Under a Greek Spell

by Simone Hubbard

  Costas grins. ‘You leave it with me. Now we carry on.’

  He starts the boat up, and off we go again, bouncing on the waves. A plush-looking hotel sits perched up above us on a hill. Costas steers the boat towards the edge of the small sandy bay below it and then he slows the boat and cuts the power. As we get to the shallow water, he jumps out and pushes the boat on to the beach. There are sunbeds and parasols on the stretch of beach in front of the hotel and a few people are on the beach and in the sea.

  ‘Welcome to Shirley Valentine’s beach. It is now a private beach belonging to this hotel but my friend, who is one of the managers, gave me permission to bring you here.’

  ‘Wow! Thank you. It’s lovely.’

  ‘We used to come here as a family. My first memories are of watching the filming of Shirley Valentine from where the Grand Hotel is now. And now I am standing on the very same beach with Shirley Valentine herself. So, what would you like to do?’

  This maybe wouldn’t be the right time to confess that I’m not really Shirley Valentine; Costas has gone to so much trouble to bring me to my namesake beach. I survey the area, thinking that there doesn’t actually look like there’s much to do apart from swim and sunbathe.

  He can see that I’m struggling, so he makes some suggestions. ‘We can swim, snorkel, walk and explore, eat, sunbathe, go back to the town…’

  ‘Sorry, Costas, you’re right. It’s beautiful here. Maybe I could try snorkelling, but you’ll have to show me because I’ve never done it.’

  ‘You live on an island and you not try snorkelling?’ He looks astounded.

  ‘No, Costas, I’ve never fancied snorkelling in the cold British seas.’

  ‘Okay, well, of course, as you know from yesterday, it is quite cold here too. But we try it. Let’s get the mask on you first.’

  He reaches into a compartment in the boat and brings out a couple of masks. He gives one to me, spits into the viewing panel of the other one and then rinses it in the sea.

  ‘Eww! That’s gross! Why on earth are you doing that?’

  ‘It will stop mist up,’ he replies.

  ‘Really?’

  I’m not convinced, but he obviously knows what he’s doing, whereas Little Miss Novice here doesn’t. I spit into my mask, smear the visor and rinse it in the water. I then wiggle the mask over my head. The plastic really pulls on my hair.

  ‘Actually, you better with wet hair,’ Costas suggests, seeing me struggling.

  I follow him into the sea. Just like yesterday, it’s cold. I stop when the water reaches my knees.

  ‘Come on, Shirley, the quicker you get in the better.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, just let me acclimatise slowly.’

  ‘By the time you’ve acclimatised your way, it will be time to go home,’ he says, splashing me. He comes over, picks me up and drops me in the deeper water while I squeal. ‘Okay, you acclimatise now,’ he says, laughing.

  I splash him and he splashes me back. ‘Stop!’ I screech. ‘I don’t want water in my contact lenses.’

  ‘You start it,’ he replies in his defence.

  ‘I think you started it, actually, by chucking me in the sea.’

  ‘Okay, okay, you are right, I started it. Now, let me put mask on you.’

  He stretches the straps over the back of my now wet hair and puts the mask over my face. It feels tight enough. I put the end bit of the air tube into my mouth in between my gums and teeth. Costas reminds me that I need to breathe through my mouth and not panic. He shows me a couple of signs to use, such as ‘Okay’, which is making a circle with my thumb and index finger, and ‘Not okay’, which is crossing my hands and shaking my head.

  I submerge my head into the water and immediately start panicking as I fight for air. Costas gently pulls me up and reminds me that I need to breathe through my mouth. He calms me down and we try again. Amazingly, after a few minutes, I get used to it, so Costas swims off to lead the way.

  I can immediately see fish darting about in their own little kingdom. Costas swims towards some rocks where there are dozens of fish. He taps my arm and points down to the ocean floor at a bright red starfish. There’s also a lobster-like thing near it, with long antennae waving about in the water. I swim along a bit and spot a feathery creature waving in the motion of the sea. It looks quite pretty, and harmless, which is the main thing. Then a school of long pointed fish swim by. I don’t like the look of them but thankfully they don’t seem interested in me.

