One Summer in Santorini

by Sandy Barker

  Josh’s kiss had been tremendous.

  Josh.

  Josh saw the world through similar eyes to mine. We weren’t exactly alike – and I wouldn’t ever want that. It was more that when I explained something to him – how I felt about something or what I thought – he didn’t look at me like I’d grown two heads. And more and more, we could share a look and just know what the other meant.

  Don’t get me wrong, I had – have – a wonderful network of close, long-treasured friends, but even they look at me sideways sometimes, wondering exactly what I’m getting at. I didn’t feel that way when I was with Josh.

  And, even though I didn’t know James as well, I sensed that anything was possible with him, including the stuff of dreams.

  And so my thoughts went round and round.

  ‘You off with the fairies, or something Sez?’ It was Duncan, and he was talking to me.

  ‘What? Sorry, I was in another world.’

  ‘I could see that.’ His reply was gentle like he was talking to his little sister. ‘I asked if you could help with the buoys – tie them off like I showed you before?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, jumping up from my position. Right as I was finishing up, I heard the voices of the others approaching.

  ‘Perfect timing!’ called Duncan as he leapt from the boat to the dock. ‘We’re just finishing up.’

  ‘Sorry, baby,’ purred Gerry. ‘We didn’t know you’d be moving the boat this early.’

  He gave her a loud smack of a kiss. ‘Don’t worry ’bout it, love. The others were here to help.’

  As I made my way to the stern of the boat to greet the others, I looked at Hannah and wondered if she was going to come clean that she hadn’t helped at all. She flicked to another page of her magazine. I guess not.

  Gary was carrying a few shopping bags, which he handed over to Marie and Gerry after they boarded the boat; he was such a gentleman.

  ‘What did you get?’ I asked, gathering close to the gals.

  ‘These!’ Marie excitedly held up a cute pair of leather sandals. She dug into another bag, ‘And this!’ She held up a flowing white kaftan.

  ‘How pretty – almost like a toga.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought that too.’

  ‘Ger – what about you?’ Gerry held up a gorgeous bright pink leather bag.

  ‘Nice huh?’

  I took it from her and admired the leather work. ‘Oh, that’s a good find!’

  ‘Oh Gary, what about you? What did you buy?’ Duncan was teasing us for being so girly, and Gary didn’t miss a beat.

  ‘Well, you know I’ve been looking everywhere for the right T-shirt to go with these shorts, and you know – I think I may have finally found it.’ He pulled his T-shirt away from his body to show it off and batted his eyelashes.

  ‘That is adorable,’ Josh chimed in. ‘I am so jealous. Now I want one too.’

  Gerry pushed Duncan in the chest and pretended to tell him off for teasing us, but Marie looked adoringly at her husband – maybe because he’d just carried her shopping bags. Josh, however, got a whack in the arm.

  ‘Oww,’ he whined.

  ‘Oh, stop being such a wuss. That didn’t hurt.’

  He winked at me in reply. I looked around at the whole gang – all of us together for the first time in several days – even though Hannah was on the fringes, her nose buried in a gossip magazine.

  ‘Hey,’ I called to get everyone’s attention. I had six pairs of eyes on me, even Hannah’s. ‘Duncan and I were talking about going out to dinner tonight – all of us. What d’you say?’ There was general agreement, which delighted me. I wanted to get my fill of family time before we all went off in different directions. It wasn’t lost on me that our group’s demise was only three days away.

  Three days.

  As we dispersed to various places on the boat, it started to sink in that soon I wouldn’t get to see these people every day. My family, my friends. Josh. It’s incredible how fast complete strangers can become important to you.

  I had seen this phenomenon while I was working as a tour manager. People forging lifelong friendships in a matter of days or weeks. It had happened to me with some of the people I trained with and even with people who’d been my clients. It may have been a decade before, but we were connected on Facebook and sent each other messages. If we were in the same city, we’d meet for a drink and catch up. They were as much my people as the friends I saw all the time, because with them, I had shared something extraordinary.

