More from Emma Burstall #2
They were just a few short paces from Katerina now and she hurried forward to greet them. Holding out both hands, she took Stella’s in hers and squeezed tight. Her grip was remarkably sure and strong.
‘You had a good journey, I hope? You must be tired. Welcome to Porto Liakáda!’
Will and the two girls, both fourteen, wanted to stop for a drink in the town before heading for the villa. Tables and chairs were spilling out of bars with brightly coloured awnings. It all looked very tempting, but Louise was having none of it.
‘C’mon. Let’s drop our bags first, then you can explore as much as you like.’
Katerina led the way towards a flight of steep, narrow stone steps between two buildings, bounding up the first few as if she hadn’t even noticed they were there. Then she stopped suddenly, realising Stella was struggling with her heavy suitcase.
Louise, having perfected the art of capsule wardrobe packing, had a neat carry-on, while the younger ones wore trendy backpacks.
‘Here, give that to me.’ Katerina reached out to grab Stella’s luggage, but she shook her head.
‘I can manage, honestly. I shouldn’t have brought so much stuff.’
Will, who was of average height and athletic looking, like his mother, offered to help instead, but Hector hung back.
‘Why don’t you take one end, Hector, and Will can take the other,’ Louise said firmly. ‘Just till we reach smooth ground again.’
Lily and Amelia chatted excitedly all the way up, but the others were mostly silent. The steps were extremely steep and even without her bag, Stella soon felt out of breath and her legs ached.
At one point, she stumbled, banging her knee on the step above. Pain whipped through her body and she closed her eyes, wincing.
Louise spun round.
‘Are you okay?’
Stella nodded. Her knee was throbbing but there was nothing to be done. She’d no doubt have a big ugly bruise there tomorrow, to add to all the others.
Her mind flashed to Al. He used to tease her because she was constantly covered in bumps and bruises. He said she looked like the kid at school who was always getting into scraps.
In the early days of their relationship, he used to say, only half joking, people would think he’d beaten her up.
She could still picture him lying in bed with her one lazy Sunday morning.
They were on their first proper holiday together, in Barcelona.
They’d just made love and it was hot, so they’d thrown off the covers and were sprawled, side by side, only their thighs touching, listening to the steady slowing of their heartbeats.
After a few moments, he’d rolled over, propped up on one elbow, and begun to count her scratches and bruises, kissing each one ever so softly ‘to make it better’.
He could be so tender like that, with the children too. When they hurt themselves, they always wanted him to treat the wound, not Stella. They said he was calm and gentle and they barely felt it, whereas she could freak out at the sight of blood and make them more anxious, too.
A wave of sickness came over her. Al. Don’t think about him.
Rubbing her knee, she rose and gave a brave smile before ploughing on. Soon, even super fit Louise was panting and had to slow down. Katerina, meanwhile, sprang on, oblivious, until she reached the top.
‘That’s the hardest part done!’ she cried, turning round. She wasn’t smiling but Stella noticed her black eyes sparkling with amusement.
She must think them a soft lot; she probably skipped up and down those steps every day without even thinking about it. No wonder Cretans were renowned for their longevity.
When at last everyone had joined the housekeeper at the summit, there began a long, slow ascent up a gravelly donkey track.
Assorted trees dotted the dry landscape – pine and olive, lemon, orange and fig – along with myriad wildflowers: pink, blue, white, yellow and purple.
The scent of wild thyme and sage filled their nostrils, and at one point, Katerina paused to point out some rough wooden beehive boxes, stacked one on top of another on a stony plateau.
Painted in vivid primary colours with metal catches on the front, they looked very jolly, like Jack in the Boxes.
‘We make the best honey in the world,’ Katerina announced proudly. ‘Because of our wide variety of trees and flowers, and our temperate climate.’
‘I hate honey,’ muttered Hector, but she didn’t seem to hear.
A herd of goats, with jangling gold bells round their necks, were perched on rocks a little way off. On spotting the group, they bleated loudly. It was a pitiful, wavering sort of sound, a series of cries of varying pitches, high and low.
A few of the animals turned tail and scrambled higher up, but once they realised the strangers weren’t a threat, they went back to munching on the blades of grass growing between the rocks.
Dragging her heavy suitcase, Stella berated herself yet again for packing so badly. May was one of the best times to visit Crete but it was still hot, much warmer than she was used to, and she was uncomfortably sweaty in her jeans and long-sleeved white cotton top.
