Chapter 15
15
The second week of the holiday could hardly have been more different from the first. The two families spent long, lazy days by the pool or ventured into Porto Liakáda to go to the beach or buy food.
Jon had agreed to catch the same flight back as the others. He was subdued and didn’t join in the games or conversations, but he did do his fair share of meal preparation and clearing up.
Al and Stella were like newlyweds, constantly touching each other and sharing jokes. One afternoon, they lay side by side on the same sun lounger while Al played with Stella’s hair, running it through his fingers.
Hector was sitting nearby, looking at his phone. He’d been finding his parents’ PDAs hard to cope with, and he finally snapped.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he said, sticking a finger down his throat and pretending to throw up. ‘Will you two just stop it? It’s disgusting!’
Al laughed but Stella jumped up and scurried to another seat.
‘Sorry,’ she said, fiddling with the strap of her swimsuit, feeling her cheeks heat up. ‘Um, anyone fancy a cold drink?’
A couple of days before they were due to go home, she suggested making a dinner reservation for their last night in one of Porto Liakáda’s best restaurants.
There was a full moon, and they were all together round the garden table, having just finished eating.
‘I’d like to invite some other people if that’s okay?’ Stella said. ‘April and family, Katerina, of course, Marina…’ She glanced at Louise, who nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Maybe the shoe shop man, and the local men who came to help us on the beach. I want to say thank you to them.’
Lily made a face, wrinkling her sunburned nose. ‘Can’t it just be us?’
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ Al countered, breaking off a corner of the bread he’d left and popping it in his mouth. ‘We should show our appreciation. We’ll pay.’ He looked at Louise, who raised her eyebrows in protest. ‘Of course it’s on us.’
Being sensitive to Jon’s feelings, he didn’t add, After all, you weren’t the one who caused all the trouble , but everyone knew what he meant.
April gave Stella contact numbers for the five men who’d rushed to the rescue when they saw Al and Hector hurtling to the beach, and realised someone was in trouble.
On leaving the store with the information scribbled on a piece of paper, Stella bumped into Marina, who gladly accepted her invitation and offered to tell Katerina about it, too.
The only person who couldn’t make the dinner was Mr Makris, from the shoe shop. Stella suspected Katerina might have had a word with him, perhaps via his daughter. The old woman wasn’t exactly his greatest fan.
In the event, there were twenty-six acceptances, including April’s four children, who couldn’t be left out, plus five local men and their four wives.
Stella asked for three large tables to be put together on the veranda, overlooking the water, and the chef agreed to provide a range of sharing dishes and plenty of Cretan wine.
When the time came, Stella was looking forward to the evening’s celebration, having spent the afternoon packing and tidying up. She hummed to herself while she was getting ready, and carefully applied some creamy brown eye shadow, mascara and blusher, which she hadn’t worn all holiday.
Seeing herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help noticing her eyes had a new-found sparkle and her skin glowed. Even her hair, which had been flat and bodiless, seemed to have sprung back to life and turned thick and glossy. It was amazing what love could do to you.
Al came out of the shower with a turquoise towel round his waist just as she was putting on her favourite jumpsuit, pale pink and strappy.
He was tall and broad-shouldered and his fairish skin had turned light golden brown. His stomach wasn’t quite as flat as it had once been, nor his chest quite as firm, but he was her man and he was gorgeous. He made her burn with lust.
‘Settle down, I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, clocking her expression and grinning. ‘But we haven’t got time.’
‘Aww.’ Stella stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Just a quick one?’
She tried to grab his towel, but he hung on tight and wrestled her off.
‘Don’t! We’re in a rush! Later,’ he promised.
They sauntered down the well-worn path to Porto Liakáda with Lily and Hector. Louise, her children and Jon followed behind.
The air felt warm and delicious on Stella’s skin and the wildflowers appeared brighter and more dazzling than ever before. She seemed to bounce along, her feet hardly touching the ground, as if she’d swallowed a giant dose of endorphins, or been pumped full of magic gas which made her float.
Right now, she thought, life was just perfect, as if happiness had spread itself, like Joseph’s technicolour dream coat, over everything.
Of course joy was fleeting, the same as any other emotion, but she decided she’d suffer a thousand setbacks just to hold on to this glorious feeling for as long as possible.
They were a little late to arrive at the restaurant and some of their guests were already seated under a cheerful blue and white striped canopy, overlooking the sea.
Waiters had put together several large tables, as Stella had requested, covered in white linen cloths adorned with jars of fresh wildflowers and flickering candles, as it was already quite dark.
April, her husband and children were occupying one end of the table, close to Marina and Katerina. Baby Nikos had been provided with a highchair and looked very pleased with himself, clutching a big a set of keys which his parents must have given him.
He kept dropping them, then one of his siblings would have to bend down and pick them up. He was clapping and laughing, finding it all highly entertaining, his brother and sisters rather less so.
