The Honey Farm on the Hill: Escape to sunny Greece in this perfect summer read!

by Jo Thomas

  I take a deep breath and open my eyes, still holding the pendant. ‘So,’ I smile, ‘where is he? Is he coming today?’ I look around, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

  Yannis looks from my face to the pendant around my neck again, not letting go of the one around his. I’m going to have a word with Stelios when he gets here, I think, for buying me a two-a-penny love token. I feel myself laughing. It’s like I’m eighteen all over again. Who cares if they’re two a penny? It’s the necklace that’s brought me back here . . . back to where I left my heart . . . back to where I belong. Me, Stelios and Demi, together at last. I feel like I could burst with happiness.

  ‘Stelios isn’t coming.’ It’s Georgios who finally speaks. ‘I think it would be better if you left,’ he adds quietly.

  ‘Oh come on, Georgios, I know you’re not happy about me being back, for whatever reason, but I’m not here to steal away your best friend.’ I look at Demetria, who is sipping a glass of white wine that Stelios’s father has poured for her. Despite the warm Cretan sunshine, the air has turned icy. No one is smiling like I am.

  ‘Look, I just want to say hi, and see how he is, and then I’ll go, I promise. I’m not here to cause trouble.’ I bite the corner of my lip. Now is not the time to tell them about Demi. I have to speak to Stelios first. We’ve wasted too many years. I want to meet with him alone. I wonder if the same spark will be there. Will I recognise him straight away? Will it feel like I’ve come home when I see him?

  ‘Stelios isn’t coming,’ Georgios repeats hoarsely.

  ‘Well, look, just tell me where he is and perhaps I can swing by,’ I suggest, rolling my eyes. I’m starting to get a bit fed up with Georgios’s dourness. It’s like he’s performing some Greek tragedy.

  He looks around the table, and then back at me, and when he speaks again, his voice is so quiet that I can hardly hear him.

  ‘Stelios is dead.’

  A nervous laugh escapes from my mouth.

  ‘Sorry?’ I say dumbly, realising I must have misheard him. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Stelios is dead,’ Georgios’s voice is more gravelly and husky than ever, barely a whisper, but this time I hear him clearly.

  ‘He died in a car accident,’ Yannis adds. ‘When I was very young.’ He holds the pendant around his neck as I am holding mine. ‘This is the only thing I have of him. The thing that was dearest to him.’

  I swallow and let my brain turn this information over, feeling like the world I know has fallen around me and I’m standing in the ruins, amidst the rising dust, wondering what on earth just happened. I look at Yannis’s pendant and try and focus. He puts his hands to the back of his neck and undoes it, holding it up to mine like Cinderella trying on the glass slipper. It’s a perfect match, but there’s no Prince Charming about to swoop in to carry me off in a carriage. There is no happy ending here at all.

  My jaw moves up and down but no sound comes out. There is a whooshing in my ears. My head is light and the brightness from the sun swirls in front of me. I stumble backwards.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I . . . I have to go. Sorry for your loss. Sorry! Kali . . . kali . . .’ I can’t think of the word for goodbye. ‘Sorry,’ I say again, and I turn and stumble across the courtyard and out through the gates.

  As if on autopilot, I climb aboard the moped and drive back to the farm, oblivious of the potholes I’m swerving round and the tree in the road that has caused me so many problems before. Nothing seems real. It’s like I’ve stepped into one of my dreams that’s turned into a nightmare and I’m hoping to wake up at any minute.

  All this time, whilst I’ve boxed away my anger, my hurt, my heartbreak, my feeling of betrayal, he wasn’t happily living another life; he wasn’t living at all! As I pull up in the drive and head straight for my room, the tears that I’ve kept dammed up for all these years pour down my cheeks, like a tap that’s been stuck and now can’t be shut off.

  When I finally make it out of the bathroom, I know exactly what I need to do. I drag my case out from under my bed, unzip it and flip back the lid with more force than is necessary. The case bounces up and down on the bed.

