by Mandy Baggot
‘Absolutely not! There’s nothing that needs to be changed apart from your attached status and the offloading of that creep! Freya, after all you’ve been through I am not going to let someone as superficial as Russell make you feel bad about yourself. And while we’re on this subject, why haven’t you mentioned any of this in our phone conversations?’ Emma demanded to know.
‘I told you, it didn’t seem important. Anyway there always seemed to be other stuff going on and, like I said, over the past month or so he’s been so attentive it made me reconsider whether the relationship had really got The Stutter,’ Freya spoke.
‘Do you think there was someone else?’ Emma asked bluntly.
‘Female or equine?’ Freya enquired.
‘He isn’t still betting is he? I thought you said he’d stopped that.’
‘Do gamblers ever stop betting? I think it’s a permanent disorder rather than a learned habit. All I know is he would rather sit and watch Frankie Dettori pushing out an outsider at Newmarket than spend time with me, up until very recently. Unless you’re right and it was just me, perhaps a different, thinner female was distracting him,’ Freya spoke, pondering on the thought.
‘I don’t really think we need to waste another minute talking or thinking about Russell. In fact I forbid the mention of his name for the rest of the night, or should that be morning? Now are you going to order us both another drink? I’ll just have an orange juice because I’ve got that early start,’ Emma said passing Freya her glass.
‘Making me drink alone? I’m not sure I can allow that,’ Freya said, standing up and preparing to go to the bar.
‘Hang on! Hang on, wait! Look, look!’ Emma exclaimed as she became animated in her seat.
‘What? What exactly am I looking at?’ Freya questioned as she looked across the harbour to where Emma was pointing.
‘Nicholas Kaden! There! With Bob Crosby and Gene Bates, just leaving the nightclub. You can’t tell me you can’t see them, there are about fifty people taking photographs,’ Emma said leaning over as far as she could to get a better look.
‘Hmm cool, I’ll go and get the drinks,’ Freya said and went towards the bar.
‘Freya! You don’t have to go to the bar! They’ll bring the drinks over if you call them. Oh how many times has she been here?’ Emma said as Freya disappeared from view.
After the women’s second drink they began walking away from the harbour towards the village square. Having had nothing to eat Freya was feeling woozy and also desperate for sleep.
‘Look Em, I’m sorry about turning up unannounced. I should have called from London. I mean will the Calypso have a room free?’ Freya asked.
She hoped they did as she needed a bed now more than ever before.
‘Yes they have. Well they did at half past eleven tonight. That’s where I was when you called me. I’ve got myself another little job doing the weekly quiz,’ Emma admitted with a snort of laughter.
‘But you hate quizzes,’ Freya reminded her.
‘Taking part in them yes, setting them is a bit of fun and Yiannis helps me out with the round about all things local,’ Emma told her.
‘I don’t believe you’re a quiz master, you always hated Blockbusters,’ Freya remarked with a shake of her head.
‘Don’t take the Mickey or I’ll make you set the questions next week - if you’re going to be here next week that is. How long did you plan to stay?’ Emma asked as they reached the entrance to the Calypso Apartments.
‘I don’t know. I haven’t really thought too far ahead - I have no money or clothes remember,’ Freya stated.
‘Then I have a great idea. Why don’t you join me on the Corfu town shopping trip in the morning? We can have a look at the clothes, get you some hot new outfits and have a nice lunch - a proper girlie outing,’ Emma suggested as they headed for reception.
‘I don’t think so,’ Freya replied.
‘Why not?’ Emma questioned disappointment in her voice.
‘Because I’m sure you said it left at eight in the morning.’
‘It does but come on, it’s two thirty now, four and a half hours sleep and a quick shower you’ll feel like a new woman,’ Emma cajoled.
‘I’ll feel like a wreck. I’ll probably feel worse than I feel now. But I haven’t the energy to argue with you so where do we meet?’ Freya asked with a tired smile.
‘At the square,’ Emma answered excitedly.
