Thursday 28th September
W aiting in the lobby of her room, Karmela was alert to the click of the massive oak door in the corner of the courtyard as it opened, followed by the tinkle of Sybil’s name tag against her lead. Now was the moment. She had no wish to run after Iain today.
She stepped outside, causing him to start, and Sybil to leap in her direction, barking.
“Quiet!” Iain hissed, as Karmela crouched down to fuss the dog, rendering her silent in seconds.
She looked up at him, grinning. “Her? Or me?”
“Both of you,” he whispered furiously. “It’s hard to put all the blame on the dog.” He paused. “She’s pleased to see you.”
But was he pleased to see her as well? From his guarded expression, she thought perhaps not.
“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked, betting he would not be rude enough to refuse.
“Sybil would never forgive me if I said no.”
She stood. “Then we must not disappoint her.”
Together they left the courtyard and strolled down the track, the soft glow of dawn rendering the russet leaves on the vines even more vibrant. In the distance the pops of hunters’ guns punctured the silence as on the neighbour’s land they chased down rabbit for the pot.
For a while, neither of them spoke, Karmela searching for the words to begin.
“This time next week I will be walking through the city to work, with traffic thundering past. I am going to miss the peace and quiet. How about you?”
“I’m not really sure. My house in Bristol’s let out and the tenants don’t leave for a couple of weeks, so rather than stretching my sister’s hospitality to its limits I thought I might take the slow way home. I might head across from Athens to the Adriatic and work my way up the coast.”
“Oh, you will see such wonderful places. Kotor, Dubrovnik of course, Split, Pula…”
“I can’t miss Dubrovnik. I feel as though I’ve already been there, courtesy of the extracts you’ve read to us from your book.”
“You are very kind, but that is the city of five hundred years ago, although in truth certain parts of the old town would still be recognisable to the Ragusans. They did a very good job of rebuilding it after the shelling and mortar attacks in the war.”
They were coming to the top of the gully where the shadows were long, despite the rapidly lightening sky. Iain released Sybil from her lead and the dog pranced hopefully around Karmela’s legs. Having laid the foundation, Karmela had to say her piece.
“Talking of the war, Emina was killed before Operation Deliberate Force started. I asked my mother to check, so you are off the hook.” She tried to meet his gaze, but he was looking at Sybil. “That is, if you want to be.”
With that she clicked her fingers and ran down the valley, Sybil overtaking her within seconds. Back and forth they went as she made playful attempts to catch her as she zoomed past, skidded to a halt, then started all over again.
As she ran, she hoped and prayed that Iain would join in, but he stayed where he was, and Karmela’s thumping heart sank. Just as well they would never see each other after Saturday. She was sure she could survive the embarrassment until then, but the walk back to the retreat might be excruciating, so she played with Sybil until she could barely breathe. Finally she had to stop, resting her hands on her knees, then looked up at Iain from a distance of about twenty metres.
“Your turn I think.”
He walked slowly towards her. “And what about you?” he asked. “Does knowing when Emina died make a difference to you?”
Karmela unbent her body, trying to ignore the stitch in her chest. So he did want the conversation, after all. “I don’t think it ever did. Not in itself.”
“But your reaction when I told you! Karmela, I know I didn’t imagine it.”
“That was shock, and I am sorry. But the man you are now has not changed for me. I do not know what you carry from the missions you have flown, from the job you had to do, and perhaps I never will. Perhaps you have moved beyond it. We could just accept that we both have scars, or we could decide to explore them together. They might matter and they might not. But there is only one way to find out.”
It was a far, far, longer speech than Karmela had set out to make, but she felt completely calm now everything was out in the open. She could say no more. It was up to him. And if his answer was no she could move on without regret.
“You really want to try?” Now he was looking at her. A long look from those stunning green eyes, just like the one on the ferry, that very first day of the retreat.
“Yes.”
“Then OK.”
She burst out laughing. “OK? OK? How is that meant to make a woman feel?”
“I told you I’m out of practice.”
“Even so, that sounded particularly grudging.”
He smiled, his whole face lighting up from the inside out. “Far, far from it. More like I’m stunned. I cannot believe my luck.”
“Then would you like to have another go? Maybe show some enthusiasm, this time?”
“It’s the very least you deserve.”
To her intense surprise and joy, and accompanied by a cacophony of barking from Sybil, he picked her up and swung her around, before kissing her firmly on the lips.
Oh god, oh my god. How good did this feel? How exciting, how exhilarating. How new and shiny and…
He put her down, clutching his back. “You ask a lot from a middle-aged man, you know. Especially before breakfast.”
Karmela dissolved into a fit of giggles. “You mean we are not worth it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well then,” said Karmela, tucking her arm into his, the glow from his warmth spreading through her. “Well then.” That amazing feeling of oneness was back, and she did not think she would ever tire of it. This time she would grab it with both hands and she would not take no for an answer.
* * *
When Jo walked into the studio, the group was gathered around the table for the final feedback session of the retreat. This time tomorrow they would all be packing their cases and preparing for the farewell dinner; it was barely possible to believe the retreat was almost over. Just one more day, then on Saturday they’d be gone, never to be together again. The support she’d had from these people, through one of the most tumultuous periods of her life, she would never forget.