  You shouldn’t have come! You shouldn’t have come! a voice keeps repeating in my head. I know! I want to shout back, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead to try and get it to shut up. I have to leave here, now.

  Outside my bedroom door, the cats that usually laze in the shade around the sheltered tables and chairs have gathered to watch with interest, like an episode of Gogglebox, as I pick up clothes and throw them into the case, not caring about folding them. I just want to get packed up and get home as fast as I can. No matter how often I brush them away, the tears keep coming. I’m hot and getting hotter, my eyes blurry, like the heat haze rippling through the valley below where the goats are grazing. I can hear the team leader, bell gently clanking as she moves and the others follow. My cheeks are burning and red, maybe from the heat of the day or maybe from my humiliation. I can’t believe I could have embarrassed myself and Stelios’s family quite so badly. Talk about wading in there with my big feet! My mum was right: I always was too gobby for my own good. Always sticking my nose in where it wasn’t wanted.

  Is that what Demi thinks: that I’m interfering in her life? If I hadn’t tried to get involved in her business so much, maybe she wouldn’t have wanted to leave home so young!

  I am under the bed, trying to reach for my left shoe, when I hear the ringing. At first I think it’s the goat bell again. Perhaps she’s making a bid for freedom up the mountain. But as I squiggle my way from under the bed, I realise it’s not the goat at all; it’s my laptop, balanced on a wooden crate I found in the barn to use as a bedside table. I’ve got a Skype call. It’s Demi! My heart lifts. I brush at the tears with the sleeves of my shirt, running a finger under each eye and then rubbing my face madly. I’m hoping she’ll think my glowing cheeks and nose are just sunburn, and not because I’ve been crying buckets. I grab a pair of sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes and slide them on. Then, with one big gulp, I press answer.

  ‘Finally! I was just about to hang up.’ Demi’s fuzzy face starts to come into focus, and at her chippy tone, I can’t help but smile.

  ‘Hey! How lovely to hear from you.’ I try and speak brightly, but even I can hear there’s a slight crack in my voice.

  ‘Mum? You sound funny.’

  ‘Must be a bad line,’ I lie.

  ‘Are you wearing sunglasses indoors?’

  ‘It’s so hot here, and bright,’ I nod, ‘I wear them all the time.’

  ‘Are they my old One Direction ones?’

  ‘Yes, work a treat.’ I clear my throat. ‘Now, how’s it going? Tell me all the news. How’s the job?’ I try and drink her in through the tinted plastic in my glasses.

  ‘It’s great, really great . . .’ Her voice trails off. Why is she ringing? And at this time? My gut instinct is to ask her what’s wrong, but I know she’ll just say ‘nothing’ and get cross with me.

  ‘How’s work?’ I try and keep bright.

  ‘The job’s going really well.’

  ‘Well that’s good.’

  ‘And the parents . . . really busy . . . They’ve got really, like, demanding careers, so they depend on me. They’ve said they couldn’t do any of it without me. I’m their saviour.’ She seems to be warming up. Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. Maybe it’s only my life that’s disintegrating, like crumbling feta cheese.

  ‘That’s brilliant, darling,’ I say, and my heart does a weird rising and dipping. On the one hand I’m pleased and proud to hear it’s going well in London, but it means I’ll be going home to an empty house.

  ‘What about you? How’s the WWOOFing?’

  ‘Well, I’ve finished cleaning out the honey factory, and I got chased by some angry bees and had to hide in a cave.’ I don’t tell her that Geo
rgios had to rescue me from the bees. I don’t tell her that I’ve just discovered her birth father is dead.

  ‘Mum? Are you sure you’re OK? You seem a bit—’

  ‘Summer cold, that’s all! Not used to the climate. Boiling hot in the day, but the temperature drops like a stone at night,’ I say, sniffing and rubbing my nose. ‘Course, when I was here before, I was down on the coast, not up in the mountains. But that was a long time ago. Everything’s changed . . . everything . . .’ I feel a catch in my voice and excuse myself to the bathroom. ‘Just need to blow my nose,’ I say, and stand up stiffly, my legs beginning to ache from the mountain climb.

