A Wedding in the Olive Garden

by Leah Fleming

  It had been a wonderful day. Sara gave Griff a little picture of the retreat made by a jaded artist who had been on one of the courses there and found his mojo again. For Mel, she brought a beautiful lacy shawl knitted to order by an old villager in Sternes village. Sparky got one of those bright cotton neckerchiefs. She gave the boys books and for Irini, a bottle of organic hand cream in the pocket of a pretty pinafore. Spiro, Duke and Don got bottles of whisky, and Pippa a scented candle and a smocked dress for Harmony. She had tried to give local gifts to everyone and shared a parcel from her parents, full of her favourite Turkish Delight, iced Christmas cake, chocolates and the latest book by Pat Barker to discuss at the book group.

  She’d promised her parents that she’d come home for a visit in the New Year. Now that there were three more enquiries for summer weddings to follow up and prospects of other bookings to come, she wanted to stay longer on the island. They were also busy drumming up support for the Abba night which was taking shape. Griff was foisting tickets on everyone he could catch. They wanted decent raffle prizes and, miracle of miracles, Simon used his contacts, explained the charity and got a signed T-shirt from some of the stars of Mamma Mia. It was going to be auctioned along with cases of Manousakis’s best wine from Chania. Don brought signed books from his best-selling author friends and those famous Yorkshire vets sent them signed copies and wished them well.

  Griff and Sara carried on as normal under Don’s watchful eye. This was not the time to discuss the Jace and Flissa affair. There was too much to do and Sara felt exhausted with weddings, parties, meetings and returning hospitality as best she could. She hadn’t realised Christmas could be so tiring. No wonder mothers took to the bottle as they prepared for the onslaught of guests, relatives and fractious children. Then she caught a stinking cold, retiring to bed to sleep it off.

  Three days later, feeling washed out but excited, she helped as they set up the hall for the Abba event with posters of the film and a sound system to play tracks. Sara hoped everyone would get into the spirit of the party. Griff was going to give a short presentation about the SPARKS charity and plans for an online appeal on social media. He was asking for volunteers to foster dogs until they were rehomed.

  As the lights were dimmed, in trouped partygoers in all sorts of fancy dress, mostly flared trousers and home-made kipper ties with fedora hats and frilled shirts. Chloë wore a magnificent maxidress with dangling beads. Dorrie did her best with a long skirt and a velvet bandana round her head. Norris managed a scarlet shirt and a false moustache. Sally wore a fringed skirt with cowboy boots and hat. Greek and expats were vying for the most flamboyant costumes with sequins and velvet waistcoats dug out of old trunks in cupboards, hidden away for decades, reminding everyone of misspent youths, all a little tight in the chest and on the thighs.

  Pippa was dressed up as Donna in denim dungarees and a cotton shirt. Dark-haired Mel wore long flared pantaloons, sunglasses and a floppy hat while Sara wore a jumpsuit and a string of beads, a bandana round her hair.

  Duke wore the most outrageous frilled shirt, open to the waist with a huge medallion hanging over his hairy chest, velvet hipsters and kinky boots with wedges. How he had found these showstoppers, no one knew. Everyone was clapping and whistling, ready to dance as the music blared out. Then Don appeared and everyone cheered. He was wearing a gold lamé jumpsuit with huge frilled flares on his trousers and on the sleeves. He had a long-haired wig and platform boots, waving what looked like a spliff of wacky baccy in one hand, gesturing a peace V-sign in the other. There was no doubt he was the outright winner.

  Griff hid behind the stage causing a roar as he appeared in jeans, sleeveless T-shirt, a leather cap and black moustache as one of the “village people” to present the prize to Don. He made his small presentation with Sparky on a lead wearing a spotted bow tie. When supper was announced there was a rush for the seventies-style buffet: pineapple and cheese on sticks, a selection of dips, finger foods, sausages, trifles, black forest gateaux, cheesecakes with fruit toppings.

  Then it was time for the girls to step up on stage and Mel let rip with ‘Take A Chance On Me’ while Pippa and Sara were trying to mimic the film choreography as best they could. Sara had no voice to join in the chorus, just a husky croak, but they let their hair down and the audience clapped them on. Then Mel sang ‘One of Us’. Spiro and the boys watched, once more enthralled and proud of her amazing talent.

