by Sue Roberts
Max always tells me to have fun even when I’m not with him. He’s so generous about life, hoping I will enjoy myself everywhere and with everyone and not just exclusively with him. In the past, I’d had boyfriends who were jealous of me having an evening out without them, never mind a holiday, constantly texting me throughout the evening. At first, I thought it cute and attentive, but I soon realised it was controlling jealousy. I wasn’t sure men like Max even existed until I found him.
I send a message to Lexie saying I hope she’s soon up and about, and she replies with a smiling face emoji and also tells me to have a good time.
‘Right, girls, let’s make the most of every minute. Time is precious. Who’s for the beach?’ Ria is already tossing her swimming things into her beach bag.
‘Definitely,’ I say. I can’t wait to feel the sun on my skin.
On our walk through the perfect garden, which has bursts of colourful plants and neatly trimmed hedges, we pass a gardener watering some exotic-looking plants. He nods politely as we walk past. The air is filled with a glorious scent that stirs the senses.
When we arrive at the beach, I’m delighted to find that it’s long and beautiful, covered with soft, golden sand and dotted with tavernas and beach bars. There are a few boats in the harbour; there’s one in particular I can’t help noticing, it being a party boat. We set up pretty close to a beach bar, so it isn’t long before a hunky barman heads in our direction to ask us if we would like a drink. Standing here on this beach, gazing out to sea, makes me feel exhilarated and I wish I could capture this moment and have it with me forever. I look around and see the others have settled on sunbeds and are taking selfies.
‘Is it cocktails all round then?’ Ria asks as the hunk approaches and flashes a killer smile. I’m still staring at the sea, lost in my thoughts, when I hear my name.
‘Alice? Do you want a cocktail?’
‘What? Oh, yes, please. Pina colada, I think.’
The Greek god sweeps back his dark hair and winks before he disappears back towards the bar with our drinks order. Once there, he turns up the volume on some music until club tunes are gently pumping out across the beach.
‘What a poser,’ says Kerry. ‘If he was made of chocolate he’d eat himself.’
‘Phew, he’s a hottie!’ says Ria, staring after him. ‘I wouldn’t mind eating chocolate with him. Or off him.’
‘Ria, behave! We’ve only been here for five minutes. Anyway, I thought you were off men?’ I remind her.
Ria hasn’t dated anyone for over a year, following a couple of failed relationships.
‘Not men exactly. Just relationships. Things never stay as fun in long-term relationship,’ she says, with an exaggerated wink.
‘Oh, right, tell that to the girl who’s getting married, why don’t you?’ I say, laughing.
The guy from the bar returns with our cocktails and saunters back to the bar, probably thinking we are all ogling his firm backside. Which we are.
‘Besides, you and Max are different,’ says Ria. ‘Max is not a moody arsehole.’
Ria often used to tell me that she felt she was walking on eggshells with her last boyfriend, unable to gauge his mood or reactions to different situations. In the end it all became too exhausting, and the evening he sat in a sulk for hours because she had decided to cook something other than a particular meal he had been looking forward to, was the evening she called time on their relationship.
It’s true that Max is very laid-back, despite being driven in his work and great at organising things. He rarely gets angry and can light up a room with his ready smile. He’s the type of person that draws people towards him, and sometimes complete strangers smile at him in the street, such is his magnetism. Max’s organised yet easy-going approach to life perfectly sets off my slightly disorganised ‘let’s see what happens’ attitude, which Max laughs about and says is the artist in me.
There are bronzed, lithe bodies strewn across the beds right along the beach and I feel as though I’ve stumbled into an episode of Love Island. Molly lowers her sunglasses to get a look at a muscle-bound Adonis as he slowly lifts his T-shirt over his head. The sun is warm and I enjoy the tingle of it across my skin as I settle down onto my sunbed with a book, already beginning to feel my worries wash away.
‘Anyone hungry? We haven’t eaten much since the plane. Maybe we could have a burger or something?’ I suggest.
