As Greek as It Gets: A fun, feel-good romantic comedy

by Sue Roberts

  ‘Waiting to be discharged. I just nipped out for one of these.’ She takes one last drag on the cigarette before extinguishing it. ‘I can’t stand hospitals. They set my nerves on edge.’

  ‘Oh, you’re leaving already? Well, thank goodness he’s okay. We’ll pop in and see him now. Do you want to share a taxi? Rex might not feel like driving home,’ I suggest.

  ‘No, it’s alright, thanks. We’ll give you a lift. I’m sure Rex’ll be fine. I’ve never heard of a bout of wind preventing someone from driving,’ she huffs. ‘Although I’ll drive anyway.’

  Max glances at me and a laugh escapes despite me trying to suppress it.

  Oh, Mum, you have to see the funny side! But the main thing is that Rex is fine.’

  ‘Well, I suppose so… but how embarrassing. Phoning an ambulance for a bout of indigestion. I don’t know what those doctors must think of us. The sirens were going and everything.’

  ‘You mean, they had to step on the gas.’

  To my surprise Mum bursts out laughing.

  ‘And honestly, Mum, they won’t think anything. It’s their job and I’m sure they’d rather be called out just to make sure, than that anything terrible happens. I’m glad you’re okay too. You sounded worried when you rang.’

  ‘More stressed than worried,’ she says, sighing. ‘I’m not very good with sick people.’

  That I can vouch for. Lexie and I had full attendance for almost our entire school days and if any medication was required it would be given to the school secretary to be dispensed at lunchtime. Once, when I was told to ‘stop fussing’ over a pain in my wrist after falling over during a game of netball, it turned out to be broken. Although I must admit Mum did feel a little guilty about that one.

  ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘We were just sat watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? I never used to be keen on that Jeremy Clarkson, but he does a good job on that show. Anyway, there we were when Rex said he didn’t feel very well and suddenly started clutching his chest. He said he was in agony and he did go a bit of a funny colour. Thinking about it, though, he probably shouldn’t have eaten that cheese as it was after nine o’clock. Barry from Bristol was up to one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds on the show too. I’ll have to watch it on catch-up now to see how much he ended up with,’ she complains.

  Once inside A & E, we pass a waiting room full of people in various states of distress and are directed to a side ward, where we find Rex sitting on a bed and talking to a nurse.

  ‘Hi, Rex, how are you feeling?’ I breathe a sigh of relief to see Rex looking like a picture of health as the nurse tells him he can go home.

  ‘Oh, hello, guys, you didn’t need to come.’ He’s smiling broadly and thankfully not looking at all like someone who is very ill. ‘I’m feeling a lot better now, thanks, although I thought my number was up, I can tell you. I’ve never known pain like it in my life. The doctor said the symptoms of indigestion can be just like those of a heart attack. It’s a wake- up call.’ He nods thoughtfully as he puts his blue denim jacket on over his checked shirt. ‘I think I need to start looking after myself a bit more.’ He pats his rotund stomach. ‘I might even join a gym.’

  Mum is pretty quiet on the way home and if Rex is looking for sympathy from her, it isn’t forthcoming. We have to pull in to a petrol station because Mum’s indignant that the hospital didn’t give Rex an indigestion remedy and insists that he must buy one, as she doesn’t want to ‘go through all that again in the middle of the night’.

  When Mum and Rex finally drop us off, it’s well past midnight and we both collapse into our huge bed with the blue padded headboard that reaches right up to the ceiling. Max cuddles in close and slides his leg across mine, but I’m already struggling to stay awake. So much for a night of passion burning off all those calories.

  As I drift off to sleep, I ponder my mother’s words: Your life’s all sorted, isn’t it?

  And I can’t help thinking to myself: Yes, Mother, I suppose it is. But no thanks to you.

