Chapter 25
CARRIE
Carrie woke up early and stretched. She hadn’t closed the shutters last night.
Looking out on the night sky, as she fell asleep, made her feel less alone.
This sense of loneliness hit her from time to time.
It was nothing to do with wanting to be surrounded with people, and everything to do with her mum dying.
They’d lived together, watched TV, cooked, gone to the cinema, moaned about bills, but more than that, and had often joked they were telepathic in so many little ways, like putting the kettle on just as the other fancied a cup of tea.
Whenever Carrie looked at photos, it was a punch to the stomach that she would never see that disapproving frown or loving smile again.
The worst thing about her new home, in Reddish, had been going back at night and not having to tiptoe, nor finding a funny note by a piece of cake in the kitchen. Mum was thoughtful like that.
A white and black butterfly beat against the windowpane for a few seconds as if having an argument with it.
The insect’s colours reminded her of Newcastle fan Rae.
Would Carrie ever get used to the pleasing sound of waves lapping in the distance, instead of the drone of Manchester traffic?
Although the dawn chorus was always a joy back in Reddish – sparrows, blackbirds, blue tits…
Those birds could have gone to any cheerful, balmy corner of the world but for some reason had chosen the northwest corner of an island with changeable weather.
As she walked through the villa and onto the balcony, Carrie reminded herself that life back in the UK hadn’t been all bad.
So why had she thought Greece would be better?
She sat outside on the ornate chair and put her glass of water on the mosaic-patterned table.
Were sunrays, blue skies and golden beaches really the things that made life worth living?
She’d hoped so, but that sense of something missing had followed her through the skies to Paros.
It was family and friends that gave life meaning and Carrie had lost both.
Or a passion perhaps, but Carrie had never had time for that.
Rae’s emotions often hinged on the performance of her football club, which she followed with an obsession, saving hard to buy a season ticket.
And even though she hadn’t yet seen the whole world, Ariana was excited about travel, an avid fan of TV shows featuring adventures abroad, and travel podcasts.
She won agent of the year in her branch last year and learnt French and Spanish in her spare time.
There was much more to them both than those two interests, but those passions drove them and inspired joy.
Whereas Carrie’s whole life felt like ticking boxes – cleaning job. Bar work. Housework. Sleep.
As a seagull swooped overhead, for the umpteenth time since messaging her friends last week, she checked her phone.
Oh. My. God. They’d replied! Almost dropping her phone in excitement, Carrie tapped into the message.
Wait, okay, it was just Ariana, and privately, from her own WhatsApp account.
She’d always been the softer of the two. But any response was brilliant!
Hello Carrie,
We met up with Eliza again on Friday and she’s settling in well. She is not what I expected. As you may know, she owns a florist shop and is more than capable of handling difficult customers at The Niterie. A good dancer too. Quite a woman.
The weather is sunny here – no doubt not as hot as in Paros.
Hope you’re managing okay moneywise, what with not being able to work.
I might be going for promotion at work. The team leader has left. Not sure though, in case I get it and mess up.
I don’t know what else to say but whatever has happened, I wish you well.
Ariana
Carrie bit her fingernail and re-read it several times.
There were no kisses at the end. The tone was very formal and polite, almost business-like.
But she did hope Carrie was managing and had shared news about the promotion.
Her brow smoothed out. This was a start.
Thank you, thank you, Ariana! It was good to hear about Eliza.
She went to reply but stopped herself. Mustn’t come across as too keen and scare Ariana off.
Instead she replied to Eliza’s last email, something she should have done before now.
Eliza wanted to know about Dimitrios – trouble was, the whole weekend, all Carrie could think of was her realisation that she did like him, but that he couldn’t have been less interested.
Her mind kept playing a reel of clichéd romantic encounters: them on the bow of the ship Titanic, flying together to a bright new future, or him standing outside the villa, holding a series of signs like in Love Actually.
But that wouldn’t do.
Hi Eliza,
Thanks so much for the photo of Boo. Glad the two of you are getting on. It’s a big relief as he means so much to me. Lots of skinny cats roam wild here in Paros. Turns out they love lumps of cheese.
‘Nice’? Jez is ‘nice’? Methinks you play things down! Come on, Eliza, dish the dirt! I guess we need to exchange the love stuff currency so here’s my payment for more information from you about the slickest man in Manchester! You wanted to hear more about Dimitrios? Well, he is also very… ‘nice’!
I miss talks like this with my mum. She was always so young at heart, sometimes it was as if we were more like sisters, especially at the end when I looked after her.
I lost her when I was twenty-five, but she lost her mum as a teen.
My grandparents let her down in such a terrible way.
I don’t understand why she cried about her own mum at the very end – said she forgave her.
I told her not to be silly, but she muttered something about knowing what her father was like.
No excuses, I say. My grandmother wasn’t there when it mattered – not when Mum got pregnant, nor when she died.