  In the bathroom, I blow my nose loudly, throw cold water on my face and take a deep breath before slapping on another smile and going back into the bedroom.

  ‘Did I tell you about Mitera, Kostas’s mother, who keeps losing her . . .’ I pause. There’s a shadow in the doorway.

  ‘Sorry. I did knock.’ Georgios gives a nod. ‘You were . . .’ He waves a hand at the bathroom. ‘May I?’ He pushes open the door and steps into the room, whilst his little three-legged dog sees off the nosy cats with a couple of warning woofs and lunges.

  Once again, there’s that feeling of an impending storm between us, filling the space, the air heavy with expectation and pent-up fury. We stand and stare at each other, neither of us able to break our gaze.

  ‘Mum?’ Demi says from the computer. ‘You OK? Who’s that?’

  Georgios snaps his head round, and I make a lunge for the computer and slam it shut, scooping it up and clutching it to my chest.

  There is a deafening silence between us. My heart is thundering like I’ve OD’d on Maria’s fabulous coffee. It’s getting to be a habit around this man. But I’m pretty sure I got to the computer in time. I don’t need to make this any more complicated or upsetting than it already is.

  ‘Who was that?’ he says in his usual blunt way, tipping his head towards the computer I’m using like a shield.

  I take a deep breath and force myself to look him in the eye. ‘My daughter.’

  He holds my gaze for a moment and says nothing, then his eyes dart around my bedroom, taking in the case on the bed.

  ‘You were right,’ I say. ‘I should go. I shouldn’t have come.’ I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. It was a ridiculous idea. I was eighteen when I came before. I’m not that person any more. Stelios is dead. Demi will never meet her birth father. ‘I’ll be gone as soon as I can. I won’t be causing any more trouble for you and Stelios’s family,’ I reassure him.

  ‘Running away, more like,’ he says. His dislike for me is clear, and to be honest, I’d expect nothing less. But then indignation starts rising in me, as it seems to have a habit of doing when I’m around him. Hang on!

  ‘You’ve been the one telling me I should go all this time! We’re finally agreed on something at last. It’s for the best.’ I grab my nightie from my pillow and sling it into my open case. I can’t stay. There are too many memories. I shouldn’t have come and opened up wounds that have healed.

  ‘Like last time.’ He looks at me. ‘You left because it was for the best. You and Stelios rowed, and then you left.’

  How dare he? I open my mouth to tell him that I was doing what I thought was best for everyone, but no sound comes out. I’m tongue-tied and furious . . . again!

  ‘I’ll give you a lift to the airport,’ he says, and turns to leave just as Maria appears at the door in her pink slippers and her usual wraparound apron. She is carrying a plate of glistening golden half-moon pastries that I know will be filled with fluffy soft cheese, and a slice of courgette pie made from the glut from the garden. Although I know how good they’ll taste, my mouth is like sandpaper and my stomach a knot.

  ‘You missed dinner. I was baking,’ she says. ‘I brought you some . . . What is this?’ She looks at my case, and back at Georgios by the door.

  ‘Nell is leaving,’ he says bluntly.

  ‘Oh no, please say it isn’t true!’ Maria looks at me beseechingly and puts the plate of pastries down on the windowsill. ‘You can’t leave. How will we cope? You are so good helping us here. Soon the bees will come, I know it. Georgios, tell her she must stay!’ She turns to him, hands clasped. Below my window, two of the goats are having an argument, butting heads, each hoping the other will just back off.

  ‘I . . . I really should go. It probably wasn’t a good idea for me to come in the first place,’ I say, my cheeks burning.

  ‘But what has made you decide this? Don’t you like it here, are you unhappy?’ Maria is close to tears.

  I look out of the window again, to the mountain behind.

  ‘Are you frightened about what’s going on up there? Is that it? Have you been scared off too? Will this never end?’ Maria picks up her apron and holds it to her face. Georgios shifts uncomfortably.