  Three

  I decided from a young age that I was going to be an artist. According to my father, I demonstrated a flair for it as soon as I could hold a pencil. My work was always the first to be displayed on the school walls, proudly mounted to show it off to its best advantage. One of my proudest moments came when I painted a huge autumn tree with a kaleidoscope of colours, which took pride of place in the school entrance hall and drew admiring comments from visitors throughout the winter. I would use anything I could find to paint pictures. Mum tells of how, when I was three years old, she once found me using food colouring, which I’d taken from her baking cupboard, to paint patterns on the wallpaper in the hall. Not that she had much use for the food colouring herself. Any sweet treats usually came from a cake shop around the corner, where I would always select a chocolate éclair and Lexie would pick a red jelly topped with a swirl of cream and a sprinkle of green vermicelli.

  Other than my dad, my family never took much notice of my passion for drawing. He was good at drawing and would teach me about light, shade and perspective as I looked out of the window and sketched whatever I saw. He taught me more than the teachers at school ever did, most of them confessing that they were useless at drawing. It was then that I realised that being able to create images on paper was a real talent that not everyone possessed.

  At the start of his second year at art college, when Mum became pregnant with me, Dad dropped out of college and took a steady job working as a driver. Eventually, after Lexie was born, he returned to education and trained as a landscape gardener, using his creativity to design the most beautiful gardens in small spaces. Dad lives in Edinburgh now, in a stunning apartment off Leith Walk. He often gets commissioned to create gorgeous blooms for people’s window boxes and balconies. We’re both really busy with our lives, but we have the kind of relationship that just comfortably picks up where we left off, with no expectations, and it seems to work really well for us. And I know we’re both there if we ever need each other.

  One autumn at parents’ evening, when I was eleven years old, my mum seemed to express surprise when the art teacher told her he thought I displayed a real talent and casually stated, ‘Hmm, well, she doesn’t take after me.’ I recall feeling annoyed that she never mentioned that my skill had come from my father – something she definitely knew about – but I said nothing. My parents had been separated for just over a year at the time, so with hindsight maybe Mum was still hurting over things. Still, I hated how she just tried to dismiss him from our lives once he left. I eventually went to university to study fine art and later began to sell my paintings online.

  ‘So. Are you getting excited for your hen party yet?’

  Kerry is another good friend from my uni days, who I don’t see as often as I see Ria, but I’m just as close to. It can be weeks between our get-togethers, both of us being so busy with work and living in different parts of the city. When we do meet up, though, we chatter ten to the dozen, keen to fill each other in on what’s been going on in our lives.

  Today, Kerry and I are sitting in a coffee shop in Formby village, where I am enjoying a particularly delicious Blue Mountain blend with a giant slice of coffee-and-walnut cake. There can never be too much coffee, as far as I’m concerned. Kerry has travelled across the Mersey where she now lives with her architect boyfriend Hal, who’s in Manchester today looking at eco-friendly housing pods.

  ‘I’m trying to. It’s just that I never imagined it to be in Malia, if I’m honest.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Malia? It will be fun. You should let your hair down for a change, Alice, before you get boring and married.’ She takes a sip of decaf coffee and picks half-heartedly at a vegan muffin.

  ‘Oh God, have I really grown old before my time?’

  ‘No! I just mean you and Max work so hard in proper grown-up jobs, not like me.’ She grins.

  Kerry takes commissions for portraits, a large percentage of which are people’s pet animal
s. She has a conservatory as her studio and often tells me it’s not really like work as she enjoys it so much. I almost envy her, working from home and making a good living from doing exactly what she wants. Most of the portraits are copied from photographs, although she had one pooch that unbelievably sat still for two hours, as the owner intermittently fed it cocktail sausages when there were signs that it was growing bored. The owner had wanted a genuine, live portrait and was thrilled with the result. Kerry really does seem to have everything sorted.

  ‘Besides,’ Kerry continues, ‘when was the last time we all had a girlie break together? I think it will be a lot of fun.’

  ‘I know it will. Maybe when I’ve picked up some holiday clothes later I’ll feel more in the mood.’ The truth is, having this break will probably make a little dent in my savings, but I guess all work and no play isn’t good for anyone. Max offered to pay for clothes shopping and some extra spends but I don’t want to be relying on him for everything.

