Chapter 5 #2
Looking over his shoulder at April thundering towards him, he gave the can one last almighty kick.
It pinged against the wall before bouncing off and coming to a clattering halt in front of a surprised-looking elderly gentleman in a Panama hat.
He’d been sitting at a café table sipping coffee and generally minding his own business.
April rapidly changed course, veering in the elderly gentleman’s direction and bending down to retrieve the can by his feet.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, stuffing the offending article into the pocket of her flowery apron. ‘My son’s lost his manners.’
The man didn’t seem put out and merely shrugged, before returning to his coffee. Meanwhile April lunged at Meaty, grabbing the neck of his T-shirt and dragging him, kicking and squirming, towards the shop.
‘My eldest,’ she said, depositing the boy in the middle of the group and looking down on him disdainfully, rather as if he were a disobedient puppy she didn’t know what to do with.
‘His name’s Demetrios but we call him Meaty for short.’
Nikos, who was still being held by Edie, yelped and struggled to get down. She put him carefully on the ground and he toddled towards his big brother, wrapping himself round his skinny legs as if his life depended on it.
Meaty tried to pick the toddler up but he was too heavy, so he crouched down and gave him a cuddle instead.
‘Ah! They adore each other,’ April said affectionately, momentarily forgetting her anger. ‘Nikos copies everything he does. He wants to be him.’
Her expression hardened again and her eyes clouded over as she stooped to Meaty’s height, jamming her face right up close.
‘And that’s why you have to set a good example,’ she barked. ‘Now, get inside and take your little brother with you. You can mind him till supper – and don’t you dare let him out of your sight for one second.’
Meaty clearly knew the fight was over and Edie and the others watched him take Nikos by the hand and lead him back into the shop.
‘We must proceed,’ Katerina said strictly after a moment or two. ‘We have a long way to climb.’
After saying their goodbyes, the group turned left up a steep flight of stone steps between two buildings. Edie and Hannah struggled with their wheelie suitcases and their husbands had to help them, but Jessica, who was super fit, bounded up some of them two at a time.
She didn’t manage to overtake Katerina, however, who was sprightlier than a woman half her age. There wasn’t an inch of fat on her; she must have been all muscle.
‘Almost there!’ she cried, turning round at the top, hands on hips, and smiling, with some amusement, at the slowcoaches lagging behind.
‘Thank God,’ Edie muttered to no one in particular, her thighs and calves screaming. ‘My legs feel like jelly.’
There then began a long, slow ascent up a gravelly donkey track lined with gnarled bushes, rocks and scrub.
Assorted trees dotted the landscape – pine, lemon, orange and fig – along with swathes of brightly coloured wild flowers that seemed to flourish miraculously despite the dry conditions.
The air was filled with the scent of wild thyme and sage and herds of goats, with bells round their necks, perched precariously on rocks, munching lazily on blades of grass while they watched the strangers from afar.
Occasionally, they’d break into a chorus of mournful, wavering bleats that seemed to echo round the mountain like a lament.
Before long, the group came to a tumbledown stone cottage with a rusty, vine-covered pergola outside, providing some shade. A clean white sheet and two matching pillowcases had been hung on a nearby olive tree to dry.
The brown-painted wooden shutters were open but there was no one to be seen. In fact, the only sign of life was a flock of hens in a chicken-wire pen at the side of the cottage, pecking at the dusty soil round their rickety henhouse.
‘That’s where my neighbour, Eleni Manousaki, lives,’ Katerina explained, pausing for a moment to allow the others to rest. She didn’t appear remotely tired herself.
Jessica scrutinised the cottage, rather as if it were an ancient relic. It certainly looked like one, Edie thought, as if it hadn’t seen a lick of paint, a new gutter or replacement roof tiles for years.
‘Do you live in Villa Ariadne – when there are no visitors, I mean?’ Jessica asked.
Katerina shook her head. ‘Oh no. It’s far too grand for me. I have a little cottage further up the mountain.’
‘Do the owners ever visit?’
Katerina took a deep breath before answering. ‘No. They are far away. I look after it for them and try to manage it in the way they would wish.’
Her reply piqued Edie’s interest and she would have liked to ask more, but the old woman seemed keen to move on.
‘We still have some way to go,’ she said, beckoning the group to follow. ‘I told you it was quite a hike.’
