Page 63 of For One Moment With You
I listen to the door close again. Then, leaning against the balcony, I close my eyes. The end of a marriage was always sad. But so was someone who’d lost herself, in the passing of time. And I was not going to be that person – not any more, at least. As I stood on that balcony in that beautiful place, suddenly I was done with feeling sorry for myself. From now on, I was taking control of my life. Elena, Tallulah, Mum, Lizzie, all of them were right. This wasmylife.
I frown for a moment. When I looked back, there had been so many signs over the years. Gareth’s reluctance to become a father; his refusal to accept my pregnancy; his inability to even deal with my morning sickness – Gareth’s never been good with vomit. Not mine, not even the boys. His answer to such things was to make himself scarce, which in those days meant going to the pub.
But there’s no point in dwelling on those days any more. Much though I wish things could have been different, they’ve gone.
I imagine them carried out to sea in one of the little boats in the harbour, leaving them where they’re meant to be, where they can no longer hurt me.
In the past.
* * *
The following morning, planning to go exploring, I picked up a coffee and flatbread on my way to the bus stop. The sky was silvery where the sun was rising, the breeze cooler than yesterday and as I walked, I had a spring in my step. The still night hours had provided the perfect resolution to the Gareth-and-the-house dilemma. I had no obligation to dance to his tune. It was as Nicos said. It could wait.
Sitting on the bus, I took in the other passengers. Greeks of all ages, a mother and two young children; then I gazed out of the window. It was funny, but already, I was adjusting. And OK, it still felt a little odd, but no longer was I starting each day with a long list of chores. Washing sofa cushions that were still clean from last time, scrubbing the spare bathroom that never got used. Blitzing an already spotless house before dutifully calling my father – that’s if Rick hadn’t made an appearance. Here, I had none of that.
Thinking of my dad, I sighed. There was no way he would ever understand what I was doing here in Crete. As far as I knew, he still believed it was my fault that Gareth decided to leave me. And I hoped my dad was OK. But, at least for now, he wasn’t my responsibility.
If that made me selfish, so be it. There was nothing wrong in clawing back a little time for myself. There couldn’t be many better ways to spend it, either, than discovering a new and beautiful corner of this world. I took in the little villages we passed, the herds of goats, and rocky hills; the views of the shimmering sea. Then before I knew it, we reached the village of Platanias.
Getting off the bus, I found myself in a quiet street. The bus stop wasn’t far from the sea. But today, I had something else in mind. Getting out my map, I put my trust in my map-reading skills and started walking.
It wasn’t long before I reached my destination. And yes, maybe it was one of the nostalgic attacks that used to drive Gareth up the wall. But as it came into view, I just stared at it, in wonder. I mean, even in Greece, there was nothing quite like a deserted railway station.
* * *
‘An old railway station always makes me think about what life must have been like. When it was still running,’ I said to Nicos that evening.
He looked bemused. ‘I think back then, you would find that life was hard. But if you like history, you must go to Knossos – and Rethymno. You will find a feast for your eyes there.’
‘Sure,’ I said, mentally making a note. ‘But I suppose the thing about railway stations is that they’re in the recent past. I mean, they’re not that old, are they? I always think getting on a train is like embarking on an adventure. All those sights you never get to see from anywhere else.’
‘We have not had trains in a long time.’ Nicos gave me a strange look. ‘We walk, and we have cars and buses. It is an island, Tilly.’ He frowned. ‘I do not understand.’
I sighed. ‘I suffer from nostalgia, Nicos. I like things that remind me of the past – mostlymypast. I also happen to like railway stations.’
‘Then I am pleased for you. But the past…’ He hesitated. ‘It is gone. Now, things are different. In many ways, this is good. You must excuse me. I have to work.’
‘I know.’ Knowing he didn’t get it, I watched him go inside the bar, then turned my attention to the harbour just as an old man shuffled into view. He looked unsteady as he made his way along the harbour front. Then just metres away from me, he stumbled and fell.
I got up and rushed over, realising he was the old man I’d noticed on the ferry on my way here. ‘Are you OK?’ Completely forgetting he probably didn’t speak English.
Grimacing, he tried to sit up, then slumped back.
‘Stay there.’ I held his arm, looking around for help just as Nicos came out of the bar. ‘Nicos?’ I called out. ‘I need your help. Quickly.’
Looking towards me, he came hurrying over. Crouching down, he spoke in Greek to the old man, before turning to me. ‘I know him. His name is Michail…’ He frowned. ‘Did you see what happened?’
‘One minute he was just walking along. Then he seemed to collapse.’
Nicos spoke in Greek to the man again, before looking at me. ‘We will try to get him on his feet.’
We each took one of his arms and tried to help Michail up. But it soon became apparent, he was in too much pain.
Nicos looked worried. ‘Can you stay with him? I will call the ambulance.’
I took off my jacket, folded it and put it under the man’s head. ‘You’ll be OK,’ I said – in English, obviously. But a reassuring voice, even one you couldn’t understand, I figured had to be better than nothing. ‘Nicos is getting help. Someone will be here soon.’
Nicos was soon back, carrying a blanket which he draped over the man. ‘That is good,’ he said, nodding towards my jacket-pillow. ‘They should not be long.’
