‘These are all very beautiful though, Chris,’ I said, fighting back bitter tears. ‘You really have an amazing talent. It must take a lot of patience and hard work to produce something like this.’
As my eyes met his, I saw so much sorrow I could hardly bear it. I didn’t want his sympathy, but he was definitely regretting that I’d seen the painting. ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘But doing what you love never feels like hard work really, does it?’
He smiled and right then, I envied him.
‘I don’t know,’ I answered truthfully.
Doing something you love. I wished I could say I did. I thought it must be the best feeling in the world to be in a job you know in your heart was made for you; embodying all of your God-given gifts. Not like toiling behind a desk in an office in the grey, wet city. Not like photocopying forty-seven forms while the whole world – and a well overdue and deserved promotion – just passes you by. Life really is too damn short. I thought of another person who had given up the rat race to do what she loved.
‘Michaela was lovely, really inspirational,’ I said. ‘I’ve learned so much more from her than how to cook and ride a horse through the waves. So much more.’
Placing a pot of brushes in the middle of the table, Chris paused for a second to idle with them and then smiled.
‘Yes, she is quite an extraordinary lady. Very resilient. Particularly after her . . . er . . . after she . . .’
‘Lost her husband?’ I finished.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘She told you then.’
‘Yes. And I don’t think I’ve ever had the privilege to meet a person who has turned such a negative into a wholly positive thing. She really loves and appreciates life, it’s so infectious.’
‘Yes, she is a beautiful person,’ he said.
‘Do you know who else is amazing?’ I added.
‘Besides me?’ he chuckled.
‘Greta. She’s a breast cancer survivor, did you know that? She calls herself an NHS high flyer.’
‘No, I did not,’ Chris said, looking very surprised. ‘She and Hughie are a really upbeat, funny couple. Who’d have thought it?’
‘That’s the thing,’ I told him. ‘She isn’t at all gloomy about it. She says that after the operation to remove her breast, that’s when her life truly began. Can you believe that? She said she realised that at the end of the day death is always there, waiting in the wings for you. Better give him some light entertainment while he’s got nothing else to do.’ I chuckled at the memory of her words.
‘Well, I don’t know what to say to that,’ Chris replied, looking wistful. Then, he began to smile. ‘Except,’ he continued, ‘how on earth does she cope with him flirting with you like he does?’
‘Oh, it’s just harmless banter,’ I laughed. ‘I guess when you make it to forty-odd years of marriage, you know each other better than you know yourself.’
At that moment Mita breezed by me, placing water jugs on the table. Spilling out of an extremely low cut top like a busty bar wench again, I thought she looked about ready to place another set of jugs on the table. Yesterday I’d have eyed her enviously – today I couldn’t be happier for her right to do so.
‘Good morning, Mita, how lovely to see you again,’ I answered, smiling at her. She smiled a ‘hello’ back and continued quietly with her work. ‘Well, I better get out of your way,’ I said. ‘It looks like another scorcher and there’s sunbathing to be done, after all.’
‘Aren’t you parascending this afternoon?’ Chris asked.
‘Yes, but not ‘til 4 o’clock. Why?’
‘Well, my class finishes at noon and then I have an exhibition on at the museum – you know the building that you walk past to get down to the beach?’
‘Yes, the one that has the balcony overlooking the sea?’
‘That’s the one. When you’re done whizzing over the sea, why don’t you drop in?’
‘No prior engagements tonight then?’ I asked.
‘None at all. And if you’re good I might even buy you dinner.’
The phone in my pocket began to ring out loudly. Damn, I forgot to turn it to silent. It was a ring tone I’d downloaded for David to cheer myself up which announced loudly:
‘WANKER ALERT! WANKER ALERT!’
Chris and Mita both stopped to watch me. I fumbled around in my pocket, cursing myself for having had a wine-fuelled weak moment and unblocking him, attempting to buy time for it to stop ringing by pretending it was just out of my grasp. Thankfully, it fell silent – just as I retrieved it.