Ten minutes later, after Emma had booked Freya in with the manager and obtained a key, Freya was standing in her apartment.
It was a standard apartment with no plush fixtures and fittings but it had all the essentials. There was a small kitchen area with a hob, kettle, toaster and sink, a bathroom with toilet, basin and shower but most importantly there was a large double bed taking up the majority of the room. It was made up with crisp white sheets and nothing had looked so appealing to Freya before.
Her eyes were heavy and sore and she had been constantly yawning for the last hour. She wanted a cup of tea and she could see there were some complimentary tea bags by the kettle, together with some small pots of milk. But boiling a kettle seemed such hard work. She didn’t have the energy.
She took off her shoes and lay down on the bed to reflect on the day. How much had changed in a few hours. She should have been lying in bed with Russell, thinking about the great birthday she’d just had. Instead she was lying alone in an apartment in Corfu, Greece, having been insulted by her boyfriend, bullied by a psychotic kid on the plane and, perhaps worst of all, ended up with hair the colour of a tube of Pringles Original. It had been some thirtieth birthday. Thankfully sleep came quickly.
Four
Freya’s stomach contracted for the umpteenth time since she had woken. At 6.00am the people in the room above had decided to have sex. And not ordinary, run of the mill, ‘five minutes and it’s all over’ sex, loud noisy Discovery channel sex which went on and on and on. Freya was left with no choice but to get out of bed, make a complimentary cup of tea and sit out on her balcony.
Her balcony, she discovered, had a fantastic view of the mountains and she took the opportunity to take some photographs with the early morning mist enveloping the peaks.
Now, it was a quarter past seven and she was making her way to the bakery in search of some fresh, warm rolls. Two for her and two for the fish in the harbour. She always fed the fish when she visited and they leapt out of the water sometimes in a bid to be the first to swallow the food. It was a relaxing way to pass half an hour or so and the fish made good subjects if you happened to have the right photography equipment with you - she didn’t.
Freya entered the bakery and breathed in the delicious yeasty smell that hit her. It made her stomach contract all the more vigorously. She was aware of someone entering behind her, so she held the door open for them and a middle-aged woman in a tweed suit came into the shop after her. Freya thought the tweed suit was a little inappropriate for the climate, seeing as the sun was already up and making its presence felt.
‘Kalimera, could I have four large white rolls please?’ Freya ordered from the elderly Greek woman behind the counter.
Freya was very nearly licking her lips in anticipation of eating the rolls. Perhaps she would have three, as she was so hungry. Freya watched as the woman bagged up the rolls and tried to stop herself from drooling.
‘Seventy five cents,’ the woman asked.
Freya handed over a ten Euro note she had borrowed from Emma the night before and muttered an apology about having nothing smaller.
The woman handed her change and the bag of rolls and Freya left the shop hardly able to wait to sink her teeth into one. She decided to wait however, until she was sat at the harbour looking out over the ocean.
‘Excuse me,’ a voice called from behind her.
The American accent surprised Freya, as did the volume of the address. Freya stopped walking and turned around to see the woman in the tweed suit, hurrying down the road to catch up with her.
‘I’m sorry. You seem to have the only remaining white rolls from the first batch this morning,’ the woman spoke and dazzled Freya with her whiter than white smile.
‘Oh do I? That’s bad luck for you. I can highly recommend them,’ Freya replied.
‘No, no, you misunderstand me. I want those rolls,’ the woman stated plainly and she pointed at the paper bag Freya was holding.
Freya looked at the woman in her stern suit, with her perfectly coiffured hair and beautifully manicured nails. No one had looked more out of place in the increasing heat of a Kassiopi morning than her. She actually reminded Freya of her mother. Was she having a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep? She couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, putting a hand to her mouth and clutching the bag of rolls to her chest.
‘I’m sorry for laughing, but did you say you wanted my bread rolls? There’s a whole shop full of bread back there,’ Freya managed to say through her laughter.