  The sounds under water are incredible. Obviously, I can hear the water but, amazingly, I can also hear fish nibbling on the rocks. Costas taps me on the arm again and points to a yellow jellyfish with purple flecks, floating along like something from outer space. He indicates to me to follow him into the deeper water away from the rocks. I can feel the water get colder. Then I see why he’s led me out. Some turtles are swimming about here. They’re not bothered by us; in fact, they swim towards us, occasionally going up for air and then swimming back down. One swims really close to Costas. He touches its shell and then it swims over to me as if it’s sensed that I want to touch it as well. I gently stroke its large shell. The feeling is awesome. I feel so humbled that these magnificent creatures have come to swim with us and let us touch them. There are a couple of smaller turtles with them as well, so it looks like they’re trusting us with their young family. They swim around us for a while and then eventually swim off. Costas indicates that we’re going back, and I give him the okay sign. We swim back to the shore and I remove my mask. My gums feel strange after having had the mouthpiece in place.

  ‘That was incredible! It’s like a different world down there. I can’t believe those turtles swam up to us like that! Thank you so much for bringing me,’ I say, slightly out of breath.

  ‘It is my pleasure. I love to share it. I look forward to having children of my own to bring here one day,’ he says, looking at some kids who are playing nearby. ‘It is one of my favourite places…’ He trails off as if he’s got something else to add but can’t find the right words.

  ‘I’m sure you will, and that they’ll love it. It’s a beautiful place.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you are right,’ he replies, sounding positive again. ‘Now, I think we should eat this food that my grandmother make. Let’s sit under the trees for shade.’

  He hands me a picnic blanket that he’s brought and picks up the cool bag himself. We make our way over to the shade of the trees. I drop the blanket and wrap my towel round myself. I feel quite chilly now that I’m out of the water and in the breeze. Costas places the blanket on the sand and we unpack the food together, along with plastic plates and glasses.

  ‘Your grandmother prepared all this lovely food for us? That was very kind of her.’

  ‘Yes, she is very kind person. I will have to introduce you.’

  ‘That would be good. Then I can thank her for all this.’

  The food looks scrumptious. Costas scoops some gorgeous fresh hummus into a piece of bread and delivers it to my mouth. It tastes divine. The olives are even better than the ones from yesterday, and there’s some feta and some sweet juicy tomatoes.

  ‘Is this tzatziki?’ I pick up a tub of dip.

  ‘Yes, indeed, freshly made with cucumber, yogurt, mint, garlic and salt. I hope you like it. My grandmother make the best on the island.’

  ‘It’s very tasty – nothing like ours at home.’

  ‘You make tzatziki?’ Costas asks, looking surprised.

  ‘No, I mean it’s nothing like the stuff we buy in the supermarket.’

  ‘Well, if you ask my grandmother for her secret recipe, you will be able to return home with an inside knowledge of how to make the most delicious tzatziki.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be able to make some and invite Helen over to reminisce about our holiday in Mykonos.’

  ‘Oh yes, your sister. What time do
you meet her today?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll try and get back for about five again. And I can spend the day with her tomorrow,’ I reply half-heartedly, because it means I won’t be with Costas.

  ‘If you like, I could take you both for a drive around the island tomorrow. Then I will still see you,’ he offers.

  ‘Yes, that could work, I suppose. She seems to like you. I’ll suggest it to her at dinner tonight after a few drinks and see how the land lies.’

  ‘You have not told her that I showed you about the town yesterday?’

  ‘No, I wanted to keep it to myself. I didn’t want a big sister’s lecture on holiday romances. I had one of those when I was twelve. I got friendly with a boy and spent the journey home crying because I wouldn’t get to see him again.’

  ‘You never saw him again?’

  ‘No, it was a seven-hour drive to a town in Cornwall.’

  ‘Seven hours? This is a long way.’