‘What eez a wanker?’ Mita asked Chris, who stared back at her wordlessly.
‘Ah, well, they’ll maybe call back later . . .‘
It started again. ‘WANKER ALERT! WANKER ALERT!’
‘Sorry, I’d better, erm . . . just take this over here.’ Pressing the reject button and putting it to my ear this time to look as if I was taking the call, I rushed back towards my apartment, arriving at the patio just as a text alert buzzed my ear. What on earth was making David so insistent today? I opened it and read the message:
I’m back at the hotel. Where are you?
It was no use pretending I’d gone home. The one thing that would have alerted everyone at home to the fact that something was wrong would have been deleting David from my Facebook friends list. ‘Mrs David Dando is now single’ would have caused some concern. He knew I was still here in Greece and still going through the list which meant he probably knew where I was going to be this afternoon. On this small island, if he wanted to find me he would very likely succeed. The best thing to do was avoid him having to come look for me, because the one thing I didn’t want was him showing up in front of any of my new friends. Way too complicated. Everyone knew we were recently separated but not everyone knew just how recently – or that I was on our honeymoon. Quick thinking was required. I’d have to agree to a meeting.
I’ve moved into an apartment elsewhere on the island. I’ll meet you but please, give me a little space. I’m not ready to face you right this minute.
The response was immediate. He called me and I rejected it before sending another message:
Please David. I can’t speak to you right now.
It was true; the lump in my throat and stinging in my eyes told me that one word with him and the floodgates would open and my power would once again be given over to him. Not now David. Not now. His reply was another text:
Then meet me tonight. Please, I beg you xxx
It was David who had chosen the parascending experience so I knew that if I said no to a meeting there was every chance he would just turn up. He’d booked the lesson himself.
‘We’ll start with the honeymoon, then after that it’s one thing a week that scares us. We’ll both do it. You get one shot at life, Binnie. Just one! Let’s take it and all its experiences by the balls. We are going to be so happy from this day forward, just you wait and see.’
That was our wedding day. I waited. I saw. And it was all complete and utter bollocks. I answered him with another text:
We can meet up later this evening, okay? I’ll let you know where this afternoon.
At that moment Chris appeared behind me. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes, fine. It’s Linda calling me, I promised to meet up with Eydis and Linda tonight to watch a bit of a last night rehearsal thing with the dance troupe. She’s just chasing me up about it.’
‘Does she know you think she’s a wanker?’ he said, sardonically. It was clear he had guessed it was David calling me. I wasn’t going to talk about it.
‘Yes, it’s a private joke between us,’ I lied.
‘Fine, well, what about the exhibition later?’ he asked.
‘Sure. I’ll drop in before I go out,’ I promised.
He stood staring at me for a moment, as if he wanted to ask me something else. I guessed what he really wanted to know was whether I was going to speak to David.
Finally, he asked, ‘How long have you got left till you
go home now?’
‘Not long, sadly.’ I sighed and felt a knot in my stomach but couldn’t decide whether it was the thought of leaving or meeting David later. I was going to miss the island and my new friends; and I realised that it was likely I would never see Chris again once I’d gone back to England. I wondered if his question meant he realised too.
‘Binnie, I’d like to have that dinner, I really would. There are things to say before you go . . .’ his voice trailed away, but his words had already surprised me.
The goat bell at the gate sounded out, signalling the arrival of his first pupil for the morning. With a ‘We’ll talk later,’ he rushed off. And then a thought occurred to me. Maybe he was going to spend an afternoon trying to talk me into taking David back. Suddenly, I remembered what I had been thinking in my Tequila-fuelled haze last night, and the text I’d sent to David. Dammit. That’s why he was calling me! And he had probably been calling Chris too.
