Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Tasha video calls us the following day from the deck of a boat.
‘Oh wow. Just look at you,’ I say, glimpsing the mountains in the background of the small yacht that is gently swaying in the sparkling water.
Owen appears then and hands Tasha a glass of champagne, and I think of how Instagram worthy that shot of them would be. I let out a little sigh as I allow my mind to daydream about hanging around with a certain Greek bloke in such a setting.
Tasha and Owen will be heading back here in a few days to spend an evening with us all, before they fly back to Australia.
‘So how’s it going?’ I ask as I relax on the balcony with my morning coffee. ‘I’m not jealous at all.’
Ash called Lulu earlier and asked her out for a drink, and I am thrilled that she has accepted. I’m quite happy to have a quiet day as we are off to Fira this evening to have a meal and visit the nightclub, the thought of which gives me a tingle of excitement.
‘It’s bliss,’ says Tasha, looking tanned and relaxed.
‘It sure is,’ says Owen, leaning over and giving her a kiss.
‘We have a chef too, who is just amazing. He comes to the villa to cook our evening meal, so we barely have to leave the villa at all,’ she tells me. ‘Although the surroundings are pretty irresistible.’
‘I see what you mean, who wouldn’t want to be out on the water with those wonderful views all around,’ I say.
‘I know.’ Tasha sighs contentedly. ‘We spend our days swimming and sunbathing, occasionally taking a taxi boat across to a different beach, it’s dreamy.’
After saying goodbye, and with Lulu out for the afternoon, I spend some time uploading photographs to my social media accounts.
As I upload my photos, I wonder again why I am so reluctant to post myself singing at the karaoke evening, especially as the reactions were so positive.
Maybe it’s because I was trolled once, when a video of me singing was posted online.
I was only a teenager at the time and just mucking about, and in fact the footage was not even posted by me.
Even so, it kind of left me reluctant to share anything else, even after all these years, which is silly I know.
Within minutes, my phone is pinging with likes and comments on my photos, people adoring the black sand beach as the sun goes down, and the delicious plates of Greek food. I can’t wait to share some wedding photos, with the stunning backdrop that looks out over the sea.
Lulu pings a text to me saying she will be back early evening, as she and Ash are going to take in a winery tour, and I send her some love heart emojis.
I’m considering going for a walk, when Patsy sends me a message asking if I fancy taking a taxi boat across to Kamari for a few hours, and I tell her that sounds like a lovely idea.
It might stop my nerves from churning at the thought of seeing Christos this evening.
‘There might be a nice breeze on that water in the taxi boat,’ says, Irene, whirring her trusty fan in front of her face when we meet in reception. ‘At least I hope so. I’m not sure I can take much more of this heat,’ she complains.
‘I’m pretty sure it will be cooler,’ I reassure her. ‘There is always a nice breeze out at sea.’
Patsy glances at her watch, and tells us we had better get a move on if we want to catch the next taxi boat. So we take the short walk to the pick-up point at the beach.
‘The boat looks a bit small,’ says Irene doubtfully, as we stand in line ready to board. ‘I hope it can take my weight.’
‘Of course it will, you’re not that big,’ says Patsy, which is actually true.
‘See,’ says Patsy as we settle into our seats. ‘The boat man would have said something or at least asked you to sit in a certain place, but, not a thing.’ She winks. ‘So just relax and enjoy yourself.’
‘I will do,’ Irene replies with nod. Then, ‘Oh, look.’ She points out a shoal of fish in the clear blue water. ‘I wish I had a little bread,’ she says, recording the silvery fish on her phone as they swim around in circles.
As the boat moves along the sun-dappled water, a grey-haired bloke sitting opposite Irene smiles at her.
‘Nice day for it,’ he comments.
‘Oh, it is. A bit too hot at times, though. For me at least.’ She returns his smile.
‘I know what you mean,’ he agrees. ‘I thought it might be a bit cooler out on the water.’
‘I thought so too,’ she tells him.
As they continue their conversation, Patsy gives me a knowing look.
‘I think she’s in there,’ she whispers.
I study Irene’s pretty face, her startling blue eyes framed by soft, slightly curly hair.
She has such a magnetic personality too; it’s not surprising the bloke has taken an interest in her.
I wonder how many other people out there have worries and insecurities about the way they look that are completely unfounded.
We settle into our short trip across the water, and we reach Kamari in no time. The boat docks several metres from the black sand beach and I notice Irene looks a little panicked.
‘I didn’t realise we would have to get into the water,’ she says, looking a little flustered.
‘It’s only a few feet,’ says Irene’s new friend as she flushes bright red.
‘But I’m wearing a long dress,’ she protests.
‘Hitch it up around your knees, you’ll be fine,’ Patsy tells her.
‘I most certainly will not,’ replies Irene, her usual humour deserting her.
‘Maybe I try to get the boat a little closer,’ the elderly Greek boat man says, noting her obvious embarrassment.
He glides as close to the sand as possible, without actually mooring on the gravel beach, and Irene thanks him. It takes her a little time to descend the rope ladder of the boat, as she carefully places one foot in front of the other.
‘Thank you.’ She smiles to the boat man, who takes her hand for the last few steps.
‘No problem,’ he says kindly, even though he will have to push his boat back into the water. ‘I hope you have a nice afternoon.’ He smiles warmly.
Once in Kamari, we head to a bar and Irene knocks back an ouzo.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask her.
‘Oh yes, fine, much better now.’ She musters a smile. ‘I just got myself into a bit of a tizz and that ladder felt a bit flimsy, I was holding on for dear life.’
‘Well, we’re here now, so let’s enjoy it,’ says Patsy. ‘And I have to say, that bloke on the boat was quite taken with you, wasn’t he?’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Can’t take you anywhere.’ She laughs.
