Chapter 3
After the main course – fresh sea bass fillet with vegetable spaghettini and spicy tomato and red pepper salsa – dinner came to a rather abrupt end.
Pudding was off the menu and although the fish was very tasty, the portions did seem quite small.
Cleo wasn’t exactly hungry, but certainly didn’t feel full and there was no more tropical fizz or sparkling lemonade to fill her up, either. It was strictly water or herbal tea from here on in.
‘What do we do now?’ Tash whispered to Cleo, as the guests started to rise from their seats. ‘I guess we go to bed?’
Cleo checked the time. It was still only 9.30 p.m. She was tired, for sure, but didn’t want to go to sleep too early for fear of waking up at silly o’clock in the morning.
‘Shall we grab a herbal tea and go and sit by the pool for a bit?’ she suggested.
Tash nodded. ‘Good idea.’
‘Don’t forget to pick up your copy of the schedule,’ Henrietta called, waving some sheets of paper in the air before placing them in a pile at the end of the table. ‘Yoga starts at eight in the garden. Breakfast’s at nine.’
Some of the other guests joined Tash and Cleo by the urn of boiling water just outside the kitchen. There were so many delicious-sounding flavours of tea, Cleo couldn’t decide which one to choose, but eventually opted for fresh mint with honey.
As she and Tash strolled through the trellised archway, holding their mugs of tea and breathing in the heady scent of white roses, she found herself marvelling that she was here at all.
After all, it was only this morning she’d been at the airport, waiting for her flight and wondering if she’d made a huge mistake booking the holiday in the first place. In truth, all she really wanted was to curl up under a blanket on the sofa and go to sleep.
Danny had sweetly travelled from Bristol the day before to say goodbye.
At least, that’s why he’d said he’d come.
Cleo suspected in reality, he was more interested in meeting up with a girl from London he’d been dating on and off since Christmas.
But she wasn’t complaining. She was always so happy to see him.
They’d had supper together and she’d caught up on his news, then they’d both gone to bed in good time because of their early starts. Unfortunately, though, Cleo hadn’t slept much and she’d been wide awake when her alarm went off at 5 a.m.
Danny had come with her to the airport and she’d had to fight back tears when they’d said goodbye.
‘You’re only away for a week, Mum,’ he’d said, with a mixture of exasperation and concern. ‘I’ll see you when you’re back.’
‘I know,’ Cleo had replied. ‘I’m just being silly.’
She wouldn’t tell him how lost and lacking in purpose she’d felt since the divorce. She despised self-pity and had been trying so hard to pick herself up and put on a brave face, but it wasn’t easy.
Beyond the trellised arch was a wide lawn, surrounded by tall trees which looked strange and brooding in the moonlight. The noisy, high-pitched clicking of cicadas filled the stillness, and the dry grass tickled Cleo’s sandalled feet.
‘That must be the plunge pool over there,’ Tash commented, pointing to a walled area to the right. In front, still a little way off, they could see water shining like a mirror in the rectangular swimming pool and beyond that, an elegant white stone balustrade which marked the end of the property.
Both women were keen to see the view from there. Placing their mugs on the ground at their feet, they rested their elbows on the balustrade’s flat surface and gazed up at the stars, bright against the velvety black sky.
Slowly, their eyes drifted down the shadowy mountainside towards the twinkling lights of Porto Liakáda and after that, the shimmering, silvery sea.
‘It makes you feel so small, doesn’t it, looking at such vastness?’ Cleo commented.
Tash didn’t reply; she must have been lost in the beauty of it. But then all of a sudden, Cleo became aware of Tash’s breathing; she was panting and wheezing, seemingly struggling for air.
Swivelling round, Cleo was shocked to see her new friend bent over, with one hand on her chest, the other clutching the top of the balustrade as if to stop herself from keeling over.
‘Oh God! What is it?’ Cleo asked, momentarily frozen to the spot. ‘What’s happened?’
Her first thought was that Tash must be choking on something, some food, perhaps.
Feeling panicky, Cleo dithered for a few seconds before pulling herself together. She was a nurse, for God’s sake. Out of practice, for sure, but she had years of training and experience behind her.
Springing into action, she struck Tash hard between her shoulder blades with the palm of her hand, hoping this would dislodge whatever might be causing the obstruction.
When this didn’t seem to work, she stood behind Tash and made to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. Tash shook her head violently, however, and tried to push Cleo away before sinking to the floor with her back against the wall.
