Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T he clock clearly said twenty past one. Sofia was late, as usual. Her friend would fit in well with the Greek mentality. Several women in their friendship group had taken to lying to Sofia and telling her the time for any rendezvous was half an hour earlier than it really was, in the hope of her being vaguely punctual, but Grace never bothered; she knew it was hopeless. At work, Sofia had a team of people around her making sure she was at the right place at the right time, but her social life was a different matter.
Grace mostly took it in her stride, otherwise she’d be permanently irritated with her friend. After a lifetime of timetables and lesson plans, she was hardwired to be there on the dot, or usually ten minutes before.
Seated at a table for two on the rooftop terrace of the best hotel on the island, Grace had ordered herself a coffee and waited, which was no hardship. It was a superior coffee, served in a bone china cup, with a gorgeous mini pastry on the side, a disc with a sort of chocolate and hazelnut soft centre.
Grace gazed out at the view as she sipped her coffee and nibbled her delicious morsel. She’d read in a guidebook that the hotel was one of a handful converted from the grand houses built by the shipping magnates of the island’s main town almost two hundred years ago.
The houses were arranged over many floors, with stunning views over the bay, but their massive proportions and crippling upkeep meant that very few were still private residences, and some had sadly fallen into disrepair. Elena and Giannis owned one, though, as she’d discovered when she’d checked out the address Elena had given her, and Grace was desperate to have a good look inside when she went for her chat.
History, especially when it dealt with old buildings and the people who’d lived in them, had always interested her, and she’d never been able to mooch around the interiors as much as she’d wanted to when they were on family holidays. There’d always been someone moaning about wanting an ice-cream, needing the loo or asking to go swimming.
Even when it had just been her and Phil, he was usually more interested in keeping up with the football and cricket scores on his phone than finding out about the inhabitants of a historic house. She’d have to draw up a list of places to visit on the island and really indulge herself with long, lazy visits, examining every inch and getting a real sense of how the owners had lived.
The terrace was filling up, and more and more of the metal chairs with their green and blue striped cushions and matching parasols were occupied. It was still early for the Greeks to have lunch– three in the afternoon was more their speed– and Grace could tell from the voices and the clothes that most of those eating were tourists. The diners were discreetly screened from each other by large plants in pots that matched the aged stone floor.
Sofia eventually appeared from behind a large piece of greenery, followed by a waiter with a couple of menus and an adoring look.
Grace embraced her friend warmly and they exchanged cheek kisses.
‘Darling, you’re here already!’
‘Incredible, isn’t it? Where else would you expect me to be at’—Grace broke off to look at her phone—‘one-thirty?’
Sofia took the menus off the young man, who seemed glued to the spot. Grace had observed the Sofia effect many times before.
‘Don’t be grumpy. I just had to have a proper shower and do my hair after the rather scary plane journey.’
‘Of course, dear. Can’t have you out in public looking anything other than exquisite.’
Sofia stuck out her tongue and Grace grinned.
‘I’m just thrilled you’ve arrived.’
It really was lovely to see her friend, whose freshly washed dark locks tumbled over her shoulders like a shampoo advert.
They’d bonded in their first year at university in Scotland, both freezing cold and far from home. Sofia’s worried Spanish mother had sent regular care packages including lots of pairs of cashmere socks, and jars of special chilli-infused hot chocolate, which Sofia had been happy to share.
With Grace being tall and blonde and Sofia brunette and tiny, they’d been dubbed The Light and The Dark by a college wag, and the name had stuck for the duration. At sixty-two, Sofia still turned heads, as a few of the men on the terrace could testify.
‘So…’ Her friend leant in towards her. ‘How’s it going? Met any hot guys yet?’
‘You know that’s not what I’m here for. It’s mainly work, work, work so far.’
‘Boring.’
‘But necessary.’
‘Anyone you work with that’s cute?’
‘Well, I have to admit that Thanassis, the Director of Studies, is good-looking… But it’s against the rules to have work relationships.’
‘Bah! Rules are made to be broken. Married? Single?’