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind getting my teeth into something,’ says Ria, as she eyes the Adonis.
The bar hunk returns to collect our empty glasses and we order more cocktails and burgers and fries all round. When Kerry discovers there are no veggie burgers, she shrugs her shoulders and says she’ll have a ‘normal’ burger anyway.
‘Fancy that tomorrow then, girls?’ Ria asks, pointing to the blue-and-white party boat, where two guys wearing caps are leaning over the side chatting. I’m thinking it will probably be full of kids or this Love Island lot but why should that hold us back? This holiday is all about spending time with my friends and getting away from everything after all.
‘Go on, then. As long as it’s not an eighteen-to-thirty thing. I might be too old.’
‘I won’t be. I don’t turn thirty until August. We’ll check it out then. Who fancies heading towards the harbour for dinner tonight? I spotted a gorgeous-looking place on the way here.’ Ria is planning all sorts of things, such is her excitement, and we’ve only just arrived here.
‘Sounds good. Bar street after that though?’ suggests Kerry, who is always up for a drink.
We enjoy our food when it arrives, along with another delicious cocktail before settling down on the sunbeds, Kerry to read under a parasol and the rest of us to work on our tans.
It’s a little after seven o’clock but the sun is still warm as we pack up our things and head back to the hotel. It seems that a few hours of the sun massaging my shoulders and a cocktail or two have done me the world of good as I can already feel their soothing effects. During those hours at the beach, just by closing my eyes and listening to the sea, or watching the people on the beach, all stressful thoughts of the wedding have dissolved.
After we’ve all taken a long shower, we meet in the room I’m sharing with Ria, glowing, refreshed and ready to hit the town.
Ria opens her bottle of violet-coloured gin with a flourish. ‘Right! Who’s for a quick one pre-dinner?’
She pours us each a drink into a plastic glass from a set that Molly thought to pack and we admire each other’s outfits, three of which are colourful sundresses. Kerry, though, is wearing a cropped top and tiny miniskirt, which shows off her long, lean legs to perfection. I find I’m not too taken with the gin, and pour it into Molly’s cup.
I’m glad Molly hasn’t expected me to wear a wedding veil with L-plates attached to it, or something similar, as I’m not sure I would have liked all the attention, but I’m prepared to try and embrace my inner party girl… without the veil, that is.
It’s just a short walk to the Apollo taverna, which is a white-painted villa surrounded by black railings. It has an upstairs seating area with a panoramic view of the harbour. Pots of plants bursting with colour are dotted about the terrace and the lights of the harbour are twinkling down below as dusk gently draws in.
As we peruse the menu, the waiter tells us about the speciality of the house, which is an oven-baked fish dish marinated in lemon and saffron. It sounds perfect so I opt for that, while the others go for a creamy moussaka. We also have a huge Greek salad in the middle of the table to pick at, along with some bread, as we wait for our main course.
‘Isn’t this heavenly.’ Ria sighs contentedly as she peers across at the twinkling lights on the boats bobbing in the harbour. ‘I wonder if you’d ever get tired of living in a place like this?’
‘I’d need lots of sun hats. Oh, and a good excuse to buy more of these.’ Kerry adjusts her sunglasses. ‘But I think I could sit here all day long and paint that view.’ She sighs as she glances at
the scene.
Sitting here in the taverna, my thoughts turn to the restaurant in the mountains where Max proposed. It’s actually not too far away from here, just outside Hersonissos in a little village called Koutouloufari. I’d love to return there again with Max someday. It was definitely one of the happiest days of my life. I was taken completely by surprise when he proposed, as we hadn’t been together that long, but I never felt a moment’s hesitation in accepting. I stretch my hand out now and admire the engagement ring that Max bought me as an upgrade to my original ring and wonder where our future will take us. Our house back home is beautiful and has been thoughtfully furnished but I know Max has ambitions to own a larger house overlooking the park one day. I just hope that I can keep up with his plans for our life.
