by Sue Roberts
‘And why would they? The important people in your life would surely respect any decisions you make about your own wedding.’
‘Maybe. And it might be a bit of a daydream but, even so, I think I’d like to go and take a look at your mother’s house tomorrow. I’d love to go back and visit Koutouloufari again anyway. Do you know how often the buses are?’
‘Every hour. Although, as I am staying here at the hotel tonight, I could take you there myself after breakfast in the morning, if you like. My mother will be delighted to see me. She tells me I never visit her often enough.’
I’m thinking that most mothers probably say the same thing to their sons.
‘In that case, yes, thank you. It won’t do any harm to have a look, will it? And gosh, I’m sorry about all the unburdening this evening. I never imagined I would be talking about my miserable childhood Christmas. I hope I haven’t depressed you.’ I force a smile.
‘Not at all. It’s not the only thing we have spoken about this evening. Besides, I’m flattered that you felt able to tell me about such things.’
I haven’t spoken to anyone, other than Max, of course, about the day of the eviction from our house, as I feel embarrassed about it all, even though I was only a child. I’d buried those memories deep in my subconscious, afraid of the emotions they would evoke if I spoke about them. Sure enough, suddenly I’m struggling to hold back tears that spill from my eyes.
‘I’m sorry, I feel so stupid.’ I brush away the tears.
Vangelis walks wordlessly to a bedside table and returns with some tissues. I’m so embarrassed I can barely look at him.
‘Don’t be sorry. Sometimes strangers are the best people to talk to. You can speak your mind, knowing that you are not going to be betrayed in some way in the future.’
‘That’s true. It’s been really good to talk to you, but I think I should go now,’ I say, stifling a yawn. ‘If the girls are back they’ll be wondering where on earth I’ve got to.’
I’m feeling so comfortable here, talking, that I think I would be happy to sit here until the sun comes up, but maybe it’s not such a good idea.
‘You’re a grown-up. Surely it’s up to you how you spend your time.’ He locks eyes with me and I think how dangerous this situation could be if either of us wanted it to be.
We chat for a while longer and I tell him about my friends and how we all met at university where we studied for a fine arts degree. Vangelis tells me he thinks it must be wonderful to be blessed with a talent and doesn’t think he has one… he is obviously not counting charm and good looks. When I eventually glance at my watch I’m shocked to see that it’s almost four o’clock in the morning.
‘It’s nearly four o’clock! That can’t be right, can it? And to think I came back to the hotel for an early night!’
The hours have flown by and I’m worried that the girls will be back in their rooms and wondering where I’ve got to.
I pick my bag up from the table and make my way towards the door feeling very tired, yet strangely calm and relaxed. This guy should do Reiki or some sort of emotional healing. He could make a fortune.
He walks me to the door and I can feel his strong presence next to me. Something very strange seems to be happening to me here this evening. It’s as if I’ve been hypnotised in some way, because I feel as though this man could ask me to do absolutely anything and I’d agree to it. Which is exactly why I need to get out of his room.
‘I had intended to have an early night too.’ Vangelis covers his mouth as he lets out a yawn. ‘It shows you what good company can do. I imagined a night alone watching a movie, and instead I had the enchanting company of a beautiful woman.’ He holds my gaze and again I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
As Vangelis opens the door, a giggling group of people can be heard making their way upstairs. I tell him I will see him in the morning and he steps forward and gives me a friendly good-night hug… just as Molly appears at the top of the stairs, closely followed by Ria and Kerry. She’s swaying slightly as she squints her eyes, before finally focusing them in on me.
‘Alice? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be fast asleep by now,’ Molly slurs, her eyes narrowing slightly.
‘Alice? Is that really you?’ asks Ria, sounding surprisingly sober.
Kerry is giggling as she almost loses her footing on the top stair before stumbling onto the landing with a thump.
‘I think it’s perfectly clear what she’s been doing.’ Molly wags her finger at me. ‘What else would you have been doing, leaving a man’s bedroom at this hour?’ She’s swaying slightly from side to side.