Sophie had been truly amazing. Their shared experience of bullying husbands had drawn them together, and it was to Sophie she’d taken Rees’s increasingly threatening messages.
“Ignore them but keep them all,” she’d advised. “And get yourself a divorce lawyer sooner rather than later. But if he’s never been physically violent towards you before now then I very much doubt he’ll start. He’s just flailing around, trying to find another way of controlling you.”
Much as Jo had come to understand Sophie, Diana was probably the person she knew the least, but she recognised her as the glue that held the group together with her unfailing kindness and tact. She also knew how to write a romance, and had in the end admitted that most of the work on their novel had been hers. When Jo told her she very much hoped she’d carry on writing with a view to publication, she’d asked if Jo would continue to mentor her. As a paid assignment, of course.
Jo had been about to say she didn’t need the money, but it struck her that she probably did. Not immediately, and not for a while, but she certainly had no plans to write another book, and she didn’t know if, given all the fuss, the magazines would take Jessica Rose’s short stories anymore. Whether anyone else would employ her as a mentor, she doubted too. Except Zina, who had bravely asked her back next year. Which she had of course declined until they were absolutely sure how her reputation stood.
She sat down on the chair the group had left for her at the far end, setting her notebook on the table. “So here we are,” she said. “The last feedback session. Iain, I think you’re going to kick off with the piece we discussed at your one-to-one.”
He grinned at her. “Actually, I’m not. I am going to read first, but something different. We wanted this afternoon to be a tribute to our wonderful teacher, but Karmela was adamant you’d be embarrassed if our pieces were about you, so we decided to each write something on your undoubted qualities and I’ve chosen courage.”
Jo raised her hands to her burning cheeks. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t expect this.” What an absolutely wonderful thing. Her throat constricted.
Bugger. Not now, Jo.
But would it matter if she let her emotions show? These amazing people were her friends, after all.
“Well don’t expect too much. Not from me anyway. You know how much I struggle to words get even in the order right.”
Diana giggled, while Karmela groaned theatrically, holding her head in her hands.
Iain certainly had his spark back, and Jo was pretty sure she knew why. She had seen him and Karmela return from their walk this morning, so close they were all but touching, and when he’d glanced up at her window and spotted her, she was sure he’d winked. Karmela had had her head down writing today, but Jo would try to get a quiet moment with her later to find out what had happened. As if her friend’s relaxed demeanour didn’t already tell her.
Clearing his throat, Iain began to read.
“You must be brave.
“If I had a pound for every time someone told me that I wouldn’t need to work again. Perhaps it is brave, flying at speeds in excess of a thousand miles an hour. Brave sounds a lot like bravado.
“Perhaps you can learn bravery, but true courage comes from within. Not from creating fears, but from facing them down. Not from flying high, but from hauling yourself out of the low. From grasping life with both hands.
“That is perhaps the scariest thing of all.”
Iain stopped and grimaced.
“Susan challenged me to write it in fifty words, but windbag that I am, I went a bit over. Sorry.”
“I think it was still fairly succinct,” said Susan. “In fact, I would have liked the ideas explored a little more. They were so interesting.”
Everyone in the group had been on some sort of journey, and Susan’s was one of the most heart-warming. To have found her family– and so quickly, too, thanks to Panora– must feel like some sort of miracle, and instead of writing a history she’d had the bright idea of creating what she called a scrapbook of words– short stories, poems, flash fiction– all relating to her own feelings and what she was learning about her Greek relatives and their lives. Jo admired her for taking such an innovative approach and had loved working with her on the pieces she’d completed so far.
“Yes, I would have liked more too,” Jo agreed. “Now I’m over the embarrassment of your choice of topic.”
“But you are brave,” said Diana, “and you’re not the only one.” She looked at Sophie, who shook her head slowly.
“Only by proxy. Anyway, I’ve written about empathy.”
Jo struggled to control her emotions as Sophie read, not just because of her words, but because of the way the group had chosen to show their appreciation. Everyone had tried their best and pulled together to make this happen. By the time the last reader, Diana, had finished, Jo could barely stop her voice from shaking.
“I can’t tell you how proud I am of you all,” she said. “I was terrified when I came here but you have been a joy to work with, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Should she say more? Probably, but she felt too choked. Clearing her throat, she carried on. “Now don’t forget that tomorrow morning I will need your feedback on the retreat, then there is just one final day for you to carry on with your work. Or head for the beach, or go shopping or sightseeing. It’s up to you.”
“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” whispered Susan, her voice every bit as emotional as Jo’s as she wiped her misting glasses.
“We came as strangers and leave as friends.” Diana, of course.
“And there’s plenty of room in my house if anyone wants to come to London,” added Sophie.
Iain stood. “It’s been a pleasure, and an honour, to listen to your work unfold, even if I haven’t written anything much myself. Now, a little bird tells me that Zina has some of that excellent Santorini sparkling wine in the fridge, and it would be a shame to waste it.”
“Something to celebrate?” Jo asked.
“Of course.” He winked at her. “The most important things: friendship, honesty, courage and laughter.”