‘I’m well aware of that, but they’re not white and they’re not as fresh. Do you know those rolls come out of the oven at exactly three minutes past seven?’ the woman continued.
‘I don’t care when they came out of the oven, they’re mine and I’m going to enjoy them,’ Freya spoke with a smile and turned to leave.
Suddenly her arm was being pulled back and she could feel the manicured nails digging into her skin.
‘I don’t think I’ve made myself clear. I want those rolls, I need those rolls and I’m willing to pay for them,’ the woman hissed.
‘Get off me! You’re insane! This is my breakfast. I haven’t eaten in twenty four hours and it isn’t helping my humour,’ Freya spoke loudly.
‘I’ll give you ten Euros for them,’ the woman continued.
She took a wallet out of the leather bag she was carrying over one arm and proceeded to produce a note and hold it out towards Freya.
‘The rolls are not for sale,’ Freya replied firmly.
‘Twenty Euros and that’s my final offer,’ the woman said as she produced another note.
‘Now I’m intrigued. What makes you want my rolls so much? Are they hollowed out? All crust and no filling with a stash of jewels inside? Or is it cocaine? Have I stumbled upon a drugs ring? Are you some kind of Mrs Big?’ Freya questioned as she looked the woman up and down.
‘Not in the way you mean Honey. Listen, thirty Euros and that really is my limit,’ the woman told her.
‘This is madness. You could offer me a hundred Euros and I still wouldn’t be interested,’ Freya exclaimed loudly.
‘Two hundred,’ the woman responded.
‘Goodbye,’ Freya answered and she turned away from the woman and began walking towards the harbour once again.
‘Give me the rolls!’ the woman ordered as she began to chase Freya along the road.
‘No! Piss off will you!’ Freya yelled, trying her best to ignore the woman’s presence.
‘What can I give you in exchange for the rolls? Name your price,’ the woman continued, matching Freya stride for stride.
‘OK,’ Freya said.
She stopped in her tracks and faced the woman again.
‘How much?’ the woman questioned.
‘Not money. You tell me the reason you want these rolls so badly and, if the reason’s good enough, you can have them,’ Freya told her.
‘Without charge?’ the woman checked.
‘Yes, I mean you must have a really good reason to want them if it means you have to chase me down the road,’ Freya said.
‘Fine. My boss has been eating these rolls every morning for the last two weeks. He likes them with olive oil spread and honey, garnished with mint and followed by two large glasses of blueberry juice. My boss is Nicholas Kaden,’ the woman announced with a smirk of satisfaction.
That was about the fourth time Freya had heard the actor’s name since arriving on the island. Had he completely taken over? Now he wanted her rolls! Should she perhaps feel honoured? Freya looked at the woman who was now smiling widely, certain that her name dropping had won the day.
But Freya’s stomach was contracting all the more now and, sneaking a quick look at her watch, she saw she only had twenty minutes before she had to meet Emma.
‘Sorry! Not good enough. Number one, my need for these rolls is far greater than Nicholas Kaden’s and two, anyone who sends someone else to buy their breakfast, rather than getting it themselves, deserves to lose out to the early bird who did bother to get out of bed, despite only having had a few hours sleep. Now you can go back and tell Mr Kaden that if he wants these particular rolls in future he had better set his alarm early and not rely on his mother to get them for him,’ Freya snapped.
With her point made she dug into the paper bag, took out a roll and sunk her teeth into it.
The woman looked furious. Her lips were tight, her face had reddened and she looked like she might explode out of the tweed suit altogether. But she didn’t speak; she just turned on her heel and headed back towards the bakery.
Freya shook her head and took another bite of the roll. What was the matter with some people? Why did they think they mattered above anyone else? It was that sort of mentality that angered Freya more than anything.
Five
Ultimately it was the fish that lost out, due to the fact that Freya had less time to feed them and that she’d been so ravenous she had eaten three of the rolls herself.