  Afterwards, the music got louder, the dancing went on late into the night but not before the auctions, raffle and tickets raised nearly a thousand euros. It was a triumph, enough to set the charity up on a serious footing. By this time Sara was on her knees with exhilaration and exhaustion. Her voice was a mere husk and her head thumping with tiredness.

  Chloë and Simon, seeing the state of her, offered to drive her home and she didn’t refuse. The headache grew worse, her bones aching, and she felt a feverish heat in her body; too little sleep for days, too much to drink, not enough to eat but she recognised this was no cold but the dreaded flu. She could hardly peel off her jumpsuit and collapsed on the pillow, her throat burning. The room was spinning above her. She was going nowhere from this bed.

  *

  Mel called into Ariadne Villa to return some dishes. The door was unlocked, curtains still closed. ‘Sara! Only me…’ There was no answer, so she yelled up the stairs to find her friend burning up with fever and coughing in a chesty way.

  ‘Sorry, can’t seem to get my head off the pillow. Don’t come near, I don’t want you to catch anything.’

  Mel smiled, knowing it might be a bit too late.‘I’m calling the doctor, I don’t like the sound of your chest, you look awful.’

  Sara was too sick to protest. When Dr Makaris came, he listened to her chest and prescribed antibiotics for the infection there. ‘Lots of water, aspirin, malotira tea, just rest,’ he ordered. ‘It’s a virus with a little complication. She’s strong but her chest is tight. She can’t be left alone though,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll ring round, we can see to things for her.’

  ‘She’s not the only one with this virus; she’s the fifth I’ve seen this week. Don’t get too close until the fever’s broken and don’t let Irini near her.’

  Mel smiled. Irini was still basking in her role as saviour of Spartacus and prosecutor of Stavros Metrakis who had abandoned their taverna, thank goodness. The doctor’s warning wouldn’t stop her mother-in-law sending Sara every Cretan remedy known to man. All their faith was in the mountain tea which would restore her immune system, relieve fever, restore sleep: the cure-all of cure-alls.

  Dorrie Thorner promised to do any shopping and collect prescriptions. Sara’s effort to make Daniel’s wedding happen was not forgotten. Chloë became head nurse, wearing a mask as precaution. Now that Alexa, Felix and Olympia had returned to London, she was feeling the gap. Katya took sheets and towels to be laundered. The book club came to the rescue too, keeping an eye on the patient, feeding her gossip, magazines and soup. It was a team effort from all her friends on the island. Sara couldn’t thank them enough.

  36

  Griff was pleased to see Don beavering away in what was once Elodie Durrante’s study. Since his return, he was the model of industry, typing away like a man possessed. Don looked up. ‘You’ve heard about poor Sara. She’s got the flu… been doing far too much running around for you and got little thanks for it.’

  ‘What do you mean? Every time I went to thank her, she dashed off on some urgent task.’ Griff hadn’t heard about the sickness. He’d presumed she was avoiding him.

  ‘There’s no danger of you catching the bug then.’ Don took off his glasses. ‘Sit down. I have something to say. Isn’t it about time you made a serious move in her direction or are you scared she might turn you down? I’ve never known a couple dither so much.’

  Griff felt himself blushing. ‘It’s none of your damn business.’

  ‘Yes, it is… you’re well suited and I’m very fond of you both
. I’d hate to see things drift. You should talk about how you feel to her. It’s the only way to find out where you stand.’

  ‘I never took you for a marriage counsellor,’ Griff replied. Don meant kindly enough but this was a personal and private matter.

  ‘Believe me, I’ve learned the hard way. If you don’t talk things out, misunderstandings get in the way. I lost my wife because I was too busy being Don Ford, crime writer par excellence, too busy to notice we were drifting apart until it was too late. Now my ex-wife has a new husband and grandkids. My family consists of a line of books on a shelf. They don’t keep you warm at night.

  ‘Miss Durrante entrusted this house so it could ring with creative life. I’ve found friendship, inspiration and hope here but a woman by your side would add so much more to the place. Think on… “I shall say zeece only once.” Now let me get back to the murder scene.’