  We had travelled together for weeks on end – twenty-four-seven – and we’d had grand adventures. And some big nights out. And even bigger nights in. These were the people who had seen me at my worst – hungover and cranky and existing on a few hours of sleep – and my best – capable in a crisis, gregarious and charming with border guards and locals, skilfully navigating fifty people around an entire continent. I would always consider the friendships I forged in my touring days as something to be treasured, something exceptional.

  That’s how I felt about the people on the boat. Gerry. Duncan. Gary. Marie. Hannah. And Josh. We’d shared something I’d never experienced before. We’d laughed – some of us had cried. We’d broken bread and broken camp. As I’d called them many times, we were a floating family.

  I was at once excited for what the next few days would hold and deeply saddened it was all coming to an end.

  *

  A few hours later, we were seated around a large wooden table laden with exquisite Greek food. As we had been before and would likely be again, we were the rowdiest table in the place. Duncan was telling us about when he and Gerry went to Chile to see her family. Apparently, they’d been particularly impressed by his attempts at Spanish, even though he barely knew ten words. But that was Duncan all over – such a charmer.

  Gerry took over the story. ‘But, you know, I have been warning him ahead of time that he should learn some things to say to my family – especially my mother. And so he learns “hello”, “nice to meet you”, “thank you”, “please” – nothing special …’ Her dig at Duncan’s lack of linguistic skills was met with laughter.

  ‘And then towards the end of the first day, all the women are there, making preparations for dinner – my mother, my aunts, my grandmother – and Duncan gets up to leave the room, and my mother, she says in her very best English, “Duncan, where are you going?” Well, Duncan, he says – and I am saying this exactly as he said it – “I’m going to change my pantalones.” Exactly that. One word in Spanish and, oh, didn’t the women swoon!

  ‘You should have heard them! On and on in fast Spanish – so impressed. “Oh, Geraldine, he is so charming, your man.”’ Gerry looked over at Duncan and rolled her eyes. The rest of us were laughing – including Duncan. And then Gerry’s façade broke into a huge smile and she laughed along with us. ‘One word of Spanish …’ She trailed off, laughing too hard to finish.

  ‘What?’ asked Duncan, throwing his arms out wide. ‘It’s a good word – it’s, like, one of ten I can remember – even now.’

  Gerry grabbed his face in one hand, and kissed him on the mouth with a loud smack. ‘My man. You are so charming!’ She snuggled in closer.

  They were such a sweet couple.

  ‘Duncan, mate, you speak more Spanish than me, and I took it for four years in high school.’ Josh had attempted to say ‘mate’ with a broad Aussie accent. Abysmal. Still, he’d tried.

  Maybe he would come and visit me in Sydney some time – pick up some more Aussie lingo. I could teach him how to say ‘mate’ properly. Hold on. What was I thinking?

  Many, many times I had let myself fantasise about a future with James, but with Josh, it was less about a fantasy and more about the reality of our situation. I didn’t like letting my mind go to that place. How on earth could it work out between us after this trip? Especially as we lived half a world apart?

  Was I just scared?

  I mean, James was the fantasy, right? A prince to rescue an extrem
ely single princess. I could dream about a life with him the same way I would fantasise about a film star or the super-hot guy at the gym who I never spoke to, but had caught me watching him work out a few times. It was fun to think about. But every time I thought about Josh outside the confines of the trip, I got in a knot in my stomach.

  Josh could be the real thing, and truth be told, that terrified me.

  If I fell for him – properly fell for him – being apart most of the time would be excruciating.

  And, what if it did work out? What then? I didn’t want to move to America. Not really, and I didn’t know that I could anyway. It wasn’t like green cards grew on trees. We would have to get married if I wanted to move there. Married! The thought of it made my heart race – and not in a good way.

  I supposed if Josh moved to Sydney, it would be easier – probably for both of us. He could work anywhere in the world – he was in the tech industry. And maybe someone would employ him and move him to Sydney. Then we could date properly to see if we really were compatible. And then perhaps, after some time dating, we’d move in together. That was much less dramatic than getting married for a green card.