  ‘Yes, it would have been quicker to fly here and meet you.’

  ‘And maybe we have a holiday romance?’

  ‘What, then or now?’ I ask, feeling my heart beating like mad.

  ‘Both,’ Costas replies, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. ‘If I met you when I was twelve, I would send you a postcard every day. Written in Greek, of course,’ he says laughing.

  ‘Yeah, right, and I wouldn’t have had a clue what it said.’

  ‘It would say,’ Costas clears his throat, ‘I am missing you and counting the days to seeing you again.’ Costas is laughing again.

  ‘I think you’d write about two of those until the next plane-load of tourists arrived and then you’d forget all about me,’ I reply in a serious voice.

  ‘Maybe, maybe not, we will never know… Anyway, we will pack this lot up and walk down the beach if you like.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  I decide, in my wisdom, to top up my sun cream, and Costas volunteers to do my back. It’s not that I’m not grateful, but every time he glides his hands up and down my back it feels like an electric charge is running through my body. It’s making me giddy.

  ‘Maybe you could put some on my back, to stop it burning,’ he says.

  ‘How can a girl turn down such an offer?’ I rub the cream in slowly and lose myself in the moment. He has a lovely toned brown body and it’s sending me completely haywire.

  We set off and stroll down the beach. We pick up shells, skim stones in the calm sea and chat. Despite the odd occasion when we don’t understand each other, the conversation is nice and easy.

  ‘Have you always worked at the Boutique Blue?’

  ‘No. I have been very lucky and have travelled around many of the Greek islands and the mainland doing various jobs. It is very helpful when you grow up in a hotel to know many jobs. I can turn my hand to most things.’

  ‘And which island was your favourite?’

  ‘Oh, so many to chose. I prefer the greener parts of Greece and I like places with some mountains or hills. I worked in Crete last spring and early summer and walked through the Samariá Gorge before I came home. I really like the Peloponnese, and the Strofylia Forest. We have ten national parks in Greece and I have only been to five of them. How many national parks do you have in England?’

  ‘I hate to admit it, Costas, but I don’t really know. There’s one near where I live, which is the Peak District, with hills and sheep as you’d expect, and pretty towns with tearooms. Then there’s the Lake District, which speaks for itself, with lots of lakes, hills, sheep and more tearooms. Then there’s a mountain in North Wales called Snowden, which is in Snowdonia. I visited there once on a school trip. Again, lots of hills, sheep, and of course rain.’

  ‘So, seeing the great outdoors is not high on your list of things to do?’ Costas says, laughing.

  ‘Non-existent,’ I reply, laughing too. ‘But never say never, especially now I’ve rediscovered my passion for photography. Just think, all those photo opportunities.’

  ‘Hills and mountains – you’d have to climb to get them.’

  ‘Hmmm, I’ll have to think about that.’

  ‘Come on, we will go back and have a siesta. I have been up since six and I am back at work at six thirty.’

  ‘You seem to work very long hours.’

  ‘Well, it is usually about forty-two hours a week, but over two or three shifts a day. This week I’m on the early breakfast shift and the early evening shift.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d be any good at splitting my day like you.’

  ‘Trust me, Shirley, you would soon adjust.’

  There are a few more people on the beach. The sunbeds under the parasols are all taken, although a few people have moved theirs into the full sun and look like they’re frying. People are reading books, newspapers and magazines. Some have got headphones plugged into devices and, by the sounds of it, quite a few are having their siesta already. God, I hope I don’t snore like that.

  We get back to the picnic blanket and lie down. Costas strokes my arm gently. I close my eyes. He’s undeniably gorgeous, and seems to be a lovely person. He’s easy to talk to and makes me laugh. So what if it’s a holiday romance? I need to go with the flow and have some fun. The hypnotic sound of the sea is sending me into a trance-like state and I daydream, re-enacting the Shirley Valentine boat scene with Costas and me in the throes of passion…

  I feel something tickling my face and ear. ‘Shir-ley, hellooo, time to go.’ Costas’s sexy voice finally stirs me. He’s tickling my face with a piece of grass and laughing. ‘You sleep like cat.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Costas! It’s all that food, wine and sun – it’s knocked me for six. What time is it?’

