Chapter 23
As I go inside, I can’t help wondering about Dimitri, and if he has a significant other. It’s a nice place to live, but I wonder if there is much opportunity for romance in the village, with the people he grew up with. Perhaps most head off to bigger towns and cities, but surely some remain, favouring the beach location and marrying someone they have known all their life? He has never mentioned a girlfriend, but then, why would he?
As the questions go around in my head, I wonder why I even care. But there is just something about Dimitri that gets into my head and makes me think of him, long after he leaves.
Counting down the days until I return home, I have to be realistic about the time frame for the build, especially after discovering the builders will be heading off soon to their summer jobs. But I am grateful to Dimitri and the effort he has put in, and at least the roof is on to protect the house from the elements.
I do worry a little about it standing empty, but remind myself that I have Phoebe to watch over the villa until the next time I can return, and didn’t Ria mention how the neighbours look out for each other? I have to put my trust in the people here and hope with all my heart that it won’t be too long before I return to my favourite island.
Three days later, most of the rendering on the rear walls has been completed and I have even managed to paint the garden gate and bench the Greek shade of blue that can be seen everywhere. A new door has been installed at the front of the house, as it was quite rotten, and is now a welcoming door with a bunch of dried sage tied around the door knocker, said to ward away evil spirits. I’m sitting glancing up at the stone stairs to the balcony, daydreaming, when Dimitri seems to tap into my thoughts.
‘Tomorrow, I will take you to see my friend. He can make your dream balcony rail. I will hopefully have it installed for the next time you come here.’
‘Really? That would be wonderful.’ I can already imagine myself standing there and just gazing out to the sea across the rooftops, or sitting reading a book in the sunshine.
‘And I was wondering.’ He looks uncertain for a moment. ‘As it is on the way to Corfu Town, whether you would like to spend an afternoon there before you leave?’
‘I would like nothing more,’ I say, my heart beating just that bit faster at the thought of us spending the day together in one of my favourite places.
‘Good. I would not suggest this if we were not so far on with the work, but I think we all need a little break.’
‘I agree,’ I tell him. I know they have worked above and beyond to get things to a certain place.
‘We will soon finish rendering the outside walls, then there is only the bathroom. Unless, of course, you have come to terms with living with the blue bath. I could retrieve it from the skip,’ he jokes.
‘Absolutely not. I’m thinking clean lines, earth shades and a nice white bath on legs. Maybe some exposed brickwork. I saw some lovely bathrooms at the showroom the other day. It would be good if I could order what I want before I head home.’
‘I am beginning to realise you are someone who definitely knows what they want.’
‘Oh, I do, although I’m aware that things don’t always work out the way we expect them to.’
He studies me for a moment, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks under his gaze.
‘Are we still talking about the house?’
‘Maybe not. Life in general.’ I shrug, not wanting to give too much away about my personal life and ruin the positive mood.
He finishes his drink then, and doesn’t ask any more questions, before he resumes his work.
The next morning, we take a slight detour to the bathroom place near Sidari, and Dimitri quickly orders the bathroom suite I have chosen, along with some fixtures, to arrive on Thursday. I realise then how fortunate I am to have a Greek builder to help me with all of this.
The next stop is Dimitri’s friend, who I am told has a workshop in the countryside at the edge of a village. We take a left turn, away from the highway and are soon surrounded by rolling countryside.
‘Are you happy with how things have gone so far in the villa?’ Dimitri asks as he drives.
‘Yes, I am. I mean apart from a few hiccups, what with Yiannis and his back.’
‘And the woodworm in the floorboards,’ he says.
‘Not to mention the water pipe in the garden,’ I add.
‘And the man-eating spider in the garden.’ He turns to me with a smile on his face, and I can’t help but burst out laughing.
We bounce along roads that are little more than dirt tracks and I ask Dimitri if he is sure his car will be alright.
‘It’s fine,’ he reassures me as a chicken literally appears from nowhere, and crosses the road, and has him braking suddenly.
I glance along sweeping fields where men are bending and stretching, packing vegetables into plastic boxes ready to go to markets and shops. There are rows of red peppers and chillies, and fat red tomatoes growing on vines in the bright sunshine, alongside fields of courgettes and potatoes.
