Wish You Were Here

by Victoria Connelly

  There were a few tourists about and Alice found a taverna overlooking the harbour and ordered moussaka, some salad and a glass of wine before closing her eyes and breathing in the salty tang of the sea and listening to it as it lapped against the harbour wall. Why couldn’t life always be like this? she wondered. Why was life more about in-trays than outings? And why were there always more workdays than weekends?

  How hard it was going to be to return to England and her job after spending a week in such a paradise, she thought. Maybe it had been a mistake to come on holiday. Maybe she would have been better off not knowing there were such beautiful places in the world.

  Tucking in to her moussaka a few minutes later, Alice did her best to banish thoughts of the office waiting for her back in England. She wasn’t going to think about the person she was there. Here, she could be anybody she wanted to be. Nobody knew her here. Nobody would judge her or gossip about her in the staff toilets. She was just another tourist who had come to soak up a bit of sunshine and that realisation made her smile.

  Finishing her meal and glass of wine, she paid at the bar and noticed a handful of leaflets on a nearby table. There was one about the island’s museum and another about boat trips but one in particular caught her eye. It was for a villa set in acres of beautiful grounds which overlooked the sea at the south of the island.

  ‘The Villa Argenti,’ Alice whispered and the very name sounded like a promise. Its towers and turrets were mesmerising and its great Venetian-style windows seemed to hold secrets behind them, and the gardens rolled gently across the landscape before ending in cliffs which plummeted dramatically down to the sea.

  She made up her mind then and there that she would visit it. Maybe it would even tempt Stella to leave the comfort of their villa. Yes, it would be the first of many wonderful adventures they would have together on the island. They’d laugh, relax and become closer than they’d ever been before, Alice thought, as she walked along the steep road that led out of the town and back to their villa. Stella couldn’t fail to be charmed by such a place as the Villa Argenti, could she?

  ‘I’m back!’ Alice called as she closed the front door behind her. ‘Stella?’

  ‘I’m through here,’ Stella said, her voice coming from the living room.

  Alice found her sprawled out on one of the enormous cream sofas, the empty wrapper of a cereal bar on the table before her. She sat down next to her sister, half-expecting her to ask her where she’d been but she didn’t.

  Undeterred, Alice took the leaflet for the Villa Argenti out of her handbag and handed it to Stella.

  ‘What’s this?’ Stella asked.

  ‘Somewhere I think we should visit.’

  ‘What – some boring old house?’

  ‘It isn’t a house – it’s a villa.’

  ‘But we’re in a villa already.’

  ‘Not like this one – just look at it!’ Alice said, her voice high with excitement. ‘Anyway, the villa isn’t actually open to the public but the gardens look so beautiful, don’t you think?’

  ‘It looks like somewhere they’d drag you on a school trip!’ Stella said, handing the leaflet back to Alice.

  Alice bit her tongue and returned the leaflet to her bag. There wasn’t going to be any laughter on this trip, and they weren’t going to become closer than ever either, were they?

  ‘Hey!’ Stella suddenly said, leaning forward on the sofa and staring at Alice. ‘What are you doing wearing my necklace?’

  Chapter 7

  By the time Milo had tidied around the garden and put all the tools safely away, the sun was setting fast, leaving great violet streaks across the sky and turning the sea indigo. It was a time of day that he loved, especially in the spring when the air was balmy and one could get away with a short-sleeved shirt.

  Leaving the Villa Argenti on his moped, he took a winding mountain road which first descended towards the sea and then climbed steeply. From the top, you could see across the water to a neighbouring island. Milo had been there a couple of times. It was about ten times the size of Kethos and had been heaving with tourists. It made his own dear island seem deserted. Certainly, there wasn’t the notorious rush hour that some places were famous for; Milo practically had the roads to himself when he left work although the occasional stray goat would often force him to slow down and swerve. He’d heard his brothers complaining about their commute in Athens and he didn’t envy them. He always looked forward to his ride to and from home, occasionally breaking into song as he rode, his voice filling the air – not always in tune, perhaps, but always happy. Life was good. He loved his island, he loved his job and he loved his home.