We finish our delicious meals and take the short walk to the busy bar street, laughing and chatting as we walk along. It’s only ten o’clock but already the neon-lit bars are pulsating with music and holiday revellers out to have a good time. We pass a young couple, the woman obviously the worse for wear, having an argument with her boyfriend, who is shaking his head, which seems to ignite her fury even more. As we pass a bar, a group of English lads around our age jump behind us and take a selfie before inviting us into the busy bar for a drink. They come from the Northeast and we have a few good laughs with them. No one is drunk but we’re all in high spirits. There’s such a feeling of excitement in the air.
We all chat for a while longer then we say our goodbyes, declining the offer of shots and walking further along the road until the sound of 1980s music belting out, lures us into another bar.
‘This is more like it. Rick Astley never gets old, does he?’ I say, as we dance along to his biggest hit in a room full of people of a similar age to us. A hen party of women are wearing neon-coloured leg warmers, large hoop earrings and big hair, in homage to the eighties, and I feel relieved that Molly didn’t suggest that we should wear a similar get-up.
‘Literally. Have you seen him lately? He’s turned fifty and looks fantastic. He’s got a full head of hair and everything,’ says Molly.
‘It could be hair transplants. They all have them,’ Ria says with a laugh.
‘Rick Astley would never do that.’ I shake my head at the thought. I was brought up on these songs and I remember Mum dancing around the kitchen to this particular tune. That was when she was happy.
‘I once saw an actress from Emmerdale who was big in the nineteen seventies and she looked younger than me,’ says Molly.
I’m thinking that’s probably an exaggeration, although you never know.
Eventually, we head back to the hotel laughing and chatting, passing other party revellers along the way. We pass two women sitting on steps that lead up to a church. I can see that one of them has a mascara-streaked face, while the other is swaying slightly as she speaks. It feels strange to think that the priest will quietly open the church tomorrow morning for Mass as the tourists in Malia are still sleeping. As we stroll along companionably, I feel so lucky to have such wonderful friends in my life. There’s nothing like forever friends.
‘Shall I book that party boat in the morning then?’ asks Ria as we say our good nights. ‘I’ll be up early to take a morning run before breakfast. I can do it then.’
Yeah, right. I can’t imagine Ria taking a run anywhere as she freely admits the only exercise she takes is up and down the stairs of the art gallery, which she insists is enough as there are dozens of them.
‘If we were here a bit longer, I would have fancied a boat trip to Spinalonga,’ I say. ‘I read about it recently in a novel and thought it sounded interesting. A little different from a party boat excursion, which if I’m honest I’m not sure I really fancy.’ The others agree, thinking it might indeed be full of teenage revellers.
When I read about the island of Spinalonga, which was used as a place of isolation for people who were suffering from leprosy, I had tears in my eyes. Among some heartbreaking scenes, sufferers identified with the disease were separated from their loved ones and sent to live on the island. Some families had tried to hide any family members with leprosy at home, but the authorities soon found out. Relatives could do no more than sail a boat close to the island and wave at their loved ones, who were not allowed any physical contact as the disease was so contagious. A whole community with doctors, shops and so on was set up on Spinalonga, and some of the islanders never saw their loved ones on the mainland again. The streets are still there and the old ruins of the houses, too, which I think would make for a really interesting excursion.
‘We could always do that on the last day. We have a night flight, don’t we? So we might as well make the most of the very last day.’
‘Count me in,’ says Kerry. ‘I like a bit of history.’
Kerry always enjoyed the history of art when we were studying and if any one of us was going to end up working in an art gallery, I would have put my money on it being her rather than Ria.
Molly doesn’t sound quite so enthralled about going to Spinalonga, but agrees to come along anyway.
We wind up the evening with a Greek brandy at the hotel bar and I also order a Greek coffee that, when it arrives, looks like a tiny bit of black treacle in the bottom of a cup. But I decide to try it anyway.
‘Wow, that could put hairs on your chest,’ I say, as a smiling barman hands me some water so I can dilute it.
