Chapter 17
AVLAKI BEACH, AVLAKI
Kostas had hoped that when the buggy was on tarmac it would go slightly quicker than when it was on the hotel grass, but it seemed that was not the case.
Crawling along the main road, late-night diners in both the tavernas they passed staring at the unusual vehicle and its occupants, he was starting to regret the whimsical choice.
Thankfully he had opted to wear a baseball cap.
But Faye seemed to know every single person in the vicinity and was waving her acknowledgements like this was a Popemobile.
‘You know everyone here,’ Kostas remarked.
‘Not everyone,’ Faye said. ‘But I’ve been coming here for years, you know that, and, with my job, I know most people at the tavernas because I send them diners. It’s good to know people so you can help each other out.’
Help each other out. Solidarity. He got chills.
‘I don’t think anyone has recognised you,’ Faye said. ‘But, with Katerina knowing, it’s surprising there haven’t been basketball fans lining up outside the gates.’
‘Perhaps they are making a pilgrimage to my statue instead,’ Kostas suggested.
‘I really need to see that,’ Faye said. ‘Will it come up if I google it?’
‘If you get out your phone and google it now I will drive this buggy straight into the sea,’ Kostas warned.
‘Do you know how much these cost?’ Faye asked. ‘Ah, wait, you don’t care about money.’
He sucked in a breath. ‘Is that what you really think?’ And then: ‘Remember, I am staying here and not somewhere with five stars and a personal concierge.’
‘Was the Bella Mare hotel fully booked?’
‘You don’t like money,’ he said suddenly.
‘Do people actually “like” money?’
‘But I think money makes you feel awkward,’ Kostas continued.
Faye laughed. ‘Only when I can’t make the accounts add up.’
‘You are not being serious with me.’
‘Maybe because you are a millionaire and we are driving a cart down the main beach road with three white Fiat Pandas behind us. I mean, it’s ridiculous.’
‘OK,’ Kostas said. And with a turn of the wheel he took the cart off the road and onto the pebbles, the traffic able to move behind them.
‘You’re insane. These aren’t meant for this kind of terrain,’ Faye said, gripping the side of the buggy.
‘I am not sure what kind of terrain they are made for. Maybe I do need to drive one into the breakfast room tomorrow.’
The cart juddered horribly, their bodies shaking with the motion, and he had had enough. He stopped the cart, jumping out and moving around to Faye’s side of the vehicle. He held his hand out to her.
‘éla. We will walk the rest of the way.’
She ignored his hand and got out independently. It irked him more than it probably should have, but he already sensed she was someone who was used to doing things for herself.
‘How far are we going? Because if you want to walk to the lake I hope you have insect repellent on.’
The lake. That was one big issue with his complex. It was in the most awkward place and was allegedly home to some protected species of something or other. But that wasn’t insurmountable. Nothing was in the world he had built for himself. He walked a few more paces, then stopped.
‘Here?’ he suggested.
‘OK,’ Faye said, stopping too. ‘Now what?’
‘Now, while I find the best stones, you can tell me why you feel awkward about money.’ He bent down and began examining the pebbles with only the light from the streetlamps.
‘I’m not awkward about money,’ Faye said. ‘I’ve just always had to worry about it.’
‘Your ex-husband did not earn enough so you did not have to worry?’
‘Well, when you have a child there are different degrees of “enough”. We were OK but, you know, not millionaires.’
He stood up, holding a palm full of stones. ‘Did you know most millionaires don’t start out as millionaires? Roughly 85 per cent of millionaires are self-made.’
‘Damn, my husband should have worked harder,’ Faye said with a smile.
‘Maybe he lacked the skills for success,’ Kostas suggested.
‘And what skills are those? In your humble opinion. True talent in your chosen field, I’m guessing.’
He shook his head. ‘Not necessary at all.’
‘Well, I’m not sure I could become a brilliant basketballer – or whatever the terminology is – when I have no skill there whatsoever.’
‘And there is my answer. The most important skill. Self-belief. If you do not have this then it does not matter what talent you have.’ He rolled the stones around in his hand.
‘I was not the best player at the academy. But I worked the hardest and I made myself the best player. Others, you know, they did not want the rewards as much as I did.’ He swallowed away a bite of nostalgia.
All those hours. Blood, sweat, tears. It was a success story, yet still he now felt, because of the two incidents and his body not healing fully, that ultimately, unless he continued to make a name for himself, carried on achieving, that his ending would feel like failure.
‘Well, sometimes I think you have to walk a certain path before self-belief arrives in your life.’ She looked out at the sea.
‘I think once you’ve survived so many of life’s challenges you start to realise that if you can get through those you can pretty much take on anything.
More than making sure you can scrape enough money together for wine and souvlakia at least.’
He smiled, passing her some of his stones. ‘You know, in Athens, the meat on skewers, we do not call them souvlakia.’
‘What?’ Faye asked.
‘Meat on skewers, we call them kalamákia.’
‘But kalamákia is the word for “straws”.’
‘Exactly. Meat on sticks. Like straws.’
‘So, what is souvlakia in Athens?’
‘Chunks of meat in pita bread.’
‘Wow. Who knew? Not me.’
He looked at her. ‘Have you been to Athens?’
‘Once to stay. A few times to travel through to get here in the winter.’
‘The area of Plaka? Walked up to the Acropolis?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘Athens has many sides. You should see more.’
‘I did like it. It felt welcoming. You know how some cities can feel a bit overwhelming or pretentious? It felt the opposite.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You do not like pretentious things?’
‘I like truth,’ Faye said firmly. ‘Honesty over bullshit. Sorry if that’s a bit old-fashioned.’
He nodded, letting what she said sink in. ‘Your husband was not honest with you?’
She shook her head. ‘And I am sure there are many things I still don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘But I am way past caring now.’ She swung her arm back, stone in hand. ‘Because I have… self-belief.’
He watched her snap her wrist back fast and send the pebble off. It hit the water, it skipped, it hit the water again, jumped, it bounced off the sea for a third time, and popped up, skipped again, before finally it was lost to the depths.