Chapter 7
I was beginning to realise that as a foursome we were going to spend a lot of time chatting, eating and drinking, and possibly not actually painting, which was what I had expected.
Still, I was definitely enjoying myself, and as we clambered up onto the minibus to go back to the hotel, I felt really happy with life.
The others in the group wondered what we had been doing and when Dennis heard that none of us had so much as dampened a paintbrush, he spent a lot of time telling us how well he had got on and how marvellous the light had been over the bay.
He even held out his sketch book to show us some of his preliminary drawings, and next to him, Jillian beamed at her most enthusiastic student.
‘Such a shame you wasted the opportunity,’ she sighed when the four of us – sitting at the back of the minibus like naughty children on a school trip – admitted to making no progress on our artistic journey. ‘After all, it’s like anything else in life; the more you do it, the better you get.’
‘That’s what my first husband used to say,’ Beryl said.
‘I hope no one tells Rick that,’ Anita murmured.
‘It wasn’t true anyway,’ Beryl said. ‘Charles had the seduction skills of a hippopotamus. But I didn’t realise it for ages. Not until – well, never mind.’
The four of us giggled like schoolgirls and Jillian turned in her seat, sighed again and sent us one of her hard looks.
The minibus made its way back down the winding road to the town, where the streets were busier with tourists and traffic.
As we drove along the seafront, we spotted a painted sign at the edge of the harbour which even had a picture of someone being towed on a ringo behind a boat and laughing and waving at the same time.
‘We’ll go there after a late lunch,’ Effie said, ‘and hope there isn’t a queue.’
‘Do we need lunch? I’m not really hungry after all that cake,’ I said.
I had a horrible image of myself on a rubber ringo, far out across the blue sea behind a boat which was going somewhere near the speed limit, and me throwing up at the same time. It didn’t bear thinking about and I began to regret my decision to do this even more.
‘Oooh yes, you have to keep your strength up so you can hang on and not get thrown into the boat’s propellers,’ Effie said.
‘Does that happen? I hadn’t thought of that,’ I said, panicking.
Effie patted my hand encouragingly. ‘No, probably not, but it’s the first thing I thought of. Now then, we’re back. We’ll go and get changed and then meet up in reception in ten minutes. Oooh, I’m quite excited. I hope my ringo doesn’t tip over, I’ve heard that happens.’
‘Tip over?’ I said weakly.
‘You’re such a worrier. It’ll be fine, you’ll be wearing a life jacket so you won’t sink,’ Beryl said, ‘and before you set off I’ll make sure the driver has a kill switch, to stop the boat if he can’t, and then it doesn’t run you over by mistake.’
‘What?’
‘Stop it, Beryl,’ Anita giggled, ‘I bet that hardly ever happens.’
‘Once would be enough,’ I said, now visualising myself stranded far out to sea, bobbing like a cork on the water in my life jacket and watching the prow of an out-of-control speedboat hurtling towards my head. What should I do if that happened? Dive under the water? Swim out of the way?
What was the geometry involved in that particular triangle?
1) The speedboat 2) me 3) a place of safety.
How hard and fast would I have to swim? And in what direction?
I felt quite sick for a moment.
‘Don’t listen to them, they are just being silly. It’ll be fine. I’ll be there too, I’ll look after you,’ Effie said kindly.
‘Are you a good swimmer?’ I shouted down the stairwell as I reached my room and fumbled for my keys.
‘No, never got past doggy paddle in the shallow end with one foot on the floor,’ she shouted back happily. ‘See you in ten minutes.’
* * *
We didn’t see anyone else around in the hotel. There was only the faint sound of a radio playing some unfamiliar music from behind the reception desk. But no sign of Costas or Nina. Perhaps they were having a siesta. But siesta was a Spanish word, wasn’t it? I wondered what the Greeks called it.
‘Messimeri,’ Beryl said when I asked her a few minutes later as we walked back towards the harbour.
‘It used to be between two and five o’clock, but these days not many people do that.
Not if they want to earn a living with a country full of tourists.
And these days the Greeks have long working hours. ’
‘I love a nap in the afternoon,’ Effie said, ‘but I don’t call them that.
I think of them as deliberate life-pauses.
Actually, I sometimes do doze off in front of Antiques Roadshow.
It’s so soothing, and everyone is so happy and smiling all the time.