Emma was ticking names off a list on the clipboard she was holding when Freya arrived at the square. There was quite a crowd of people waiting and as she approached she saw the coach appearing at the top of the road.
It was only five to eight in the morning, yet the sun was already radiating an extraordinary amount of heat that signalled an even hotter day to come. If Freya was honest she could hardly wait to get some new clothes. Her jeans weren’t ideal wear for daytime in a hot country and her t-shirt was starting to smell.
‘Morning, sleep well?’ Freya spoke, having crept up on Emma.
‘Freya, there you are. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,’ Emma said.
‘It’s a strange story, an argument in the street over my choice of breakfast,’ Freya told her.
‘What? Yes this is the Corfu Town shopping trip. What are your names please? Mr and Mrs Michaels - yes that’s fine. Oh here’s the coach now - sorry Freya, just let me make sure everyone’s here,’ Emma spoke as she flew into organiser mode.
By just after 8.00am everyone was on board the coach and they had set off on their way to Corfu Town. The journey would take about an hour and a quarter and the route was picturesque, so Freya hoped to see the bits of the island she had missed while travelling from the airport the night before.
Freya was sat at the front of the coach with Emma who was announcing to the passengers the safety guidelines and informing them she would be pointing out items of interest en route.
‘Sorry about that. Go on, I have about fifteen minutes before I have to speak again,’ Emma said, sinking into her seat and turning to her friend.
‘Well, I thought I would have some of those gorgeous rolls from the bakery for breakfast and just as I was leaving, this forty something Miss Moneypenny, only American not English, starts offering me money for them. I think she got up to two hundred Euros at one point,’ Freya started to explain.
‘What? For some rolls? What happened?’ Emma asked, intrigued.
‘Turns out she’s something to do with Nicholas Kaden. They were his rolls,’ Freya continued.
‘Oh my God! Nicholas Kaden’s secretary or something and you spoke to her!’ Emma exclaimed in awe.
‘I didn’t just speak to her. I gave her a piece of my mind,’ Freya told her.
‘You mean you didn’t sell the rolls! Not even for two hundred Euros?’ Emma said in disbelief.
‘No I didn’t. It was the principle of the thing. They were mine and I bought them, end of. I’m not having someone with a super-sized ego dictating to me. I had enough
of that with my father,’ Freya announced, screwing up her face as she cast her mind back.
‘Well good for you, but I think I would have been tempted to exchange them for an autograph or something,’ Emma told her.
‘Oh please! You’re as bad as those people taking photos of him last night,’ Freya replied.
‘Now that’s something you could have bargained with. You could have suggested a session to photograph him,’ Emma said.
‘I can think of a hundred and one people I’d rather photograph - at least. What is the hype with this guy? A couple of his films are OK-ish but he’s nothing special. Easy on the eye I admit, but hardly Bruce Willis,’ Freya spoke.
‘Well I think it’s the fact that Kassiopi doesn’t get Hollywood actors visiting very often and the film he’s shooting is set predominately on mainland Greece, so he’s only here for a month or so. As for people going crazy over him, you have to admit he is totty,’ Emma said with a giggle.
‘I’ll tell Yiannis you said that. If I ever get to see him that is,’ Freya remarked.
‘You’re going to see him tonight because its his night off and he’s booking us a table at Banas, the table you like best where you get the best view of the sunset. I’ve decided tonight’s going to be your thirtieth birthday all over again and hopefully it will be a lot more successful than yesterday’s,’ Emma announced excitedly.
‘That sounds fantastic,’ Freya admitted with a smile.
‘So all we need to do now is fix you up with some outfits,’ Emma told her.
‘Mmm, can’t see Corfu Town having an Evans but we’ll give it a go,’ Freya responded as enthusiastically as possible.
When they arrived in Corfu Town it was already busy and the temperature had risen dramatically during their journey southward. Freya decided that a sun hat was another essential item she should purchase, together with some sunscreen of at least factor fifteen. She had quite fair skin and although she loved being in the sun it didn’t always love her.