Sorry. Oversharing. But I can’t explain it, I feel a connection with you, as if we’ve met somewhere before. Perhaps in another life! Normally I only confide in Boo who used to patiently listen to me going on. And my friends are – were – great listeners. I miss Ariana and Rae heaps.
Glad you like Reddish! It’s a dump in places but I dare anyone to say that to my face. It has a way of wrapping itself around your heart, like so many parts of the Stockport and Manchester area. Well done over that builder and idiot customers at The Niterie. You’ve got this, Eliza!
Carrie x
She attached a couple of photos of Parikia and of the pastries Dimitrios had bought, along with a shot of the villa.
As she pressed send, the doorbell rang. It was nine in the morning.
Who would call by this early? She straightened her pyjama shorts and neatened the collar of the top before going to the door and opening it. Dimitrios’s smile beamed through.
‘Sorry. I should have rung, but…’
Carrie widened the door. ‘Come on in,’ she said, ears hot as she remembered how he’d dodged her kiss on Friday, as if she were contaminated seafood. But he stayed there and it was almost like Love Actually, except instead of holding signs he was holding an acoustic guitar.
He passed it to her. ‘You’ve got plenty of time to play. Have fun with it. This is one of mine. Keep it as long as you want.’
Wow. She didn’t know what to say. Carrie took the instrument and he came in.
She gazed at the guitar, polished and shiny. ‘What a beautiful walnut colour.’
‘It’s the colour of my cat, apart from her white paws and the white tip of her walnut tail.
I called her Poseidon, even though, strictly speaking, it’s a male name, because she actually enjoyed swimming in water – and I liked to think of the god of the sea protecting her.
I would take her out on my surfboard sometimes.
Dad would too. She loved it; loved the outdoors. ’
‘That’s amazing. I have – or had – a cat called Boo, white with a black patch of fur over one eye. The woman who bought my life owns him now. He’s happy, from what she said. But I miss him.’
Dimitrios’s face fell. ‘I miss Poseidon too.’
‘Did she…?’
‘She simply disappeared one day, a couple of months ago. Almost as if someone had taken her, but there are so many cats on this island that is highly unlikely, and I haven’t received a ransom note.
They say cats disappear when they’re going to die…
but she’d seemed fine…’ He exhaled and then mustered a smile.
‘Anyway. The guitar. Play it or don’t, no pressure, but you have the option. ’
Her fingers wrapped around the guitar’s neck and they tingled as if recognising an object that used to give them so much pleasure.
‘Would you… like a coffee?’ she asked, hyperaware she was only in her pyjamas, imagining him slowly unbuttoning her top, the Greek heat embracing them as they lay as close as two people could and…
‘No, thanks. Can’t stay,’ he said and turned to go.
‘One other thing though… I know you weren’t expecting not to be able to work for a couple of months, so I’ve got a proposition that helps us both out.
The Bar gets crazy busy from now until the end of August but it’s hard to predict the days where it’s a real struggle, even with the extra full-time staff I take on.
And lunchtime and dinnertime are always heaving.
I’d pay you if you helped out on a casual basis – I know I can’t give you money because of the regulations, but I could offer up bar meals and all the soft drinks you want.
It would be a great way for you to meet the locals and your English would be handy with tourists. Not all the staff speak it.’
‘Right. Gosh, I mean… okay… um, thank you… I have decided to volunteer at Dafni’s rescue centre though, and am heading there today.’ But helping out Dafni alone wouldn’t save money, and maybe bar work would be a good way to make new friends.
‘Oh… great… Dafni’s great…’ His sparkle disappeared. ‘Well, it was only an idea.’ His neck flushed. ‘What I said… on the beach… it’s for the best, Carrie. I’m bad news.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Even my cat ran away from me.’
She raised an eyebrow but he didn’t elaborate.
‘No problem at all,’ she said, emphasising the words as if she totally agreed, despite wanting to hug him tight and kiss away that unhappiness she saw etched on his face.
‘And… if you’re going to be my boss, best to keep things professional, right?
’ Oh so wrong – and she hadn’t said that to Eliza about Jez.
‘You’ll do it? Fantastic! And agreed, 100 per cent right, best to keep boundaries.’ He beamed. ‘Thanks, it’s great that you’ll bring your nightclub skills to my place. So… we’re still mates?’
Mates, yes please, she thought as a pair of dragonflies hovered together outside the window before darting off.
‘More than you think!’ she said innocently, pushing away the sultry feeling inside at the thought of chiselled Dimitrios stripping off.
‘We had a very enthusiastic English teacher who once explained the distant origins of that word “mate”. It’s from a Middle Low German word meaning someone who shares meals with you.
So if I’m to become your newest bartender, paid with gyros and pickles, it couldn’t be more appropriate, Doritos! ’