One Last Greek Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Enjoy every little moment. Enjoy all the small things, don’t worry about them.’ Like her picnic on the beach with Alex, enjoying each other’s company… and tongues. Was all this talk of not rushing because Alex hadn’t wanted to make love to her last night? She was aching with the thought, now a hot stallion was between her legs.

  But life was about the journey, not the final destination. And right now, she seemed to be channelling all those self-help mantras she generally never believed when she was banging on about share dividends in her office in Mountbatten Towers. She swallowed, wanting to maintain momentum. ‘Don’t try and manage things that aren’t under your control.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Heidi exclaimed, looking at Beth, mouth open, eyes wide. ‘You sound like me when I’m All Natural and Uplifting Heidi. Did Alex give you some more of that kumquat juice? I’m starting to wonder if it might contain herbal ingredients of the clubland style.’

  ‘Heidi!’ Beth said. ‘Alex was never in to drugs and he’s working really hard on this idea.’

  ‘Idea?’

  Despite telling Heidi all the date activities, she hadn’t told her that Alex wasn’t the Guru of Kumquat he had claimed to be. What was holding her back from that truth? When she had said she wasn’t disappointed she had meant it. Maybe it was just because it wasn’t her news to tell.

  ‘The kumquat world domination,’ Beth said as Barbaro ground to a complete halt and lifted his tail to deposit more manure on a beautiful flowering hedgerow that really didn’t need any natural fertiliser to enhance its growth. ‘It’s got to be all natural. That’s his USP.’

  ‘And what’s my USP… before a nest of scorpions helps me meet my maker?’ Heidi asked. ‘Not that I’m rushing at all.’

  ‘Oh, Heidi, you’re one of a kind,’ Beth said, gazing at her friend with all the love she felt for someone who had propped her up through almost everything she’d had to deal with in her life. ‘You’re beautiful…’

  ‘I loved the film, and I’m all about beauty not being skin deep, but please tell me you meant in a non-Dumplin’ way.’

  ‘I’m ignoring that,’ Beth said. ‘You’re kind and loyal and feisty and always completely conflicted… which means “interesting” and “never boring” and—’

  ‘Come!’ It was the leader of their riding group shouting down the field to them. ‘Move horse!’

  ‘Bugger,’ Heidi said. ‘And you were about to get to my best bits. Obviously my legs were going to get a mention. And my hair and…’

  ‘Beauty isn’t skin deep, remember?’

  ‘Hit horse with the little stick! Like whip!’ the riding school leader shouted again.

  ‘All right!’ Heidi bellowed back crossly. She whispered to Beth. ‘I’m not hitting it with anything. Even if this stick is no firmer than a stick of limp celery.’

  ‘Come on, Barbaro,’ Beth encouraged, wiggling about on her saddle, digging slightly into his ribs with her heels. All that happened was a fart that gurgled through the pony’s whole gut.

  ‘King Queen, be a good horsey and I’ll find some Polo mints from somewhere when we get back… it is OK to give them Polo mints, isn’t it? I have seen it in films, haven’t I?’

  ‘Whoa!’ Beth exclaimed as Barbaro suddenly broke into a trot. ‘I don’t know… help, Heidi, I don’t like him going this fast!’

  ‘At least yours is moving! Come on, King Queen, or the man will shout at me again. What do they say to make them move? Giddy up? Yes, that’s it, giddy up!’

  Like a magic word had been uttered, King Queen set off, but not at trotting speed, more of a canter that looked capable of turning into a gallop. Beth had managed to slow Barbaro down but, looking to Heidi, she saw her friend’s horse only seemed to want to go faster.

  She had no idea what to do. And neither, it seemed, did the leader of their group. This was all her fault for not keeping control of her horse and now Heidi was bounding through the field towards olive groves that could have starred as the forest in the Upside Down. Closing her eyes, Beth shook Barbaro’s reins and dug her canvas beach shoes into his sides as softly, yet determinedly, as she could. As if sensing Beth’s need to join up with King Queen and her rider, Barbaro duly obliged and began a lurching run that had Beth jerking and jolting in her saddle, barely maintaining contact at all. Her vagina hadn’t had this much hard, full-on contact for a considerable amount of time and this leather saddle seemed set to make up for lost time with bruising.

