Page 16 of Old Girls Go Greek
Beryl and I went to look and found a bank of switches in a waterproof covering. We stabbed at a few through the thick plastic until eventually the roof was plunged into darkness. For a moment we all oooed and aahed appreciatively at the starry sky above us, but then there was a shout of outrage and what sounded like some very rude words from the pool area.
Switching the lights back on, we saw Costas in the hot tub, mercifully covered by the bubbles, which had started up again. He was resting back on a plastic cushion smoking a cheroot, a bottle of ouzo and a glass balanced on the edge of the tub.
‘Costas! How did the darts match go?’ Beryl asked to try to mollify him when it seemed our attempts at an explanation were not going down well.
Costas made a long grumbling noise and said a lot of words, which Beryl couldn’t actually translate, but the gist of it was – not good.
‘Éna dýskolo paichnídi. Such a hard game,’ Beryl said sympathetically.
‘I tried once, missed the board and stabbed myself in the foot,’ Effie added.
At last, evidently annoyed at his end-of-day relaxation being disturbed, Costas hauled himself out, revealing two things. Insubstantial swimming trunks that were not up to the task required of them and the possibility that he had werewolf somewhere in his ancestry.
The four of us scurried giggling to the other end of the roof terrace and tried to avert our gaze while he towelled down and then wrapped himself in a robe decorated with dolphins. After hearing the roof door slam behind him, we crept out and resumed our stargazing, lying down on some of the sunbeds for a better view of the night sky.
It was breathtaking, better than anything I had ever seen. The stars seemed to go on forever. In a funny way it made me realise exactly how small my problems were, and indeed so was I. If the garage couldn’t fit my car in for its MOT next week, then I would just have to cope. I needed to paint my bedroom ceiling now that I had fixed the damp patch, but really it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. The stars were here before me and would be here long after I had gone too.
‘It’s a sign, isn’t it?’ Effie said, following my gaze towards the glittering constellations above us.
‘What? Not to disturb Costas in the hot tub?’ I said.
Effie shook her head and chuckled.
‘I’ve never seen a man that – what’s the word? – hirsute,’ Beryl agreed, and unfortunately at that point there was a great deal of childish giggling.
‘I had a lip wax before I came here. It looked like I’d a small badger nestling on my top lip. I hate to think what it would entail if Costas… Do you think Nina has to comb him out?’ Anita asked.
‘Stop it,’ I said, putting a hand to my throat to stop laughing, ‘it’s supposed to be very manly.’
‘I think we need to go to bed,’ Anita said, ‘and prepare for the morning. Breakfast is at eight, and then we are off to the ruined monastery. Perhaps a few hours actually painting will settle us all down.’
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘After all, that is why we are here.’
Anita prodded at the light switch again and some of the bulbs around the roof glowed in the darkness.
‘Serious, intellectual and creative thoughts, girls,’ Beryl said. ‘We need to find the higher plane of beauty and artistic endeavour.’
‘Oh, I liked him. Endeavour. That actor, Sean someone, he was very watchable,’ Effie said, her eyes lighting up, ‘and I don’t usually like the slim, frail, damaged types. I like a man I can get hold of. I’m a great feeder. I think I must have been a mother bird in a previous life. If I’d had children I would have been like a dear little hummingbird, with jewelled wings. Flitting from flower to flower. They are supposed to be the best bird mothers.’
Beryl gave a snort. ‘Rubbish, you would have been a penguin. They leave the fathers in the Antarctic blizzards to incubate the eggs for weeks on their own, and when the mothers come back, they just vomit up a load of fish.’
* * *
We trooped off downstairs again and went to our rooms.
‘I’m so looking forward to tomorrow,’ I said as Anita and I unlocked our neighbouring doors.
‘Me too. I’m going to really focus and get something done which I can be proud of. Rick has already said he will pay to have my best one framed and has earmarked a space in the dining room where he says he’s going to hang it. He has such faith in my abilities, which I fear are unfounded. See you in the morning.’
How nice, I thought as I made my way to my room. To have a husband who was encouraging and supportive. I could almost imagine the sneer Malcolm would have given as he struggled to find something positive to say about my paintings. For a moment I was almost envious of Anita, because apart from anything else, she seemed to really like her husband. Which sometimes – when the going got tough in a marriage – was more important than love.
The kittens were sound asleep on my bathmat again and woke when I closed the door, scarpering out onto the balcony in a flurry of paws and startled tails.
It had been a long and enjoyable day, and I was ready for my bed. Tomorrow, as Beryl said, we would get down to some work.
5
The following morning, I woke just after seven o’clock to see the beginnings of a beautiful day outside. The sun had risen over the roofs of the little white houses and the sea looked as though it was shimmering in the clear light. How lovely to live in a place where the climate was so reliable. Back home, the British weather was a constant topic of conversation.