  ‘That’s the spirit. I need a few more floaty kaftans to cover my porcelain skin.’ She strokes her pale complexion and smiles. ‘And factor fifty. I never tan, as you know. I just go an interesting shade of pink before turning white again. I wish I had your gorgeous skin.’

  ‘Maybe we’d better pop into Boots for some fake tanning mousse. But then, if you tan those never-ending legs, you’ll put us all in the shade.’

  ‘As if,’ she says, but with a huge grin on her face.

  ‘Seriously though, you have lovely skin. You’re a beautiful English rose,’ I tell her.

  ‘And this is why you are one of my best friends,’ Kerry says gratefully. ‘Hal never tells me I’m beautiful.’

  I think Hal would probably be more appreciative of a beautifully furnished yurt, but I don’t say anything.

  We finish our coffees and are heading off to catch the train into town, when my phone rings. It’s Mum. I consider not answering, but I know I will only spend the rest of the afternoon wondering if everything is alright.

  ‘Hi, Mum, how’s things?’

  ‘Alright, thanks, but I was just wondering have you heard from Lexie?’ There’s a slightly anxious tone to her voice.

  ‘No. I gave her a quick ring yesterday to ask how her date went, but I haven’t spoken to her today. Is everything okay?’ I hold my breath and pray that everything is alright.

  Lexie told me her lawyer date had been disastrous as he had spent the evening droning on about a fraud case, while tapping the side of his nose and saying, ‘I’ve changed the names obviously.’

  ‘Yes, it’s just that she should have been here by now. We’re going out for lunch at Franco’s and they won’t keep the table for too long as it gets really busy at lunchtimes. She’s not answering her phone.’ Mum sounds exasperated.

  I’m silent for a minute as I suppress a feeling of hurt that threatens to turn my voice into a shaking mass of emotion.

  ‘Alice, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, Mum, and don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be there soon. I’ll have to go, Kerry and I are heading into town.’

  Hanging up before she has a chance to say anything else, I can feel tears pricking my eyes. Much as I love Lexie, she never really does anything for Mum, yet there Mum is, booking restaurant lunches with her. Every drama Mum has, however big or small, including the recent one at the hospital with Rex, and I’m the first person she phones. But she never seems to want to spend time with me otherwise.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Kerry asks.

  ‘Yeah, just my mum asking me if I’ve heard from Lexie,’ I say as brightly as I can. ‘Right, come on then. We’d better get a move on if we’re going to catch that train.’

  As we walk along the road towards the station, we pass Max’s office and the huge board displaying the sign Max Jenkins’ Financial Planning Solutions gives me a surge of pride, as it does every time I see it. Max now employs five staff, including an apprentice who has him in fits of laughter when he regales them with stories of his disastrous love life at the tender age of nineteen.

  Sometimes I worry that Max works a little too hard, as it’s not unusual for him to arrive home after 9 p.m., with the phone glued to his ear, talking to a prospective client. But then he does like to relax at the weekends, when all calls are diverted to the office. I can’t help reflecting on how his professional life seems so fast-paced and exciting in comparison to mine.

  ‘How is Lexie? She is coming on the hen, isn’t she?’ Kerry’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

  ‘Yeah, definitely. She wasn’t sure she would be able to get the time off work initially, since it’s a fairly new job, but she’s good to go. It will be nice actually. We don’t get to spend that much time together.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You two used to be really close, didn’t you?’

  Used to be. I have so many memories of our time growing up, recalling how I was the older, protective big sister, who used to stick up for her at the drop of a hat. It’s funny to think that I disliked any sort of confrontation as I grew older.

  At twenty-seven, Lexie is almost three years younger than me and now works as a buyer for a well-known high-street fashion store. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life until I suggested working as a buyer, as she has the right sort of outgoing personality and a keen eye for fashion. When she was a young girl, I would often find her twirling around in front of the mirror wearing my clothes and a pair of Mum’s high heels. As she grew older, she developed her own unique style, adding scarves or brightly coloured tights, which would transform even the simplest outfit into something that would give Gok Wan a run for his money.