  ‘Stop! Come back!’ the group leader yelled as Beth flashed by, waving his arms as if she were in any sort of control.

  ‘Help!’ Beth called, breathless already, her voice coming out juddered with the bumping of every rampant hoof on the turf. ‘Help us!’

  Heidi was screaming and now looking less than centred on her saddle. Was it slipping? Was her friend about to fall to her doom like Beth had predicted? She took a deep breath and hoped Barbaro wouldn’t throw her off before she could get to Heidi because, well, dying together seemed preferable somehow to going alone.

  And then there was the sound of another set of hooves, galloping, confident. Perhaps the excursion leader had shoved the annoying seven-year-old, who wasn’t happy with her riding helmet, off her pony to come and rescue them…

  ‘Stop screaming!’ a voice ordered. ‘You are scaring the horse!’

  As a huge black mare flashed past, Beth experienced a hint of recognition. A dark glossy mane, strong stature, a thick Greek accent. Heidi let out a high squeal – not one of excitement but one of utter fear.

  ‘Did you not hear what I say? Stop with the baby-screaming!’

  Barbaro was breathing heavily now and had slowed a little, coming down from a canter to a trot, nostrils making deep vibration noises as Beth tried to gather herself and maintain some semblance of control of her steed. She watched ahead, two horses racing alongside each other. And then something quite spectacular happened. Like a circus act taking place right in front of her eyes, Beth watched as the person riding the large black horse began to shift herself from her position, standing up in the stirrups and leaning out over King Queen. It was one of those situations where you didn’t want to look, yet you were compelled to carry on staring because it defied all belief.

  As Barbaro slowed a little more, seeming to give up the chase, Beth saw the would-be rescuer make a leap into the air, landing directly behind Heidi on the saddle, one hand on the reins of her own horse, the other yanking on the leather straps of King Queen and bellowing loudly in Greek, with authority, but somehow also with true care, gently. And, just like that, the horse finally obeyed, its steam run out, slowing to a trot then, at last, a walk and then a standstill.

  ‘You are crazy!’ the Greek yelled, jumping down from King Queen and taking control of both animals as Beth nudged Barbaro up beside them. ‘This riding is meant for walking with the horse, in a straight line, with all the other riders. Slowly!’

  ‘You think I wanted to go hacking towards the woods like Frankie Dettori?!’

  ‘You are not experienced in riding Greek horses!’

  ‘I’m not experienced in riding any sort of horse… or any sort of anything!’ Heidi yelled back.

  It was then that Beth saw who their saviour was… Elektra.

  ‘You could have fallen off and killed yourself!’

  ‘And I haven’t lived life slow enough yet!’ Heidi yelled back. She slid down from the horse, misjudging the drop and landing with a sway and a stagger, completely off-balance.

  ‘You are a stupid, crazy woman,’ Elektra said, immediately reaching out and steadying Heidi’s awkward dismount. But this time, Beth caught the note of concern amid the harsh words and the volume.

  ‘And you are…’ Heidi began, looking at Elektra. ‘…unbelievably amazing.’

  ‘Someone had to stop you from killing the horses.’

  ‘And you came,’ Heidi breathed finally. ‘To ride with me.’

  Beth let out an involuntary cough.

  ‘It is lucky I did,
huh?’ Elektra said, turning the horses round to face the advancing group leader on board a dappled grey. ‘Or you would not have survived to crush another kumquat.’

  ‘Yes,’ Heidi said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. ‘Imagine that.’

  ‘So,’ Beth interrupted, managing to get Barbaro to strut a complete circle like a well-behaved dressage horse. ‘Do we think it’s worth trying horse manure to get my wedding ring off?’

  ‘Like I said before, I think when Stathis comes to fix the ceilings at the weekend I’m going to get him to cut it off,’ Heidi answered.

  ‘No,’ Beth said. ‘I’d rather try the horse poo compared to that. I’ve seen the way he handles a coffee cup.’

