Page 17 of Old Girls Go Greek
Sunny summer days could never be relied on in England. People listened to the forecasts, kept umbrellas in their cars and checked apps on their phones as a matter of course. Here, I suppose it was very different.
I wondered what Greek people talked about instead. Politics perhaps, or their families. Food or the economy. Did Greek women have to hurry home from work because they had left a line full of washing, or worry about the cost of turning the heating on in the winter?
It was already quite a warm day and after I showered, I put on my one strappy sundress with a white blouse underneath it because I was a bit self-conscious about my upper arms, and then after taking a look in the mirror, I changed it for a red t-shirt, because I felt in need of a bit of colour. I wasn’t in the mood to be predictable and safe any more. I wanted a bit of excitement.
Following the sound of excited chatter, I went downstairs feeling very much in the holiday mood. The others were already there, sitting at a long wooden table outside in a courtyard, which was probably the most delightful space I had ever been in for breakfast. There were terracotta pots of flowers everywhere, more of the bougainvillea blossoming enthusiastically across the walls, and the house cat and her kittens sitting hopefully on the dry, stone birdbath.
‘We just help ourselves,’ Beryl called across. ‘It’s really rather lovely.’
There were all sorts of teabags, urns of coffee and boiling water, cereals and milk, platters of cheese and ham, croissants and pastries and several glass pots of jam. I made a selection and went to sit between Beryl and Anita.
‘Sleep well?’ Anita asked. ‘I was out like a light the minute my head touched the pillow, and I don’t think I woke up until Rick messaged me at six, asking which bin needed to go out this week. He knows better than I do. I think it’s his way of telling me he’s missing me.’
‘How romantic,’ Effie said from further along the table.
‘Rick says they are setting off for Scotland for their birdwatching break just after nine because they can’t get into the hotel until three o’clock. He sounded terribly excited. He says there have been sightings of dotterels, Temminck’s Stint and bluethroats. There’s a loch nearby and they are hoping to see a garganey if they are lucky. I don’t think he will miss me one bit in the face of all that excitement.’
I shook my head. ‘Nonsense, Anita, you have your own appeal, the sort a garganey – whatever that is – couldn’t possibly compete with.’
‘True,’ Anita said, buttering her croissant. ‘I bet a garganey can’t make syrup sponge and custard.’
Dennis was sitting at the head of the table with two cups of tea, a bowl of bran flakes and a plate loaded with pastries. He called over to us.
‘I hope we will all be ready on time; the bus will be here to collect us promptly so don’t be late. And don’t forget all your painting things, and Jillian says a sunhat and bottles of water are essential. It’s going to be a hot day. We don’t want any of you ladies fainting.’
‘You’ll pick me up off the ground if I do, won’t you, Dennis?’ Anita said with a coy look.
Dennis looked flustered. ‘I’d love to, but not with my dodgy ankle, I’m afraid. I fell down the stairs in Rackhams in 1980 and I’ve not been the same since.’
‘Staircases can be so dangerous.’ Beryl nodded. She looked wistful for a moment. ‘I fell down the stairs at the White House in the early eighties. My heel got tangled up in my dress. Luckily there was a Marine there who caught me. He had the most savage haircut and muscles like iron bars. It was marvellous and almost worth doing again.’
‘I shall paint like a demon today,’ Dennis continued, flexing his fingers over his bran flakes like a concert pianist. ‘I can almost feel the inspiration returning. Which means, I warn you now, I probably won’t be very communicative. I get into a sort of artistic mindset when I forget everything, even mealtimes. My wife Sally says she loves to see me like that.’
‘I bet she does,’ Effie murmured.
Jillian came in, still holding her usual clipboard, and she ticked off a few things with a pencil, looking around and frowning.
‘Will,’ she said, ‘where is he? Ah, there you are. I was wondering if you had overslept.’
Will came into the courtyard, made for the coffee machine and then came to sit opposite me.
‘Not a bit of it, I was up at four thirty and went for a walk. There was a marvellous sunrise. The fishing boats were going out.’
Jillian ticked something else off.
‘Wonderful, wonderful. Now then, nine o’clock, everyone. There is a lovely day ahead. Plenty of superb views and inspiration by the shedload. You absolutelymustbe by the front door with all your things.’
‘What happens if we are a few minutes late, I wonder,’ I said.
‘Costas comes out and chucks a bucket of water over you,’ Will said, and we grinned at each other.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ I said. ‘I’ve never seen so many gorgeous views in one place.’
‘Greek islands are like that,’ he agreed. ‘They all seem so idyllic. But then so is Italy; the view over the Italian Lakes is breathtaking. Like something out of a film set. Have you ever been?’
‘Never,’ I said, ‘but I’d love to if it’s that good.’
‘Then there is the Grand Canyon, the Norwegian Fjords, and even tourism can’t spoil how mind-blowing the Niagara Falls are.’