  She leads a rather frenetic life of socialising and can usually be found lurking under her duvet for most of the morning on a Sunday, exhausted. When she drags herself out of bed we regularly meet for lunch at a local pub, where she fills me in on her life and latest dating disaster. I sometimes worry that the man she would like to meet doesn’t exist. Last time I saw her, just over a week ago, she was excited about having a date with the solicitor from Cheshire, although it turned out that they had nothing in common.

  The train journey takes a little over thirty minutes and soon we are joining the throngs of pedestrians heading towards the shopping centre. The crowds are probably the only thing I don’t like about the city centre, but I’m prepared to endure them because I love the shops and restaurants as well as the theatres and galleries.

  ‘There’s a sale on at Cricket if you fancy a look,’ I suggest.

  ‘Cricket, hey? You can tell you’ve gone up in the world. I remember when you used to head straight for Next.’

  ‘I only suggested it because there’s a sale on. You know I feel a bit guilty overspending.’

  ‘I know. I’m just teasing. Although goodness knows why you feel guilty, it’s your money.’

  ‘That’s what Max says. I don’t know, maybe I have this feeling that one day it could all be taken away and we’ll be left with nothing. Some weeks the sales of my paintings are better than others and we all know that working in finance can have its ups and downs.’

  ‘All the more reason to enjoy it while you can. Ooh, look at that.’

  Kerry is definitely a ‘live for today’ kind of person who makes a lot of impulse buys, half of which she returns to the shops a few days later. She has just stopped to admire a designer handbag in a shop window. It carries a hefty price tag.

  ‘That’s leather. Hal would kill you if you took that home, Lexie. Plus would you actually use it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t buy leather myself. I’m just admiring the design,’ she says defensively. ‘Although, strictly speaking, leather is a by-product.’

  ‘A by-product from a cow that has been deliberately killed to satisfy the customer’s desire for a big fat steak? It’s hardly roadkill, is it?’

  ‘Bloody hell, have you been talking to Hal? I take your point, although no harm in me looking at it, I suppose. It’s gorgeous.’

  Sometimes I’m not so
sure if Kerry really is a vegetarian. I think Hal had a lot to do with her decision to ditch meat, as I have a suspicion she occasionally sneaks out to a local café for a bacon sandwich. I’m still not sure about her ‘vegan’ sausages that she served with breakfast when I stayed over one weekend when Hal was on a demonstration about the evils of fracking. They came from a ‘Yours is the Earth’ box but tasted suspiciously of good quality pork.

  ‘There’s an identical bag to that for twenty quid in H&M, which obviously won’t be leather but looks just as good,’ I suggest.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with looking for bargains, but you should treat yourself from time to time. You deserve it,’ Kerry tells me.

  Working part-time in a gift shop and selling a couple of paintings a week online, I’m not entirely convinced that I do, but it’s nice of her to say so.

  After browsing the rails in Cricket and purchasing two gorgeous, heavily discounted summer dresses and a new bikini, we head off towards an independent fashion retailer that sells pretty clothes and accessories. Kerry buys some pastel-coloured capri pants, a floaty kaftan and a sun hat, while I buy another dress and a couple of vest tops. We then go to TK Maxx so that I can replace some sunglasses that I lost on my last weekend away. I haven’t found any that I like since, but I’ll definitely need a pair in that Grecian sun.

  ‘Right. Are we nearly done? I’m starving. Do you fancy Bistro Pierre?’

  I nod and we make our way down the busy street towards the restaurant arm in arm.

  ‘I can’t wait to be lying on a beach in Crete, can you? We should have booked a week instead of five days though. Maybe we can choose something a little longer next time,’ Kerry says, sighing.

  ‘Maybe. Although this was a special deal, wasn’t it? Plus, I’m not sure we would all be able to get away for that long.’

  ‘People are entitled to holidays, you know.’ She laughs and rolls her eyes. ‘Or maybe you’d hate to be parted from Max for so long while you’re still all loved up. Give it a few more years!’