Page 50 of Old Girls Go Greek
We worked our way through the different little glasses of wines and picked at the nibbles, which included some salty pistachios, chopped-up cured meats and slices of pita bread and fava bean hummus.
‘I don’t know if these complement the wines or not,’ I said, ‘but they taste jolly nice. Did you have some of the Vin Santo, Susan? You said you like communion wine. I think you would love this.’
Susan looked down at her tasting notes. ‘I’m not sure I would. It says it’s got cinnamon, cloves and a vicious palate.’
‘Viscous palate, Susan, viscous,’ Jillian said.
Susan perked up. ‘Oh well, perhaps I’ll give it a go. I say, I feel a bit tiddly already and I’ve only tried two.’
‘Which is your favourite?’ Will asked.
I swirled the remains of some white wine around in the glass.
‘This one. Assyrtiko, the same as we had the other evening. I like the – what does it say here? – flavours of toast, vanilla and complex herbs.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you indeed?’
‘And it says here that it would have a long ageing potential. Well, it wouldn’t if it was in my fridge.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he said, and we smiled at each other. ‘Perhaps we should buy some to take home?’
‘Well, I would but I know if I did, the bottle would break inside the suitcase and I’d never get the smell of wine out of my clothes.’
‘Then we would have to drink it here,’ he said. ‘Problem solved.’
I looked down again at my tasting notes, and then picked up a different glass, one containing a little sample of wine which was a beautiful pink blush, like the bridesmaid’s dress at Nicky’s wedding. Kissiris Rosé.I sipped it and looked thoughtfully into the distance.
We. It was a long time since a man had included me like that. To somehow make me a part of a partnership. And that definitely included Malcolm, whose pronouncements usually started with ‘I’.
Yes, I was part of a group here, andwewere having a fine old time, friendly and companionable, but it was a different sort of thing when it came to Will. Exclusive but also somehow inclusive. I couldn’t quite get my head around it.
Did I want to be included in the more exclusive plans Will might make for us? How did I feel about that? I wasn’t sure.
‘I think I’ve had enough wine for a while,’ I said, putting my glass down. ‘I think my liver needs a little rest.’
He nodded. ‘I know how you feel. I’m a great one for tea though. Proper builders’ tea with one sugar.’
‘No sugar for me. I prefer tea with a couple of chocolate digestives,’ I said.
‘I’ll try and remember that,’ he said.
This comment sent me into a bit of a spin, which of course might have been due to the seven tasting glasses of wine I had sampled, but then in my defence I hadn’t finished any of them.
He was doing it again. Saying things that drew us together. I had spent the last few years pulling away from that sort of thing, from the suffocating control of Malcolm. And since we had divorced, I had gradually learned to be my own boss, to organise my days and not worry about what to make for dinner based on his preferences.
I looked around me. This was a lovely place, a perfect setting. It wasn’t just me who needed to rethink my life and find my place in the world. Perhaps all of us did. Did I have long ageing potential too, like the wine?
This group might be a disparate bunch who didn’t co-operate as Jillian would have wished, but they were without exception law-abiding, decent people. No one was obnoxious or rude. Everyone was trying their best. And who knew what private traumas or problems they were dealing with? It wasn’t just Will who was the unknown quantity here; all of us probably had difficulties, unspoken worries, illnesses and disappointments. I felt a sudden and unexpected affection for all of them.
Perhaps it was just the occasion, the glorious setting, the sea air, the long days of sunshine and relaxation I had enjoyed. It all added up to a slightly unfamiliar feeling of being happy for no particular reason, and at the same time I was enthusiastic for what each day might bring. Anticipation.
Although I had been reasonably content with my daily life as a rule, I hadn’t felt that way for a long time. And I liked it.
There was a burst of noise from the other end of the table as Dennis told one of his stories, and June, Susan and Jillian leaned in towards him, laughing.
I suddenly needed a breath of fresh air; I got up from my seat and went to walk on the stone terraces outside with the superb views over the rocky coastline. It felt as though this was the moment, the new beginning I had been seeking after so many years of feeling directionless and unfocused. I had a happily married daughter, maybe the prospect of grandchildren. I had a decent home and pension. I had my health. I had a great deal to be thankful for. It would be wrong to let opportunities pass, to allow the future to slip past unremarked and unremarkable.
I shouldn’t take it all for granted. And I wasn’t going to. I had behaved and conformed and paid my taxes. I had earned my place. I deserved to be happy as much as the next person.