  Griff felt guilty not to have heard Sara was ill. He was so wrapped up in the SPARKS idea, he was losing sight of the plight of others. He went to see Mel, offering to sit in at the villa, but she was concerned not to spread the virus. He collected lemons and tried to concoct a lemonade cordial laced with herbs but, distracted by a phone call, he burnt the pan. They still hadn’t talked about the Flissa and Jace episode. Did Sara know how he had doubted her?

  He missed her visits, admiring her go-to enthusiasm and courage in making this whole new life for herself here. She’d worked her socks off for the Abba tribute night and it had clearly worn her down.

  All he could do was send flowers and a copy of Elodie’s journal; the one Ariadne had discovered in Elodie’s little study. This was the unedited original version, far fruitier than the one they edited and put out as an e-book. He wrote a get-well card saying they were going ahead with charity status. SPARKS hit the Chania News with a picture of Sparky and an appeal for foster homes. The Souda Animal Shelter came to offer advice on the best way forward. Metrakis got off with a fine, a caution and a threatened inspection of his own animals’ welfare. Banned from Irini’s café, he slunk off to a seedy kafenion close to the harbour, out of sight. Griff knew enough about human nature to know that a man like that would never change his grudge against the world but Irini pointed her finger at him and he knew he was a marked man.

  *

  Sandra stood among the line of suitcases, staring out over the infinity pool to the sea beyond, shimmering in a silvery light. It was time to leave this house set on the cliff top. Would they ever return to Santaniki? It had been a glorious nine months, topped by their wedding and Julie’s visit. It felt too much at times. Christmas had been a whirl of invitations and now there was the New Year to look forward to back home with Julie.

  She said farewell to Mel, Irini and the book club but Sara was still sick and she couldn’t risk an assault on her immune system. She needed to be strong for the trials ahead but coming to rest up here was worth every penny. Sara’s thoughtful touches to their wedding day would stay with her for ever. She wanted to leave a gift and a card.

  They made one last trip to Rethymno and among the cobbled ancient streets she found a perfumery which sold the very scent Mel suggested Sara might like; something that smelt of roses with vanilla tones. They boxed it in gorgeous gift wrapping. There was such pleasure in giving a thank you, she thought. They lunched in the shade of their favourite restaurant, the Pigadi, then bought gifts to take home for Julie’s family.

  Now the sun would be replaced by grey skies and winter chills but she was ready to leave Paradise. Their days in the sun would live in her memory to be revisited when the going was tough. Dusty, their rescue dog, would travel back with them on the same plane. He would be a good companion for Jack if the worst should happen. Best to leave the party on a high note while she was still well enough to travel without aid. There was always the hope they might return.

  *

  It took over ten days before Sara began to feel human again, able to taste all the little dishes Irini sent over to get her back on her feet. Chloë came most days to check on her progress and brought pictures of their wedding, thrilled it had gone so well.

  ‘We were able to get shots of the best man so his black eye didn’t show. Felix told us all about the infamous camping trip and we were so sorry to hear of your own dealings with Jason Metcalfe. I gather Flissa sent him packing. Perhaps she’ll choose better next time. Poor Dorrie’s back to form. I thought she’d turned a corner, in fact, but at last week’s book club she was ranting about our reading list choice of novels once more. It was a relief in a way. St Dorinda didn’t sit well on her.’

  ‘She’s been kind to me though.’ Sara had to defend Dorrie’s efforts to help out. ‘I can’t thank you enough, all of you, for keeping me afloat. I don’t know how I’d have coped alone. How on earth did I catch this lurgy?’

  ‘You were run down, racing about making people’s dreams come true. Perhaps it’s time you found a dream of your own.’

  ‘But I have, Chloë. Coming here has been the best thing, making a living in such a beautiful place is a joy.’

  ‘It’s not so beautiful now, chucking it down, a month’s worth of rain in a week.’

  Sara hadn’t noticed the weather, sheltered as she was by the fireside in her dressing gown. ‘I must get myself dressed, I feel a fraud.’

