by Mandy Baggot
‘Gavin,’ Lucie said as the drone gave them pictures of an olive grove rich with trees and those silvery green leaves, gnarly trunks aged by decades of growth. ‘I am sorry about not telling you about Simon. I really am.’
Gavin shrugged. ‘S’alright. I shouldn’t have reacted like a queen bitch.’
‘So we’re good now?’ Lucie asked. ‘Even with Meg turning up and moving in?’
‘I’ve always liked Meg,’ Gavin admitted. ‘I just have to watch my swearing, not be too overtly gay and remember that she still thinks make-up is only for girls.’
‘Gavin!’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘She was the one suggesting eyebrow pencil.’
‘Oh shit,’ Gavin said, eyes on stalks as he surveyed the drone’s progress. ‘I’m not sure it is going to make it back. We might have to go and retrieve it.’
‘Well, how are we going to do that?’ Lucie asked him. ‘The road’s blocked.’
‘Gaveen! Loosely! Someone tell me that you need transport to Perithia!’
Lucie turned her head to the approach to Villa Psomi. It was Miltos. With a fluffy friend…
Forty
‘This is amazing!’ Meg said happily, arm sweeping through the air like she was caressing the very existence of sunlight. ‘The Greeks are so resourceful! I mean, I know everyone jokes about avrio, but you, Miltos, are a nation of unstoppable people. If there’s a problem you think around it.’ Meg sighed. ‘In England we would be consulting health and safety guidelines before we even dared to consider another route out of the village.’
Meg was aboard the donkey Miltos had acquired from who-knew-where, riding side-saddle like she was one of those elegant Victorian ladies. It had taken a little persuasion for Meg to get up onto the animal. She said she hadn’t been on the scales for a few months, but last time she had looked at the numbers she was still too weighty for some of the Amazon value stepladders. But Miltos had insisted the donkey was a working animal used to service of this kind and was well-treated by his owners. And then he had winked and told Meg that she was the perfect size in his opinion. Ever the charmer…
However, Lucie still wasn’t on board with the whole idea. The main road out of the village was impassable and Melina had been insistent that they were locked down until such a time that help arrived. Melina had looked a lot less than her usual confident self as villagers and tourists alike threw questions at her. Would essential supplies still get in? Was the trip to Corfu Town and the fortresses cancelled? So, why then, was her aunt now on a mule and why were she and Gavin, with their most substantial shoes on, picking their way through the mountain tracks following Miltos’s lead? Was it because Meg wanted her own space in the apartment in Perithia? Or was it more that Lucie was keen to have her Greek life back sans her aunt? Now she felt a bit guilty.
‘Well, I think this is a wonderful idea,’ Gavin said, sucking in a deep breath. ‘I was going a bit stir-crazy back at the house.’
Despite having trainers on his feet, Gavin was still wearing the watermelon shorts and a tiny tank top as he carried Meg’s suitcase. Lucie hoped he was suitably sun-creamed because this track – all rocks, grass and impassable to vehicles except maybe a mountain bike – was permanently right in line with the scorching sun.
‘We’ve only known about the road being blocked for a few hours,’ Lucie reminded him. ‘Ordinarily you wouldn’t have even been out of bed by now.’
‘Well, I still remember the Christmas-that-wasn’t-really-Christmas when we all wished we’d made a move a bit sooner. Five days to see family, wait, no, one day only but not if you live in tier four. I’m still a bit wary now. That BBC Breaking News tone comes on my phone and I’m out the door and heading to Sainsbury’s just in case there’s an EU embargo on booze.’
Lucie had worked every day over last Christmas and chosen not to see Meg indoors at all. The first time around with the lockdown, everything had been the new different. It had been scary, but everyone was in a similar position – staying at home, finding new indoor hobbies or buying a bike. The second forms of lockdown segregated people and when the third lockdown had come in it had led to overwhelming and total desperation. During the tough times of the winter when hospital admissions had risen all over again, the free food had stopped being offered to NHS staff and no one clapped them from their doorstep anymore. Lucie shivered and tried to rearrange her thoughts. Sortilas wasn’t in a lockdown like that. Everyone was well. No one was going to die…
‘What’s his name, Miltos?’ Meg called, somehow her body naturally poised on the animal like she had been born to take this ride down mountain. Lucie watched her aunt reach forward and stroke its ears.
