The Honey Farm on the Hill: Escape to sunny Greece in this perfect summer read!

by Jo Thomas

  ‘Hey! Yassou!’ I jump and turn. It’s Maria, her eyes lit up and dancing between the two of us, as if she’s discovered love’s young dream. ‘Can I join you?’

  ‘Of course!’ I say, almost too quickly. ‘This is,’ I clear my throat, ‘Harry.’

  He stands and shakes her hand.

  ‘Harry was in the restaurant the other day. He works for—’

  ‘Owns,’ he corrects with a wide smile.

  ‘Owns a travel company. Henderson’s Holidays.’

  ‘Cretan culinary travels and tours.’ He finally finishes shaking Maria’s hand. Maria, though, is reluctant to let go, like she’s found the winning lottery ticket and is determined not to relinquish it, her shiny cheeks beaming.

  ‘Harry wants to branch out, take the tourists away from the coast and up to the mountains,’ I explain, still feeling like I’ve been caught kissing behind the bike shed.

  ‘Welcome, welcome.’ Maria is still holding his hand and beaming.

  ‘Well, I’d better get on,’ he says, smiling at me. ‘You’ve been really, really helpful. I’m sure we can look into this, get something done about it. Perhaps we could meet again?’ He tugs discreetly at his right hand, which Maria is still holding.

  ‘Yes, no problem,’ I say, feeling flustered and blushing, much to my annoyance.

  ‘It’s been great meeting you.’ He smiles at Maria and then gives his hand one final big tug, freeing it.

  ‘Come again. Bring your holidaymakers,’ Maria calls after him as he leaves some notes on the table, far more than the cost of our drinks. Brand-new notes, fluttering in the breeze under the white ashtray.

  ‘What a lovely man!’ Maria is still beaming from ear to ear and looking at me as if hoping I’m going to fill her in on all sorts of exciting details.

  ‘Erm, yes . . .’ I mutter. I watch as Harry gets into his new, shiny hire car. Just as he shuts the door, the goat takes a run-up and butts it, leaving a slight dent. Harry looks on in horror as the goat steps back and does it again. Before it can have a third go, he spins the wheels and drives off at speed, the dents in the door making it look far more like a local’s vehicle.

  ‘So . . . you managed to find one of the few available men in the area for yourself.’ Maria smiles and orders mountain tea, but the waitress shakes her head and shrugs. ‘Run out.’

  ‘When did things become like this?’ Maria tuts. ‘No mountain tea! No wonder the community is getting ill. Still,’ she smiles, ‘they’ll start to feel better if they know that nice young man of yours is going to bring tourists back to the town. We have all been waiting for this.’ Her big bosoms rise like fluffy pillows under her sleeveless top and thin cardigan, and she nudges me playfully.

  ‘He’s not my young man,’ I nudge her playfully back, ‘yet,’ and we both laugh. I’m going to make sure I do everything I can to help Harry bring his holidaymakers to the town. Feeling that a small celebration is in order, I turn to the waitress and order us two white wines. As the ladies finish their crocheting for the day and trail out from the back room of the café behind us, Maria and I chink glasses and smile at each other. Everything is about to change for the better.

  Kostas is standing in the doorway as we swing into the drive, me clinging on to Maria at the back of the moped for fear of slipping off, my legs sticking out either side of the bike. He’s holding back the insect screen from in front of the door, waving his arms like a windmill as we pull up.

  ‘It’s Mitera! She went to bed as soon as she got back from town. Says she’s unwell.’

  ‘In bed! Unwell?’ Maria flicks down the stand and is pulling off her helmet. ‘Mitera never goes to bed in the day!’

  ‘I know. She must be very sick.’ Kostas drops his head and shakes it from side to side in big swinging movements. I’m worried he’s about to burst into tears.

  ‘Oh Kostas.’ I put an arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine. Probably just tired. It has been very hot.’ I fan my face and hold it to the breeze, always happier to be back here further up the mountain with the cooling wind.