‘What! Are you serious?’
Vangelis has closed the door to his room and I walk towards the girls, stunned that Molly could suspect me of cheating on Max. I’m about to protest my innocence, but she gives me a dirty look and staggers off in the direction of her bedroom.
‘Alice,’ squeals Kerry, who is on her feet again and moving towards me. She throws her arms around me and wraps me in a hug. Over her shoulder, I see Ria standing silently behind her.
‘Oh God, Ria, Molly thinks I’ve been up to something,’ I whisper, at the same time as extracting myself from Kerry’s hug. ‘I’ve just been chatting to a bloke I met in the bar downstairs and the time just ran away. His name’s Vangelis and he was one of the drivers on the jeep safari.’
My heart is hammering in my chest, imagining how it must have looked to Molly. I came home hours earlier than everyone else, saying I was tired, yet I’ve been sitting up half the night chatting to a perfect stranger, who she sees hugging me outside his bedroom door.
‘Ria, I need to speak to her. There was nothing going on.’ I make an attempt to follow Molly down the corridor, but Ria lays a hand on my arm.
‘It’s best not to tonight. Molly’s completely out of it. She’s been hammering the shots all night. She probably won’t remember a thing in the morning. And you don’t need to explain anything to me. I believe you.’ She smiles at me warmly as we link arms and head to our room along the corridor.
I suddenly feel so foolish and wonder what on earth I was thinking. All of the calm of the night has vanished.
Kerry distracts me, though, by linking up with my free arm and singing all the way to the bedroom. ‘What time is it? Why did we have to come home so early? I’m ready to paaarrtty!’ she cries, throwing her arms in the air.
A woman opens a bedroom door and tells her the time and to be quiet before slamming it in annoyance.
‘Ssh, Kerry, it’s four in the morning. You’ll get us all thrown out.’
Ria steers Kerry towards the door of the bedroom that she is sharing with Molly, to find the door is open and Molly is sprawled on the bed, fully clothed and already out for the count. We say our good nights to Kerry and go next door to the room Ria and I are sharing.
I’m overcome with exhaustion and climb into bed, although Molly’s accusations weigh heavily on my mind. I wonder what I would think if I saw Max walking out of a woman’s room at that hour of the morning? And can I deny that I find Vangelis attractive? Should I be noticing other men’s physical attributes when I’m about to get married? Not that anything would have happened, even if he’d wanted it to, which he obviously didn’t, as he behaved like a perfect gentleman.
‘There was nothing going on there, you know,’ I find myself saying out loud.
‘I’ve told you, there’s nothing to explain. Although, if you were thinking of having one last fling I wouldn’t have blamed you. That guy was hot.’ Ria is removing her make-up with a wet wipe.
‘Was he? I honestly never even noticed. He was just good to talk to.’ My fingers are crossed under the sheet, but I can’t help the guilt I’m feeling.
‘I’m teasing. Now get some sleep.’
As I close my eyes, I have an overwhelming urge to ring Max just to hear his voice. But it’s the middle of the night and he’d probably think it was strange of me anyway. A tiny part of me feels disloyal that I’
ve told a perfect stranger some things about my childhood. But perhaps Vangelis was right. Maybe it is easier to vent to complete strangers. I think about tomorrow morning and decide to take the bus to the wedding house, rather than accept a lift with Vangelis. This is something I need to do alone.
Nine
‘You’re quiet today,’ Kerry comments, as we sit in a local taverna eating cheese-and-ham toasties and drinking frappés. We missed the hotel breakfast this morning, because none of us surfaced until after eleven o’clock. Four blokes, whom I recognise from bar street as the lads from Newcastle, are on the next table, each having a full English breakfast and a pint of lager. They wave at us when they recognise us and inform us that a party boat is leaving at two o’clock from the beach, if we fancy it.
I’m not the only one who is quiet this morning, but I think Kerry is just trying to make conversation and lighten the mood. Molly has barely looked at me. Her face is hidden behind huge sunglasses, possibly to avoid eye contact with me, but maybe I’m being paranoid because she’s probably just hung-over.
