by Mandy Baggot
‘Whereabouts do you stay?’ Elias asked.
She swallowed. She wasn’t about to give out her postcode. If they even had postcodes in Greece. ‘In the north of the island.’
‘You have a car from the airport?’
‘I’m getting a taxi. But there is a car at the house I can use if I need to.’
‘OK,’ Elias replied. ‘So, you need to go to the top of the mountain.’
‘I do?’
He nodded. ‘Mount Pantokrator is 906 metres and the view is incredible. On a clear day you can see for miles. It still amazes me.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Go out on the water… or in the water. You have not seen the best of Corfu if you have not seen it from the sea.’
‘Do I hire someone to take me on a boat? Or book a trip or something?’ It might not be one of Hazel’s cruises but the idea of gently sailing down the coast underneath azure sky and sunshine appealed greatly.
‘There are trips, but it is better to drive a boat with someone, or drive yourself. That way you can sail into some of the coves, drop the anchor and swim whenever you like. Do you have access to a boat?’
‘No… I mean… I don’t know.’ Becky wasn’t really sure what Ms O’Neill had at the house. She hadn’t thought a lot further than the pool if she was truthful. She would have to get some groceries when she got there. How far away was it from a supermarket? And why hadn’t she asked any of these questions in the emails she’d exchanged with the owner?
‘There will be someone near you with a boat I am sure. There are a lot of boats on Corfu.’
‘And I would… just ask someone to take me?’ She hadn’t wanted to divulge her name to her row companion, she wasn’t about to ask a stranger to take her out for the day on the sea. Anything could happen, surely?
‘Sure,’ Elias replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
Suddenly the plane lurched upwards and Becky’s seatbelt gripped her stomach like it was a too-tight gastric band. This wasn’t good. Was this turbulence? She hoped so. What else could it be?
‘You are OK?’ Elias asked as the plane seemed to settle somehow. He was looking at her again, genuine concern seemed to be in his expression.
‘Yes… I… what was that?’
‘A little turbulence, I think,’ he answered. ‘I am sure it is nothing to worry about.’
The sound of the intercom connecting with the passengers disturbed them. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I suspect you felt the turbulence we had for a while there. Unfortunately, this is set to continue all along our flight path and, for safety reasons we are having to divert. We will be landing in Kefalonia in thirty minutes. I am turning on the seatbelt sign. Please return to your seats and ensure your tray table is in an upright position and your arm rests are down. Cabin crew, prepare the cabin for landing.’
Becky chilled. It was like someone had put her whole body in a deep freeze. Had the captain just said Kefalonia. Another Greek island? Not Corfu. How could this be happening? An unexpected night in Athens and now somewhere else.
‘I do not believe it,’ Elias said, shaking his head and putting his laptop back into his bag. ‘This is crazy. This has never happened to me before in all the years I have been flying.’
‘I…’ Becky didn’t know what to say. ‘How… what happens next? What happens when we get to Kefalonia? How will we get to Corfu?’
‘I am assuming another flight.’ Elias looked at his watch.
‘But when? In a few hours? Today?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Well, who will know?’ Becky asked. She was panicking. Her voice was sounding how it sounded when she stressed about an egg mayonnaise mix-up. She somehow needed to calm. But for crying out loud, she was already one day late! She couldn’t be any later.
‘Becky,’ Elias said softly. He had put a hand on her arm now and it was only then that Becky realised she had been shaking, her whole body vibrating with the stress of this new news.
‘You have to calm down,’ he told her.
‘I know,’ she said, breathing rapidly. ‘But I can’t.’ His hand was still on her arm and his fingers were very gently brushing her bare skin in some sort of rhythm she felt the need to count the beats to. It was distracting though. The breath wasn’t catching quite as painfully in her chest any longer.
‘We will be on the ground soon,’ Elias told her.
‘In Kefalonia!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘Not Corfu! I don’t even know how far Kefalonia is from Corfu.’
‘It is still in Greece,’ Elias answered.
‘Great. Thanks. Even I knew that.’
‘Look at me,’ he ordered.