April had clearly gone to some trouble with her appearance and was wearing a revealing strapless black top showing lots of cleavage, and heaps of makeup. She’d also washed and blow-dried her blonde hair. It was the first time Stella had seen it down, and it made her look younger and prettier.
Her husband, in a jacket and open-necked shirt beside her, appeared proud and proprietorial, with an arm round his wife’s voluptuous, bare brown shoulders.
Meanwhile, Marina was in a silky, voluminous, bright-pink and orange shirt, with several buttons undone at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves.
Katerina had opted for a neat, cream, short-sleeved blouse. It wasn’t particularly dressy, but she’d picked some rather beautiful, eye-catching gold and amber earrings, with a matching necklace, and looked smiley and relaxed.
Stella hadn’t quite finished saying hello to the group when the five rescuers and four wives arrived together.
Black haired, deeply tanned and sporting bushy beards and moustaches, the men made quite an entrance, talking and laughing in loud voices and slapping the waiters on the back.
Judging by their exuberance, Stella guessed they’d been on a pre-lash, probably without their less boisterous wives, who were following behind.
She soon gathered that none of them spoke much English, so it was going to be difficult to communicate. Hopefully, some of the bilingual guests would help translate.
In any case, she thought, the occasion was more about raising a glass and buying the men a slap-up meal to say thank you, rather than attempting to have deep, meaningful conversations.
She also wanted to thank the kind villagers who’d expressed concern for her and Jon, and she’d even brought them little gifts.
One of the waiters arrived with carafes of local red wine, white wine in ice buckets and jugs of water, while another fetched baskets of fresh crusty bread and jars of local extra virgin olive oil for dipping. Stella and Louise suggested their families fan out and find places to sit, where possible, amongst the locals. Once everyone was settled and drinks had been poured, the volume started to rise. There were quite a few other diners, but luckily they were making plenty of noise, too, and Stella reckoned it was unlikely her party would annoy anyone.
She’d already agreed with Jon and Al that she’d make the speech. Jon didn’t want to say anything, and Al felt it would be more appropriate coming from his wife.
To psych herself up, Stella reminded herself this wasn’t about her; she was here to show heartfelt gratitude.
Without the help of the local men, it would have taken far longer to get her and Jon back to the village and airlifted to hospital. They might have died of hypothermia. And the villagers in general had shown great kindness and hospitality.
Before the food arrived, Al gave Stella a nudge and she rose to her feet, feeling self-conscious. Hector, across from her, pinged his glass with a spoon and the guests fell silent.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow,’ Stella began, feeling herself turn pink. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve fallen in love with Porto Liakáda and I don’t want to leave.’
She paused, noticing Katerina whispering in the ear of her next-door neighbour, one of the rescuers, who nodded, before passing the message along. Soon, the whole table erupted into laughter and cheering, and several people slapped their knees or banged their knives and forks. Even the waiters, in white shirts and black trousers, grinned and clapped.
When the cacophony died down, Stella cleared her throat and smiled.
‘I wanted to take this opportunity to say a massive thank you to you all for helping to rescue me and my friend Jon, here.’
She gestured to him and he put his hands together, as if in prayer, and bowed his head.
‘Thank you also for being so welcoming when we arrived. Thanks for your beautiful scenery and fabulous food, and heartfelt thanks to all you lovely people. We’ll be back!’
With that, she raised her glass and said, ‘To you all!’
This didn’t take long to interpret and after just a few moments, everyone raised their glasses and cried, ‘ Yamas !’ and, ‘Cheers!’
The food began arriving as soon as she sat down, and it was a proper feast. They started with a selection of Cretan meze: Dolmades , delicate little parcels made of courgette flowers and stuffed with rice and herbs, which melted in the mouth; Dakos , a hard barley rusk topped with the sweetest-tasting chopped tomatoes and tangy, crumbled, Cretan mizithra cheese, plus olives, capers and rich, golden, extra virgin olive oil; Tzatziki, made with thick Greek yoghurt, garlic, cucumber and more olive oil; a salad of smoked aubergine, nutty-tasting tahini, chives and parsley; fried aubergine with dry mizithra cheese and the lightest, crispiest fried calamari.
The wine flowed and when Stella’s faltering attempt to communicate with one of the rescuer’s wives came to an end, she sat for a few moments in silence, gazing round her at the animated faces and soaking up the warm atmosphere.
Jon was engaged in what looked like a lively chat with Meaty, April’s son. The boy was waving his arms round and at one point, Jon threw back his head and laughed.
Stella’s insides glowed like sunshine and she whispered silently to Harriet: ‘I wish you were here, Harry, but look! He’s going to be all right; we all are. Sometimes, miracles do happen.’