I’m also tired, but that’s because I tossed and turned for what was left of the night, wondering why I felt like I’d betrayed Max somehow in chatting to Vangelis, even though it was all perfectly innocent. Is it really so wrong to talk to someone through the night just because they happen to be male? Would eyebrows be raised if I had been chatting to a woman I’d met that evening?
Or maybe I feel guilty because of how Vangelis made me feel. He was such a good listener and I remember feeling lighter afterwards, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. That was until I saw the girls in the corridor returning to their rooms. I’m not sure what Molly is thinking now, and if or how she will relay what she saw to Max.
Then of course those photos of the race night were playing on my mind, also preventing me from sleeping. Obviously, they’re out there for all to see on social media so Max has nothing to hide, yet I still feel slightly uncomfortable. Did Rachel decide to go on the night out at the last minute or was she going all along? The friends looked so happy together and Max did tell me honestly that he was pretty cut up about it when Rachel called things off….
But that was three years ago. And isn’t Max now in the middle of arranging a wedding to rival Meghan and Harry’s? I give myself a stern talking to and tell myself to stop being so silly.
Then a thought occurs to me. Surely Max wouldn’t have invited these colleagues, including Rachel, to the wedding, would he? I have an urgent need to speak to him, so I leave the table and stroll outside to call him.
Max answers on the third ring.
‘Hi, beautiful. I was just about to phone you. How’s the holiday going?’
‘It’s going well, thanks. Missing you, though.’
We chat for a few minutes and I have an overwhelming urge to tell him about my evening chatting to Vangelis, but then think better of it, as it might seem like I’m making an issue of something that was completely innocent.
I hate how much I’m overthinking this.
‘I saw some pictures on Facebook of your race night. Did more people turn up in the end than expected?’ I ask, of course referring to the two women in the picture.
My fingers are crossed that he will tell me about Rachel straight away.
‘Oh yeah, Rachel and Kaz turned up in the end. We had a good laugh.’
‘Rachel… as in your ex, Rachel?’ I’m trying hard to keep my tone neutral and suppress a feeling of jealousy, which is so alien to me, but I can’t seem to help myself.
‘Yeah. She was just part of the work gang. She works in Leeds now but was in Liverpool that weekend, to see her mum, so thought she’d catch up with the old gang…’
Including her old flame, who’s done very well for himself since the days at National Finance, I can’t help thinking. And she’s hardly just part of ‘the work gang’; she’s the ex who broke his heart…
‘What’s up? You’re not jealous, are you?’ asks Max, tapping into my thoughts.
‘Should I be?’
‘No, of course not! Hey, what’s this all about? I’m missing you like crazy and counting the days down to our wedding, remember? This is not like you, Alice. Is everything alright?’
I take a deep breath and ask myself why on earth I am behaving like this.
‘Yes, sorry. Maybe I was a teeny bit jealous seeing a photo of your ex with her arms draped around you. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.’
‘Well, it’s not like you to question me like this,’ he says coldly.
‘Like what?’
‘All possessive. I don’t know what’s got into you.’
‘Got into me? So you don’t think I should have anything to say about photos being splashed over social media of my fiancé cuddling up to his ex while I’m out of the country?’
‘Cuddling up to…? What the hell are you talking about?’
I hate feeling this way and don’t know what’s made me feel so suddenly insecure. I know that Max loves me. I also recall how he hated the jealous streak in his ex.
‘Alice,’ Max says seriously. ‘It was just a fun kind of night. Surely you know how much I love you?’
‘Of course I do. I’m sorry,’ I say, wishing I could take back every suspicious word.
Max tells me the gang were all asking about the wedding plans in an attempt, I feel, to steer the conversation away from Rachel and my uncharacteristic feelings of insecurity. Talk of the wedding plans prompts me to ask him a question.
‘Max, I have to ask, you haven’t invited anyone else from race night to the wedding, have you?’