She faced him. God, he was so beautiful. But taking that fact on board was not quelling her heartrate, it was actually making it worse.
‘Just breathe,’ he said, still brushing her skin with his fingers.
‘What is that you’re doing?’ Becky asked, counting in her head the strokes his fingertips were making. Perhaps it wasn’t any set ‘thing’ that he was performing. Maybe he was simply touching her because he wanted to touch her. Except he hadn’t given her that impression last night. But perhaps after a night to think about it… Becky’s mind shifted to Petra’s talk of the Mile-High Club. Would Becky’s arse fit over the sink?
‘It is something my mother does to her chickens before she cuts off their heads,’ Elias said. ‘It relaxes them.’
Becky shifted her arm away from him and snapped down the armrest between them. ‘I’m not a chicken.’ She scowled. ‘Not in the feathered sense anyway.’
‘You are mad at me,’ Elias replied. ‘Good. That means you have the capacity to do more than panic now. You are cured.’
‘I just want to know when we’re going to get to Corfu,’ Becky exclaimed. ‘Can’t someone ask the pilot?’
‘I am guessing he is hard at work trying to keep this plane in the air.’
‘Is he?’ Becky said, eyes bulging. ‘Is it really that bad?’
‘The weather is too bad for us to land in Corfu. They do not divert flights for fun.’
‘Great,’ Becky said. ‘Just great.’
Nineteen
Argostoli, Kefalonia, Greece
‘Can you believe our luck? I mean you book one flight to one destination and you end up in two places before you even get to the place you’re meant to be going!’
Of course Petra was treating it like one big adventure. Why wouldn’t she? She was taking life as it came at her, travelling across the planet with one rucksack, hair that could do multiple things and an outlook more hygge than the creator of hygge. Becky was still mourning the lost hours in Corfu. She should be there now, getting into a taxi and heading to her final destination where she really hoped there weren’t too many plants that needed daily watering attention. She sipped at her ouzo and Fanta lemon that Petra had ordered – but not yet paid for – and tried to loosen the muscles in her neck. All the passengers had been taken from the airport to Argostoli, where they were to wait for further instructions. Although the scenery here was much nicer than looking at an airport terminal, it didn’t bode well for them leaving very soon. Elias had said this before they had boarded the coach that had taken them here. Apparently, if there was going to be a departure within the next few hours, they would have been given food vouchers to buy something to eat in the terminal, not been sent here with the taverna owner taking orders for free platters of food on the airline…
‘I’m going to have steak and lobster!’ Petra announced, downing the rest of her drink and waving a hand at a waiter. It was bustling here, yet still somehow relaxed.
‘They said the budget for food was fifteen euros per person including a drink,’ Becky reminded. Just looking at the skewers of meats coming to tables was making her hungry though. She had eaten far less than Petra at breakfast.
‘Well, the woman sitting next to me on the plane this morning is allergic to seafood. She told me. So, she’s probably going to or
der something cheaper, so I’ll use what’s left over of her fifteen euros and tag it on to my allowance.’
‘I don’t think it works like that.’
The comment came from Elias. His fingers had been thundering about on his laptop ever since they had got to this seaside taverna. It was scorching hot here, no sign of the clouds, thunder and torrential downpours reported in Corfu, but there were canopies to nestle under and cool in the shade. If it hadn’t been an absolute inconvenience being here it would be almost idyllic. Peaceful. Quaint and charming. Like being sat in the midst of the set of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. Wooden tables with white cloths held carafes of wine and tiny porcelain bowls of slick purple olives, creamy white tzatziki and a bright pink paste Becky had learned from her guidebook was called taramasalata. She wasn’t quite sure she was ever going to be able to say that with any great degree of confidence. Customers ate and drank and people-watched and the water rippled undisturbed apart from a few small boats, plus grander yachts further out, bobbing against their tethers with the tide.
‘You’re as grumpy as Becky, are you?’ Petra said. ‘Another two ouzos and Fanta lemon, please.’ She had asked the last part to the waiter. ‘Do you want another one, Elias?’