I flopped back into my chair, shielded from Chris’s pergola by the patio curtain, and my mind spun − thinking of David, the love of my life, my new husband. Shouldn’t I go to him? But then, life was so much different, better, easier here in Greece with my new friends and not all of them were going home this coming weekend. My life was to return to normal on Saturday when I went home to my two grown daughters, who both rushed around living fearless lives of their own the way I’d made sure I raised them. I didn’t want them to rely on anyone or have all the insecurities I’d grown up with. And they didn’t. What else did I have to rush back to? A super dull job. Real life back home in England was one relentless bloody drag.
And here was Chris; creative, affluent, not unattractive, and with not one but two homes. His life had two seasons – winter in England and summer in Greece. So he might be a bit of a cad who was having an affair with a married woman. Or was he? I didn’t actually have any evidence except a tiny, nagging hunch and a couple of coincidences. Anyway, what business
was it of mine? Why should I care? But I liked him; a lot. That’s why I cared.
My thoughts turned from Chris to the bronzed, fit body of Argos, who, at twenty whatever-it-was called me ‘beautiful Binnie.’ And, after giving him a lift home on the back of my moped the other evening, I knew my pelvic toner had magical properties that could give him an erection that lasted over an hour. I must get a new one of those.
It was Argos who would be giving me my parascending session on the beach. How many jobs the guy had, I didn’t know. Everyone out here seemed to have so much going on.
I’d done so much thinking since I got here, after having had almost no time to spend with myself in many, many years. This island honeymoon had changed me, I could feel it. Why should I feel bad about going to a strip club after the way David had humiliated me? Did I want to go and meet him? Could I let Chris talk me into taking him back? Why? When I was beginning to consider the possibility that I had found myself right here in Greece after being lost for a very long time.
Husband number one hadn’t deserved the real me. Maybe David didn’t deserve the real me either. Maybe I did. All that was needed was for me to make a start on taking my power – and my sexy − back. A delicious idea was forming in my head – an exuberant peach of a thought.
I sent two texts – one to Linda and one to David.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s 32 degrees here today! Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
- Joan of Arc, 1431.
‘Now, you just count to three, walk forward a few steps and then run.’
As Argos strapped me into the harness, feeling around my backside to fasten it, I prayed to the God whose living room I thought I might be about to fly into.
The shorts I’d chosen for the day pinched my tummy; made too tight by a week’s worth of scrummy feta cheese and olive oil. But hey, they’d had some healthy tomatoes for company.
‘Okay. Hold the reins . . .’ I repeated. ‘Count to three . . .’
Argos laughed. ‘Reins? It is not a horse like yesterday, Binnie!’
‘Wait. What? You saw me?’ With my tits out?
Argos waved to the boat, “It’s okay, go, go!’ he shouted, then turned back to me. He was grinning like the cat that got the view of my boobs. ‘Are you ready?’
‘You saw me riding the horse yesterday? On the beach?’
The boat’s engine roared.
‘Count to three, Binnie!’
I took two steps forward. ‘One, two . . .’
‘SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!’
There was no three. And no run. More of a sitting glide across the water as I was yanked forward. Finally, I was lifted high into the air. As I felt the wind in my hair, I found peace and solitude again. Not for the first time on this holiday, I felt like I was really living.
‘Georgio,’ Chris barked.
A short, stout man with a large, bushy moustache appeared, carrying a clipboard. I’d gone to Chris’s art gallery as arranged, to find him more than willing to escape for a welcome break.
‘Could you take over for a bit?’ Chris asked him. ‘I’m taking my friend to lunch.’
The man nodded.
‘Well, that’ll be lovely,’ I said. ‘But Linda is expecting me at her place soon, so we’ll have to make it a very short one.’
‘I’ve been hoping to get a proper chance to speak with you,’ Chris began, as we sipped wine and shared a huge, Greek salad and fresh bread.
We were sitting at an outside table in one of the tiny restaurants that lined the bustling, cobbled side streets. At this time of day there were always tour boats flooding the island for a brief time with additional custom it was no doubt grateful to receive.