‘What? No, of course not. Well… apart from Jay and Kim, but they’ve been on the guest list from the word go.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, I’d forgotten. That’s okay. Oh, I can’t wait to see you, Max.’
‘Me too,’ he says softly. ‘Now, go and enjoy your time with the girls. I’ll see you in a couple of days.’
‘It’s a late flight, remember? I probably won’t arrive home until around midnight.’
‘I’ll wait up. I can go in to work a little later in the morning. I’m the boss, remember!’
‘If you say so. I’ll see you soon then. I love you.’
‘You will. And I love you too, Alice.’
Back at the table, there’s an uncomfortable atmosphere between Molly and me and I’m now certain her coolness has nothing to do with being hung-over. I resolve to find a moment to talk to her about last night before the holiday ends.
Vangelis had probably gone about his day when he realised I wasn’t around this morning to take him up on his offer of a lift to his mother’s house. I never noticed him in the hotel reception as we headed out to the taverna for a late breakfast, so maybe he had a lie-in himself. Maybe he has shrugged off our chat last night and simply got on with his day, not giving our evening together another thought. Somehow I don’t think so, though. I felt like we had a genuine connection yesterday.
I tell the girls where I’m going and, as they walk off to the beach, I leave the hotel and cross the road to the bus stop. Once there, I get chatting to a young couple from London who are going to a secluded cove they discovered a few days ago. They look so happy together, smiling constantly with their hands interlocked, and I think of Max. As the bus comes into view, I’m wondering if we look this happy together.
The three of us climb on board and the bus rattles along the coast road, passing hotels where people can be seen floating on brightly coloured lilos and lounging around hotel pools, heading towards Hersonissos. As the bus crawls out of the strip of restaurants overlooking the sea, it stops at the foot of a slight hill that leads up to the village of Koutouloufari.
I climb down from the bus and grab a bottle of water from a street kiosk, then take the short walk up the hill as the sun climbs higher into the sky. Throngs of people are heading downhill in the opposite direction, en route to the beach, many carrying inflatable swimming aids.
As I approach the vil
lage, pretty restaurants with blue-painted window frames, and flower-covered shops, loom into view. A pretty ginger cat greets me as I reach the main street and I soon find myself walking past the hotel where Max and I stayed on our holiday. I recall how thrilled I felt being engaged, constantly stretching my hand out to admire the ring on my finger. We spent long, lazy mornings in bed displaying a ‘do not disturb’ sign for the cleaner, who we could hear clanking her bucket along the hotel corridor and probably cursing us because she’d have to return later to clean our room. We ate breakfast (when we finally made it out of bed) on our balcony and had dinner at intimate candlelit tavernas, and I thought I would burst with happiness.
I continue my walk along the road, passing gift shops displaying postcards outside on stands, and it isn’t long before I’m at the end of the cobbled street. The Acropolis taverna on the right-hand side is the restaurant where Max proposed to me, and I glance at the vine-covered outdoor space that is already quite full with customers. A waiter is serving food to a table and I recognise him as the man who serenaded us on the day of our engagement. It feels so strange to be standing here, reminiscing about our engagement, without Max by my side.
As I leave the main street, I turn right, as Vangelis instructed, and walk on for five minutes, glancing around for the pink house, which can’t be very far away. The grassy roadside is covered with smatterings of pungent rosemary and wild purple flowers and, in the distance, olive groves stretch as far as the eye can see.
As I round a slight bend in the road, I suddenly stumble across a house painted in the softest pink, and catch my breath. The front garden is overflowing with violet and red poppies and wild irises. I make my way towards the house before coming to a shuddering stop. What on earth will I say when I get there? Is it really acceptable to turn up unannounced at a stranger’s house like this?
I’m so unsure about what to do next that I’m considering walking back down to one of the restaurants for a drink, when I hear a voice behind me. It’s Vangelis. He’s pushing a wheelbarrow and is wearing shorts and a vest and looks a bit like a Greek god.