Eventually, we pull up outside a large house and are greeted warmly by Dimitri’s friend, who leads us to his workshop at the back.
‘Dimitri has told me about your project,’ says Theo, a stocky man of around fifty years of age, with a balding head and a grey moustache. ‘And your desire for a pretty balcony.’
‘Yes, if it’s possible, even though I am told it might not be very practical.’ I cast a glance at Dimitri.
‘Yes, but we must all have our dreams,’ he tells me warmly as he leads the way to his workshop.
Inside, I glance around at some wonderful examples of his work. Fireplaces, lamp stands, and metal wall art jostle for space, along with some pretty wrought-iron gates.
‘Your work is beautiful,’ I tell him and he thanks me.
‘I think, maybe, you like something like this?’
He shows me a wooden door with a metal insert at the top in a circular filigree pattern in black that seems to lift an ordinary-looking door to something truly extraordinary.
‘That’s it! That is exactly what I imagine.’
I can picture the white-painted stone stairs leading to the balcony with a beautiful rail. The French doors will be flung open in the early morning sun, the bedroom bathed in sunlight.
‘No problem. I can make that for you,’ he assures me, which is music to my ears.
‘I’m not sure what I would do without you,’ I tell Dimitri as we climb into the car. ‘I would never have known about a place like this.’
‘I am pleased to be of service.’ He turns to me and smiles, and I feel a warm glow inside.
Driving through the bustle of traffic approaching Corfu Town once more, I can’t resist glancing at Dimitri as we drive. He attracts an admiring glance from a woman in an adjacent car at some traffic lights, and it’s not difficult to understand why. He’s dressed smart casual today, his curling hair let loose, his sunglasses pushed to the top of his head.
We pass throngs of shops selling everything from tourist goods to stores displaying smart clothing in their windows, until soon enough we are pulling into a car park, close to a bridge that crosses over to the castle, giving a view of a river below.
The town is busy, and Dimitri tells me it is this way pretty much all year round, as we weave through the back alleys and tourist shops displaying their usual wares. Baskets of olive oil soaps with various scents sit alongside gift hampers of oils and herbs, neatly wrapped up in bows. Cats linger outside cafés hoping for a morsel of food; others laze beneath food tables, sated by diners’ leftovers.
We pass a shop that has a stand outside displaying an impressive range of fridge magnets, next to a tall wooden stand displaying jars of honey and small bottles of the island’s kumquat liqueur. The aroma of herbs from an open wood-fired pizza oven has my tummy rumbling.
Soon enough, we are in a park close to the Maitland Monument. It was built by the British, by Sir Thomas Maitland, the first lord high commissioner of the Ionian Islands, according to a plaque. We walk past what looks like an English village green then, where a cricket match is taking place.
‘The whole of this park area is called the Spianada. Although I guess you already know that,’ Dimitri tells me.
‘Actually, no. I just think of it as a park.’
‘Do you like to watch cricket?’ he asks, as we stop and watch.
‘No, cricket has definitely never been my thing. Or football. In fact, most sports, although I do enjoy watching ice skating and I do love walking, especially in the fine weather.’
My interest in ice skating puzzles me a little as I’ve only ever been on the ice once in my life, at a Christmas ice rink in Manchester, where I fell, skidded and crashed into a bloke around my age, taking him down too. He was literally frosty with me and I remember thinking that a bloke, no matter how good-looking he was, that could not laugh at himself – or even ask me if I was okay – would never make suitable boyfriend material.
‘Have you ever played?’ I ask Dimitri.
‘Not really. What I mean is, I played with the boys in the village growing up, but I never took it seriously,’
An almighty cheer goes up then as someone has scored. Or made a wicket. Or whatever the terminology is.
‘Not like this lot then,’ I say, noting a batsman almost throw his cricket bat onto the grass in frustration.
‘Not at all. It can be serious business here.’
Just off the green, we amble through theListon, an elegant, arcaded promenade that houses bars and cafés close to theSpianada. Moving on, the Venetian influence is apparent once again as we pass tall, pillared colonnades and pastel-coloured buildings with iron balconies. One in particular catches my eye.
‘That looks so beautiful.’ I stare up at the impressive building. ‘It’s a bit like the one that is being made for me. It looks particularly good against the yellow walls.’
‘So now you want us to paint it yellow?’ He frowns.