‘Tonika,’ Miltos informed. ‘And he is a she.’
‘Oh, how wonderful!’ Meg answered.
Everything was wonderful to Meg here on Corfu. The weather was wonderful. The food was wonderful. The smell of the cypress trees was wonderful. Lucie couldn’t deny that as every day passed she felt somewhere near the same, but what wasn’t wonderful was the fact she had texted Michalis to tell him they were being escorted down the mountain to Perithia and he had yet to respond. Something was definitely off and she didn’t know what. Had she done something wrong? Was she putting too much energy into this chance of a holiday romance?
‘Does this happen often?’ Lucie asked their guide, taking care where to put her feet on the next section of rough, barely-there track.
‘You think I take beautiful ladies on rides with donkeys every day?’ Miltos inquired.
‘No,’ Lucie said. He probably would, given half the chance. ‘I mean the road getting blocked like that.’
‘Most years we have one or two slips of the land,’ Miltos informed. ‘Corfu is a green and beautiful island because of the rain. In the winter it rains and rains, and it rains so much parts of the island come away and fall down. This time it is because of the tremor.’ He stilled and then… ‘Crack!’
Lucie jumped at the last blasted word and almost slipped up on a smooth shiny stone when her trainers lost traction. Taking a breath, she regrouped. Miltos had given them a pep talk about potential wildlife on their trek down into the bigger village and snakes had been mentioned. It was OK for Meg, high up on her saddle and Tonika’s hooves taking the fallout of any slithering creatures arriving in close proximity. Gavin had missed the talk, needing the loo, and Lucie was glad. He screamed every time the grass shifted.
‘I remember one particularly fierce storm,’ Meg reminisced, flapping heat away from her face like her fingers were a fan. ‘Petros and I were caught out in the woods.’
‘Oh really, Meg!’ Gavin exclaimed. ‘And what were you doing in the woods with a hot Greek?’
‘Petros knew all about wildflowers,’ she began. ‘He had brought me to see this particular field that was awash with cyclamen. I still remember it now, it was the most gorgeous pinky purple colour.’
‘Get to the storm bit. I’m sensing a seeking of shelter,’ Gavin answered, tramping hard and disturbing two butterflies.
‘Well,’ Meg continued. ‘The heavens just opened. It had been such a calm, blue-sky day and then it was exactly like someone had turned on a fire hose and directed it right at us.’
‘That actually sounds divine right now,’ Gavin sighed, fanning his tank top out a little.
‘What happened then?’ Lucie wanted to know. She hadn’t heard this story before. Just like she hadn’t heard anything about this love affair her aunt had had in her youth. But perhaps it was going to shed a little light on the psyche of Greek men to help her understand Michalis.
‘Don’t tell me you huddled under an olive tree, because even I know you should never shelter under a tree during a thunderstorm. Was there thunder?’ Gavin inquired.
‘There was,’ Meg said, nodding. ‘And Petros led us under the branches of this fat, wide, olive tree that seemed quite spooky in the fading light. Neither of us had coats.’
‘What?’ Lucie said. ‘But, like Gavin just said, everyone knows you don’t get
under a tree in a thunderstorm. You’ve told me that so many times yourself.’ Lucie actually had a list in her head of all the things she must or mustn’t do – not walk under ladders, always salute magpies, throw salt over her shoulder, never take drugs…
‘Pah!’ Miltos scoffed. ‘What is this fairy tale of not standing beneath a tree? In Greece, when it is raining or there is a storm, we stand anywhere we will not get wet. It is as simple as that.’
‘I’m getting to love the Greeks,’ Gavin announced. ‘There are some things they really don’t give a shit about. I totally respect that.’
‘What happened then?’ Lucie asked, brushing a mosquito off her leg before it could suck.
‘Oh my God, Lucie, I don’t think we need Meg to go any further,’ Gavin began. ‘Use your imagination.’
‘Petros was a gentleman,’ Meg replied.