  But he wasn’t going directly home that evening because there was something he had to pick up first. Turning his moped into a narrow road, he drove through a tiny village which ended in a small courtyard where half a dozen hens were pecking around in the dirt. There was a simple two-storey white house that was typical of Kethos. Its windows were wide open and a pair of orange curtains fluttered in the evening breeze and Milo could smell something wonderful cooking.

  ‘Hanna?’ he called as he took off his helmet and got off his bike. ‘Anyone at home?’ he called in Greek as he entered the kitchen but there was nobody about so he went back outside again and spotted a portly woman in her sixties with a huge wicker basket full of white sheets. Milo ran across the grass and took the basket from her. Her round face was red from the exertion.

  ‘Shouldn’t Tiana be helping you with this?’

  Hanna waved a fat hand at him. ‘Oh, let the child be a child.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘In the back room on that computer thing.’

  Milo sighed. Slowly but surely their little island was being taken over by computers and hand-held gadgets. Even the most unlikely of people seemed to have them now and were connecting to the internet with alarming regularity.

  ‘She knows I don’t like her on that day and night. She’s a kid. She should be outside, running up mountains and scraping her knees on rocks.’

  They entered the kitchen and Milo put the basket of washing down on the tiled floor. Two large black cats were asleep on an old leather chair by the cooker and, once again, Milo inhaled the aroma of a fine dinner.

  ‘You’ll stay for something to eat?’ Hanna asked.

  ‘Oh, that’s really kind of you but I’ve got to get back,’ Milo said, thinking of the chores he had to do around the house if he was to keep on top of things. His eldest brother, Georgio, had threatened to visit and Milo wanted to be above reproach if he did show up.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Hanna said and then left the kitchen and hollered, ‘Tiana!’

  A few seconds later, a ten-year-old girl darted from one of the rooms at the back of the house, her long dark hair flowing wildly behind her as she launched herself into Milo’s arms.

  ‘Tiana!’ he cried, wrapping his arms round her and kissing the top of her head. ‘You okay? Had a good day?’

  ‘She’s had her tea,’ Hanna said, ‘and you look as if you could do with some yourself. Look at the size of you!’

  ‘What?’ Milo said.

  ‘There’s nothing of you!’

  ‘I keep myself fit – that’s all.’

  ‘A working man needs a bit of meat on him,’ Hanna said. ‘Like my boys.’

  Milo thought of Hanna’s four sons. They were all as tall as Greek temples and about the same width too. By contrast, Milo and his three brothers were positively slender although he’d never have thought of himself as skinny. He was just well-toned, that was all. His job and his lifestyle made sure that there wasn’t any surplus flesh on him.

  ‘Now, are you sure you won’t stay for a bit of dinner?’

  As tempting as that offer was, he really had to get home. ‘Another time, Hanna,’ he said with a smile and she waved him from her kitchen.

  ‘I’ve been on the internet!’ Tiana said as they left the little house.

  ‘Yes, Hanna told me,’ Milo sai
d. ‘I don’t like you spending all your time in front of a computer.’

  ‘But it’s brilliant! You never let me use ours,’ she said.

  ‘And for good reasons too.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Your beautiful dark eyes will turn square and your brain will frazzle up and die.’

  Tiana wrinkled her little nose. ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘I’m being absolutely serious. You should be outside and running around like I was at your age.’

  ‘Oh, you’re so old sometimes!’ Tiana said with a little laugh.

  ‘Maybe I am,’ Milo said, ‘but you should take advantage of that and learn from me.’ He shook his head. He was beginning to sound old even to himself now. ‘Come on – helmet on!’ Milo ordered as they walked towards the moped.

  ‘Do I have to?’ Tiana protested.

