Chapter 21
Our plane landed at Birmingham airport an hour late, and of course it was dark and raining.
‘Flipping heck, talk about a come down,’ Beryl said as we trudged through the corridors dragging our cabin bags behind us.
As we went, we watched the bulk of our plane disappearing behind the rain-smeared windows, and then we were on to security and the scrum of baggage reclaim, and for a while it almost felt as though the days of sunshine and the fun we had enjoyed had all been a dream.
June and Susan were picked up by Nigel, who swept June up into his arms as though she had been away for months rather than days. It was very sweet to see and I hoped he would be pleased with the new sweater she had knitted for him.
Beryl had organised a minibus to take the five of us home to Lower Begley, and we piled in with our cases and bags, Dennis in the front seat fiddling with the heating and complaining about the vanilla air freshener, and the rest of us tired and rather cramped behind him.
It was very different from our excursions with Gregor, and this too made us all rather subdued.
I leaned my forehead on the window and looked out at the speeding traffic, the lights from the motorway blurred by grime and the lashing rain.
I wondered if all good holidays triggered such a response.
Disappointment that they were over. Regret that life might be going to get back into a normal routine.
And then I thought about Will again and wondered where he was and why he had left so abruptly.
I guessed he was home, in his latest renovation project near Bicester. That’s what he had said. Was he the sort of man to wield a sledgehammer and knock walls down himself? Or did he have a team of builders doing it for him?
‘Well, this is depressing,’ Effie said as the traffic slowed and came to a complete halt after a few miles. ‘And so predictable. It’s like we never went away.’
‘Roadworks,’ the driver said gloomily, wiping the mist off the windscreen with the back of his hand, ‘it never blooming ends on this stretch. No sooner have they finished one bit than they start on another.’
I closed my eyes and thought back to the dusty Greek roads I had left behind, the views over the sea and the scrubby landscape, and wished I was back there.
I could almost remember how it had felt in the heat of a Greek afternoon as the sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades. No risk of that here.
And yet, I realised, it might have been a marvellous experience, but the probability was I would not go back there at all.
After all, there were other beautiful places to find and explore.
I would be like Captain Kirk and boldly go somewhere else.
Warm French beaches. Cold, snowy landscapes.
Walled medieval cities and shimmering lakes.
Perhaps I actually would cross the Atlantic or go on a river cruise.
Maybe this really was the start of a new chapter in my life, when I stopped worrying about what other people would think and did things that I wanted to. In my own time. Other people did; why shouldn’t I?
And Will? What about him?
I wanted to chalk it up to experience and forget about it.
But I couldn’t seem to forget those wonderful moments when we had stood together overlooking the craggy cliffs, the dark, silken sea, and the memory of him coming towards me, bringing me pistachio ice cream – had that really been only yesterday?
We had exchanged smiles and glances and laughter. He had sought me out. He had kissed me and made me feel things I hadn’t felt for decades. Could I forget all that? It seemed as though I must.
* * *
I got home just after nine o’clock, later than I had thought because of the travel delays, and Ivan was there sitting on the bottom of the stairs like a resentful loaf of bread. He favoured me with a rusty miaow, stretched and stalked off into the kitchen.
I sighed. It wasn’t much of a welcome.
I dumped my bags and looked through the pile of post which Nicky had left on the worktop for me. There was a note too.
Welcome back, hope you had a marvellous time.
Ivan didn’t like the new beef cat food with the gravy you bought for him at all.
He threw up in your slippers. So I chucked them away.
Sorry about that. He did like the remains of the Sunday lunch I brought him though.
Did you know he likes duck breast? And he ate a roast potato too.
Either that or he’s hidden it under a chair somewhere.
No mice brought in as far as I can tell, but I didn’t look upstairs in case I found something.
Hope you had a good flight. Ring me tomorrow and tell me all about your adventures. Nicky xx
Adventures. Yes, me. I’d had some adventures. How amazing. And all of a sudden I wanted to have some more.
It was crazy; I hadn’t even opened my suitcase and already the one thing I wanted to do was think about where to go on my next journey.
I’d sent off for a new passport before I made this trip, so there were plenty of years left on it and lots of empty pages for airport officials to stamp.
Perhaps Beryl was right and it did become a sort of addiction.
Anyway, that evening there was nothing interesting to do, other than put the first load of washing on and open some of the uninteresting letters that had arrived.
I made a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table.
There were bank statements, utility bills, a letter to tell me that the road through Lower Begley would be closed for two days next month for resurfacing.
Well, that was about time; recently the road had become more of an obstacle course with locals driving down the middle to avoid the worst of the potholes.
There were uninteresting special offers from fast food places that didn’t deliver to where I lived, and even if they did I wouldn’t want them.
Two glossy booklets from retirement villages, in which I similarly had no interest. A couple of clothing catalogues, another selling horrible shoes for more mature ladies.
Okay, I might not be able to cope with stilettos any more, but there was a limit.
I slung all the stuff I didn’t want into the recycling.
I might be getting older but as of today, I would not go quietly.
I drank my tea and mindlessly ate a few biscuits.
This time yesterday…
Tomorrow perhaps I would allow myself a lie-in to get over the travelling, sort out my laundry and then I would phone Nicky.
I went to bed feeling thoroughly depressed.
* * *
The following day I felt much better.
I had slept well, which was always a bonus.
It was lovely to be back in my own comfortable bed and when I woke at half past eight, the rain had gone and in the distance I could see the clouds were blowing away over the Black Mountains.