‘Oh, that’s boring!’ Gavin chimed.
‘There was passion, but… we both kept our clothes on just in case any goat herders came along,’ Meg finished off.
Gavin squealed in delight and Lucie just shook her head. She was smiling a little at Meg’s tale of youth, but she was beginning to realise that there really was a lot more to her aunt than only the steadying solid influence she had always been. Why did that side of Meg never come to the fore now? And, if Meg remembered how it felt to have a Greek adventure, did she need to be quite such a stickler for safety in her holiday advice when it came to Lucie? Because, as far as Lucie knew, no one had ever died from not wearing a cardigan when there was a cool breeze. She sighed, then took a second to admire the rocky terrain as it wound down and around towards the village that still wasn’t yet in sight. Peaks and troughs, bumps and plateaus. Just like life. It made her think about her mum again. Her long, glossy dark hair she always wore loose according to the photos – until she’d cut it all off. Wide eyes that spoke of innocence, kohled with thick black liner that spoke of anything but. School uniform skirt a little shorter than it should be. Meg only offered up stories from Rita’s childhood, the times before Rita began to defy rules. Two sisters bonding over ice cream, farm animals and arcade games on a summer trip. But these stories were almost worthless to Lucie. It was like they had been fabricated by a film studio only dealing in happy-ever-afters. The rest of the tales came as intense warnings about the risks Rita took, her carefree, reckless nature that had led to her downfall. But people were always multifaceted, like Lucie was finding about Meg. And those were still the stories she was missing. That was the detail she needed if she wanted to find out who her mum had really been.
‘What was the last name of this man Petros?’ Miltos asked, one hand on the rope he was gently leading the donkey with.
‘Oh, I have no idea,’ Meg answered with a breathy sigh. ‘In those days I wasn’t so much about the details.’
‘Just about the pecs and the mane of hair – like me, I bet.’ Gavin gave a sigh of longing. ‘I might have to change my criteria soon. Men with good hair seem to be cruel.’
Suddenly Tonika stopped dead in her tracks and Meg rocked in her position on its back, hands coming down onto the donkey’s body to aid balance. She stroked its mane and whispered a platitude.
‘Whoa! Tonika, what is the problem?’ Miltos asked, stroking the donkey’s neck and observing its expression as if he could read its thoughts. The donkey didn’t appear to want to walk any further. That was bad news considering Lucie calculated they were only about halfway and the heat of the day was dehydrating them fast. Luckily they had been sensible and packed plenty of water and snacks for them and for Tonika.
‘Come on,’ Gavin urged the animal, giving its bottom a little pat. ‘I saw this happen once at a village fair when I was six. This poor donkey had been giving rides to this terribly large child at my school called Rafe Beesley. Rafe Beesley’s family were rich, so basically they just kept paying for him to have ride after ride after ride and no one else – no one lighter – got a turn. And the donkey had just had enough. It planted its hooves in the field and refused to budge. Four men had to pick it up and carry it to the horsebox.’
Miltos let out a snort of annoyance. ‘Four men? They could not be Greeks.’ He patted Meg’s hand. ‘You must know that if Tonika does not move, I will carry you to Perithia myself and then I will come back for the donkey.’
Lucie walked a few steps away from them, a little further down the path. ‘What’s that?’ Straining her eyes and shielding her face from the bright sunlight, she tried to look through and past the bushes outlining their path as the track weaved around the base of Mount Pantokrator. And then there was a sound, a stamping, and an expelling of air. It was some kind of animal.
‘Oh, fuck! That sounds like a bull!’ Gavin screamed. ‘Can I get on the donkey with you? What was her weight limit again?’
‘Gaveen,’ Miltos interrupted. ‘You need to be more Greek. And there are no bulls on this mountain. Although… there was the time Mr Leonardis had one of his breakdowns and let his animals loose. We still look for one of the cows.’
Lucie didn’t think it was a bull. She took a few more steps, cautious but inquisitive to find out what was there.
‘Lucie,’ Meg called. ‘Please be careful.’