  ‘You most certainly do.’

  ‘But I want to feel the wind in my hair,’ she said.

  ‘If you want to feel the wind in your hair, it’ll be a very long walk home.’

  She pouted but then placed the helmet firmly on her head and Milo helped her with the strap. Then they both hopped on and took off. Milo took the roads a little slower when Tiana was riding behind him. He loved to speed around the island when he was on his own, careening around the bends a little too fast sometimes and speeding down the hills towards the sea but he was the perfect rider when Tiana was with him and he never took any unnecessary chances.

  Feeling the tightness of her little hands on his waist, he smiled.

  ‘You okay?’ he shouted and he felt her squeeze his belly in affirmative response. They rode through another village, scattering a group of children who were kicking a football around and then they ascended into the hills before coming to a stop at last.

  Their house was like most of the others on the island: small, square and white but, over the years, they’d put their own stamp on it, painting the three tiny bedrooms, living room and kitchen in cheering yellows and vibrant reds apart from Tiana’s bedroom which – like the bedrooms of almost every other ten-year-old girl around the world – was a symphony of pink. Milo remembered the weekend they’d chosen the pots of pink paint together and had spent two whole days getting just as much paint on themselves as on the walls.

  The furniture around the house was simple wooden hand-me-down pieces which weren’t worth a lot of money but were good and sturdy. His favourite piece was a rather fine rocking chair by the fire which had been rocked by at least four generations of Galanis. He adored that old chair.

  But it was the garden which was Milo’s real forte. He’d planted it with flowers, fruit bushes and vegetables. One of the perks of his job at the Villa Argenti was that his pockets would often be stuffed with seeds taken from the garden he’d created there and he’d replicated some of the borders at the villa in miniature in his own back garden for Tiana. Even though he spent all day working in one garden, he couldn’t resist tinkering around in his own once he got home, only he really didn’t have time for that tonight. There were the morning dishes to wash, dinner to prepare, the ironing to do and heaven only knew that the little house hadn’t seen the sight of a vacuum cleaner for a good many days.

  Walking into the kitchen together, he watched as Tiana reached into a cupboard for her favourite pink glass before filling it with pineapple juice from the fridge. She took it to the table and sipped it thoughtfully. It was a routine that Milo observed every day and never tired of. What a little miracle she was, he thought, and how wonderful that she had come into his life.

  She looked up at him with her large dark eyes and smiled. ‘What is it?’ She was at the age where he could no longer just stare at her without her asking him what he was doing or thinking or plotting.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said.

  She didn’t look convinced. ‘Tell me!’

  He shrugged but then said, ‘You are happy here, aren’t you, Tiana?’

  She sighed. ‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘Why do you always ask me that?’

  ‘Because I worry.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Everything. I worry that you’re not happy living with me. I worry that you’re not happy living here. I mean, are you sure you wouldn’t want to live somewhere else?’

  ‘Like where?’

  ‘Like the mainland.’

  She shook her head and took another sip of her pineapple juice. ‘Why would I want to live there?’

  ‘No reason.’

  ‘You said it was horrible there. You said it was dirty and smelly and noisy.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘So why would I want to live there? You’re not going to send me there, are you? We’re not leaving here, are we?’ she asked, her eyes filled with anxiety.

  ‘No, we’re not leaving here.’

  ‘Well, then,’ she said with a little shrug before finishing her juice and leaving the table. ‘I’m going on the computer,’ she added as she left the room.

  ‘No, Tiana! You’ve spent quite enough time on there already for one day.’

  ‘But I need to. It’s for my homework!’

  ‘Well, I’m timing you. Make sure it’s just your homework you’re doing and remember I’ll be checking up on you.’

  ‘No, you won’t. You’ll go out in the garden and forget all about me!’

  ‘I will not, you cheeky miss!’ Milo shook his head. Honestly, his little sister could be so astute sometimes.