  ‘I don’t know how you say in English.’ He shows me his watch.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s quarter past four already! Time flies when you’re having fun.’ I get up and we shake the blanket together.

  ‘What is “knocked for six”?’ he asks.

  I try my best to explain as we pack our things away. Costas can speak good English, even if it is a bit disjointed, but we forget all the sayings that we take for granted. I’m not even sure myself about ‘knocked for six’ so I go with the cricket theme.

  As we load the boat, I notice a large love heart drawn in the sand with my new name in the middle – I’ll have to change it by deed poll at this rate. Costas puts his arms round me and whispers something in Greek in my ear. It sounds very romantic but I don’t want to spoil the moment by asking for a translation. It probably won’t sound as sexy in English. I respond by kissing him and he kisses me back. I needn’t have worried about the long absence of kissing in my life: Costas is a natural and he’s reduced me to a quivering wreck.

  ‘My goodness, Shirley Valentine, I only whisper I hope you like my sand art.’

  I laugh. ‘I don’t think it matters what you say, Costas, I just love hearing you speaking in Greek.’

  ‘In that case, we will get on very well because I love hearing you speak in English. Please allow me.’ He helps me into the boat. ‘Okay, I push the boat in the water and hopefully jump in, otherwise you drive boat back,’ he says, chuckling to himself. He pushes the boat out and pulls himself effortlessly on board. He starts the engine and off we go, skimming over the waves and getting wet all over again.

  I wrap myself in my dry towel to warm up, and enjoy the wind blowing my hair about my face. As the harbour comes into sight and we start slowing down, I retrieve my phone out of my bag. I’ve had a message off Helen so I text her back.

  C u by the pool

  same place as

  yesterday. xx

  We seem to arrive at the harbour very quickly. Costas cuts the engine at just the right moment. He throws the rope up to the harbour wall, jumps on to the steps and has the rope securing the boat, seemingly effortlessly, in minutes.

 
‘Welcome back to dry land. I hope you have enjoyed the trip,’ he says, sounding very official while he helps me off the boat.

  ‘I’ve really enjoyed it, thank you.’

  We hop on to the moped and Costas weaves skilfully in between throngs of people as he takes us towards the square. I feel quite moped-savvy now. It’s definitely the only way to get about these narrow alleyways.

  He stops in the busy square. ‘Don’t forget to ask your sister if she would like drive round island tomorrow. I will pick you both up, in the car, of course.’ He gazes at me with a hopeful face, giving me butterflies.

  ‘I’ll see, Costas, but she’ll probably want to chill out tomorrow. It looks like the bus is here. I’ll see you later and let you know what Helen says.’

  As I start to turn, he catches my hand and pulls me gently back.

  ‘I think you are forgetting something,’ he says, wrapping his arms round me. ‘Like a goodbye kiss.’

  Oh my God, there’s kissing and then there’s Costas’s kissing. My whole body is aroused. He seems to find some sort of switch that I didn’t realise existed. I eventually break free, with my heart beating like mad and my head swirling with giddy passion. ‘See you in a bit,’ is all I can muster as I scurry off.

  The bus is quite packed but I manage to get a window seat. Everyone seems to be tired and quiet after their day in town. As we set off, I contemplate what I’m going to say to Helen and whether or not I should just come clean. I’m already in enough of a pickle what with telling Costas that my name is Shirley Valentine. That’s something I’ll have to rectify, especially if Helen does agree to going on this drive around the island. She’ll not find it remotely funny. I used to make up names to annoy her and her friends when we were kids. One of my favourites was telling her friends that I was Sabrina the teenage witch’s English cousin. I told them I could put a spell on them to make them less ugly, which went down really well. I can remember her saying to her friends, ‘Don’t take any notice, she’s just being stupid,’ before marching off to report me to Mum.