‘Absolutely not. White is fine, I wouldn’t dream of changing the plans now, don’t worry.’
We continue through a jumble of narrow streets with dark-green painted wooden shutters against pastel fronts, and I mention the Italian feel to Dimitri.
‘It has that Venetian feel for sure, but many of the buildings were actually rebuilt by the British in a neo-classical style.’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘I have to confess, my father told me this when I was younger. As a builder he really loves the old buildings and their history.’
‘And you, not so much?’
‘In some ways, yes. I appreciate the craftmanship, but I prefer a more modern build, with clean lines.’
‘Is your place like that?’ I blurt out. ‘I mean, assuming you have your own place. I know you are currently looking after your aunt’s house.’ Gosh why have I said that? He could still be living with his parents for all I know.
‘Yes. I have recently refurbished the apartment I bought that was a little dated. It is very masculine, I suppose. Maybe I will show you sometime,’ he says, fixing me with his deep-brown eyes as he steps a little closer.
‘Right,’ I mutter, before staring into a shop window at a tray of engagement rings.
‘Are you thinking of buying some jewellery?’
‘What? No, I was thinking of a gift for my mum.’
‘She would like an engagement ring?’ He raises an eyebrow.
‘No, of course not, perhaps a bracelet or something.’ I glance at the expensive jewellery as an immaculately made-up assistant strolls outside and asks if she can be of any help. I politely refuse and we walk on.
Half an hour later, having taken in the sights, including a very pretty church in an unusual shade of maroon and cream at the far end of the harbour, Dimitri suggests lunch.
‘Lead the way, I’m famished,’ I say, pleased to have diverted the conversation away from visiting Dimitri’s apartment as I need to keep this professional. I know he had a drink with me at my place, but it felt less personal somehow, as it’s a holiday apartment.
We head closer to the port and are soon shown to a table in a restaurant that overlooks the sparkling water.
‘So, tell more about what you do at home?’ asks Dimitri. ‘I mean, your place of work and family.’
We are sipping cold beers as a waitress has disappeared to the kitchen with our food order.
‘I process passports so that people can travel to wonderful places like Greece,’ I say, pointing around the harbour.
‘And do you enjoy it?’
‘I do, actually. It can be frustrating at times though. Some people leave so little time to send in their application, then fly into a panic as their holiday approaches and there is no passport in sight.’
‘I can imagine.’ He laughs.
‘But the wonderful thing is, as I have told you before, I can work from home some days, so I hope to do that from here eventually. Knowing I can stroll to a taverna in the sunshine after spending hours at my computer is far more appealing than walking through a park in the rain.’
‘The flights can be expensive at certain times of the year,’ he reminds me. ‘But I guess you have considered all of that.’ He takes a sip of his cold beer.
‘Of course. And my job pays well.’ There is no need to tell him about the amount of Uncle Jack’s fortune and how my inheritance was very generous.
‘Anyway, when I say tell me about your life back home, I suppose I mean all of it,’ he says, his eyes on mine.
‘What do you want to know?’ I take a sip of beer, feeling slightly flustered. What can I tell him that doesn’t sound totally boring? I live five minutes away from my parents, I’m single and don’t really have any interests apart from watching films and walking through forests or along beaches. Oh, and cooking, I quite enjoy that, and can make a curry to rival any restaurant, according to my brother and he has visited a lot of curry houses. I did once join a group of dance majorettes as a teenager and can still twirl a baton rather impressively.
‘Umm, I have a flat, old exterior, Victorian actually, but pretty modern inside, although very cosy,’ I tell him, picturing the colourful rugs and plant pots, as well as a wall hanging brought back from Thailand on my travels. ‘I like travelling, although more recently that has been mainly to Greece. I have a couple of friends and a best friend called Evie, who I have known since college. Is that enough for you?’
‘No, do go on.’
‘I drive a VW Golf and enjoy watching films, cooking, oh, and I like crafting, maybe a little knitting too. I also love walking through forests, but I’m not a great lover of hill walks.’
Dimitri puts his beer down. ‘You are kidding me.’
