Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
The next morning, I wake early and check my phone. There is still nothing from Christos, and I wonder whether he was just after a quick bunk up the other night when he came here. Even if we had ended up sleeping together, would he have bothered to contact me again afterwards?
I get myself ready, choosing shorts and T-shirt for my day on the beach, along with a straw hat.
Before I know it, it is time to head downstairs to meet Andreas outside.
It occurs to me that I am really looking forward to seeing him, and although there are not quite butterflies dancing around inside me, a gorgeous warm feeling has taken its place.
‘ Kalimera ,’ he says with a smile. ‘You look quite nautical,’ he comments as he appraises my navy-and-white striped T-shirt and white shorts.
‘Well, we are going to the seaside I guess.’
I hop into the car and we make our way to a place called Akrotiri. We stopped there briefly on the Jeep tour, but only near the lighthouse. I am looking forward to discovering a little more of the area today.
‘So tell me a little more about your singing?’ asks Andreas as we drive. ‘Were you ever professional?’
‘Well I did get paid for performing, so technically yes. Although I would call it more semi-professional, I guess. I had gigs here and there, but no agent or anything like that.’
‘You have a beautiful voice,’ he says kindly. ‘At least what I heard of it the other night, but I was a little drunk I think.’ He turns to me with a cheeky grin.
‘Charming, I must say,’ I reply, and he laughs.
‘No, but seriously. It is wonderful to use a talent to make a living, although maybe I ought to take my own advice.’
‘The sculpting you mean?’
‘Yes. I’m a grown man, yet I seem to be blindly carrying on working for my father,’ he says.
‘Then maybe it’s time to think about yourself, although I know it isn’t always that easy. Especially if you are involved in the family business.’
‘I think my father sees my sculpting as more of a hobby, even though he would still give me the money for a studio to work from, if I asked him.’
‘And you don’t want his help?’
‘Not particularly. I would like to build my business alone. I guess pride is a terrible thing.’ He shrugs.
‘Not really. I think there is a lot to be said for building something for yourself without a handout. That’s what I call a real achievement.’
I can’t help but think of Christos then and how his father gave him a head start.
‘My parents don’t have much, but then they can’t really help with a singing career anyway,’ I continue. ‘Although I have to say that my dad did work extra hours so I could have some singing lessons as a teenager, which I am truly grateful for.’
‘That’s nice,’ says Andreas. ‘Your parents could obviously see your talent from a young age,’ he says kindly.
Before long we park up on a small high street lined with several tavernas, one or two villas and a pharmacy. Andreas takes a bag from the back of the car. ‘In case I find any treasures,’ he explains.
The view from here gives us a glimpse of the glorious blue sea below. The ruins of a Venetian castle stands over the town, the Greek flag blowing proudly at the centre.
We pass a few more cafés and tourist shops as well as a beautiful church, with six bells on its tower, dazzling white in the sun.
‘We can access the beach by some steps,’ says Andreas as we walk, the heat beating down on us.
The village is a jumble of white houses, an occasional blue-domed church and reminds me of a smaller version of Fira.
‘Do you mind if we have a look inside the castle ruins before we head to the beach?’ I suggest. ‘I imagine the view down to the sea will be quite something.’
‘Sure,’ he says, before we stop at a shop and buy two bottles of cold water.
Climbing the ancient cobbled steps, I can’t help but think of the people of long ago who stood here keeping watch for invaders.
After the short climb to the top, the view as expected is spectacular. I take in the houses that slide down to the sea, along with the view of Fira and the caldera. I stand and simply stare for a few minutes, taking it all in.
‘So you like history?’ he asks as we make our way back into the windy narrow street.
‘I suppose I do, yes. I especially enjoy visiting a castle. My grandfather took me to quite a few when I was small,’ I explain, recalling the days out that I have fond memories of.
‘Then I guess that is something we have in common,’ he says. ‘And if you like history, there is an archaeological site not far from here that has an ongoing dig,’ he tells me. ‘Maybe you would like to visit that some time. The ruins are very well preserved.’
‘That sounds lovely.’ I smile.
We walk on until we are standing at the top of some steps that lead to a small rocky beach below.
‘We can grab a cold beer shortly if you like,’ offers Andreas. ‘I think that heatwave has definitely arrived, as it feels hotter much earlier in the morning,’ he comments.
The steps down seem to go on forever, but eventually we arrive at a stretch of rocky beach that looks out across some water with a few boats drifting in them.