  ‘I love it here,’ I hear myself blurt, as if my heart has just spoken for itself without thinking, and I quickly roll my lips together before it can do it again.

  ‘Then please stay.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I say, and Georgios narrows his eyes.

  ‘Just until . . . well, until the honey farm is up and running, or until we can find someone else to help, though I’m sure they won’t be as good as you. Unless, of course, you need to go home?’ she adds quickly. ‘Do your family need you?’

  I look at the computer, and then at Georgios. What is there for me at home? Demi clearly doesn’t need me. She’s doing just fine. And with no news on the Christmas decoration factory reopening, I’d be going back to an empty house and no job.

  ‘Please, we need you. Kostas needs you. Just until the bees come back to the mountain, until they are happy once more. And of course, once we take the honey to market, we can start to pay you back for all your work. Say you’ll stay.’ Maria’s cheerful disposition has disappeared, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

  Staying on with Maria and Kostas and Mitera has got to be better than going home to nothing, hasn’t it? I have loved being here with them. Even if I have to put up with Georgios as a neighbour. I’ll just have to make sure I avoid the town . . . especially the restaurant. I can’t run away again. Right now, Maria and Kostas need me, and that makes me feel like I have to stay. I need to be needed right now. But can I really stay knowing that Stelios’s family think I broke his heart?

  Maria looks from Georgios to me. ‘Look, I’m not sure what the problem is, but . . . please take tonight, sleep on it.’

  ‘Perhaps Nell,’ Georgios emphasises my name, ‘should explain who she really is.’

  ‘Who she is?’ Maria frowns. ‘What do you mean? She’s Nell . . . from Wales.’

  ‘She’s Elinor . . . Stelios’s British girlfriend.’

  Her mouth drops open. ‘Huh! So it’s true. You are—’

  Before she can say any more, there is a shout from outside, and we all rush out to see Kostas pointing and flapping his arms.

  ‘The bees! See them? A swarm! The hives on the mountain must be overcrowded. They have thrown out the queen and half of her children. They are looking for a new home.’

  I watch Maria and Kostas running down towards the hives. They have built this life together. Would Stelios and I have been like them? I wonder. Working together, sticking by each other? If only we had the dittany growing in the field. Then the bees would come to the farm and stay. The honey farm would be up and running. Am I really going to run out on all of this, or am I going to stay and finish what I’ve started?

  Georgios gives me one last stare and turns to leave, past the goats and the herb patch, up through the cows’ field to the lane above and his own house. I watch him go. Then I look up at the white peak above. At least while I’m here I still feel close to Stelios. He may not be here in body, but he is here in spirit, and I’m not sure I’m ready to leave him just
yet. I gaze at the mountain, and the tears for what might have been sting my eyes.

  The following morning I am cleaning out the cupboards in the honey factory all over again, getting them ready to be filled with empty jars. The harder I work, the more it seems to distract me from the pain I’m feeling right in the middle of my heart.

  ‘Take a break!’ Maria instructs. ‘You are working too hard. It is spotless in here. Everything is perfect.’ She is holding a tray with a jug of water, a glass and a plate of pastries on it. She is such a caring woman. It is so sad she doesn’t have children of her own. She would make a wonderful mum.

  I wring out my cloth in the bucket of soapy water and renew my assault on the shelves. ‘It’s no bother,’ I say, scrubbing with all the force my grief and hurt can summon up. I’ve been up cleaning in here since four a.m., going over the floor and all the surfaces again. My mind just keeps churning over and over what might have been if I hadn’t left. What I still don’t understand is why he never came after me. I wipe my face with the back of my rubber-gloved hand, hoping that Maria will take my tears for sweat.

  As the sun began to rise earlier this morning, I went for a walk along the lower slopes of the mountain. I ended up ringing Angelica, waking her to tell her the truth about Stelios. That he’d been more than a holiday romance; that he was my one real love and the reason I’d wanted to come back to Crete. Then I texted Demi, telling a white lie, to my shame, and saying my computer had been playing up the night before, which was why we’d been cut off. After that, I came back to the farm and set to work.