Chapter 39
In the day that followed, Penny found herself thinking less about the days that were left and more about her impending trip to Kalami.
The idea of the cruise up the coast would have been thrilling in itself, a highlight of her holiday, but had now taken on more significance than a much-anticipated day on the water. She had to admit to herself the reason was Dimitris – or more honestly, the idea of Dimitris being more than a holiday acquaintance.
Her mind seized cruelly on the narrative of a holiday romance, a story that ended at the airport with an embarrassed farewell, mired in a mixture of sadness and relief. And she considered, albeit briefly, backing out of the Kalami trip.
The one thing she couldn’t talk herself out of was how he had made her feel last night. Just one kiss, a little hand-holding, and shared laughter and she had felt totally true to herself when he’d kissed her, sure of who she was, who she wanted to be. She had come to the conclusion that perhaps the reason this felt so daunting was the worry of something going wrong. She wanted to go carefully, to find out who he really was. Was this just a fierce and fleeting attraction, or something more?
It hadn’t been the same when she’d met Bruce, when she’d equated love – or falling in love – with a loss of her sense of self, or the fear of being hurt.
If she loved, at some point she was bound to lose, she had decided. So, it mattered that the bits in between, the life she had together with someone else, was worth it; that the love was real, because grief and love, she now believed, were the same thing – each an expression of the other.
So, whether a holiday romance or something finer, stronger, and more layered, Dimitris was an unexpected element in a trip originally designed to heal and give her new hope. Was he part of the healing? Was he the hope?
Dimitris had been curious about her work, her family – only two aunts and their offspring were left – her friends and her home. She asked him about the yacht and the seasons on Corfu, what he did in the winter, about his father and wider family. His mother had died two years before, but more than that he was obviously reluctant to say.
She understood this and had chosen to keep the story of Bruce to herself, for the moment.
He hadn’t asked her anything about a partner or boyfriend, but as she didn’t mention one and was travelling on her own, he’d concluded she was single.
The scene in the bar – Nic, Tess, Guy, Rich and Lily – had seemed nostalgic even before it had passed. Penny’s eyes had taken in each little vignette of life as she scanned the room, marvelling at how many people she knew or at least knew of, as she did so.
It was a painting, but not a still life. It was life. And at the moment, it was hers.
Chapter 40
The day on Corfu dawned like all the others, inviting relaxation but reminding the visitor that their time there was brief and fleeting. The heat continued to manage the day, with the afternoon only occupied with anything that needed minimum effort and every opportunity to cool off, doze, or read.
Penny spent a little time caught up in the world of home and work, answering a couple of emails about future commissions, which made her think about the book developing in her head, inspired by Theo. She was in the process of creating or photographing images that would be her main resource for a children’s book about Corfu, the animals, the landscapes, the sea, and a boy who loved every part of his island.
The overall idea involved the fact that each animal the boy met would lead him into a new adventure. The details were still sketchy, as it was very much a work in progress, her personal project for now . . . something for herself.
She’d also decided to take a couple of watercolour paintings into Corfu Town to be framed as a farewell gift: a thank you to Tess and the Athena, to Saint George South, to Corfu – to Aris and Dimitris
There was so much familiarity and gentle routine to each day now. She was still Penny, the girl who’d stepped off the plane, wishing her dad was with her, but life had taken over in a dazzlingly short span of time and grown around her like a hothouse plant.
As she lay on the bed in the apartment the night before her trip to Kalami, she realized that in the 24 hours since she’d seen him, she had replayed the moment he’d kissed her a hundred times. Each time it left her with a longing for more.
He had left a message at the Athena for her before he went out fishing with all the details of when, where, and what to bring. She had the impression it was a busy day for him and reminded herself that she was on holiday and he was not.
As she fell asleep, images of Dimitris, his yacht, the coast, and the White House all blended together in a fast-moving film reel. As she tried to focus on one scene it melted into another.
After turning on her side and setting the alarm on her phone for the first time since arriving on Corfu, tiredness finally won and she fell asleep.
Chapter 41
Dimitris had been up since 6 a.m. He’d stayed in town the night before at his own place, wanting some space and to make sure he was ready for a full day’s sailing.
Sailing was a pleasure, when he felt happiest, but he’d never quite got used to the hosting part of the days out. The boat was immaculate and the cabin stocked with chilled wine, water, and mezze, everything a generous and hospitable guide could provide.
He greeted every passenger at the old harbourside and guided everyone aboard, offering a steady hand to those who needed it as they stepped across the side of the yacht and a smile and nod of the head to those who didn’t. The only other crew member of the Antiopi was Basil, who acted as lookout, plus drink and food distributor on deck.
Today, Dimitris felt different, because Penny would be onboard.
He wasn’t really sure why this was the case, although perhaps meeting someone who felt real and warm had, without even trying, spoken to him in a way that had both calmed and lifted him. He had been moved to kiss her to find out how that felt, and had been thinking for days how it would be.
Their brief conversation on the beach had made him think too, woken him up, introduced him to a different way of thinking about his own grief. Whether he was ready to take a step towards mending or letting go of something that had ultimately become so entrenched in his world and psyche was another matter.