  He lifts his head and looks straight at me with his big sad eyes. ‘Maria’s right. Mitera never goes to bed in the day. She hasn’t even had lunch!’ From the look on his face, I can tell that he’s really worried. How much more can these poor people take? Once they had a thriving business, a small farm where they could feed themselves from what grew on the mountainside. They were a happy little family. Now there is no honey factory any more, Kostas is still recovering from his bee stings, Maria is exhausted, and now this! Mitera falling ill.

  Suddenly I know what I can do. I know exactly what . . . and where! ‘Wait there! I’ll be back.’ I grab my hat from my bag, which I then sling across me, and stomp off towards the mountain path. I’m determined to get this family back on its feet, and nothing and nobody is going to stop me.

  The wind has picked up considerably and the sky has darkened, but I know exactly where I’m going this time. Somewhere around that cave the dittany must still be growing, and I intend to find it and bring it back. I march up through the cows’ enclosure, then scramble up the rock incline to the fence and out on to the dusty lane. As I take the worn steps up the mountain, I can make out the smell of wild thyme riding on the wind, drawing me onwards.

  Once I’m past the landslide, I begin to look for small plants with pinky-purple flowers. As I search, I can’t help but turn around and look out towards the sea. Being able to see back to my past seems to give me strength, as if Stelios is willing me on. I take another scan around my feet and the rock ledges either side of me. There’s nothing here. I am about to push on when I see him. Just below, with his sheep. His little black and white dog spots me first and I try to move off quickly before it sends up the alarm. But too late, it sees me and starts to bark. I just hope Georgios hasn’t noticed me.

  I keep moving up the mountain, more quickly now, my heart thumping, my mouth dry, feet and legs tingling with trepidation. But I’m not going to be put off. I reach out and up, using the rocks to help me. But now I feel like I’m being followed. I don’t stop. I don’t turn around, but I know he’s coming up behind me. I reach the plateau with the hives, where the bees are murmuring to themselves, and clamber up the final ledge towards the cave. I have to get there before Georgios stops me.

  I reach the cave unhindered and switch on the torch on my phone, hoping to find a small sprig of plant left behind to take to Mitera. I’m scanning the floor when a dog’s bark makes me jump.

  ‘You again!’ Georgios is standing in the mouth of the cave, just like last time. He is breathing heavily, whilst I am taking great gulps, exhausted from my dash up here and now drained and disappointed. I bend over and clutch my knees.

  ‘Where is it?’ I suddenly flare, straightening myself up. This can’t all have been for nothing. ‘I know it was here. There must be just a tiny bit left. I need it! Just one sprig for Mitera. You’ve sold it all, haven’t you?’ I’m struggling to catch my breath and it comes out sounding like a sob.

  ‘Sold it?’ he frowns, pulling down the scarf covering his face.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about! The dittany!’ I glare at him. ‘I saw you! With a man! Exchanging the goods! I was at Stelios’s shrine.’

  He steps into the cave, his broad shoulders practically filling the mouth of it. Instinctively, I move back, tripping and nearly falling over the round pit where he lit the fire when we sheltered here from the storm . . . when this cave was full of drying dittany. If only I’d realised then what it was, but I don’t know one drying drug or herb from another. I look back at him. This man has a strange effect on me. I’m not scared of him, but he makes me feel . . . unsettled, and I don’t know why. I can’t read him.

  Suddenly he throws his head back and laughs. ‘You think I’m selling it . . . First you think I’m a drugs dealer, and now
I’m a one-man trader in dittany!’

  ‘Well you won’t be much longer. Very soon this place will be heaving with tourists again. It’ll be full of people enjoying the mountain and holidaying here. I know exactly what your game is: you’re a one-man band with a bird scarer! It’s over. I’ve made sure of that.’

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  We stare at each other, like two gods coming out of their caves to claim ownership of what they both believe is rightfully theirs. But do gods’ hearts thunder like mine is doing? I wonder.

  ‘Maybe if you’d just asked me, I could have told you.’

  ‘What?’ I’m thrown for a moment, and I know that’s what his intention is. ‘Well, I’m asking you now! Where’s the dittany? Have you sold it all?’

  He turns away and sighs.