‘Whose food allowance are these drinks coming from?’ he asked her. ‘Perhaps the rations for the two children over there who will only want fries and ketchup?’
‘Ignore him. Just the two ouzos please,’ Petra said to the waiter. ‘What’s your name?’
Elias said something in Greek to the man and the waiter laughed before leaving their table and going to the aid of other diners.
‘What did you say to him?’ Petra wanted to know.
‘I said he should only bother to tell you his name if he owns a cat.’
‘Rude!’ Petra snapped.
‘I hope the second ouzo wasn’t for me,’ Becky said. ‘I haven’t finished the first one yet.’
‘Of course it was for you! Yammas!’ Petra held her empty glass in the air. ‘Here’s to Jesse Metcalfe. He’s my favourite Hallmark actor by the way. Who’s yours?’
Becky didn’t get to reply.
‘Skata!’ Elias erupted, slamming down the lid of his laptop.
*
He had had an email from Chad come in while they were in the air and had just read it. Chad had been talking with his wife. Communicating with the enemy! This was strictly forbidden under the terms of his contract with Elias. Negotiations were only supposed to be undertaken by Elias and Elias alone. Now it seemed Chad was wanting to soften their approach. But softening at the outset showed weakness. He really did need to get to Corfu and speak to the wife himself before Chad did any more damage to himself and his finances. His client would thank him in the long run. But he still wasn’t in Corfu yet. And it was looking doubtful he was going to be there today, although it was only lunchtime now. Perhaps, once they were filled with free food, the weather would brighten and they would be able to get back to the airport, get on board and this time end up where they should be.
‘Is skata a rude word?’ Petra wanted to know.
‘Yes,’ Elias answered.
‘Well, which one? Because I know how to swear in many, many languages.’
‘But not Greek?’
‘I can say “fuck you” in Greek so I know it isn’t that.’
‘Petra, sshh,’ Becky urged. ‘I’m getting a headache.’
Elias looked to Becky who had one elbow on the table, propping up her head, her fingers massaging her scalp. He swallowed, trying hard not to feel anything, but the memory of him trying to calm her when the turbulence had hit was right there. He shouldn’t have touched her, but in the beginning, he had only thought about making her feel better. However, in the end, the sensation of her soft, creamy epidermis underneath his fingertips had set off a chain of events led by his libido. A week or so in Corfu surrounded by the affectionate but mostly unattractive old women of the village might be exactly what he required.
‘That bubbling headache is all the stress you’re creating, worrying about not being where you thought you should be,’ Petra said. ‘Calm thoughts. Think Ryan Paevey. He’s my second favourite BTW.’
‘Well, it is a worry,’ Becky reminded her. ‘I haven’t travelled quite as much as you before. I’m not used to getting on a mode of transport and ending up somewhere completely different… twice.’
‘And Elias is stressed because of work, obvs. So, what was it you did again?’ Petra asked.
He hadn’t told Petra what he did. He had lied to Becky though. Repeating the lie would compound things. And telling the truth would let Becky know he had lied to her. But she had lied to him about her occupation… and that was when he should have confessed too.
‘I didn’t say what I did,’ he replied.
‘Cage-fighter,’ Petra guessed as two more ouzos and Fanta lemon were delivered to the table.
‘Only at the weekends,’ Elias answered, deadpan.
‘Male model?’
‘Petra, for goodness sake. Do you think of anything else?’ Becky queried.
‘I haven’t mentioned male models at all since we met each other,’ Petra replied as if she was super-affronted.
And he remembered Becky had guessed ‘international playboy’ when they had played this guessing game. Elias watched Becky roll her eyes. This really was becoming a tense situation for her. He was guessing, from what he knew of her, that she liked organisation and order. She didn’t seem to deal well with spur-of-the-moment or off-the-cuff. This situation with the flights was difficult for her. More difficult than it was for either Petra or himself.
‘I am an estate agent,’ Elias found himself saying.
‘Well,’ Petra said, ‘I wouldn’t have guessed that. You haven’t tried to sell me anything yet.’
‘You told me you were spending all your money on travelling the world.’
