Out of the Blue
Page 33
I think the most liberating thing has been letting go of my old fears. I’ve made such damning comments about Shirley Valentine and yet I realise now it wasn’t becoming her that I feared, it was her beaten-down alter ego Shirley Bradshaw. Shirley Valentine was a role model – a woman who dared to shake off her shackles and open herself up to a whole new life. So now when I catch myself in comparison-mode I feel proud. And when I do my share of the household chores, I don’t see myself with a poodle perm and a nylon housecoat, I think of myself as Hestia, goddess of the home!
Mind you, the film still continues to affect me – the other day, watching it with Alekos for the first time (he chuckled at every twitch of Costas’ moustache), it made me think of Jules. Husband Joe was rotten to his wife and yet when Shirley found a joyful new existence, she didn’t dump him, she stood her ground, gave him a chance to reflect upon his behaviour and then felt compassion for the misery that he had become and invited him to join her. Well, I wasn’t about to invite Jules out to Greece any time soon but I was curious about her well-being – rumour had it that she’d gone back to the cruiseships and then, just a few weeks ago this was confirmed by my Czech mate Jindrich . . . I’d had secret hopes that she’d embarked on some kind of voyage of self-discovery since the great Carob Tree showdown last year but I wasn’t prepared for him telling me that she was now working in the kids’ department. Apparently she told him that corralling the under-tens uses even more calories per day than her fitness classes and it’s helped her let go of any attachment to being perfectly groomed, on account of having her hair tugged and that flawless complexion drawn all over with face paints.
She also told him to pass on a message to me to say that she hoped I could one day forgive her and that she now only talks to single men, although she’s still trying to work out what she personally finds attractive without that trigger of coveting what someone else has. Which sounded surprisingly self-aware for her.
Cherry is sceptical about Jules’ redemption but that’s okay. We’ll see how it goes. Besides, it turns out Cherry makes a much nicer best friend! She’s even lined up some of her wealthy neighbours from The World for my new customised tours of Crete – she and Richard had their honeymoon at one of the Elounda Beach Yachting Club Villas and now all their friends are hooked! For them I devised the deluxe package and a while back I got a chance to test out my family tours on Roxy and baby Rihanna and Greg and his two girls. At least that was my excuse for inviting them out at the same time. I knew he’d never call her under his own steam. They’ve been together two months now. I’m beginning to think Alekos was right about the magic of Elounda. I wonder what will happen when Kirby and Lana come to stay? They say they can’t wait to see me and Alekos together so they can gloat about being right all along and, by the way, they still want to know what he’s like in bed!
Michelle and Hazel want to come out too.
It’s funny. When you stand still for a moment, it seems the world has a chance to come to you.
Like now, as I lean on the balcony rail in the balmy breeze, taking a moment before dinner, Alekos finds me and snugs up behind me. It’s been such an adventure since we got together and yet the biggest journey for me appears to have been learning to trust someone. I always hoped that one day I’d be able to shake off all those bad relationships, all those disappointments, really let those panicky tears and paranoias go. It’s been a gradual process but I can feel my heart getting stronger – and a little bolder – every day we are together.
‘Can you believe how much has changed since our first cruise together?’ I marvel out loud.
And yet some rituals stay the same . . . when we arrive in Heraklion a few days from now we’ll stop at the monastery – Alekos will cross himself there, I’ll save my prayers for the Monday booze cruise – and then we’ll continue on to the cliff-top vantage point where we will pause and survey the bay. Only now it won’t just be him getting misty-eyed at the view.
‘Go on!’ he’ll urge me as his hand warms the back of my neck.
And that’s the point at which I’ll look up at him and heave a big happy sigh and murmur his favourite words, ‘Home, Sweet Crete . . .’