  ‘Have you got any more? I just want a plant or two. For the honey farm. And for Mitera. She needs it . . .’ I look around the floor, kicking at it with my boot toe. Still he says nothing, infuriating me. ‘The townspeople have as much right to this mountain, and the dittany, as you do. Businesses have a right to be here! The young people are all moving away. Once the old people are gone, there will be nothing left at all.’ I glare at him. ‘Is this what Stelios would have wanted?’

  ‘What did you mean when you said that there are tourists on their way?’ He looks rattled, and I feel a small leap of satisfaction in my tummy.

  ‘You’ll find out. I’m not saying anything . . . not until I have a dittany plant to take back.’

  ‘The bees won’t come,’ he says, losing patience. ‘Please, you must go back down now.’ He holds out a large hand.

  ‘If I can plant it in amongst Kostas’s other herbs, they will come, and the honey farm will start up again. There’ll be dittany honey for everyone.’

  ‘You don’t understand . . .’

  The clouds move overhead and a shaft of light peeps through from the other end of the cave, where I saw it last time. The smell of herbs is suddenly strong, as a blast of wind sweeps through. It must mean something. I turn and glance at Georgios, and then back at the light. There’s definitely something there he doesn’t want me to see. Well, I’m not going to be put off that easily. I may be a lot of things – a bit slow when it comes to realising that my partner’s having an affair, a bit naive for thinking I could come here and find the love of my life, a bit lost without my daughter – but I am a loyal friend and will defend those I care about.

  ‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll find out for myself!’ I say.

  His face darkens. I start stepping backwards, further into the cave. ‘No! It’s not safe!’ He reaches out his hand to me. ‘Come back!’

  But I don’t. Instead I turn my head to the far end of the cave, towards the shaft of light and the smell of wild herbs.

  ‘Oof! What is it with you? Why must you do the opposite to what is right!’ He throws his hands up in the air.

  I find myself smiling. This must be it, the place he’s been trying to keep from me. I’ve done it. I knew he was hiding something. I turn and make a dash for the back of the cave.

  ‘No!’ he shouts. But it’s too late.

  There’s an opening, an arch, leading towards the light. I go through it, throwing myself around the corner, reaching out to clutch the wall of the cave. Then all at once my heart leaps into my mouth and I skid to a halt, and only just in time.

  I’m teetering on the edge of a massive, head-spinning drop, my big toes hanging over the rocky lip. My hands fly backwards, looking for something to hang on to, and Georgios grasps hold of one of them, whilst I catch my breath. My head swims. It’s like I’m standing at the opening of an aeroplane, thousands of feet up, ready to leap out into the green gorge below, the big blue sky above me.

  ‘What is this place?’ I say slowly. Below me is a deep, wide verdant valley, bushes and trees divided by the trickle of liquid mercury that is the river running through it. There are butterflies and, if I’m not mistaken, the odd bee moving from plant to plant. It’s like I’ve stepped through the back of the wardrobe and into Narnia. Only I actually ran through the back of a cave.

  I look around at the plants clinging to the craggy rock face to my right, just above a jutting plateau; soft fuzzy leaves, arching stems, pale pinkish-purple flowers . . . I turn to Georgios. ‘I’m no expert, but I’d say that’s dittany!’

  We both look at the purple-tipped leaves on the little plants.

  ‘It thrives well here in this gorge, where it’s shady and where the moisture is trapped,’ he says wearily, as if gutted his secret has finally been discovered.

  ‘Who else knows about this place?’

  ‘It’s been a well-kept secret . . . until now.’ He scowls at me.

  It’s like nowhere else I’ve seen on the mountain. Nowhere else I’ve seen ever, come to think about it. A pair of butterflies flutter past in front of my face, making me smile. The smell of the dittany is so strong, warm, fragrant, lemony, I almost forget my fear of heights, as if I’ve stepped into another world, leaving everyday life behind.

  ‘It reminds me of how the mountain used to smell,’ I say, not really realising I’m saying it out loud. ‘This is the smell that I remember from my first time in Crete, when I visited this mountain. It reminds me of Stelios.’ And everything that happened then. I close my eyes and let the scent wash over me.

  ‘Well, now you’ve seen it, it’s best you go.’ Georgios’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I open my eyes to find myself staring straight at a dittany plant, almost within touching distance on the rock wall to my right. I tentatively reach out towards it.