  I shook my head, stopping my thoughts from running away with themselves entirely. Planning the logistics of who would move where was doing my head in, and I really needed to focus on the now. I was with my little family, we were having a great night out, and I had to stop thinking about all the grim reasons it might not work out with Josh after the trip.

  And I needed to remember that the future – if there was one with him – may not be so grim after all. Didn’t I have two great examples of things working out, right in front of me? Gerry and Duncan had met overseas and lived a world apart, yet they made it work. And Marie and Gary were ten years apart in age, and they were the most in-love couple I’d ever known.

  I was getting all worked up about nothing. I didn’t need to dwell on the what-ifs, and I didn’t need to make any decisions about my love life. I needed to listen to Hannah, who was telling a story, and chill the hell out!

  Hannah had the attention of the group and punctuated her story with dramatic pauses to sip from her cocktail.

  ‘My dad was turning sixty and he wanted us all to go somewhere special together, and he’d always wanted to ski in Europe – because we totally grew up skiing – usually every week of the season – Whistler is, like, ninety minutes away. Anyway, so his lifelong dream is to ski in Europe, and we ended up in the French Alps, right on the border of Italy.

  ‘So, it was me and my brother and his wife, my mum, dad – of course – and even my aunt and my cousin, staying in this gorgeous chalet – it slept sixteen – and the very first night there’s this huge dump of powder, and the next morning, there was a brilliant blue sky. I mean, perfect conditions.

  ‘So, we get up, have this huge breakfast, then hit the slopes. And we’re out there all day. We’re, like, texting each other so we could meet for lunch, and I skied with my brother and sister-in-law for a few hours – we found these awesome trails.

  ‘And it gets towards the end of the day – dusk – and we’re texting each other to meet up in a particular bar at the end of the last run. And I get there with my brother and his wife, and my mum’s with her sister and my cousin – and she’s frantic. She looks at us and says, “It’s your father …”’

  It was the most I’d ever heard Hannah share in one go – and we were all on the edge of her seats wanting to know what happened to her dad while she took a sip of her martini.

  ‘What happened?’ Josh expressed aloud what I could see in the faces of the others.

  ‘Oh, nothing bad,’ she dismissed our concern and in return we let out a collective sigh.

  ‘But he had accidentally taken the wrong run when he got off the ski lift, and had skied into Italy. Any other time of the day – no problem. You take the lift to the top and ski back into France. But it was the last run of the day. The lifts were closed until the next morning at nine. And his phone was out of battery.’

  When the penny dropped, the rest of us laughed out loud and Hannah joined in.

  ‘That’s hysterical,’ said Marie. ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Well, he went into the nearest hotel and asked to use the phone, and then he called the bar where the rest of us were and asked for my mum. And then, when we knew he was safe – and just stupid – he headed to the bar.’

  That brought more laughter.

  ‘That’s what I would do,’ Duncan added. Gary nodded in agreement.

  ‘So, he had about thirty euros in cash – not enough for a room, but certainly enough for a couple of drinks – and don’t forget, this whole time he has his ski gear on – including his boots – ’cause he didn’t have anything else.’

  By this stage, I was laughing so hard I had ceased making any noise. I could picture the whole scene and for some reason, in my head, her dad looked like John Cleese.

  ‘And then he struck up a conversation with this Austrian family who took pity on him. Turned out they had a three-room apartment in the hotel, and they ended up feeding him and giving him a place to sleep that night.’

  Gary actually applauded. ‘I love that he did that. That’s the kind of sixty-year-old I plan to be – adventurous, gregarious, resourceful.’

  ‘Yep, Aussies are like that too,’ said Duncan. ‘You’re overseas, you’re on your own, you strike up a conversation, make friends, then you get invited places, looked after.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ agreed Gerry. ‘You see?’ she asked the rest of us. ‘That is how he won me – with his, how do I say? Lack of planning? I had to take pity on him.’

  More laughter. More applause.

  ‘No, no, that is not what happened. Why are you telling lies to our friends?’ Duncan faked incredulity.