I looked up from my plate and frowned. This was it. My lecture about taking David back. Only he didn’t know it was way too late.
‘Really?’ I said, bracing myself for his speech.
‘Yes, really,’ he said.
I sighed loudly. ‘Look, Chris, I know what you’re going to say,’ I started.
‘It’s about that thing you brought up the other day,’ he cut in.
‘Oh,’ I said, feigning understanding, then immediately realising how pointless that was. ‘What thing?’
‘You asked me why I stopped talking to you.’
‘Oh, that,’ I said. ‘But you said we were okay?’
‘We were. We are.’ He stopped and looked away for a moment, as if carefully contemplating his next sentence. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘We weren’t alright. I was lying. There was something else.’
‘Was it something I said or did?’
‘No.’
‘David?’
‘No. Well . . . yes.’
‘It was something David did?’
‘Oh dear, wait,’ he sighed. ‘This is all very difficult for me to explain. David is my best friend.’ He pulled a napkin out of the holder on the table and mopped his brow. ‘But yes, in a nutshell, it was because of him that I stopped talking to you.’
‘What did he do?’ I asked. ‘Or was it something he said?’
‘Nothing. No, it’s not that,’ he began. ‘You and I always got on so well, always laughing together. I think I sometimes took you away from him.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I thought we were becoming friends. And then it all stopped. You took your friendship away and didn’t tell me why.’
‘I liked you a lot. I still like you a lot.’ He lifted his glass and took a huge mouthful of wine. ‘This isn’t an easy thing to tell you,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t be your friend because of David.’
All at once, the light in my head came on. I stood up, pushing my chair back angrily and the buzz of conversation that had been around us from other diners ceased. ‘He told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?’ I said.
‘What?’
‘He told you to back off from his woman, didn’t he,’ I stormed. ‘What a jerk!’
‘No, that’s not what happened . . .’
I was already making to leave,
my meeting later with David now more urgent than ever.
‘Bernice,’ Chris pleaded, reaching for my arm. ‘Please sit down. You’re getting the wrong end of the stick . . .’
‘Don’t you try protecting him anymore,’ I said. ‘He’s not worth your loyalty!’ I reached into my purse and threw ten euros on the table. ‘Here’s my half for lunch.’
‘Wait,’ Chris said, standing up now too. ‘Bernice, it’s not that, honestly. Could you please just sit down?’
Tears welled in my eyes and glancing around, I could see everyone in the restaurant had stopped what they were doing to watch the show. I felt mortified.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told Chris solemnly. ‘I have to go.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Parascending = awesome! But can someone tell my arse my legs are still attached to it?
Posting a ‘haha’ status to Facebook felt harder than usual today, but I knew my girls would be expecting news of our parascending adventure. I clicked ‘send’ and flopped back into the chair in Linda’s apartment. The only person left to arrive was David. I hoped that around about now Linda was down at the fish restaurant leaving him some crumbs.
The plan was for her to apologise for my being unavoidably detained. She’d been told to tell him ‘something had come up,’ and then offer to have a drink with him to discuss ‘Binnie and her problems.’ At the end of their little chat, Linda would come over very sympathetic and reveal that she knew where I was staying. Then, the stinger. The suggestion that he came to see me to try and patch things up. What harm could it do? Linda was my friend. She only had my best interests at heart.
If only he’d hurry up! The tiny thong I was wearing, under a flowery, pink, baby doll nightie, was continually riding up my backside and however much I’d tried to stay upset that afternoon, the dance troupe had fussed around, plying me with margaritas. I gulped them back gratefully, waiting for the gradual numbing sensation they’d bring that would protect me from all my pain and anger as well as the embarrassment of frolicking around in front of virtual strangers in sexy lingerie. In no time at all, I was dancing around with Gelle to The Birdie Song, my head all a-fuzz.
The New Mrs D Page 18