Except for that one time when the person thought the painting they bought for five hundred quid at a car boot sale was a Paul Gaugin and it turned out to be by Paul Goggin, who was a local plumber.
And the morning chat shows are awful. Every single person is angry and shouting over each other.
And the presenters are far more interested in voicing their opinions than listening to other people’s.
You said something about a late lunch, how about this place? ’
We went into a little wine bar which had a few tables set out under a pergola and a bar with some barstools behind it.
‘I’m not sure I want anything,’ I said. ‘I’m really nervous.’
‘Better to have something rather than be retching on an empty stomach,’ Beryl said. ‘That’s what my mother always told me.’
‘She did, didn’t she?’ Effie said, delighted. ‘She used to make us eat sandwiches all the way to Cornwall when we were kids. I can still taste that sardine and tomato paste now if I think about it.’
With this worrying advice echoing in my brain, I had some taramasalata, pita bread and a glass of water. It did strike me halfway through that although it was delicious, it wasn’t the wisest thing to choose. The fishy taste did nothing to calm my uneasy stomach.
Effie seemed not to share my feelings and was tucking in to some dolmades and a glass of wine while the other two shared a platter of Greek snacks.
I looked out at the sea and took a deep breath. It was as Beryl had remarked – half an hour of my life and that was all. And if I didn’t enjoy it, I never needed to do it again.
We paid the bill and carried on down to the harbour.
‘Now then, this is the place, isn’t it? I say, the chap in charge is rather lovely, isn’t he?’ Effie said, stopping suddenly so that we almost cannoned into her.
The man who was hiring out the ringos, the speedboat and my imminent imagined demise was a young Greek god called Tassos, who looked like he had muscles on his muscles.
He spoke excellent English and wore white swimming trunks and a t-shirt which was sun and salt bleached but still bore the logo Do not wash, this is my lucky t-shirt, which in a way was mildly comforting.
This was topped off with a baseball cap worn backwards which said Don’t worry, be happy.
High chance of sunburn. I grabbed the tube of sunblock and reapplied another layer.
Beryl dealt with all the paperwork and I handed over some euros.
‘I think I’m well outside my comfort zone,’ I said, tugging at the orange life jacket which was threatening to throttle me.
‘I like to think outside one’s comfort zone, a lot of very exciting things are happening.
I wouldn’t have climbed Kilimanjaro, gone along the Wall in China or tried wing walking if I’d thought like that.
Now then, do either of you know your blood group?
’ Beryl murmured, holding up the biro with an enquiring look.
And then she smiled. ‘Only joking. Have fun. And don’t forget to wave. ’
‘If you do wave, you’re bound to fall off, in my limited experience anyway,’ Effie said as we clambered into the boat and then sped away towards the open sea.
After a few minutes, Tassos stopped and encouraged us over the side and into the inflatables, which were being towed behind the boat on reassuringly strong-looking ropes.
It all felt very silly to be leaving the relative security of a boat and getting into a rubber donut, and the whole procedure was accompanied by a lot of shrieking and yelping from us.
‘Will be fine, absolutely safe,’ he said with a grin as he tightened the straps on my life jacket, ‘a lot of fun. Hold on tight, two handles, two hands.’
Effie and I sat, bobbing about in adjacent ringos, floating gently away from the back of the boat. I noticed Effie for all her bravado was clinging to the rubber handles with white knuckles and I did the same, waiting for the moment when the boat would start up.
Tassos gave us a cheery wave and a thumbs up and the boat started to move. Slowly at first and then faster until Effie and I started screaming in harmony as we sped across the blue sea.
When the water was smooth it was almost fun, but when the ringos slid across the wake of the boat, we started to bump about.
At one point my craft started to fill with water from the spray, but then it gave an almighty leap across a wave and all the water slopped out into my face.
I fell back and my legs flew up into the air over my head and it seemed I was going to completely part company with the boat.
I clung on to the handles, wondering for a moment if it was possible to yank them out altogether, in which case my inflatable would undoubtedly sink and I would be dragged on my face behind the boat on a flapping rubber disaster.
The noise of the boat engine, the rush of the sea, Effie’s whooping and my own screaming effectively drowned out everything. My wet hair was in my eyes and the bottom of my swimming costume seemed to be attached to a pressure washer, which was very uncomfortable.