In the field behind my house there was a man on a tractor, busy doing something.
I opened my window, enjoying the cool, green freshness, which was so different from the warm, slightly flinty air of Greece. Then I wondered how Anita was feeling.
What day was it anyway? I had to flick my phone on in the end to confirm that it was Sunday.
I remembered last Sunday when I had been in Greece and there had been the sound of a church bell tolling somewhere in the town, and we had still been in the excited phase of getting to know everyone, exploring the little streets and enjoying experimenting with new foods and flavours.
I showered and dressed and went downstairs to find Ivan had left a dead mouse in the middle of the hall as a welcome home gift. Back to reality with a bump.
I got rid of that and wondered what to have for breakfast. Toast and marmalade and tea. I hoped whoever was now in my room at Hotel Costas would take a slice of breakfast ham up for the kittens on the balcony.
As I sat at the kitchen table, leafing through the rest of the post, my mobile rang.
‘Anita! How are you this morning?’
‘Fed up,’ she said. ‘I want someone to put out pastries and croissants for me. And I want to go down to the sea again and sit in one of those lovely cafés. Instead, I have my washing to do and Rick’s as well.
He seems to have brought back a lot of Scotland with him.
Mud and bits of twig over all his clothes.
Not to mention a bottle of whisky bought at huge expense from a distillery they visited, and some fudge, and he knows I don’t like either of those things. ’
‘Ah, but you have that special present for him,’ I said, laughing. ‘Costas in all his glory.’
Anita giggled. ‘He didn’t know what to say when I showed him that. The nose still isn’t right. He suggested we put it in the loo upstairs which isn’t used very much unless we have visitors. What are you doing?’
‘Laundry this morning, then general unpacking and sorting out.’
‘Awful, isn’t it? Rick says we should have a proper debrief this evening.’
‘I say!’
‘No, not that sort of debrief. Don’t be rude.
He means I tell him what I have been doing and he tells me about the garganeys and white-throated fossil pickers or whatever it is he has seen.
I shall try to look interested. He said they had a marvellous time.
He twisted his ankle in a rabbit hole while they were striding across the heather and had to drive miles out of their way to find a support bandage, Harry insisted on eating oysters and got food poisoning, and his friend Vince broke his glasses. ’
‘None of that sounds marvellous to me,’ I said.
‘That’s exactly what I said. Anyway, men aren’t like us. They seem to enjoy the strangest things. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Will? No extravagant bouquet of welcome home flowers left on the doorstep?’
‘He doesn’t know my address, remember?’
‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten. Well, never mind, come over for a cup of tea this afternoon and we can rehash the glory days.’
‘I’d love to. But now I’d better think about unpacking my case.’
Anita sighed. ‘Me too.’
* * *
Actually, it was nice to be home with all my familiar things around me and not having to go out every time I wanted some Greek coffee or a meal.
I dragged my case onto my bed. It seemed heavier than I remembered and it still had the labels on the handles from the airline.
I ripped them off rather sadly. If I was going to do more of this sort of thing, the first thing I would do was buy a new case, brightly coloured – pink or yellow – so I could spot it more easily on the baggage carousel and not have to peer hopefully at every identical black case that passed me.
I started to unpack, put the first load of laundry on and then sorted out all the little souvenirs and oddments I had picked up along the way.
Some sugar sachets, a couple of plastic cocktail sticks, a carrier bag with Greek writing on it which came from the shop where I had bought my new rose-patterned sundress, receipts from cafés and shops which I had carefully kept and now made no sense to me.
A tiny wrapped bar of soap from the bathroom which I hadn’t used.
A fabric pouch with my charging cables and adaptors.
There was even a little pile of grit in the bottom of the empty case, and there were my zebra-print shoes which would never be the same again.
Silly little things which somehow held such memories.
Ivan followed me upstairs and sat on the bed, glowering at my suitcase, as though he was daring me to go away again.
‘Don’t worry, I’m back,’ I said, ‘and it doesn’t look as though you have starved.’
The first load of dark laundry was done and I put in all the lighter things.
And then I went out into the garden to hang everything on the line and see how things had fared in my absence.
The grass needed mowing, but I was delighted to see it was far too wet to do it so that would have to wait until another day.
I could hear Bonzo barking over the hedge.
He sounded thrilled to be back from his stay in the kennels.
I went to have some elevenses: instant coffee and chocolate digestives. I would get some real coffee the next time I went out, and a small cafetiere. And some interesting biscuits.
The washing machine beeped to show it had finished and I went to unload it.
Ah.
Slight problem.
It seemed my new sundress, while reasonably priced, uncrushable and pretty, had bled colour all over everything, and now all my white towels, t-shirts and knickers were the same bright, mottled pink.
I held up one thing after another, cursing and wondering what to do.
Oh for goodness’ sake. Realising it was far too late, I examined the care label. It said dry clean only. Like that was going to happen. Why would anyone spend ten quid drycleaning a dress which had cost about the same price?
The dress was still in one piece and uncrushable but also ruined. Unless I didn’t mind wearing a garment that looked as though it had come out of a skip. I’d only worn it twice, so perhaps it hadn’t been such a good purchase after all.
I went to look in the fridge. Nothing in there seemed at all exciting or tasty. I needed to go shopping and start buying some more interesting food.
I put my empty coffee mug in the dishwasher and gave a heavy sigh. Yes, it was nice to be back home again, but in a way it felt as though the colour had faded from my life, just as it had from my dress.