Later, they ate light, sweet-tasting grilled octopus with olive oil and lemon juice, Souvlaki , or skewers of barbecued pork and chicken, sea bream baked in the oven with onions, garlic, red wine, honey, paprika, cinnamon, oregano and basil, and Kleftiko , a rich, flavoursome, slow-cooked lamb in tomato sauce, served in a clay pot. The meat was so tender, it fell apart on the fork.
By the time dessert came, some of the diners had no room left. However, the hardiest ones nibbled on Sfakian pie, filled with local cheese and topped with honey, or sweet Kalitsounia pastries, washed down with raki , the local fiery brandy flavoured with aniseed.
By now, eyes were bright and faces flushed. Nikos, the baby, had fallen asleep on April’s chest, while the next child up, a little girl, was nodding on her dad’s lap.
They must have been exhausted, because they didn’t even wake when a troupe of black-clad Cretan musicians turned up with a laouto , or Cretan lute, a lyra, or type of violin, and a long-necked tamboura. They set up in a corner of the restaurant and started playing a range of wild folk songs, led by a male vocalist with long black hair and a deep, sonorous voice.
People clapped along and laughed at the funny lyrics. Some even rose from their chairs, joined hands in a circle and began to perform a rhythmical dance. This started slow, but speeded up as the tempo increased and one of the men stepped into the centre of the ring and started twirling wildly in the air.
When he’d finished, the whole restaurant erupted in cheers, which made the baby wake and scream. Unable to console him, April signalled to her husband and the other children, who rose reluctantly and made their way towards Stella.
‘Thank you,’ April said with a big smile, before kissing Stella on the cheek. ‘We’ve had a smashing time. See you again next year, eh?’
‘I hope so,’ Stella replied, smiling back.
The family’s departure seemed to act like a cue for the others, who began to gather their things together and get up. Stella and Al stood at the end of the table to say goodbye, shaking hands and embracing everyone warmly.
Katerina and Marina were the last to leave, and Stella thanked Katerina for giving the two families and Jon the opportunity to enjoy beautiful Villa Ariadne.
‘Ah, you must thank her, not me,’ Katerina said, smiling mysteriously. ‘She knew you needed a helping hand.’
Stella glanced at Al, who looked slightly bemused, then at Marina, who linked arms with the housekeeper, drawing her close.
‘I will,’ Stella said, holding Katerina’s gaze. ‘I promise.’
* * *
They had a very early start the next morning. Hector was the last one down and Stella stood shivering on the gravel drive with the others while they waited for him.
Katerina had asked Stella to leave the keys in the special lock box at the side of the house. She said she’d be down later to clean the place and change the bedding, ready for the next visitors.
Once they were all assembled with their bags, Stella decided to do one last sweep of the house, to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.
As she strolled round the bedrooms, checking the electrical sockets for forgotten phone chargers and under the beds for stray items of clothing, she found herself reflecting on who the villa’s next guest or guests might be.
Would they have got themselves into a terrible muddle, like the one she’d been in when she arrived? And would Villa Ariadne sort them out?
Downstairs, she took a last look at the paintings of Katerina’s employer, then at the one of Katerina herself, in her youth, looking young and beautiful.
She thought of the child, Marina, born in shame to the lady of the house, and given away. Katerina had always watched over Marina and her fragile birth mother. She’d given her life to this villa and faithfully kept its secrets.
Could a building have feelings and powers? If so, this one was full of compassion and healing. In her heart, Stella knew she might revisit Porto Liakáda, but she’d never stay here again; Villa Ariadne had worked its magic on her and her family. Someone else needed it now.
Outside in the cold air again, she closed the door for the last time and turned the heavy key in its lock.
‘Goodbye, Villa Ariadne,’ she whispered to herself, popping the key in its lock box and waiting for the click before twisting the combination digits.
A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, sounding like a gentle sigh, which resonated throughout her body. She closed her eyes and melted into its tender embrace.
Little by little, the sigh morphed into a soft, sleepy song, like a lullaby, swirling in the air all round her. She pricked her ears, listening carefully to the whispered lyrics, trying to make sense of them.
Just then, a loud voice pulled her from her reverie and made her start.
‘Hurry up!’ Al called. ‘Or we’ll miss the ferry.’
‘Coming!’ Stella replied.
As they set off down the path towards Porto Liakáda to catch the ferry back to Hora Sfakion, she turned to take one more look at the place where they’d spent the past two weeks. So much had happened, it seemed they’d been there for an age, and she felt like a different woman.
‘Thank you for everything,’ she murmured. She could swear the villa, with its grand, welcoming windows and wide, tree-lined drive, smiled back.
‘Sorry?’ Al, at her side, turned to look at her.
‘Oh! Nothing.’
Smiling to herself, she picked up her wheelie bag again with one hand and took her husband’s hand in the other. It felt warm and safe.
‘Let’s go home,’ she said.