‘Why would I be kidding? I don’t see what’s so great about hill walking, getting aching calves and huffing and puffing, no thanks. Flat walks, yes, I’ve loved today for example, I—’
‘No.’ He shakes his head as he laughs. ‘I mean you are kidding me because you like exactly the same things as I do. Watching movies, being in the countryside, cooking. But I also like making things to relax. My aunt Lena taught me how to sew.’
‘Now it’s my turn to say, you are kidding!’
‘No, really. I mean, not all the time, but if I need to, I can sew. I can even crochet.’ He grins.
‘You can?’
‘Yes. I once made a girlfriend a scarf,’ he says proudly.
‘Wow, you really are full of surprises.’ I shake my head, thinking how wonderful it feels getting to know him a little more.
Just then our food arrives, mine a tasty-looking sea bass with oven-baked potatoes, with a delicious Greek salad. Dimitri has opted for a moussaka, the topping of which looks fluffy and delicious.
The sun is beating down on my bare arms and I feel a warmth washing over me as I sit here close to the water with my new friend, enjoying the delicious food. Does he really enjoy all the same things as I do? But then, why would he say it if he didn’t? Maybe I just don’t trust easily after my experience with my ex. As soon as we met he claimed to love everything I said I did, probably as a quick way to worm his way into my affections. I realised he hated walking on our third date when he began to complain two miles into a six-mile circular walk, asking how far away the pub was.
‘Really? So do you have a favourite film?’ I ask him. ‘Although, I know it would be impossible to choose just one, at least it would for me.’
I take a bite of my delicious fish then, and a forkful of tasty crunchy Greek salad topped with a generous slab of feta.
‘I agree, almost impossible to name one, but if I was pushed then I would say The Bourne Ultimatum. In fact, all of the Bourne films.’
‘Good choice. So you like action movies, maybe thrillers?’
‘In general, although I have been known to watch a romance in my time,’ he confesses, and I can’t help wondering who with. ‘Marley and Me gets me every time.’ He thumps his heart with his hand. ‘I love dogs.’
‘Me too, although I don’t have one because it wouldn’t be practical in an upper-floor flat or fair on the dog when I am at the office.’
‘Me neither. And for similar reasons. That is why I am happy to always look after my aunt’s dog.’
‘I’m not surprised. Prudence is adorable.’
‘So you have told me a little about your life back home, but I notice you have not mentioned a boyfriend,’ says Dimitri, before he dives into his moussaka and makes an appreciative noise. I eat more of my fragrant sea bass as I digest his words as well as the food, before I answer.
‘Neither have you.’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’ He frowns.
‘You know what I mean,’ I reply, with an eye roll.
‘Now you are avoiding the question.’
‘Why would I do that? No, I have no significant other as they say, and that’s the way I like it.’
‘When did you break up?’
‘Almost a year now. I am happily single.’
‘Yes, you mentioned that.’
‘So how about you?’ I ask, forking the last of the food into my mouth.
‘The same.’
Sitting at this restaurant near the harbour we probably look like any other couple on a date, but the reality is I am sitting with my builder who has kindly offered to drive me into Corfu Town for a day out. But I really like him, and I can’t believe we have so much in common. That is, if he is telling the truth. He could just simply have said all that stuff, agreeing with me and saying he liked the same things I do. I scold myself for thinking that way then, even though I kind of wish I had asked him about his interests first, just to be sure.
‘I was engaged,’ Dimitri tells me after a few moments. ‘And my fiancée was someone who hated all of the things I just mentioned,’ he reveals, before taking a swig of his beer. ‘I thought she was the one, more fool me.’
‘How long were you together?’ I gently ask.
‘Just over two years.’
‘Then I’m sorry to hear that. Are you still friends? Sorry, if I sound like I’m prying.’
I have no idea why I am asking him this. Maybe I am just curious as to whether some relationships can end amicably, unlike my last one.
‘In different circumstances, maybe we could have been. But even though she did not share an interest in my hobbies, she did like my friends. One in particular, it seems.’ He pushes his empty plate away, and leans back in his chair.
‘Oh no, I’m so sorry. That must have been difficult.’
‘Yes, but it was almost ten months ago now. We have managed to remain civil despite everything, mainly just through social media, but I would not call us friends. Maybe I was kidding myself about it being forever as really we did not have much in common. Beauty alone is not enough.’
So she was beautiful?
I am wondering what happened to his friend but don’t dare to ask, when he speaks again.