‘What do you mean?’ Irene looks bemused.
‘He definitely fancied you,’ says Patsy.
‘Nonsense, he was just a friendly bloke, making conversation. How could you even think that?’ She seems shocked by the very suggestion.
‘You wouldn’t have noticed, but when you were gazing out to sea, he could hardly take his eyes off you,’ insists Patsy.
‘If you say so. Anyway, come on, let’s have a little stroll,’ says Irene, unconvinced.
An abundance of restaurants line the cobbled beach road, along with fashion shops and tour operators offering trips to ancient Fira and Oia to watch the sunset. Souvenir shops offer up the usual Greek gifts, such as ouzo and Greek herbs, for tourists to take home.
‘This is gorgeous, isn’t it?’ says Irene, taking in the palm trees dotted along the promenade that overlooks the long stretch of black beach, set against the backdrop of the mountains.
‘Everything I have seen so far is beautiful.’ I sigh.
‘Including Christos?’ she teases.
‘He’s undeniably good-looking, but I wasn’t thinking about him.’ I roll my eyes, even though truthfully, I have thought of him rather a lot.
‘If you say so.’ She grins.
I take a photo of us at the small, bustling harbour and shortly afterwards, the grey-haired gent from the boat appears again, as we peruse garments on rails outside a clothes shop. ‘I’d say that suits your colouring,’ says the bloke, who Patsy said is a dead ringer for an older actor on Emmerdale .
‘Do you think so?’ Irene visibly blushes as her fingers run over the blue and cream coloured scarf.
‘Definitely.’ He smiles. ‘What time will you be heading back?’ he asks, glancing at his watch.
‘We will be catching the boat in a couple of hours, I suppose,’ I suggest, and the others agree.
‘The four o’clock one?’
‘Probably, yes,’ says Irene.
‘Oh, me too,’ he says, before asking her where we are staying in Perissa.
I glance at Irene, who looks a little uncertain about telling him.
‘Look, I’m very flattered, but I will be spending time with my friends, we only have a few days left here,’ she tells him, with a polite smile.
‘I understand. I suppose I could be anyone.’ He laughs. ‘Although I promise you, I’m not an axe murderer. Not with all these crowds,’ he jokes. ‘Well anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you. Maybe I will see you around.’
‘Perhaps. Bye then.’
‘I wouldn’t mind you know, if you decide to spend a bit of time with a bloke,’ says Patsy as we walk along the harbour front. ‘It might remind you that you are not past it.’ She laughs.
‘Past it?’ Irene says indignantly, standing tall. ‘I’m sixty-two, that’s all, and isn’t sixty meant to be the new fifty? Maybe I just didn’t like him.’
‘Fine, whatever,’ says Patsy, fishing a vape from her bag and taking a quick drag.
An hour later, we have stopped to look at a menu outside a restaurant, with a view of fishing boats bobbing in the glistening water, when a friendly waiter ushers us inside. I grab a selfie with the colourful boats in the background, while Patsy studies the drinks menu.
‘And by the way, I don’t doubt the guy on the boat seemed like a nice bloke,’ says Irene, obviously mulling things over as we await our drinks. ‘But I’ve told you, I’m sure he was just being friendly,’ she says. ‘And nothing more.’
‘Why wouldn’t he be interested in you romantically?’ Patsy asks.
‘Well, I am hardly Kate Moss, am I?’ Irene says with a laugh.
‘Oh, give over, and he was hardly George Clooney. Honestly, Irene, are you ever going to loosen up and have a little fun? You’re a bit overweight, big deal.
’ She takes another a drag of her vape. ‘Does that mean you stop yourself from ever meeting someone? That guy was obviously interested in you, and you gave him the cold shoulder,’ she tells her cousin.
‘Do you think so?’ asks Irene doubtfully, as she digests Patsy’s words.
‘You know he was. So, either give up on men, which as I recall you always rather liked.’
Irene opens her mouth to protest.
‘Or get on with it,’ continues Patsy. ‘Next option? Join that slimming club if it will make you feel better about yourself,’ she says, rather bluntly I feel. ‘Or stop living your life.’
‘Well, I’m hardly doing that. I’m here in Greece, aren’t I?’ she retorts. ‘And I have been considering the slimming club, you know that,’ says Irene, seemingly unoffended by Patsy’s remarks. ‘I just never seem to get around to it.’
I am quickly learning that this honest back and forth chat is something the pair exchange quite easily without upsetting each other.
‘I do get that,’ concedes Patsy. ‘I’m still having to puff on my vapes until I can quit the evil weed, so I know making changes isn’t easy. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.’
‘I know you do.’ Irene gives Patsy a squeeze on the arm.
We order our food and make short work of tasty bowls of creamy moussaka all round, and make appreciative noises as we eat, along with a generous bowl of hand-cut fries that we share.
‘Anyway, getting back to that bloke, I think you are rather missing the point,’ says Patsy as she finishes her food.
‘Oh, not this again, can we give it a rest?’ Irene sighs.
‘I promise, no more talk of it, but I just want you to realise that that man liked you just the way you are,’ she says more gently.
‘He would hardly be wanting to spend time alone with you otherwise, would he? Anyway, I fancy a mojito. Anyone else?’ she asks, closing the conversation down for the last time.
I guess that’s all anyone wants, isn’t it? To be loved for who they truly are. Maybe one day I will sing along to songs on the radio that will have my partner smiling, rather than rolling their eyes, or even going into another room, as my ex sometimes did.
‘Mojitos all round.’ I smile as Irene fumbles in her bag for a tissue. ‘It’s blinking hot here, isn’t it?’ she says, dabbing at her eyes.