Just before 9 a.m. the couple that had also booked for the Kalami cruise arrived, dressed in khaki-coloured cotton shorts and T-shirts, with a backpack each, as though they were about to go on safari or a route march.
Harry and Mary were in their late sixties and, as seasoned travellers who liked to hike, always carried supplies and items with them to deal with anything from a cut knee to a siege. At least three times a year in the early years of their so far euphoric retirement, they had randomly chosen an island or country, booked a flight, and spent an adventurous week or two abroad.
It was their first time on Corfu and they had spent as many hours of the day as they could walking. The cruise was a little treat to themselves, where they could sit back and let someone else take them to their destination.
Mary passed her backpack to Basil, who stowed it in the cabin and was chatting to Dimitris about the route and the conditions at sea that morning when Penny arrived. Dimitris saw her wander over from the bus stop, watched her as she spotted the yacht and adjusted her rucksack to walk towards them. She wore dark blue shorts, a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and white pumps. Her hair was scraped back, with a scarf tied up like a headband. Her sunglasses looked a little too large on her small face. The overall impression was of a blithe spirit carried in a petite frame. Dimitris wondered if she’d been a water sprite in another life.
He waved from the helm and, excusing himself, moved from Mary’s side to help Penny aboard. ‘Welcome to the Antiopi,’ he said, as she reached out for his hand.
As he took it, the softness and smallness of it moved him in a way he hadn’t noticed two nights ago. Once again, he found himself reluctant to let go. She smiled back at him, adding,
‘Kalimera’, and in that moment he felt that he’d known her a long time. Was she part of a past life, a vision of what might have been once, or a harbinger of the future? He wasn’t yet sure.
As she jumped down onto the deck and greeted Harry and Mary with a handshake and a hello, he knew he needed to find out. The kiss had not been an illusion; what he’d felt when he’d touched her face and felt her move towards him had not been a figment of his imagination.
The Antiopi glided out of Garitsa Bay to the accompaniment of church bells in the town. The old Venetian fortress rose above them and the coastline of mainland Greece shimmered in the morning heat haze. A ferry and a large cruise ship moved towards each other in the channel between.
Penny chatted with Harry who, although he’d never been to Corfu before, was a huge fan of anything Greek, particularly the myths and legends. Odysseus featured heavily and she found herself drawn to the lyricism of the story and loved hearing about his connection with Corfu. Once they’d cleared the bay and then the new port, they hugged the coastline more closely as they sailed north towards Gouvia.
The beaches and coves, churches, marinas, and clusters of houses along the shore reminded Penny of a continuous show reel of cinematically beautiful things. The white bell towers of churches with their robin-redbreast roofs, the inviting and cosmopolitan marinas, all bathed in the radiance of a sun that was enticing people to their shuttered windows and balconies. Blue, yellow, green, and crimson fused on the shoreline as they passed.
At the helm Dimitris looked relaxed and calm. Mary regaled him with tales of her previous holidays, the key theme of which seemed to be narrowly avoided disasters. Most of the stories seemed to end along the lines of, ‘Luckily, we managed to get out before that happened.’
Basil appeared with coffee and doughnuts, handing out espresso or cappuccino as requested. In a short time they passed Gouvia Bay, where the old Imperial Airways flying boats had landed in the 1930s. Behind the marina lay the ancient Venetian shipyards.
Margo Durrell had left Corfu from here at the close of 1939, returning home to England, where her mother, Leslie, and Gerry waited. The Second World War had already begun and the days that lay ahead would be filled with peril and partings. What had run through Margo’s mind as she’d looked out of the window of the seaplane and watched the island below grow smaller, until it was no more than a memory lying below the clouds?
She couldn’t have known then that she would return one day in happier and more convivial times. In that instant, the last whispers of adolescence and teenage years must have felt as though they’d slipped through her fingers.
Penny didn’t think that anyone could let go lightly of any time spent on Corfu. She leant over the side of the yacht, her head resting on one of the rails so that the sea spray caught her face and hair. It was hot already. She checked her arms and could still feel the sunscreen she’d put on before she left the apartment.
She pulled her shirt collar a little higher up the back of her neck, thinking of childhood days when her neck had been red and sore from playing too long on the beach.
It was magical to sit near the front of the boat, with a cup of coffee and a doughnut that was still warm. Her hands were sticky with sugar and she laughed when Basil handed her a wet wipe.
The sensation of the boat and the moving seascape were intoxicating. She looked back over her shoulder to see Harry and Mary studying a map together. Basil stood next to Dimitris, who was saying something to him.
Basil returned to Penny’s side and said, ‘Dimitris wants you to know that we’ll be coming up to Kontokali in a minute. You can see the Durrells’ house, the one used in the TV series. He thought you’d like to see it from the water.’
Penny turned and smiled and gave the thumbs-up, mouthing, ‘Thank you’ above the sound of the waves and the Antiopi’s effortless movement through the water.
