  Flossie. ‘Who died and made you my mother?’

  Nina. ‘Please, Gran, you can’t. People have died paragliding.’

  Flossie. ‘People have died in their beds. Want me to stop sleeping?’

  Nina. ‘You’re being silly.’

  Flossie. ‘I’m enjoying life.’

  Nina. ‘You might not have any more of it to enjoy if you carry on.’

  Flossie. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  Nina. ‘No, what I meant was you might get killed.’

  Flossie. ‘You really don’t want me to go, do you?’

  Nina. ‘No, Grannie, I don’t.’

  Flossie. ‘Right, you can go instead of me.’

  Nina. ‘I don’t think so!’

  Flossie. ‘It’s either you or me, chick, so make you
r mind up.’

  Nina. ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’

  Flossie. ‘And don’t think about leaving me here, and you chickening out at the last minute. I’m coming to the top with you.’

  Which was why her grandmother was waving gaily at her as if Nina was on the other side of the street and not nearly seven thousand feet in the air, her life in the hands of a total stranger and a bit of flappy fabric.

  And to her unbridled surprise, Nina realised she felt alive for the first time in a very long time (before the cynical part of her chirped up with the idea that you probably only feel this alive when you’re just about to die). But she wasn’t going to die, was she? This man, this stranger, sitting so close behind her that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, seemed to know what he was doing. He’d done it hundreds of times before. He wouldn’t knowingly jump into the arms of death, and take her with him – not unless he was a psychopath, and he didn’t strike Nina as the type. He probably wanted to stay alive just as much as she did.

  So she let go of her fear (mostly) and enjoyed the ride.

  Leaning forward, just a smidge, Nina spied their hotel directly beneath her feet. If Flossie had been sitting by the pool and not sitting in a minibus rattling her way down the dusty road off the stupidly high mountain, Nina would have been able to have a conversation with the old lady, it was so quiet.

  Despite enjoying the experience immensely (though she tried desperately to keep the last few feet of the flight out of her mind – the bit where she and the ground met), Nina fully intended to have a conversation with her grandmother, and she didn’t anticipate it being a particularly pleasant one.

  ‘Oh god, oh god.’ The ground was rushing up at her.

  ‘Remember what I said, as soon as we touch down, you need to run,’ Mehmet said.

  ‘Don’t you mean “fall”?’

  Tense and frightened, Nina braced for impact.

  ‘Go!’ Mehmet shouted in her ear, and Nina’s legs scrabbled in the air, finally finding purchase as they touched the ground. She only needed to run a few steps, leaning backwards in an instinctive move to slow her speed. As they came to a halt, the chute whispered to the earth behind them in a sigh of silken nylon.