Chapter 5
FIVE
I nip over to say goodbye to Mum on the morning of my flight, after confirming details of my arrival with the hotel manager. Zeta was thrilled that I would be heading over so quickly.
Mum hugs me and tells me to have a safe trip and that she’s pleased to see me going off having an adventure.
‘It will do you the world of good getting away for a while and Greece is such a wonderful place.’ She sighs.
‘You’ve been to Greece?’ I ask Mum in surprise. We had a couple of trips to the South of France when I was a kid, but our holidays were mainly to the Yorkshire coast in a caravan park.
‘Yes.’ She smiles as she recalls a memory. ‘With a group of girlfriends. I thought I had told you that before.’ She looks puzzled.
Maybe she did mention it fleetingly, although I don’t remember a conversation about it. Mum has never spoken much of her life before Dad, but then, I don’t suppose I have ever really asked.
‘I bet Rhodes has changed a lot since I went,’ she says with a sigh. ‘I stayed in a tiny hotel near a beach and the village had just two tavernas. The staff there did Greek dancing and tried their best to entertain us. Especially Alexandro,’ she says, with a faraway look in her eyes.
‘Oh, Alexandro, was it?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘Yes.’ She smiles. ‘He took a bit of a shine to me, but it seems he was expected to marry a local girl,’ she reveals. ‘I got the feeling he was under pressure to marry as their mutual families were great friends.’
‘So, you had a holiday romance?’ I tease.
‘Not even that really, although we did go for a moonlight walk one evening along the beach and shared a kiss,’ she tells me.
‘He told me he would never forget me, but his life was there, and mine was here. If he hadn’t been expected to marry someone else, I may even have been tempted to stay in Greece,’ she says wistfully.
Then she smiles. ‘And the following year I met your father. I think of Alexandro from time to time, and hope he ended up as happy as I did.’
‘Do you ever regret not staying?’
Mum laughs. ‘It was a bit of a one-horse town, to be honest. In fact, not even that; it was just a village. I’m sure I would have grown bored soon enough, and the novelty would have worn off.
Besides, your dad was the one for me, so it seems my life was never meant to be in Greece,’ she told me firmly.
‘And I don’t suppose I would be here if you hadn’t met Dad,’ I note.
‘Exactly.’ She reaches over and squeezes my hand.
It makes me think of those sliding door moments in life, and how things can end up on a completely different trajectory, based on one decision.
Mum is probably right though. She has always enjoyed being sociable and trying new things.
I don’t think she would have settled in the village, despite the apparent charms of Alexandro.
I’m enjoying our chat, but soon enough the doorbell rings and Douglas arrives to collect her and take her to the theatre to watch The Phantom of the Opera.
They drop me back home as it’s on the way and I check and double check my bag and passport, trying not to acknowledge the feeling of nerves dancing around in my tummy.
I’m pleased Mum won’t miss me too much, which is largely down to Douglas, of course.
I’m happy she found a companion after Dad died, as I would hate the thought of her feeling lonely.
I know he won’t replace Dad, but it’s lovely for her to have someone to meet up with socially.
I also realise that we sometimes forgot our parents had a life before marriage and kids, and I resolve to talk to her more about her early life. I’m sure she has many stories to tell.
As I drop a bikini into my case, along with several other swimming costumes, I think of how – while Mum and her friendship with Douglas is more a friendly companionship than romantic relationship – we can make friends at any age, if we are open to it, and that means love can find us too when we least expect it.
Truthfully, though, I am not sure I can be bothered with the potential heartache of becoming involved with someone again.
I thought my ex wanted the same things as I did; he gave a good impression of that being the case – in the early months at least. He went cold when I suggested he move in with me.
I mean, he didn’t have to commit to buying a place together, but he clearly didn’t even fancy taking the next step.
He broke my heart, as I truly thought he was the one, even after he didn’t pop the question in Rhodes.
When he dumped me, it really pulled the rug out from under me.