  Chapter 8

  The room was cool and dark and Alice had no idea what the time was when she awoke, fumbling for her travel clock on the bedside cabinet. Eight o’clock.

  ‘Eight o’clock!’ she cried, leaping out of bed. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of her holiday and ran across the room to draw the curtains. Sunlight blasted into the bedroom and dazzled Alice’s eyes, the vibrant colours of Kethos dancing before her. The sky was a perfect blue and the sea was a gloriously glassy aquamarine.

  Showering quickly and pulling on a pair of beige cotton trousers and a blouse that was still new enough to look white rather than grey, she ventured downstairs, walking into the kitchen and fixing herself a light breakfast of toast and honey. She’d had to make a return journey into Kethos Town the night before to buy provisions for the villa. She’d meant to get them after eating at the taverna but the leaflet for the Villa Argenti had excited her so much that she’d forgotten to go shopping.

  Alice had been up a full hour by the time Stella shuffled downstairs. She was wearing a pink satin bathrobe and her blonde hair was newly washed and blow-dried. Alice had noticed the enormous hairdryer and straightening tongs in her sister’s suitcase.

  In the spirit of sisterhood, Alice decided to try again and took a deep breath. ‘It’s such a glorious day. Have you changed your mind about a bit of exploring?’

  ‘I’m going to work on my tan,’ Stella announced.

  ‘But you’ll be out in the sun if you come with me to this villa. There’s a wonderful garden. We can do a bit of sunbathing there.’

  ‘It’s not the same. I want to lie about the pool and really relax. You’ve no idea how stressed I’ve been recently,’ she said with a dramatic sigh.

  Alice watched as Stella untied her bath robe and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing the skimpiest of bikinis in a metallic gold material that managed to look expensive and cheap at the same time.

  ‘Put some cream on my back,’ she said, handing Alice a large bottle of coconut-scented sun lotion. ‘Blimey! That’s cold!’ she complained a moment later. ‘Can’t you warm your hands up or something first?’

  ‘No, I can’t,’ Alice said abruptly, ‘or I’ll be late for the bus. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’

  ‘To that boring old villa?’ She made a funny huffing sound and waltzed out through the patio doors onto the terrace and took position on the sun lounger nearest the pool. Alice sighed. She couldn’t believe that they had flown all the way to the Mediterranean and Stella wanted to
do nothing more than get a tan. Didn’t she want to see any of the island? Wasn’t she the least bit interested in exploring some of its history and culture? Well, Alice wasn’t going to just sit around, that was for sure.

  ‘My friends are all going to be so jealous of my tan,’ Stella said, stretching herself out like a cat. ‘You’ll have to get lots of photos of me,’ she said, putting on her very large, very dark sunglasses.

  It was such a relief to leave the villa and walk into town. Why did she always let her sister get to her like that? She was twenty-eight years old and she’d had to put up with Stella for all but four of those years – surely she knew what she was like by now. So why did it still hurt her so much?

  Alice caught a little bus from the centre of Kethos Town which headed up a road into the mountains. She’d shown her leaflet of the Villa Argenti to the driver and he nodded in understanding and Alice sat on the back seat and prepared to enjoy the journey. As long as it took her as far away from Stella as was possible on a tiny island, that would suit her.

  Alice took a deep breath. She was going to push all thoughts of Stella out of her head and enjoy her surroundings and, looking out of the bus window, she gasped as she noticed just how high they had climbed. The road had twisted its way high up into the mountains and the drop back down gave Alice goosebumps but the view was spectacular. She could see so much of the island all at once from this vantage point and she could just make out the large curve of the coastline that made up one part of the heart shape that the island was famous for.

  It was about twenty minutes later when the bus stopped and the driver nodded and pointed along a little road. Alice looked down it but couldn’t see anything.

  ‘Villa Argenti?’ she asked.

  He waved his hand and nodded again and Alice hopped off the bus. She was the only one to do so and she watched as it rounded a bend in the road and disappeared.