  Gerry waved him off and shook her head. ‘You are so silly. That is exactly how it happened.’ Duncan leaned over and kissed her, and we’d come full circle, basking in their adoration for each other.

  ‘I love that story, Hannah.’ I turned my attention back to my roommate. ‘I’m guessing you got your dad back the next morning?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, we got him back, after the Austrians insisted on treating him to a huge breakfast in the hotel’s café.’ I liked the sound of Hannah’s dad. I was also glad to hear she had a lovely man in her life – one that would love her no matter what. Hopefully she could – or would soon – see that not all men were awful users.

  I looked around the table at the three men we were travelling with. Josh. Gary. Duncan. Each so different, but they were all good men. Kind, fun, thoughtful, interesting men. They’re out there, Hannah, I thought.

  Or maybe that was me talking to myself. Looking over at Josh, I caught him watching me, and we shared a smile. Yep, these were good men. And I was looking at a good man who gave me tummy twinges and knew how to kiss.

  Maybe he was Prince Charming.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We were docked at our second-last island, Tinos, and there were only two days left of our trip – well, two and a half. Really, it was closer to three, but the end was looming, and I was intent on squeezing every moment out of those nearly three days – starting with breakfast on the bow of the boat with Josh.

  Like the morning before, we were the first ones up, and we moved about the tiny galley in sync. We made a breakfast feast of tea, yoghurt with muesli, and buttered toast. Sitting up on the bow, enjoying our food in an easy silence, we watched the marina come to life.

  Around us, people emerged from below their decks and squinted at the morning sun. There were boat chores to do – taking out the rubbish, clearing the deck of things you can trip over – you know, boat chores. There was probably a lot more to it than that, but even after a week of sailing, I still didn’t know my bilge from my poop deck.

  As I bit into a piece of toast – Greek bread is amazing, by the way – I wondered if I could ever live on a boat. I loved being on the water. I loved the salty air and being under sail. I didn�
��t even mind the boat chores Duncan had assigned to me, like tying off the buoys.

  I came at the idea in a different direction. If I did live on a boat, what would I miss about my apartment? The first thing that popped into my head was my shower. At home, I had hot water with awesome pressure for days. I had as many towels as I wanted or needed, and cupboards and drawers filled with toiletries. And, when I took a shower at home, I didn’t get the toilet, the floor, the sink, and the window wet.

  And my bed! My big, beautiful, comfortable bed, and my fluffy doona, and my pillow! I let myself daydream a little about sleeping in a proper bed, rather than on a tiny boat bunk with an eight-centimetre foam mattress, a pillow the size of a magazine, and a roommate who wished she had a cabin to herself.

  ‘Daydreaming?’ Josh’s voice cut through my thoughts.

  ‘So much.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What about?’ He took a sip of tea.

  ‘Being in bed,’ I replied.

  He spat out the tea – fortunately, not in my direction.

  I laughed. ‘No, not like that. Like, sleeping in a real bed.’

  He coughed a few times. ‘I get it, I get it.’

  ‘You’re silly.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll get to sleep in real beds tomorrow, remember?’ The sailing part of the trip was finishing in Mykonos the next day. We were all staying at different hotels across the island, but we’d agreed to meet up for dinner to say a proper goodbye.

  Actually, Josh wasn’t officially staying anywhere. He’d booked a ferry for the following afternoon back to Athens. The rest of us had already convinced him to change his ferry ticket and stay another night with us in Mykonos. He was going to find somewhere to stay when we got in.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, nodding. ‘Kinda sad, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘End of the trip …’ I trailed off, fighting the sadness that overwhelmed me.

  ‘Yeah …’ Josh trailed off too and we finished the rest of our breakfast without another word. There was no longer a comfortable silence.

  Our afternoon was filled with warm sunshine and cool breezes, with all of us together at the beach. It was called Lichnaftia in English, but I was not going to attempt it the way the native Greeks said it. It was hard enough in my native tongue. Lick-naf-tee-a, in case you wanted to try it aloud. It was tucked away on the east end of the island and we’d arrived there on scooters, solely on Duncan’s word that it was something special.