‘We really haven’t got that far. We’ve been focusing on the lessons, incredibly.’
‘He sounds promising.’
‘Is that all you ever think about?’
‘When it comes to you, yes. It’s been three years now since Phil went. You need someone to show you a good time. It’s going to seal itself up down there, like one of those Egyptian tombs.’
‘Sofia! Honestly. That’s disgusting.’
Grace looked round to check that no one was listening to their conversation. But Sofia was in full swing.
‘You need a Harrison Ford type to come sweeping in and pull away that boulder to get at the treasure inside.’
‘Right, that’s enough.’
But Grace turned away so Sofia couldn’t see her smile.
‘I know you’re laughing. Don’t try and pretend you don’t like sex, little Miss Innocent. I know everything about you, remember.’
When you’d been friends for forty years, there was nowhere to hide. Neither of them had had any trouble attracting men at university and both had done their fair share of experimenting. Grace had met Phil on her postgraduate teacher training course, and quit the experimenting for good, while Sofia had carried on regardless.
Sex really was the last thing on Grace’s mind these days, or so she kept telling herself. The intimacy of sharing a bed was something she would admit to missing, if pressed, and since she’d arrived in Greece some of her dreams had been a bit on the raunchy side, but that didn’t mean she wanted to go out and grab hold of any man who might wander past. The dreams she put down to the hot weather and too much goat’s cheese.
Their attentive waiter was back.
‘Have you decided what you’d like, ladies?’
Sofia flapped her hands.
‘No, sorry, too busy chatting. Can you give us a few minutes, please.’
The guy looked at Sofia like he’d agree to chop off a finger if that’s what she wanted. Her friend inspired slavish devotion in men, and it hadn’t changed over the years. After an early marriage to a much older lawyer, Sofia had escaped with a mews house in Chelsea and a taste for younger guys. Sofia put down the menu.
‘I’m not really very hungry, so I’m going to have the salad with pear and Roquefort. What about you?’
Grace was starving after a morning’s teaching and missing her lunchtime dose of grandma’s cooking, which she’d have been tucking into by now.
‘I’m going to have the seafood kritharoto.’
‘What’s that when it’s at home?’
‘A type of pasta that looks like rice with lots of prawns, squid and mussels. It’s delicious.’
‘OK, I might try a bit.’
Sofia also had a habit of digging into anything you chose and assuming all meals were to be shared. So, Greece was the perfect place for her. Phil had considered it incredibly annoying. He’d found Sofia a bit much at the best of times and had gone out of his way to avoid her. If he ordered a dish in a restaurant, he expected it to be all his. Grace had always had the feeling that her friend found Phil a bit boring. But that was one place they’d never gone.
Her friend was perusing the menu again with intense concentration.
‘What about drinks?’
‘Shouldn’t we stick to soft drinks if we’re going out tonight?’
Grace had never been a fan of day drinking. It always made her want to go to sleep.
‘Rubbish, it’s the first day of my holiday. A little carafe of white wine won’t hurt.’
‘Fine.’
At least she didn’t have to work the next day.
‘And after a long lunch we can hit the shops.’
‘Remember they’ll be closed during the afternoon.’
‘OK, we’ll eat slowly.’
* * *
Watching Sofia flex her credit card was truly an experience. Her friend flitted from shop to shop, trying on everything from trousers to shirts to dresses. Grace found the clothes in Greece a lot more expensive than England, and a bit too bling for her liking. And because she was tall, a lot of them weren’t made for her.
But Sofia lapped up the metallic touches and soft fabrics, and since she was five foot two and a perfect size ten, everything fitted. Initially people thought she was Greek, with her Mediterranean colouring, something that never happened to Grace. But as soon as Grace used even the most rudimentary Greek words, people just answered in English.
And once the shopkeepers realised Sofia was serious about spending money, nothing was too much trouble. They were offered seats, coffees and several phone numbers if the shop owners happened to be male.
Her friend had halted outside an upmarket shoe shop.
Grace was reaching the end of her shopping stamina, and it would get dark soon. In the main tourist season, a lot of the shops stayed open until midnight, but they weren’t quite there yet, and shutters were being drawn down all around them.