Seconds later the house was there, clear and close, as Dimitris steered the boat past the villa. Although not part of the real Durrell landscape, it captured the spirit of the family whose echoes Penny had come to listen to. The Venetian villa embodied a rustic doll’s house of grandeur and familiarity, seen by millions and forever associated with a dramatized Durrell family. She held the image in her mind to play back to herself on other less sunny days, or when she needed uplifting. She could see the characters carrying a wooden table to place in the shallows, in order to dine and stay cool, with their feet dangling in the sea.
The Greek mainland turned into Albania and the hour to reach Kalami passed far too quickly for Penny. Since they’d left Corfu Town she’d not really had the chance to speak to Dimitris. She didn’t want to distract him from piloting the boat and assumed that Basil was there for the passengers, to chat and look after their needs.
In this new environment for her, but in Dimitris’s comfort zone, on his boat away from the Athena, she felt a little shy and realized once again how little she knew about him.
She decided to put more sunscreen on and wash her hands. As she passed Dimitris she stopped. ‘This is wonderful. How long before we reach Kalami?’
‘We’re about fifteen minutes away. We’ll anchor in the bay and I’ll be able to take you ashore in the dinghy. The White House has a jetty, so you can step straight onto it and you’re there. I booked a table for Mary and Harry too, but I booked you a separate one. I hope that’s okay? I thought you might want to be on your own, have your own space.’ He kept his voice low so that the couple, who were now at the front of the boat and taking photographs, wouldn’t overhear. ‘I know this is a special trip for you, so I wanted to give you your own space to enjoy it. I’ll be around . . .’ He paused. ‘It’s good to see you.’ He smiled at her again, his eyes telling her that he hadn’t forgotten the kiss.
‘That’s great. Thank you. And it’s good to see you too. Yes, I’m looking forward to soaking up the atmosphere. Perhaps even making a few sketches. How long have we got there before we travel back?’
She looked up at him, waiting for his answer, but drawn to his face once again. ‘We can negotiate that.’ He smiled. ‘I have no idea if I’m going to have to go looking for Harry and Mary up in the hills. They seem to have lots of maps and enough kit to climb Mount Pantokrator. If they wander off, who knows when we might be able to leave.’
She laughed, resting her hand on the cabin roof as the boat changed course and she had to step down the cabin stairs to steady herself. His hand automatically held her arm to stop her falling. She steadied herself and held the rails a little tighter.
‘Okay?’ he asked, his face concerned. She nodded, aware again of the effect his touch had on her – the electricity. ‘I usually leave around 2 p.m., so we’re back in port for just after 3 p.m. That gives you nearly four hours in Kalami. As well as the White House, there are a few shops, bars and, of course, the beach – much more than there would have been in Larry Durrell’s day.’
‘Yes, the remoteness that seems to have appealed to him probably isn’t so remote any more, I guess,’ Penny said.
‘Not remote, no, but still very beautiful. I think you’ll still find him there if you want to.’
She looked at Dimitris, surprised but more intrigued by his answer. He seemed to really understand why she was here, what she was looking for, what she wanted to feel.
‘Will you come back to the boat when you’ve taken us ashore?’
‘I will when I’ve been to see a friend I promised to drop in on. I have something I need to pick up from her.’
He took a swig of water from a bottle next to the wheel and looked ahead intently.
‘Thanks, Dimitris, that’s perfect,’ she said, beginning to climb down into the cabin.
‘No problem. The table is booked in your name for midday. They have a great team there. You’ll be well looked after and the food is terrific. I’ll also give you my mobile number – Harry and Mary already have it – so if you have any problems at all, you can call me.’
‘Thank you,’ she repl
ied, but all she could think about was who the female friend was. The fact that she gave it a thought was more telling than she wanted to admit.
Chapter 42
In 1936, as spring established itself and the gentle weather carried the promise of halcyon days of heat and light yet to come, Larry Durrell and his wife Nancy moved into the two rooms that were part of what is now known as the ‘White House’. They were searching for wild, remote Corfu, a sanctuary and solitude, where Larry could write and Nancy could paint.
They did both in abundance, but more importantly, it was the time and place where the rebirth began that Larry spoke of in later years; the place he discovered himself, a way of life and being that he would recall and return to in his heart and mind for the rest of his life.
The originally humble and sparse building, once a fisherman’s home, still looked as though it had been gifted by the sea that might at any moment claim it back, and possessed an organic, elemental aura. It had grown, even in the Durrells’ time, and now boasted another storey and a window out to the sea.
Today visitors could stay and dine there. Few places in the world existed in a more inspiring location, whether choosing the shade of the terrace, or a table on the sun-bleached, white flat stones as moonlight filled the bay with unforgettable iridescence.
This was the visit that Penny had anticipated the most, a few precious hours to immerse herself in the place that had played a vital role in the growth and psyche of a writer with unique and special gifts.
With the Antiopi anchored and Basil left on board, Dimitris guided the small motorized dinghy to the wooden jetty. Harry and Mary set off along the beach road with the intention of walking to Kouloura, the next bay along. They had kindly asked Penny if she wanted to join them, but she’d declined politely, explaining that she was going to sketch and read.
Dimitris told her where she could hire a parasol and sun lounger, but seemed to be reluctant to leave her as she stood on the white dusty road by the beach.
Looking for the Durrells Page 19