‘Maybe not ask for Greek coffee next time,’ he advises me kindly. ‘Maybe an Americano or cappuccino.’ He gestures to a sleek coffee machine behind the bar. ‘Anyway, anything you need please ask. My name is Santos. I run the hotel with my sister.’
I phone Max for a chat before I go to sleep, and he tells me he’d been to the local pub to have a catch up with some friends.
‘And guess what? I had a late appointment with a potential investor before I joined the others at the pub,’ he tells me. ‘The guy runs a pyrotechnic company, organising events all over the Northwest.’
I’m so happy things are going well with the business, but I have a sneaking feeling I know what’s coming next.
‘So, I was thinking… What about a huge firework display at the wedding? It would be magical and would make a fantastic finale, wouldn’t it?’ His excitement is palpable even over the phone.
‘It’s a nice idea, Max, but isn’t there enough going on at the wedding already?’ I say with a sigh. I’m thinking of the band, the wedding singer – and the Britain’s Got Talent duo – the trip around the lake in a boat… Not to mention eighty-one guests. And now fireworks.
‘I know, but can you imagine it? The fireworks could be set off near the lake, completely lighting up the night sky. I think it would be really romantic. The photographer could video it all. Something to show our kids one day when they can watch us on the happiest day of our lives.’
Kids. It’s something that’s definitely not on my radar yet, but I know Max is keen to start a family. It’s yet another worry that perhaps we don’t have the same plans for our immediate future.
I’m mentally trying to figure out if there’s anything at this wedding that Max hasn’t thought of, but I think he has everything covered. Oh, apart from us arriving in a helicopter James Bond style. Which I don’t dare joke about, because I know if I mention it to Max, he would most certainly be happy to organise it. He did actually suggest us taking a hot-air balloon across the Lakes and arriving that way, but I gave that a firm no. A friend of Molly’s had done something similar and ended up landing in a pigsty, when the balloon took on a mind of its own as it descended. I suppose the idea of fireworks is rather nice really and at least we’re arriving at the venue in a beautiful vintage car.
‘That’s fine, Max,’ I say eventually, imagining him punching the air and grinning. ‘If you really want fireworks at our wedding, then why not?’
Seven
The following morning, we wake early and head down to breakfast, feasting on Greek yoghurt, honey and delicious pastries, before strolling down to th
e beach for a couple of hours in the sun. Today the sun’s rays can already be felt from a strong sun beaming down from a clear blue sky. We take the sunbeds near the beach bar and our barman brings us cold drinks, before returning to his empty bar to chat to another man.
Suddenly my phone rings. It’s Max.
‘Good morning, gorgeous. What’s the weather like today?’
My heart still melts at the sound of his voice. ‘Glorious. Have you recovered from your night out?’
‘It wasn’t a late one because I had to be in work today. I don’t drink much anyway,’ he says, which I know to be true.
‘Aren’t you meant to be in work now though? Are you skiving?’ I tease.
Max is usually up to his eyes in emails or organising Skype conferences.
‘I am at work. I’ve just nipped outside to phone you. I can’t be ringing you from the office, I’ll set a bad example to the staff. I’ve had to tell a couple of them off for sneakily texting under their desks. That’s how mistakes happen. Jay typed a letter yesterday to a Mr Munter instead of Mr Hunter. By the way, I saw your mother this morning at the petrol station,’ says Max, I can’t help sensing a little hesitantly.
‘Oh, right. Is she okay?’ I ask with bated breath, half expecting some sort of drama.
‘Yeah, she’s fine. She was telling me she’d bumped into your aunt Lily who’s apparently moved back into the area again from Chester. She thinks that she should be invited to the wedding, now that they’ve made friends again.’
‘Does she now?’ I’m praying Max hasn’t agreed to anything.
Mum and Lily had fallen out spectacularly over ten years ago just before Lily moved to Chester, with my aunt saying, ‘If I never see that bitch again in my life it won’t be a day too soon.’ About Mum. I never did hear the full story surrounding their estrangement, although Dad once told me it had something to do with a brooch that had belonged to my late grandmother.