‘Can we stop now and get a drink, pretty please?’
‘OK, let’s just nip in here, then we’ll stop, I promise. Have you seen anything you like in the window?’
A pair of pale pink suede espadrilles with pink velvet ties caught her eye, but the price tag of a hundred and twenty euros instantly put her off. She’d never paid that much for a pair of shoes in her life.
Sofia wasn’t taking no for an answer.
‘Come on, let’s both go and try something on. I love those lime green wedges. Then I promise we can go and party.’
That wasn’t exactly what Grace had said, but she let it go.
The pink espadrilles fitted perfectly, as she’d feared they would.
Sofia the shopping devil was on her shoulder.
‘They are fab. You’ve got to get them. What are you working so hard for otherwise? Go on, treat yourself.’
Her friend did have a point.
The shop owner was thrilled to have two big sales just as she was closing, and Sofia ended up buying the wedges in electric blue as well as lime green.
* * *
After dropping off Sofia’s bags with reception, they made their way up the many steps to the old town. Grace was keen to show her friend the sunset from a little bar she’d discovered. It looked fairly ordinary downstairs, serving drinks and a selection of tapas plates, but up the rickety stairs was a rooftop bar with a panoramic view.
Grace kept the backdrop a secret until her friend reached the top of the stairs, and they both stood and took in the stunning one-hundred-and-eighty-degree views which encompassed the port, the many churches below, the ships out at sea and the islands beyond.
‘Wow!’ was all that Sofia could say.
They were alone on the rooftop, and they made for the prime spot, the table right at the front. A waitress followed them up.
‘Anything I can get you?’
Sofia didn’t hesitate.
‘Two espresso martinis, please.’
Another two more each, and the sunset over, Grace was feeling the effects. The way back down the staircase was far more hazardous. She stumbled on the last step.
‘I really think we should eat something.’
Sofia, who Grace knew could drink most blokes under the table, took her arm as they exited onto the street.
‘How about this place? It looks nice.’
A restaurant with white distressed tables and chairs and padded patchwork cushions in muted reds and blues was only a couple of steps away, and Grace was happy to sink into the comfy embrace of a large bench seat.
The owner rushed out to greet them, and pointed at the specials board, written in Greek. Grace always thought it was a good sign if the restaurant didn’t have everything written out in English.
‘We have lovely rabbit stifado tonight, stuffed peppers and drunken pork with wine and peppers.’
Grace knew stifado was a type of stew. She wasn’t too sure about rabbit, but she didn’t get the chance to ask about alternatives before Sofia piled in.
‘Sounds great, we’ll have one of each please, with a Greek salad. Plus a carafe of white wine and some water.’
Grace closed her eyes for a moment. Sofia wasn’t the one who’d been teaching all morning.
‘Hey, wakey wakey. The night is still young.’
Grace poured out a glass of wine and one of water for both of them, knowing the food would take a while. The Greeks believed a meal should be a relaxed experience, and service was never quick.
They sat back on the bench and watched the passersby while they waited, commenting on their clothes and guessing at their ages.
A tall man appeared at the bottom of the street, walking their way.
Grace put her head behind the nearest plant.
‘Quick, hide.’
‘What? Why?’
Sofia stayed where she was and stared into the street.
‘Woah. He’s hot. A definite ten.’
‘Keep your voice down.’
Will had almost reached them, but Grace saw with relief through a bunch of leaves that he was talking animatedly to a male companion and not looking their way.
‘Who’s that? Do you know him?’
‘Yeah. Sort of. It’s complicated. He’s called Will, but that’s about all I do know.’
Sofia stared at the two men all the way up the road until they disappeared out of sight.
‘But still… Can you introduce us?’
‘Believe me, it wouldn’t help you. He bats for the other side.’
Sofia mimed swinging a cricket bat and both women got the giggles. When she could breathe again, Grace took a slug of wine.
‘My kids would kill me for saying that. It’s another of those phrases we’re supposed to forget we ever knew. Will is gay, I should say.’