  ‘You are both crazy,’ Elektra stated, remounting her horse. ‘Henri, get back on your horse and I will show you how to ride without baby-screaming.’

  ‘Henri,’ Beth mouthed at Heidi.

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ Heidi answered, ignoring Beth’s head-shaking. ‘Before the owner gets here and takes King Queen away from me.’ She attempted to get up on onto her horse but failed, shoes hitting grass again. ‘You don’t know anywhere we can stay for a few days while our cottage is being repaired, do you?’

  ‘In July?!’ Elektra exclaimed with a snort as loud as any horse. ‘It is the middle of the summer season. You will not find anywhere.’

  ‘Oh,’ Heidi said. ‘Marvellous.’

  Thirty-Seven

  Corfu Motion

  Margalo had refused to utter one word to him that morning. Alex had made breakfast, as usual, but his mother had been completely uncommunicative. Only her slightly ragged breathing had punctuated the air over their wooden table. It made it absolutely impossible to do anything. Half of him wanted the fight he knew was coming. Her telling him he could not work at the nightclub. Him telling her this was all he had ever wanted, and he could not put it to one side any longer. And he knew that with Margalo, not fighting was possibly worse. Not speaking at all meant she was so deeply enraged that letting it out would mean an eruption as fierce as a volcano becoming active. But if the top didn’t blow off soon and the lava stayed concealed, bubbling violently away under the surface, how was he supposed to move forward? He didn’t want to hurt his mother, but she was leaving him with little choice if she wouldn’t discuss it.

  As he sat at his desk at Corfu Motion, he was drawing on the kumquat branding designs Spiros had sent him, tightening up on the finer points of the overall look. Softer corners said luxury and wellness, the font had to shout out high-end as well as expensive and calming… Yesterday, with Beth, everything and anything had seemed possible. Today he was back in the middle of this life quandary. And there was so much going on he was incapable of giving anything one hundred percent.

  ‘Here!’ Toula slammed a long cooking tray down on his desk as she swished into the office, bringing in a blast of the furiously hot air from outside. ‘Kokoretsi for your mother.’

  Alex looked at the oblong of lamb’s internal organs covered in clear film. ‘What is this for?’ Did Toula somehow know, on the Corfu grapevine, that there was disharmony in their house? Word did always seem to travel fast.

  ‘I make too much for dinner last night, no one wanted the leftovers for breakfast or lunch, I know your mother likes it,’ Toula continued, adjusting a big yellow bow that was tied into her hair.

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex said, getting to his feet. ‘I will put it in the fridge.’ He looked at the size of the skewer. ‘If it will fit.’

  ‘I hear you are working in Sidari on Saturday night,’ Toula continued, heading towards the coffee machine.

  ‘Who told you that?’ Alex said, immediately defensive.

  Toula tutted and shook her head. ‘This is Corfu, Alex, not a metropolis in America. And there are posters with your name on them from here to Sidari this morning. Not in big letters, but enough to see if you drive the car slowly… and I was behind a real malaka on his moped.’

  Were there posters? There had been nothing last night, not even in The Vault. Perhaps it was a good thing that Elektra had told his mother. She would have found out anyway.

  He nodded at Toula. ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK,’ Toula replied.

  ‘You want to say something about how I should not be doing it?’ Alex asked, watching her take a too-hot sip of coffee and baulk a little.

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Maybe because, if I do, that means I am like my father.’

  ‘You do not want to be like your father?’ Toula asked.

  Alex frowned. ‘Who would want to be like someone like that?’

  ‘Someone like what?’ Toula said, looking confused.

  ‘Come on, Toula, you do not have to be nice for me.’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘I know everyone thinks that it was because he worked at bars and clubs that he cheated on my mother so much.’

  ‘What?!’ Toula exclaimed.

  ‘Well, a place doesn’t make a person. My father was like he was simply because he was like that. It was not because he worked in a nightclub.’

  ‘Alex, what are you trying to tell me here?’

  Why was this so difficult to explain? It had always been common knowledge as to why his parents had split up. Margalo was never slow in reminding people what a waste of space his dad had been.

