Chapter 1 #2
He straightened up. ‘Shall we get going? It’s about a mile uphill to the villa. I’ve got some local chaps to help with your bags. I hope my wife warned you about the hike?’
Henrietta had, indeed, told her guests to expect a challenging walk and it seemed they’d all come prepared, in trainers and with varying sizes of rucksack on their backs.
Mark led the way down the main street, past the tempting-looking shops and restaurants. Cleo’s eye was drawn to a display of brightly embroidered, cotton tunic dresses and she made a mental note to return for a browse.
When they reached the end of the road, Mark waved at two youngish, dark-haired men in shorts and T-shirts, standing smoking at the bottom of a flight of stone steps. Beside them were two sturdy-looking black handcarts on small thick wheels.
‘Ya!’ Mark said cheerily, as he and the women approached.
The men stubbed their cigarettes out on the ground, grinned and nodded back.
It took a few moments for them to load the women’s bags onto the trolleys, then they hoisted them up and proceeded to lug them up the steep, narrow stairway.
Remembering the thick paperback she’d brought, as well as the array of toiletries, Cleo felt slightly guilty.
Although she’d packed light – for her – truth be told, she probably could have done without the hair mask, skin toner and body scrub, for starters.
However, the male helpers seemed to whisk the trolleys uphill as if they were filled with feathers.
On reaching the top, they plonked the trolleys on the ground and started to drag them along the bumpy donkey track which led up the mountain, while the others followed behind.
At first, Cleo, Tash and Mark were in the lead, but before long, Lesley overtook them, powering purposefully ahead on her short, muscly legs while Fran hurried to keep up on her spindly ones.
‘They’re keen!’ Mark remarked.
He was clearly fit and more than familiar with the hike, but even he was panting slightly and Cleo had to stop several times to drink more water.
Tash, meanwhile, kept up a steady stream of breathless chatter.
She lived in Reading, Berkshire, and she was an actress, she explained, but not a particularly successful one. She’d done a few good jobs, in fact she’d had some pretty big roles back in the day, but the work had dried up.
‘What sort of things have you been in?’ Cleo asked, genuinely interested. She enjoyed going to the theatre and liked nothing more than a gripping TV drama.
Tash explained she’d done several plays with the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford, she’d had a reasonably big part in a popular soap, which Cleo had heard of but never watched, and had performed in the West End twice.
‘Wow! I don’t call that “not particularly successful”,’ Cleo remarked. ‘It sounds like you’ve had an amazing career.’
Tash pulled a face. ‘Not really. I mean, I’ve had lots of quite long periods out of work. I think I might have come to the end of my acting career, to be honest. I’m fed up with it. I might try and find something else.’
Cleo fell silent for a moment. She was wondering why her new friend seemed so down on herself, but didn’t feel she knew her well enough to ask.
She guessed Tash was a little younger than her, in her early to mid-forties, perhaps, and she was certainly attractive. Cleo would have thought someone with her looks and charm would have had the world at her feet.
The steep, rocky path they were on was flanked by gnarled old olive trees, scrubby bushes and sweet-scented wildflowers. Soon, however, they reached a flatter, grassier part, dotted with brightly painted wooden boxes. Mark explained these were beehives.
‘Cretan honey is considered the best in the world,’ he said proudly.
Cleo paused and turned to look at where they’d come from.
The rooftops of Porto Liakáda seemed a long way away.
Surely it wasn’t far now? There was still no sign of the villa, though, or indeed, of any other people or dwellings.
She refocused on the track, taking care not to stumble on the loose rocks and stones.
‘Do you have just the one son?’ she asked Tash, keen to take her mind off the climb. ‘Or have you got other children, too?’
‘Only Jamie,’ came the reply. ‘I’d have liked more kids but work got in the way and in the end, I left it too late. I did think about having another when Jamie was about eight, but then Alfie – my husband – fell ill.’
Her voice lowered. ‘I feel guilty Jamie doesn’t have a brother or sister, someone who’s got his back.’
‘What was the matter with your husband?’ Cleo asked gently, before adding quickly, ‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Tash, still staring ahead. ‘He had Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. He died two years ago. He survived quite a long time with it, though – almost six years. It was a miracle, really. We had a good five years longer with him than we’d expected.’
Cleo took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. That must be so hard.’
Tash shrugged. ‘Thanks. The worst thing was seeing Alfie suffer at the end. But Jamie and I, we’re a team,’ she went on, more brightly. ‘We somehow manage to pull each other through.’