‘Shame. The good ones often are. You have to admit he’s a hottie.’
‘I will admit that he’s cute, as there’s no possibility of it ever happening, for either of us.’
Sofia drained the rest of her wine.
‘Well, that’s progress, you admitting you fancy someone.’
‘I never said that!’
‘OK, keep your hair on. But I do want to talk to you seriously about dating. Don’t give up on men just yet.’
‘Why are we talking about men again?’
‘You’re a gorgeous, vibrant woman, and you have been hiding yourself away for too long.’
‘You sound like my daughters.’
‘Well, they’re right. Look, I’m not talking about marriage, or even love, I’m just talking about a good old-fashioned earth-shattering bonk.’
Grace nodded and smiled at two elderly Greek ladies in black passing by at that very moment. Hopefully they didn’t speak English.
‘I’m not convinced the girls want me to go off and have meaningless sex.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t be against it. You’ve made a good start leaving behind your cosy little life and coming to Greece, but you need to take the next step.’
‘I don’t like you using the word little about my life. It’s a perfectly good life.’
‘Sorry. For a nun, maybe.’
As usual, Sofia’s bossiness was increasing in direct relation to the amount of alcohol she’d consumed.
‘I know it’s not the sort of life you’d want, but it doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with my “cosy little life” as you call it. I’m quite happy on my own. And I’ve still got the girls to think about. I know you never wanted children, but mine still need me.’
‘Do they, really? They’re both in their thirties and settled with their partners. It’s time you started putting yourself first.’
Grace had been thinking along those lines herself. Just being in Greece for a few short weeks had shown her how little she was needed by her grown-up children. It was tough to think she’d been overemphasising her importance in their lives since Phil went. It didn’t mean they didn’t love her, but love and need were two very different things. Not that she’d admit that to Sofia. She couldn’t let her be right all the time.
‘Look, I had a long and happy marriage, and it ended through no fault of my own. I’m not sure I could ever consider anyone else, even for meaningless sex.’
Grace hadn’t noticed the waiter arrive at their table.
Sofia’s eyes sparkled.
‘You should give it a go, believe me.’
The guy topped up their glasses with a shaking hand. Grace reached for the water. This was only the first night of her friend’s visit, and she’d already drunk more in a day than she had since she’d arrived.
Sofia ignored the water and turned to look at her over the rim of the wine glass.
‘What I did envy was your friendship with Phil, the fact that you were a team. He had your back against the world, whatever happened. I’ve never had that.’
Sofia stared into her drink. Grace had never heard her voice these thoughts before in all the years she’d known her. Like most people, cool, confident Sofia was much more complex that she first appeared. Grace knew most of her friend’s likes and dislikes, but this was new.
‘But I always thought you thought Phil was boring.’
‘No, not really.’
‘I think the addition of not really isn’t hugely convincing.’
‘Look, Phil was a lovely guy, not my cup of tea personally if you want me to be completely honest, which is a good thing, believe me– you don’t want to lust after your friend’s husband. Way too complicated.’
Grace wasn’t sure how she felt about that statement, but Sofia was obviously speaking from experience.
‘But I loved how much he adored you. I was jealous of your relationship, which was why I tended to avoid being alone with the two of you.’
So, Sofia was avoiding Phil, while he avoided her, both of them coveting her as their prize, like two dogs with a bone. It was like the plot of a bad sitcom.
Bubbles of laughter were forming in Grace’s stomach.
‘And I envied you your freedom, your ability to drop everything and fly off at a moment’s notice, while I was stuck with nappies and sick.’
‘Lovely.’
‘And if I’m being completely honest too, having the chance to try out a new man whenever you felt like it.’
‘See, you’re not as buttoned up as you make out, lady.’
Grace let the laughter rip out of her and Sofia joined in with gusto. They were teenagers again, drunk on cider in the uni bar, comparing the terrible chat-up lines they’d been subjected to.
Sofia grabbed for her hand.
‘But I do believe you’re built to be with someone, my lovely friend. There’s at least one more chapter to come in your love life, maybe more. You’ve just got to get some proper practice in.’