Even in the shadowy moonlight, Cleo could see Tash’s face had turned pale and sweaty and her chest was heaving as she gasped for oxygen.
Cleo knelt down opposite her friend and observed her closely while figuring out what to do next. She realised Tash was trying to get her breathing under control – and she was partially succeeding.
In between gasps, every now and again she managed to inhale a little more deeply and her shoulders started to relax. It was then it dawned on Cleo that she was dealing with a panic attack.
‘That’s it, take long, slow breaths,’ Cleo said gently, feeling her own shoulders untense a little. Though frightening and horrible, she knew panic attacks were temporary and not dangerous.
‘Let’s count backwards from fifty. That’s it. You’re going to be all right; it will pass.’
Cleo had had a couple of panic attacks herself straight after Paul left. Being in the health service, she’d felt embarrassed and hadn’t intended to tell anyone. Luckily, though, the second attack had happened in front of her GP when she’d made an appointment about another matter.
The GP had been calm and helpful, advising her to count to four while inhaling and exhaling and telling her to focus her gaze on a soothing picture of flowers on the wall. It had worked.
‘Focus on the pool, the water,’ Cleo said soothingly. ‘Look at how still it is, there’s not even a ripple.’
Tash nodded and did as she was told, continuing to inhale and exhale as slowly and deeply as she could.
At last, after what seemed like an age, Tash’s body stopped shaking and her breathing returned to normal. She seemed exhausted, though, and stayed on the ground for quite a while with Cleo alongside, her arm lightly round Tash’s shoulders.
Cleo herself felt wiped out, too. It was as if the stress of being in this situation, not knowing at first what the matter was, had drained all her energy.
‘I’m so sorry for putting you through this,’ Tash managed to mutter at last.
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Cleo replied with feeling. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It must have been terrifying for you. It was a panic attack, right?’ she added tentatively.
Tash nodded.
‘Have you had one before?’
‘Yes,’ said Tash in a small voice. ‘I’ve been getting them a lot, ever since my husband fell ill.
They seem to come out of nowhere, without any warning.
Suddenly – whoosh! – my heart starts pounding, I feel faint and I’m gasping for breath.
I’m on antidepressants and they help a bit, but they don’t stop the attacks completely.
I’ve found tranquillisers like Xanax work better, but they’re addictive. I can’t use them long-term.
‘The panic attacks are the main reason why I’ve given up acting. The thought of having one on stage or in front of the camera is horrific. I can’t do that to myself or anyone else.’
Both women were temporarily distracted by the sound of bleating goats some way down the mountain, their neck bells jingle-jangling. One goat seemed to set off another, then the whole flock, plus any other herds nearby. Their plaintive cries, echoing in the still night, were strangely soothing.
Cleo pulled up her knees and hugged her arms round them.
‘I get them too,’ she confessed, ‘but I haven’t had one for a while now. At the time, it feels like you’re dying, doesn’t it? It’s such a frightening feeling. What do you think triggered this one? Have you any idea?’
Tash shrugged. ‘Not really. Well, maybe it was something to do with looking at that view and feeling so powerless, I don’t know. It sounds so stupid. To be honest, anything can trigger me. I’m a bundle of nerves.’ She smiled sadly. ‘You can’t take me anywhere.’
‘It’s not stupid,’ Cleo said softly. ‘Anyone can have one. Have you ever thought of CBT, or joining a support group, maybe? It might help.’
Tash cleared her throat. ‘I did have some CBT, ages ago and found it quite useful. I should probably book some more sessions when I’m back home.’
She shivered. ‘It’s getting cold now.’
‘Do you think you can walk back to the villa?’ Cleo asked, remembering Tash was only in a short cotton skirt and T-shirt. She realised she was chilly, too, in her skimpy summer dress.
She rose and offered Tash a hand, which she took, before pulling her up to standing. Tash was a bit wobbly on her feet at first, so Cleo tucked the hand under her arm for support. She’d collect the empty tea mugs in the morning.
They didn’t see anyone else in the garden when they made their way slowly back to Villa Ariadne together. However, Mark was still in the kitchen clearing away the dishes and, presumably, prepping for breakfast.
After the soft darkness outside, the kitchen’s bright lights made Cleo squint and it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust.
‘Nice stroll?’ Mark asked with a friendly smile. ‘You weren’t tempted to swim?’
His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he was in a navy butcher’s apron. He wiped his damp hands on a tea towel. Cleo found his pleasant, solid presence reassuring.