‘He sounds like a wonderful son,’ Cleo commented, thinking it was no surprise Tash was feeling down about her job and probably the rest of her life, too. With luck, the retreat would give her a boost; she could certainly do with one herself.
Tash cleared her throat. ‘What about you? Are you married? Kids?’
‘Two children,’ Cleo replied. ‘Danny – Daniel – is twenty-two. He’s in his third year at Bristol studying Dentistry. Erica’s eighteen. She’s doing Law at Cardiff. She thinks she wants to be a solicitor.’
‘Wow!’ said Tash. ‘You must be very proud of them.’
Cleo felt a shadow creep over her. ‘I am.’ She swallowed. ‘I miss them a lot now they’ve left home.’
There was a pause while Tash took this in.
‘But they come back, surely? In the holidays?’
Cleo frowned. How could she explain she hadn’t seen Erica for six months, not since she’d left for her first term at university? She’d sound like a terrible mother. Erica hadn’t come back for Christmas or Easter, choosing instead to stay with her father and his new partner in Sussex.
It was too complicated to go into it now. Besides, Cleo was ashamed. Never in a million years would she have believed a few years ago that she and her daughter would become estranged.
She decided to tell a white lie. ‘They do both come home,’ she said, ‘but it’s not the same. The house feels so quiet…’ She hesitated. ‘I’m divorced, you see…’
Hearing herself say the word out loud made her wince. It sounded so harsh and alien. She still couldn’t quite believe it was true.
‘It’s just been finalised, actually,’ she went on. ‘A couple of months ago. It took a while to sort out all the details.’
They were interrupted by a cry, and a little way ahead, up the mountain, they saw Lesley stumble then fall. Fran stood staring at her, seemingly paralysed, covering her mouth with both hands.
Without thinking, Cleo threw down her backpack and found herself sprinting up the mountain. A sudden surge of energy, like a lightning bolt, seemed to make her fly, as if gravity no longer applied.
The two luggage carriers had clearly heard the cry, too, and they abandoned their trolleys and ran downhill to meet her.
‘Is she all right?’ Cleo said with a gasp when she was close enough to Fran, who was now squatting at her sister’s side.
Lesley was sprawled on her stomach, her hands splayed on the gravelly ground in front. Fran didn’t answer but merely stared at Cleo, white-faced, her eyes bulging with fright.
At first, Lesley didn’t move. But then to Cleo’s relief, she started slowly pushing herself up to sitting.
‘Are you OK?’ Cleo repeated, coming to a halt, bending down and resting her hand lightly on Lesley’s shoulder. ‘I used to be a nurse. Shall I take a look?’
‘No need,’ Lesley said brusquely, brushing the dirt off her shirt and shorts.
Blood was trickling down her calf from a scrape on her knee, but the injury didn’t appear to be serious.
Before Cleo could say anything more, Lesley rose abruptly, almost making Cleo lose her balance and topple backwards. And Lesley rejected Fran’s offer of an arm with an angry jerk and shake of her head.
‘Come on,’ she said, smoothing her hair and straightening her top. Mark and Tash had caught up now and everyone was standing round, staring.
‘That’s in a very dangerous place.’ She pointed to the rock she’d evidently tripped on. ‘It should be moved off the path or someone will have a really nasty accident.’
Now it had been established she was all right, the two bag carriers went back to their trolleys and the group started to move off. Lesley, still keen to be at the front, walked faster than anyone else, but Cleo noticed she had a slight limp, which she was doing her best to disguise.
‘She’s awfully crabby,’ Tash whispered to Cleo. ‘She definitely didn’t want any help from you or anyone else. Tell me about being a nurse, by the way. Where do you, or where did you, work?’
‘Did,’ Cleo replied. ‘I worked in a GP surgery in Southfields, near Wimbledon, but it all got too stressful when my marriage collapsed.’
Tash nodded. ‘I can imagine. Will you go back to it?’
Cleo frowned. ‘I doubt it. It’s been over a year now.
I’d probably need to do a refresher course.
The landscape has changed since I left, plus, the NHS is in a right mess.
I’m not sure I could handle the increased demands and responsibilities.
There’s so much pressure. I know loads of nurses who’ve either quit or are seriously thinking about it. ’
‘That’s such a shame,’ said Tash. ‘I bet you were brilliant at your job. We need people like you. I’ve always thought nurses should be paid more.’