She gave an eye roll, knowing her aunt couldn’t see. She was going to be careful. She was always careful. But she also wasn’t going to stand there and wait until the donkey decided if it was going to start to move again. She was going to find out what had spooked it and what sounded like it was waiting just around the corner…
Forty-One
What sort of idiot was he? He was a doctor! And he had come out here, to a wilderness, in the heat of the day, riding an animal he knew had the potential to be dangerous if his wits were not with him. And now here Michalis was, propped up against the trunk of a tree, examining himself for the worst of his injuries. He had no water and Bambis had run off. This was bad. This was exactly how people died. Maybe this was his karma for ignoring the messages and calls from Thekli. He closed his eyes. To begin with, when the contact had begun all those weeks ago, he had called his ex-girlfriend and tried to reason with her. But he had soon realised that no matter what he said, Thekli was going to hold him responsible for what had happened at the hospital. She was not someone who could see any other alternative conclusions. Her grief was completely entangled with her loathing for him, like they were one and the same thing. She’d hated him for calling time on their relationship no matter that it was for good reason. And she hated him all the more for failing her family when they had needed him most.
He took a long, slow breath. He shouldn’t think about that now. He had to focus on keeping himself alert to his surroundings and find out where the worst bleeding was coming from. He unfastened his shirt with a shaking hand, trying to halt the panicked feelings that always kicked in as the body’s natural response. Adrenaline, fight, close down…
A branch had caught him in the midriff and had torn away a section of flesh that was bleeding profusely. He quickly bunched up his shirt and used it to plug the gap. He guessed any more analysis of his injuries would have to wait. He simply had to hope that he found the strength to get up and that his hurting ankle could stand the walk either back to Sortilas or down to Perithia, because his mobile phone was where he’d left it, face down on his bed.
‘Hello! Er, what’s the word for “hello”… er… yassas! Yassas is anyone there?’
Now Michalis was really concerned. His mind was imagining the one other person who had kept filling his head the whole time during his hack through the Corfu countryside. There had been all those unwelcome rewinds of what Thekli had engineered and then there had been the moments he had spent with Lucie. Lucie’s voice was coming to him now like a mirage for the ears. He closed his eyes and pressed the shirt to his wound, attempting to slow his heart rate.
‘Oh my God! Oh!’
Michalis snapped open his eyes then as the voice grew louder. Could it really be? His vision started to blur but he thought he cou
ld also see Bambis again.
‘Michalis!’
And then he wasn’t only hearing Lucie, but smelling her too. It was that gentle fragrance that reminded him of summer. A light sun cream, cherries, skin…
‘What’s happened?’ Lucie asked, knees hitting the ground next to him. ‘Were you on this horse?’
‘He is here?’ Michalis asked. ‘He is mainly wild. He will run again.’ His side ached as he attempted to shift position.
‘I have tied him to a tree with knots I scored badges for in Guides,’ Lucie informed. ‘And Miltos, Meg and Gavin will be here any second.’
Michalis didn’t understand. ‘What are you doing here?’ Had Nyx raised an alarm? He had not been gone all that long. He knew his sister had not wanted him to ride, but had she really been that concerned she had taken action already?
‘We have a donkey,’ Lucie told him, as if that went all the way towards a full explanation.
Now he wondered if he had hit his head in the fall. He leaned left and then right. No, he didn’t think so. As he wasn’t wearing a helmet, he probably wouldn’t be here at all if he had fallen on that part of himself.
‘I’m going to have a look at that injury,’ Lucie told him.
‘It needs stitches, but it is OK,’ Michalis replied right away.
‘I know you’re the doctor but you’re also the patient and I’m not sure you should be making the decisions right now.’
‘Lucie…’
‘No,’ she said with authority. ‘I’m having a look right now.’
Before he could say anything else, Lucie had whipped away his shirt, made a quick assessment and jammed the material back on the wound, replacing his hand to maintain the pressure.
‘Well, it can’t carry on bleeding like that and yes it needs stitches. Where’s the nearest hospital?’
He couldn’t help it. Despite the pain and his light-headedness, he laughed. ‘Corfu Town.’
‘Where I flew in to?’ She shook her head, looking dissatisfied with his answer. ‘Anywhere nearer that can deal with it?’