The donkey track curved left then right before reaching a particularly steep incline. Everyone went quiet when they spotted it, except Edie.
‘Jesus!’ she said, despairing. ‘Not another bloody precipice!’
Ralph, beside her, tutted. ‘I think someone needs to up their cardio fitness,’ he commented, with an annoying little smirk. ‘You’re out of breath.’
‘Rubbish,’ Edie retorted. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my cardio. Anyway, you can’t talk. You’re puffing like a steam train.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And dripping in sweat.’
She was so hot and cross, the spat could easily have escalated.
Luckily, though, they’d almost reached the top of the steep bit.
Just ahead, they could see where the gravelly path petered out to become a rough sandy track, lined with gnarled old olive trees.
And, to Edie’s joy, at the very end was a set of tall, shiny, black iron gates.
Behind them, an imposing building made of the same grey-beige stone as Eleni Manousaki’s cottage seemed to rise majestically from the land. In the centre was a rectangular tower so tall it appeared to be reaching up to touch the sky.
‘Wow!’ said Hannah, and Mac whistled.
Edie, having quite forgotten her irritation, hopped up and down on the spot like a child and Ralph smiled, amused.
‘Looks like you’ve chosen well.’
‘I hope so. Fingers crossed it’s nice inside.’
Now the finish was in sight, the group’s pace quickened. In preparation for their arrival, Katerina pulled an enormous bunch of keys from the brown leather messenger bag she wore, cross-body style, and clutched them in her fist.
Half running, half walking, she started to pull away from the others, who were hampered by their suitcases. The closer she got to the villa, the smaller she seemed in comparison. She reminded Edie of a worker ant, marching determinedly towards its colony.
Finally, on reaching the metal gates, Katerina stopped, put one of the keys in the big black lock and turned. The gates looked very heavy and Edie thought she might need some help opening them.
Before she had a chance to offer, however, Katerina swivelled round, bent almost double and used all the strength in her shoulders, back, legs and bum to force the gates apart.
‘This way,’ she said when the rest caught up, as if there’d been nothing to it. ‘Mind your feet. The ground’s a bit uneven in places.’
Once inside, they felt as if they’d entered a different world. The villa was surrounded by a wall, partially obscured by trees and greenery, which was so high, no one could possibly see over the top.
There was a wide, curved gravel courtyard and in the centre stood a set of stone steps. These led to an archway and at the end, a large, solid-looking wooden front door.
You could tell the place had been lovingly renovated.
There were no cracks or gaps in the stonework or weeds poking through broken window frames.
The sky-blue shutters looked freshly painted and on either side of the steps were giant terracotta pots, bursting with interesting-shaped palms and colourful blooms.
Edie’s eye was particularly taken with two large statues of dogs, set on giant plinths at the top of the stairs.
Tall and thin with pricked ears, wedge-shaped heads and curled tails, they seemed to be guarding the entrance.
They had such noble, gentle faces, however, it was doubtful they’d deter anyone.
‘They’re Cretan hounds,’ Katerina said, noticing Edie’s interest. ‘They’re one of the oldest hunting breeds in Europe, possibly the oldest.’
‘They don’t look very scary.’
‘No, they’re very polite and mild-mannered. They make wonderful pets. You wouldn’t want to be a cat or rabbit, though. They love chasing small animals and can run extremely fast.’
Jessica, who was nearby, came and joined them.
‘When was the villa built?’ she wanted to know.
‘Sections date back to 1462,’ said Katerina. ‘It was built by the Venetians but has been greatly modified since.’
‘Did the current owners make many modifications themselves, or was it all done before they bought the place?’
Katerina frowned as if for some reason the question annoyed her.
‘The renovations have taken place over very many years,’ she said. ‘You will see what miracles have been achieved when you step inside.’
After crossing the threshold, Edie gazed in wonder round the open entrance hall with its high ceilings, smooth, whitewashed walls and creamy marble floor tiles. They were so clean, she imagined she could see her reflection in them.
A number of curved archways led off the hall into smaller rooms, one with comfy-looking red velvet armchairs and a TV, another with a desk, bookshelves, more chairs and an antique wooden table with a fancy chessboard on top.
The place, though light and airy, didn’t feel clinical or impersonal. Quite the opposite. It seemed as though every painting, object and piece of furniture had been carefully selected by someone with immense taste and style.