  ‘You take it easy. Viruses return if you overdo things.’ Chloë produced a parcel. ‘It’s from Sandra and Jack. They’ve gone back to Manchester for good. We couldn’t let her come to say goodbye but I hope they will come back next year, all being well, and fingers crossed for her treatments.’

  Sara opened the box, finding inside a large bottle of her favourite perfume. ‘How did she know? Was it Mel? She’s seen what I use.’ Chloë nodded. ‘I must have their address to write and thank them. It’s the real McCoy, pure essence, how generous. I feel so pampered. It’s time to get up and doing. I’ve been reading Elodie’s journal, what a woman she was. Simon and the committee have done a great job getting it in print.’

  ‘Simon enjoyed getting back into publishing circles again. They had to edit out some of the more libellous extracts. Look, I must go. Wonderful to see you back in the land of the living.’ Chloë blew a kiss and departed.

  Sara took a shower and found her jeans hanging off her hips. She looked gaunt and her cheeks sunken. ‘Not the best look, Miss Loveday,’ she said. ‘But better than the alternative.’

  *

  Three days later, she felt her limbs no longer wobbling and took herself down the path into the garden, battered by the rain, but it still looked welcoming and comforting in its own way. Then she forced herself back to her laptop, panicking at what she may face there. Was there any business among the stream of emails? What was the state of her bank balance? Her head still felt like cotton wool, a bit waffy and out of focus. She slammed the lid shut. I’ll face that tomorrow, she thought, dousing herself in the rich perfume. It felt so luxurious and extravagant. They couldn’t have given her a more thoughtful gift. Sinking back onto the sofa, she heard the doorbell ring. ‘Come in,’ she shouted. ‘It’s not locked.’ Who needed to lock their doors on this island?

  Turning around she saw Sparky bounding in. ‘We’ve come to see the invalid at long last. How are you?’ Griff was standing in the doorway with a bunch of flowers. She waved her hand.

  ‘Sit down… coffee?’

  ‘No, I’ve brought wine, some cheeses and a box of baklava. Rumour has it that you need fattening up after your ordeal.’ Sparky was nuzzling at her knees, his tail wagging. ‘You see, we’re both delighted to see you up. Where’s the glasses?’

  ‘I’ll get them,’ Sara offered.

  ‘No, stay there and be waited on for once,’ he ordered. ‘You and I need to talk,’ he went on, pouring two glasses of deep red wine. ‘Hope you like this. My brother sent me a case.’

  ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to drink yet but what the hell, one glass won’t harm me.’ Sara paused, seeing the look on Griff’s face, an intense gaze. ‘What
needs saying?’ She sat back, waiting for his answer.

  ‘Just that we missed you, that I believed Jason’s lies about you and for a moment I doubted your integrity but in my gut I knew it couldn’t be true and yet…’ He looked away.

  Sara sat back, relieved that things were out in the open at last. ‘I was hurt, thinking everyone might know what had happened between us in Sheffield. Mel was very discreet but Spiro came to my rescue, I gather. Perhaps what I did was OTT. You have no idea how gutted and furious I was. I had to get away.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I think I do. Max Bannerman, my ex-business partner, ruined our success, bankrupted me, kicked me in the balls and buggered off to the Cayman Islands with his fortune intact, so I know only too well what it is to be betrayed, to have your trust destroyed and be taken for a fool. I was so ashamed. That’s what brought me here in the first place, to hide away, blaming myself for being far too trusting…’

  ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea. You kept things private as I tried to do.’ Sara leaned forward, facing him with a sigh. ‘I hadn’t a clue… I knew Jason was a control freak but I just went along with his suggestions; cut your hair shorter, no clutter in the flat, lose some weight. It’s a hard lesson to learn that he wanted to create an image that just wasn’t me at all, to look good on his arm. We’re two of a kind, you and me, landing up here on our beam ends to find new careers and new friends. How strange is that?’ Griff took her hands in his, his deep blue eyes smiling with relief. She covered his hand with her own. ‘Do you think fate brought us here?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t believe in fate, we make our own destiny by the choices we make,’ he replied.

  ‘Synchronicity, isn’t that the buzz word for when you take your courage in hand, take a risk and then something good happens?’ Sara sensed him closing in, her heart racing.