  ‘My mother thinks nightclubs are where people go to turn their back on righteousness and practise the work of the devil,’ Alex explained. Perhaps that was a little over the top. ‘The fun people have there, my mother thinks leads to infidelity and drug-taking… and ruin.’

  ‘What has your mother been telling you about your father?’ Toula asked, looking a little shaken. In fact, Toula appeared so rocked she had to reach for the chair opposite Alex’s desk and plump herself down into it.

  ‘Nothing I haven’t heard from her every day of my life, when she says anything about him,’ Alex said, sighing, his hands going to his hair. ‘He left us. He loved everyone a little too much, except us. He was no good. He took lowly jobs because he had no ambition other than to waste his time with other women.’

  Toula’s hands went to her mouth then, eyes glistening with tears. ‘Oh, Alex.’

  ‘What?’ Alex asked, not understanding her expression nor her reaction. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your father did not do any of those things.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I do not know what your mother has been telling you but your father… he was a good man… a kind man… very hardworking… a man who loved you and your mother,’ Toula informed.

  ‘But,’ Alex said, ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I do not know why your father left,’ she continued. ‘Nobody does. Not for certain. But I do know that he would never have cheated on your mother.’

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door of the car hire office and a tall man, sweating in a suit, entered the room. Alex longed to ask Toula a host of other questions and wished the customer away.

  ‘Kalimera,’ Toula said, getting to her feet and smiling at the customer.

  ‘Good morning,’ the man greeted. ‘I wonder, could you direct me to a property I’m looking for, and I would also like to rent one of your cars.’ He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘Something top-of-the-range with good air-conditioning.’

  ‘Of course,’ Toula answered. ‘Alex will be able to show you.’ She gave Alex one of her ‘special’ looks that told him the conversation about his father was – for now – closed.

  Thirty-Eight

  Paralia View, Almyros Beach

  The wind billowing through her hair, Beth drove the Jimny round the tight bends as she navigated them off the main road through Acharavi and back towards their cottage on the beach. The sky above was still completely cloudless, and she was excited to spend the rest of the day laying down on the seen-better-days but gloriously comfortable sun loungers in their beach garden. The temperature was in the thirties and, after the horse-riding – more sedate once King Qu
een and Barbaro had been thoroughly tired out – and a light, but delicious lunch at The Lemon Garden in Acharavi, she was ready to revel in complete relaxation… whilst maybe perusing two-bed apartments in London online. A second bedroom would be handy for guests – mainly Heidi – but more importantly it could give her the space she needed to kickstart her jewellery-making plans. Alex being so upbeat about the possibility was definitely boosting her confidence. She could maybe take a part-time job once she had worked out her finances, giving her enough income while she made pieces to start selling…

  ‘I absolutely stink!’ Heidi remarked. ‘I can’t believe they even let us in the restaurant smelling like this.’

  ‘It was outside,’ Beth reminded.

  ‘I know,’ Heidi said. ‘But it had lovely swing seats and sofas with sumptuously rustic cushions… I’d hate to think I got any of King Queen’s deposits on them.’

  ‘You mainly sat on Elektra,’ Beth said with a grin.

  ‘I did not… did I?’ Heidi was coming across all nervous and concerned.

  ‘It was sweet,’ Beth said. ‘The two of you really have a connection.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Heidi was actually getting gooey now.

  ‘I really do think so,’ Beth said. ‘I just wish she wasn’t still calling you Henri and you weren’t still going on about kumquats.’

  Heidi sighed. ‘I have to admit, talking about them is making me never want to eat or drink them ever again, no matter how good Alex’s juice is.’

  ‘Then tell her the truth,’ Beth urged, slowing to a halt as another car came their way. ‘She likes you, Heidi. And that isn’t because she thinks you’re called Henri and you’re in charge of a kumquat empire. It’s because you make her laugh and you’re… sexy.’

  ‘Beth Martin-formerly-Mountbatten-formerly-Martin, did you just call me sexy?’

  ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ Beth answered. ‘I’m as straight as Tilly.’

  ‘I’m still not entirely convinced about Tilly,’ Heidi said, sniffing. ‘But I don’t fancy you either. Never have.’