Up to now, they hadn’t seen a soul. Soon, though, they came to a tumbledown stone cottage with a rusty, vine-covered pergola outside, providing some shade.
The brown painted shutters were open downstairs and glossy red tomatoes were drying on a large tray on the front step.
At the side of the house, an elderly bent woman in a black headscarf was tending to a flock of chickens beside a rickety wooden henhouse. Some items of white washing were hanging on an olive tree nearby.
The woman nodded and grinned as they passed, revealing black stumpy teeth.
‘That’s Eleni Manousaki,’ Katerina whisper-shouted, once they were out of hearing.
‘She lives alone, like me. Her husband died years ago and they didn’t have children.
She’s got bad arthritis. She knows I’m just up the road if she needs anything, but she hates interference.
She seems to manage remarkably well, the poor old thing. ’
Stella smiled to herself. Katerina must have been about the same age as her neighbour, but clearly considered herself in a different league entirely, and far more youthful.
It was humbling to think how hard both women’s lives must be, up here on the rocky mountain, and how doughty and cheerful they seemed.
‘When will we be there?’ Lily whined. Stella dropped back to walk beside her daughter and Amelia. Both girls’ heads were bowed. Their moods had taken a nosedive.
‘Not long now, I’m sure,’ she reassured, but really, she had no idea. Maybe a mile meant something different in Crete. Maybe they’d be walking for hours. Perhaps this whole trip was a terrible mistake and they shouldn’t have come.
The donkey track curved right then left and on they trudged without speaking. The silence was broken at last by a cry from Katerina.
‘This is it! We’ve arrived!’
She’d come to a sudden halt and was pointing ahead. Everybody stopped and stared too. The gravelly track petered out a few feet hence and became a rough sandy path, lined with gnarled old olive trees.
At the very end was a set of tall, shiny black metal gates and behind them loomed an imposing building made of the same grey-beige stone as Eleni’s cottage.
Now the goal was in sight, the group’s pace quickened. Even Hector started to hurry, picking up one end of Stella’s case without being asked when she struggled to drag it across the sand.
Soon, Katerina was pulling a big bunch of keys from her trouser pocket and placing it in a large black lock. The metal gates were very heavy. Undaunted, she turned round, bent almost double, and used all the strength in her back and legs to force them open.
‘This way,’ she said firmly when Amelia and Lily started to wander across the gravel courtyard in the wrong direction. ‘Stay with me or you’ll get lost.’
The villa did indeed look like the sort of place where you could easily lose your way. The main part was a tall rectangular tower, with an archway in the middle leading to the front door. On either side were two lower, two-storey sections, with windows upstairs and down.
It was an old building that seemed to have been lovingly renovated. There were no cracks or gaps in the stonework and the sky-blue shutters and front door looked freshly painted. Giant terracotta pots in the courtyard had been carefully filled with interesting-shaped palms and colourful blooms.
Stella was about to ask about the history of the place, but Katerina got in first.
‘Sections dates back to 1462,’ she said. ‘It was built by the Venetians, but has been much modified since. The current owners have taken care to bring it up to date while retaining most of its original charm.’
Louise cocked her head to one side, her interest piqued.
‘Who are the current owners?’
Stella had been wondering the same thing; she hadn’t seen any mention of them on the villa’s website. Katerina was already striding up the stone steps to the front door, however, and didn’t reply.
‘Be careful. They’re quite steep.’
As soon as the door swung open, Amelia and Lily pushed ahead, followed by Stella, Louise and the boys.
Gazing round, they could see they’d entered a wide, open entrance hall, with a high ceiling, smooth, whitewashed walls and cool, cream-coloured marble floor tiles.
In the centre was a polished dark wood table on which sat a chunky, greenish-grey ceramic vase with a round bottom and narrow neck.
A number of curved archways led off the hall into smaller rooms, one with a TV and some comfortable-looking dark-red armchairs, just waiting to be sat on, another with a desk, more chairs and an antique wooden table with a fancy chessboard on top.
Another bigger arch behind led into the dining room with a rectangular, pale-grey marble table in the centre. It could probably have seated at least twelve people and must have been incredibly heavy to lift. To Stella, it seemed to represent strength and permanence. She liked it.