Chapter 3
THREE
A couple of days later, I walk past a travel agents where photos of hotels with swimming pools are displayed alongside special offers for sunshine getaways. I visualise the warm sun on my skin as I stand gazing in the shop window.
I drop off some clothes at a charity shop, including an old leather biker jacket that I no longer wear.
I pick up a couple of books whilst there, happy to find a new journal still in its wrapper that costs three pounds.
If any of the jobs abroad come up, perhaps I can record my adventures.
I am trying to harness the power of positive thinking.
In fact, maybe I should be saying when a job in Greece comes up, rather than if.
As I step outside, I run into an admin worker from the leisure centre, who is on her lunch break.
We chat for a few minutes before she invites me for coffee and cake at a nearby café, where we will be joined by a couple of other staff members.
Despite me hoping our meet-ups will continue, I am accepting of the fact that a chapter in my life has closed.
Thinking about it, we never really had much in common outside of work, and I already feel a bit out of the loop as they talk of rotas and the general running of the centre.
Despite this, when they promise to include me in their next work night out, I am grateful.
I worry my routine will consist of shopping, and the odd meet-up with Mel, before reminding myself that things could be worse. I do have a decent redundancy package, and if I am careful it will last until a job comes up, which fingers crossed will not take long.
I think of Mel’s words, telling me I can do anything I want and that it doesn’t have to involve swimming. But that’s the trouble with having a passion for something, isn’t it? Nothing else quite measures up.
I arrive home that afternoon, thrilled to discover that I have been invited to have a Zoom interview for the hotel in Rhodes. I accept the interview, which will be tomorrow at eleven o’clock my time.
That evening, as I nurse a cup of tea and watch an episode of my favourite soap, it occurs to me that I haven’t had a job interview since the one at the leisure centre all those years ago, as a young girl.
Can I really do this? Even the thought of an interview, albeit one across a computer screen, makes me feel a little nervous.
I worry about saying the wrong thing, before I tell myself to stop overthinking it.
It’s a lifeguard post, which is something I could do with my eyes shut.
After a restless sleep, before I know it, the following morning has rolled around and I am logging in for the interview. I take a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves.
Soon enough, an attractive dark-haired woman of around fifty years of age is smiling at me from her camera. She is Greek with excellent English and introduces herself as Zeta, the manager of the Apollo Hotel. Her friendly manner soon puts me at ease.
I am asked all the usual questions regarding experience etc, and I am somewhat surprised to be offered the job on the spot.
‘How quickly can you get here?’ asks Zeta, who sounds super keen and ever so slightly desperate.
‘I have been let down by someone who was expected to arrive tomorrow,’ she explains.
‘The resort is getting busy, so we must have another lifeguard and poolside instructor before we open our second pool. The contract will be for three months.’
‘Right, well, I could try and be there tomorrow, I suppose?’ I try to ignore the rising feeling of panic inside my chest.
Will I even manage to get a flight tomorrow?
Although I know flights to Rhodes leave several times a day now that the season has started, so fingers crossed I won’t have a problem booking one.
At least all my summer clothes are clean and stored away.
I can do this, I tell myself, as I feel my heart rate increase ever so slightly.
Once more, I try to think positively and remind myself that people do this kind of thing all the time, so why shouldn’t I?
Aren’t we always being advised to push ourselves out of our comfort zone?
The trouble is, I like being comfortable and I don’t really see anything wrong with that.
‘Yes, tomorrow would be great; email me your time of arrival. I will be announcing our weekly entertainment programme, including water aerobics for the day after tomorrow, so you will be just in time for that,’ she says cheerfully.
Despite my slight panic, I picture the rolling sea and the thought of the warm water, and the cloudless blue skies instantly lifts my spirits.
And a three-month contract is perfect; it’ll keep money coming in while allowing me to have a new adventure, and buy me time while I look for a more permanent next step.
If that takes a while then the redundancy money can be a backup then.
I think about Mum then, and how she navigated the grief that consumed her the first couple of months after Dad died.
She told me she had no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and carry on.
What other choice did she have? I wonder if I could be as brave as Mum, but, inspired by her strength and knowing that I have her blessing, I start looking at flights as soon as I finish the call.
Rhodes, here I come!