Wednesday 6th September
B alancing the pile of fresh towels on the arm of the sofa, Zina took a moment to look around. Diana’s was perhaps the room she loved most of all. In the middle of the eastern arm of the courtyard in the oldest part of the building, the arch beneath the barrel roof was rugged and uneven, and just the right size for the bed to slide almost a metre into it. In the mini-cave created by the archway, she’d carefully applied subtle glow-in-the-dark dolphin decals, and elsewhere in the room had stripped back the second-hand furniture to make it look like driftwood. Sandy neutrals and blues in the fabrics were the finishing touch in creating a relaxing beach vibe. The pictures had received more likes than just about anything on her Instagram feed, so she must have got it right. Could she get away with repeating one today? There was sod all else to upload.
In one of the niches cut into either side of the arch Diana had placed a photograph of her late husband. Two years he’d been gone, she’d told Zina, and although she obviously missed him, she was getting on with her life. Unlike Zina’s mother, who never went anywhere. It was such a worry, seeing Mama’s life closed down so much, and Zina wanted nothing more than to help her to move on.
Panora had plenty of friends, but she never made an effort to see them. When Zina asked her why, she said it was because they still had their husbands. And when Zina reminded Mama that Calandra was widowed too, she said they would just make each other miserable. And that anyway, she was happy looking after the house and cooking the meals, especially with Lambros and Zina working so hard.
Which made the problem all the trickier to deal with. Zina could never say, never even hint, that if Mama was always there, she and Lambros had no time alone. Mama would be mortified and hurt, and Zina would hate to be the cause of even more anguish. But three days ago a glimmer of progress had been made. When Mama had gone to the pharmacy, some of her friends had been having coffee outside the bakery next door and she had at least joined them for a while. Now Zina was hatching another plan to get her out and about on the island.
She opened the patio doors to the terrace to let in some air then headed for the bathroom. Diana was the exact opposite of her friend Sophie, whose possessions covered every surface of her room next door. The only thing Zina had to move before cleaning the sink here was the handwash dispenser, which she set to one side to refill.
Of all the jobs designed to make Zina grumpy as hell, top of the list was cleaning other people’s loos. Making beds she’d come to terms with because they looked so fresh and inviting afterwards, sweeping and dusting she could tolerate at a stretch, but this… every time she picked up the brush she wanted to heave. Every day in every room it had to be done. The sooner she could afford a chambermaid the better.
Stretching her rubber gloves as far as they’d go up her arms, she squirted disinfectant and, holding her breath, grabbed the brush and leant over the bowl. It wasn’t as though it was even dirty, but?—
“Zi! Zi!” She jerked up to see Lambros standing at the bathroom door. Why now, of all times, when she was doing something so demeaning?
“What are you doing in here?”
He took half a step back. “It’s OK, I left my boots outside. I’m having a Coke break and saw the doors were open so wondered if you’d like one too.”
“As if. I need to get the rooms done before they finish their morning session.”
“Can I help?”
His words lifted her mood a fraction; it really was sweet of him to offer, so the least she could do was make an effort, if only for a few minutes. Peeling off her gloves, she shook her head. “I can take five, though.” Diana’s toilet was clean enough.
“That’s great. There’s this totally hilarious video on YouTube I want to show you.”
YouTube? No wonder he had time to offer to help.
She must have failed to hide her scowl because he carried on, “Honestly, I haven’t just been scrolling. It’s to do with the farm.”
Did he think that made it better? She hadn’t agreed to stop work– which would put her behind– to watch some farming video. She’d expected them to talk. And not about his precious pistachios or whatever it was. Sighing inwardly, she followed him outside.
As he angled his phone screen towards her she couldn’t help but notice the video was way more than five minutes long, but thankfully he quickly forwarded it to a part showing goats wobbling around on a less-than-steady pile of pallets. What a total waste of time. As if he didn’t have his own goats to look at.
“Very cute,” she told him and started back towards the room.
“I’m not watching it because it’s cute.” A note of frustration crept into his voice. “I think the reason the goats keep escaping is because they lack mental stimulation, and this sort of thing keeps them entertained. Old pallets are cheap enough and…”
Mental stimulation for the goats? What about her mental stimulation? He’d made her come here, and now she was no more than a frigging drudge, washing dishes and cleaning bástardos toilets. To cap it all, now he was more worried about his goats. Goats!
She stopped. Turned to face him. “Lambros, don’t you ever get bored with the farm?”
He looked up from tying his boot laces, genuinely puzzled. “No. There’s always something new to learn– like this sort of stuff. Who’d have thought that goats?—”
“Well I do.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“Oh, so you want me to bugger off, is that it? Not disturb you while you’re doing something important.” He waved in the direction of the duster tucked into her waistband.
“What’s more important than the guests coming back to beautiful, clean rooms?” She stamped her foot. That always riled him. Wound him up something proper.
But this time, rather than bite back, he shook his head before standing smartly and walking off in the direction of the drying yard.
“Lambros! Lambros!” she called after him furiously.
He didn’t even break his stride. Zina dropped onto Diana’s sunbed, head in her hands. He’d changed, oh yes, he’d changed. Now he couldn’t even be bothered to argue with her, much less pay her any other sort of attention, bástardos man.
Back in Athens he used to love a good row; they both had. She remembered one Saturday night they’d had a bit to drink and fallen out over whether a particular word was allowed in Scrabble. They’d been nose to nose, screaming at each other, but the making-up afterwards had been magnificent. They hadn’t got out of bed until the middle of Sunday afternoon. Fat chance of that happening now.
Zina sighed, stood and stretched. Time was getting on. She needed to make Diana’s bed then get her arse into Karmela’s room. Such was her life these days. Trapped in a cycle of boring, boring tasks with her boring, boring husband. A small voice inside told her she was being unfair to Lambros, but she dismissed it. If he thought the goats deserved more excitement in their lives than she did, her sympathies were misplaced.