‘As for my friend, he moved away so I don’t see him these days,’ he tells me, his jaw tightening slightly. ‘And their relationship did not last either. Anyway, it is all history now.’ He shrugs.
I quickly change the subject, getting back to movies as I don’t want Dimitri delving into my last relationship too much, asking me if I am still friends with my ex. I mean, there was my six-year relationship, of course, but there is barely any interaction with him these days, even on Facebook. It makes me wonder how people feel when a partner remains friends with their ex. Would they always be wondering if there could be a chance of igniting a flame with them, especially if their current relationship hits a rough patch?
‘As we both enjoy movies, we ought to go and see one,’ says Dimitri, thankfully moving on from talk of exes. ‘There is an open-air cinema not far from here. Maybe next time you come over, we could go and watch a film?’ he offers. ‘They have subtitles.’
It occurs to me then that my next visit will not be for another month, and then only for a long weekend, using Monday as a work from home day, working from the apartment.
‘You might not be single next time I come over.’
‘When will that be?’
‘A month from now, just for a long weekend.’
‘I definitely won’t be.’ He shakes his head.
‘Oh.’
‘I am joking.’ He laughs. ‘I will be working on your house, remember, then down at the harbour. I will have no time for anything but sleep.’
‘You will definitely carry on with the build when the summer season begins?’
‘But of course. Only for a few hours in the evening when the boat tours have finished. The labourers will probably be glad of the work too, they like the extra cash.’
The thought of things being actually finished, or close enough next time I visit, makes me almost burst with gratitude.
‘You don’t know how much that means to me. I thought things wouldn’t be ready for months,’ I tell him gratefully.
‘Have faith.’ He smiles. ‘And Yiannis is feeling better every day. Things will speed up as soon as he is able to work again.’
We finish our delicious meal with coffees and a waiter brings some chunks of watermelon to round things off nicely and a tiny bottle of raki, which I sensibly refuse, remembering how strong it is. Walking back to the car I feel my spirits lifted by the wonderful day spent with Dimitri, along with the possibility of soon seeing my dream home become a reality.
The cricket matches are long over as we walk back through the park and couples are sitting having picnics and young families are playing football with children and I reflect on what a lovely day it has been.
‘Thanks for bringing me here today, Dimitri, and for taking me to your friend. I can’t wait to see the finished balcony.’
‘You are welcome. It has been a lovely day for me also.’
‘What would you normally do on a Sunday?’ I ask, thinking of my own Sundays back home, usually a train trip into town with a friend, or Sunday lunch at my parents’ house. Sometimes Evie and her husband invite me to a pub to have Sunday lunch with them, which is always lovely, catching up with the latest things in the lives of sixteen-year-olds. It gives me kudos in the office when I can talk to some of the younger staff about current trends.
‘Sunday is normally a day the family get-together, with my aunts, uncles and cousins. My mother is quite relaxed about that as long as we catch up at some point in the day. I will join them for a drink at the village pub later. You are welcome to join us.’
‘Thanks, Dimitri, but I’m pretty tired. I am going to call my own parents, then I will probably have an early night. My father is always especially keen to know how work is progressing on the villa. Then I might browse some furniture online.’
‘Of course. Well, if you change your mind, you know where I will be.’
Driving back to Roda, the traffic is busy once more, and Dimitri puts the radio on and his car is filled with Greek music. I close my eyes and picture us both sitting at the water’s edge at the harbour, eating and chatting, the sound of the crashing sea in the background. The music takes me to another place, and as we sit at traffic lights I’m daydreaming about walking along a beach with a handsome man. I can’t make out his face at first, but when we stop and he tilts my face towards his, moving in for a kiss, I can see that it’s Dimitri.
‘What are you smiling at?’ he asks, bringing me back to the present.
‘Oh, nothing really, just thinking of how much I enjoy being here in Greece. It always feels like I have come home.’
‘You soon will be. At least, to your holiday home.’ He smiles.
‘I know. It still doesn’t seem real, it feels like a dream.’
‘Then you are very lucky. Not everyone has the chance for their dreams to come true.’
I think about his comment as we drive. He is right, of course, not many people are lucky enough to see their dreams come to fruition. And along with my home here, I think I may also have the beginning of a beautiful friendship, and feel truly thankful.