The tiny harbour is host to a couple of tavernas and one or two shops. A shop selling scarves along with jewellery made from sea shells catches my eye, the objects displayed outside on a wooden table, and I stop and take a look.
Another shop sells painted wooden door plaques and seascape watercolour paintings. Ruins of houses can be seen dotted around the area and even one or two abandoned fishing boats, yet it manages to look charmingly rustic.
At the far end of the small beach, Andreas finds a bench partly shaded by a huge tree and sets down the cooler box.
‘Looks like you have thought of everything.’ I smile as Andreas twists the top off two cold bottles of lemonade and hands one to me.
‘Maybe we will get that beer later.’
‘No really, this is fine,’ I tell him as I take a glug of the refreshing lemonade.
He sets out slices of spinach and feta pie, dips, olives, and two fat juicy-looking peaches.
‘This is absolutely lovely,’ I tell Andreas as I eye the impressive picnic. ‘I can’t remember the last time I went on a picnic. We don’t often have the weather back home.’
‘I cannot imagine living in a place without sunshine,’ he tells me as he sips his drink. ‘I thought it better to sit here on the bench, as the small beach is very rocky.’
‘It’s fine here.’ I smile. ‘Does it get cold here in the winter months?’ I ask him as I dive into a slice of feta pie, my paper napkin catching flakes of the delicious filo pastry.
‘A little cooler, although we do get cold winters from time to time,’ he informs me. ‘Although not generally.’
Glancing around at the shimmering sea, and the dazzling blue sky above, it seems hard to imagine it during the winter months.
We finish our delicious picnic, and take a walk along the sand and shingle beach, Andreas occasionally stopping and picking up a stone or a piece of interesting-looking glass, often discarding them.
‘Look over there.’ I point to a piece of driftwood at the water’s edge that resembles a snake as the foamy sea water washes over it.
‘Well spotted, that is a nice piece,’ says Andreas, picking it up and dropping it into his bag.
Half an hour later, Andreas has found some green-and-blue coloured sea glass, another piece of driftwood and some interesting-looking pebbles.
‘What will you do with the wood?’ I ask as we walk. ‘I imagine it isn’t the type of wood to fashion a sculpture?’
‘You are right, I mainly use olive wood for that. This type of wood I can use for picture frames, maybe an interesting lamp stand. Here, let me show you something.’
He takes his phone from his pocket and shows me a picture of a stylish black table lamp, with a driftwood base.
‘You made that? It’s very impressive.’
‘Thank you. I sold that in the shop.’ He smiles.
‘Well then, you really ought to think about opening a workshop,’ I encourage him. ‘You could take commissions for one-off bespoke pieces, which is what people love.’
‘It is true that people like exclusive pieces,’ he agrees. ‘Especially if they have money to spend. Perhaps I ought to take your advice, and look for somewhere to work, and sell some of my products.’
‘Hopefully you make the decision sooner rather than later,’ I tell him. ‘Life slips by so quickly, we often end up doing things that don’t really set our heart on fire.’
‘That is very poetic,’ he says as he stops and faces me. ‘And also, very true. But you must remember to use your gifts too.’
His comment makes me think of how easy it is to give other people advice, rather than address our own needs.
We walk quietly, enjoying the fresh sea breeze and looking for beach treasure, until we finally reach the foot of the steps that lead back up to the main street.
‘This is the bit I often forget about,’ I say, glancing upwards at the many steps. ‘But what goes up, must come down, I guess.’
I can feel the pull on my calves as I walk, resolving to do a little more hill walking when I get home, but it isn’t as bad as I feared. Soon enough, we are back on the high street and heading towards the car park.
Driving back, I feel completely relaxed, and not quite ready to head back to the apartments.
I realise I haven’t thought about Christos once today, and a quick glance at my phone reveals that he obviously hasn’t thought about me either.
Which, I realise, I actually don’t mind.
I have enjoyed my time with Andreas so much that I really don’t want the day to end.
‘Would you be interested in seeing some more of my sculptures?’ asks Andreas, as we approach Fira. ‘If you do not have to rush back, that is.’
‘I don’t, and I would absolutely love to,’ I tell him, feeling pleased to be spending more time with him. ‘It makes a change from “would you like to come up and see my etchings?”’ I laugh.
‘Etchings?’
‘Yes, you know, drawings.’
‘People say that?’ He laughs. ‘I have never heard it before.’