Page 23 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘I hope no one tells Rick that,’ Anita murmured.
‘It wasn’t true anyway,’ Beryl said. ‘Charles had the seduction skills of a hippopotamus. But I didn’t realise it for ages. Not until – well, never mind.’
The four of us giggled like schoolgirls and Jillian turned in her seat, sighed again and sent us one of her hard looks.
The minibus made its way back down the winding road to the town, where the streets were busier with tourists and traffic. As we drove along the seafront, we spotted a painted sign at the edge of the harbour which even had a picture of someone being towed on a ringo behind a boat and laughing and waving at the same time.
‘We’ll go there after a late lunch,’ Effie said, ‘and hope there isn’t a queue.’
‘Do we need lunch? I’m not really hungry after all that cake,’ I said.
I had a horrible image of myself on a rubber ringo, far out across the blue sea behind a boat which was going somewhere near the speed limit, and me throwing up at the same time. It didn’t bear thinking about and I began to regret my decision to do this even more.
‘Oooh yes, you have to keep your strength up so you can hang on and not get thrown into the boat’s propellers,’ Effie said.
‘Does that happen? I hadn’t thought of that,’ I said, panicking.
Effie patted my hand encouragingly. ‘No, probably not, but it’s the first thing I thought of. Now then, we’re back. We’ll go and get changed and then meet up in reception in ten minutes. Oooh, I’m quite excited. I hope my ringo doesn’t tip over, I’ve heard that happens.’
‘Tip over?’ I said weakly.
‘You’re such a worrier. It’ll be fine, you’ll be wearing a life jacket so you won’t sink,’ Beryl said, ‘and before you set off I’ll make sure the driver has a kill switch, to stop the boat if he can’t, and then it doesn’t run you over by mistake.’
‘What?’
‘Stop it, Beryl,’ Anita giggled, ‘I bet that hardly ever happens.’
‘Once would be enough,’ I said, now visualising myself stranded far out to sea, bobbing like a cork on the water in my life jacket and watching the prow of an out-of-control speedboat hurtling towards my head. What should I do if that happened? Dive under the water? Swim out of the way?
What was the geometry involved in that particular triangle?
1) The speedboat 2) me 3) a place of safety.
How hard and fast would I have to swim? And in what direction?
I felt quite sick for a moment.
‘Don’t listen to them, they are just being silly. It’ll be fine. I’ll be there too, I’ll look after you,’ Effie said kindly.
‘Are you a good swimmer?’ I shouted down the stairwell as I reached my room and fumbled for my keys.
‘No, never got past doggy paddle in the shallow end with one foot on the floor,’ she shouted back happily. ‘See you in ten minutes.’
* * *
We didn’t see anyone else around in the hotel. There was only the faint sound of a radio playing some unfamiliar music from behind the reception desk. But no sign of Costas or Nina. Perhaps they were having a siesta. But siesta was a Spanish word, wasn’t it? I wondered what the Greeks called it.
‘Messimeri,’ Beryl said when I asked her a few minutes later as we walked back towards the harbour. ‘It used to be between two and five o’clock, but these days not many people do that. Not if they want to earn a living with a country full of tourists. And these days the Greeks have long working hours.’
‘I love a nap in the afternoon,’ Effie said, ‘but I don’t call them that. I think of them as deliberate life-pauses. Actually, I sometimes do doze off in front ofAntiques Roadshow. It’s so soothing, and everyone is so happy and smiling all the time. Except for that one time when the person thought the painting they bought for five hundred quid at a car boot sale was a Paul Gaugin and it turned out to be by Paul Goggin, who was a local plumber. And the morning chat shows are awful. Every single person is angry and shouting over each other. And the presenters are far more interested in voicing their opinions than listening to other people’s. You said something about a late lunch, how about this place?’
We went into a little wine bar which had a few tables set out under a pergola and a bar with some barstools behind it.
‘I’m not sure I want anything,’ I said. ‘I’m really nervous.’
‘Better to have something rather than be retching on an empty stomach,’ Beryl said. ‘That’s what my mother always told me.’
‘She did, didn’t she?’ Effie said, delighted. ‘She used to make us eat sandwiches all the way to Cornwall when we were kids. I can still taste that sardine and tomato paste now if I think about it.’