  ‘No!’ Georgios puts a hand on my shoulder. I stiffen, thinking about him gathering the dittany, drying it, doing his deals, whilst other people can’t get any. I think of Mitera and Kostas and Maria and the honey farm and am overwhelmed by a sense of injustice and urgency.

  ‘I told you, just a plant or two at the farm will entice the bees.’ I turn to look at him, and then back at the dittany, reaching out a little further this time. The gap is wider than I first thought, but I’m not going to lose face in front of him. He doesn’t think I can do this. There’s a ledge and I’m sure I can reach it. I stretch, testing the water, and when I realise I can make it, I grab hold of a rock and tentatively reach out a foot. If I can just climb on to the ledge and shimmy along, I should be able to reach that clump. With three or four little bounces I get ready to throw myself across.

  ‘No!’ Georgios shouts.

  ‘You just don’t want anyone else to have it!’ I reply angrily.

  ‘Come back,’ Georgios shouts again, just as I take a deep breath and throw my weight forward on to the rocky ledge. Made it! I think, biting my lower lip and finding myself smiling at the same time. Kostas and Maria and Mitera need me to do this, and I’m blooming well going to.

  Holding my palms flat against the rock face, I hold my breath and step sideways over a small gap to another stony ledge. This one is more of a narrow shelf of rock hugging the side of the mountain, with a sheer drop to the valley below. I turn to the mountain face and press my tummy against it so as not to have to look down, and start to make my way along the ledge. I have to reach the dittany plant. I just need to shuffle along a little bit further. I grab hold of a rock and use it to hang on as I sidestep along. Clearly it’s a well-trodden route. By Georgios, no doubt. I move along again, belly to the rock face, shuffle shuffle, slowly. Just then my foot slips on a loose bit of rock. My heart thunders and I stupidly glance down at the valley behind me. I catch my breath and cling on for grim death.

  ‘Oh Jesus Christ!’ I hear Georgios behind me at the cave entrance, huffing and puffing, making me even more determined to carry on. ‘This is madness. Just come back and I’ll get the dittany for you,’ he calls over the wind whistling through the gorge, but I’m nearly there
and the last thing I want is to let him see I can’t do it. I hold on tightly with one hand and smile as I reach up for the purple-tipped plant.

  ‘Don’t take it from the root! It’ll never grow back,’ he shouts behind me, and I roll my eyes but make sure I do what he says. Breaking off some of the stems, I pull my hand back and put them safely in the bag on my hip, and find I’m beaming from ear to ear. Yes! Get in! I think to myself. If I wasn’t on a rocky ledge above a deep gorge, I’d do a fist pump. I look up and see another plant, just a bit higher up the slope. I could get that too, I’m sure. I really need to do this for Maria and Kostas. It’s my way of looking after them like they’ve looked after me.

  With renewed confidence, I start to climb, slowly and steadily, until finally I can reach out and gather the second plant – picking only the stems and leaving the root, of course. I don’t turn round. I’m doing fine. I don’t want to see Georgios’s glowering face, putting me off. Plus, although it’s a bit late in the day to be reminding myself of this, I’m not great with heights. I don’t even really like the big wheel at Winter Wonderland. If I just keep facing the rocks, I’ll be fine.

  I can see another big bunch to my left. If I can get to that plant too, I should have a good bunch to take back. The bees are sure to start moving down the mountain, and in no time we’ll have honey to share. I reach and look up, and suddenly I’m blinded by bright sunlight, pouring into the gorge as the sun slowly starts to set. My foot slips, and I desperately scrabble for a foothold.

  ‘Oh God! Hel—’ But I can’t finish the word. Fear grips me tightly. My fingers ache as they clutch the rocks. My foot is working in tiny movements to find support, whilst my other leg aches too. My hand slips and my face screws up in fear. I can’t do it. I can’t find a foothold. I can’t look round or down. I’m going to fall.

  Suddenly he’s behind me. His arms over mine, his body pushing mine against the hard wall. His hot breath on my neck melting the fear from around my throat, making me feel suddenly safe. But as the terror subsides, my racing heart and body feel like I’ve stuck my fingers into an electrical socket in the rain.