After we parted ways, I refused to get that close to anyone again. Maybe this opportunity has come along at exactly the right time and given me the chance to get back to my old self rather than just going through the motions.
I am grateful to my Irish grandfather, which means I have an EU passport. That might come in handy if I decide to stay there, without the restriction of Brexit. Ha. I can’t see that happening really, but I might just fall in love with Rhodes once more and decide to stay. I can but dream.
The airport is busy with the buzz of excited voices, and I feel a flicker of self-doubt that almost has me trundling my suitcase back out of the departure hall and heading home, before I give myself a talking-to. I can do this.
Maybe I feel nervous because I have never really had to think about very much when holidaying in the past, at least not with boyfriends who were happy to organise breaks away. And thankfully someone else organised everything if I went on a girls’ trip.
I was quite relieved, to be honest, as, by my own admission, I can be a little forgetful at times.
I once booked a weekend away for the wrong year, which was only picked up by my James when he double checked the booking details.
Other than that, I have holidayed with my parents as a kid, which of course my parents took care of.
It feels scary to be totally responsible for myself abroad.
I remind myself that I have booked this flight and got myself a job without the assistance of anyone else.
I can’t help feeling a bit silly to feel like this at my age.
Flopping down onto a seat that has just become vacant in the airport lounge, a guy next to me smiles. He’s well-groomed with a neatly trimmed beard and looks around fifty years of age; his hand rests on his grey Samsonite case.
‘You off somewhere nice in Corfu?’ he asks.
‘What? Oh no, I’m going to Rhodes.’ I furiously check the gate number. I am sitting in zone 13, but 14 is just opposite. Phew.
‘Ah, I see.’ He smiles. ‘Also a lovely destination for a trip.’
I glance back at my departure area, where every seat is occupied and some people are even sitting on the floor clutching their phones. Looks like a full flight then. ‘Popular too,’ I observe.
I feel a sudden knot of nerves in my stomach and find myself tapping my seat with my right hand. Is it too late to turn around and go home? Maybe a job as a local pizza delivery driver isn’t such a bad thing after all.
‘Nervous flyer?’ asks the guy.
‘Not particularly. I have just never travelled abroad alone before,’ I find myself telling him. ‘It feels a bit scary, which probably sounds pathetic at my age.’ I think of all those young people who seem to happily jet off all over the place on their own.
‘Not pathetic at all,’ he says kindly. ‘It depends on what you are accustomed to, that’s all.
It’s no different to catching a train or bus really, although airports can be a bit overwhelming, I suppose.
Once you conquer this, you might be off around the world on your own.
’ He smiles. ‘Either way, well done you.’
I feel a surge of pride.
The guy tells me he is travelling to his holiday home, where his wife and kids are already ensconced. He has a calming presence, and by the time my flight starts boarding I feel a little better.
‘Well, good luck in your new job,’ he says kindly as I stand to join the Rhodes line, now it has gone down a little.
‘Thank you. Have a lovely time in Corfu.’ I smile. ‘And thanks for the reassurance. I’m sure I will be just fine,’ I say, firmly. I never expected the nerves to hit, as I was only mildly anxious when I booked the flight, and felt excited when I was packing. I hope the feeling passes soon.
As I shuffle forward thankful that the line is moving quickly, I grip my phone tightly on the page showing my boarding pass.
I try not to imagine a scenario where my phone crashes, even though I have checked it still has battery at least a dozen times.
Maybe I ought to have printed the tickets just in case.
After an uneventful flight, with two people next me, one snoozing and the other wearing headphones, we are soon preparing for landing. I can see the beginnings of the orange sunset from the window and breathe deeply.
In less than an hour I will be in the place I am to call home for the next three months. Three months of delaying reality before I have to return and decide my next official steps, and starting over from scratch, after twenty years of the same job.
I close my eyes and I picture the sea; the thought of being near the water calms me at once. I have to look forward now and accept that the life I had back home no longer exists.