‘So? Surely a good estate agent would try to convince me otherwise.’
‘You would like a nice two-bedroom apartment in Corfu Town perhaps?’
‘No,’ Petra replied with a grin. ‘I’m spending all my money on travelling the world.’
He watched Becky get up from the table quickly and walk towards the sea.
Twenty
Karavomilos, Kefalonia, Greece
‘Are you hearing this, Haze? Becky still ain’t in Corfu!’
Becky was standing at the very edge of the outside space of the taverna so as not to disturb the other diners. After a lunch in Argostoli they had been given the news that they were going to be staying the night on Kefalonia. Once they had checked in to the hotel and dropped off their luggage, it had been time to decide what to do next. Apparently, as was the case in Athens, you didn’t stay in the immediate vicinity and wait the wait out, you embraced the new surprise location and picked somewhere else on the island to visit. After guidebook consultation, then Petra getting very vocal about a cave that was ‘the most heavenly on Earth’ – which Becky wasn’t sure made any sense at all – the three of them had agreed on Sami and Karavomilos. The choice wasn’t disappointing at all.
Hiring a taxi, they had dropped into the harbour at Sami where the evening waves lapped the grey stone walls and a cosmopolitan vibe rose from the cafés and tavernas surrounding the water’s edge, then they had moved on to the white stone beach at Karavomilos. Here Petra had excelled at skimming the stones into the aquamarine sea until one had chinked off a larger rock, rebounded and hit her on the cheek. Much screaming had ensued, leading to a fisherman on the shoreline coming to ask if they needed help. Elias had explained in Greek what had happened and the old man had laughed so much his held-together-with-string-for-a-belt trousers had almost fallen down. Petra hadn’t found it funny at all and now she had a slight bruise on her cheek that was ‘going to be a bitch to cover up’ with the sparse non-liquid make-up she’d brought with her.
And now they were here, at Karavomilos Taverna, about to order a dinner they were paying for themselves, so th
ey didn’t have to dine – albeit for free – with the other passengers at the hotel in Argostoli. Having shared some coffee with the family of six and the elderly couple earlier, it was apparent that being here with four small children was not an easy task – nowhere to settle, no promised Kellogg’s products like the all-inclusive they were heading to – and that no matter how many times they were operated on, varicose veins never really went away properly and there was always always a chance you could bleed out if you ‘gave one a little knock’.
‘I’m in Kefalonia,’ Becky informed. She wasn’t so shocked at hearing those words now. Not after eating deep-fried cheese (saganaki), fresh sardines and a Greek salad with tomatoes that were so good she’d consider marrying them if they proposed.
‘You’re in Kefalonia!’ It was Hazel’s turn to sound shocked now. ‘That’s the wrong island, Becky. You’re supposed to be in Corfu! C-or-fu. Not Kef-a-lo-nia. What happened, dear? How did you get on the wrong plane?’
‘I didn’t get on the wrong plane,’ Becky answered. Did experienced vacationer Hazel think getting on the wrong plane was an easy thing to manage these days with digital boarding passes and enhanced security checks? Well, she supposed Hazel did cruise far more than fly… ‘There was bad weather in Corfu so we couldn’t land. We diverted to Kefalonia and we’re having to stay the night.’
‘Another freebie! You’re on a fucking roll!’ Shelley shouted, letting out a whoop afterwards. Then she laughed. ‘And not the wholemeal kind you’re fucking used to! Get it? On a roll?’
‘Shelley! Language!’
Becky shook her head at their camaraderie. ‘I just didn’t want you to worry and… I wanted to tell you that I’m seeing another destination I never thought I’d see.’
‘You’re almost doing a cruise itinerary without the cruising bit,’ Hazel said, sounding slightly miffed.
‘Listen, I’d better go.’ Becky looked over to their table right next to the sea view. Petra and Elias were in conversation and she wondered what they were talking about. Perhaps Petra was asking him if he was single again… ‘Hopefully, the next time I call you I’ll actually be where I’m supposed to be.’ There was a degree of humour to the scenario now. Kind of.
