Page 59 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘That’s exactly what Beryl said.’
We sat in easy silence then and watched the sea. People were packing up their picnic bags and young children and obviously getting ready to go back to their houses or hotels. Groups of teenagers were gathering instead, the girls lithe and pretty in their skimpy clothes, the boys loud and yet cautious around them. A tale as old as time.
I felt a surge of frustration.Make the most of it, I wanted to say to them;don’t take this freedom, this confidence, for granted. Never doubt yourselves. Be the best you can be.
And yet those same thoughts were dominating my mind. I wanted to stop thinking of myself as abandoned to old age, gradually feeling my usefulness decline. I should seize my newfound self-reliance and run with it as far and as fast as I could. Which at my age with a dodgy knee would not be particularly fast or far.
I looked at my watch; it was three thirty and I needed time to get a shower and put on some fresh clothes ready for the evening’s outing. Added to this, I had the feeling that if I kept on asking questions and probing him for information, he might clam up again and I would be back to square one.
‘Right then, I’d better go back to the hotel and freshen up.’
He looked a little disappointed. ‘Must you? I was enjoying this.’
I wavered for a moment and then stuck to my guns. What had P.T. Barnum said? Always leave then wanting more.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘I’m looking forward to this evening. Did you book a taxi? You said you would ask Costas and after seeing him in his thong, I didn’t feel quite up to it to be honest.’
He laughed. ‘I did. It will be outside at six o’clock. I’m going to stay here and finish my lemonade and do a bit more thinking, but I could see you safely back to the hotel if you want me to?’
Very gentlemanly, I thought, but I didn’t think anything was likely to happen in the hundred yards between the café and Hotel Costas.
‘No need, I’ll be fine and I’ll see you later,’ I said.
Walking back, I felt quite optimistic and pleased with the way things had gone. Unlike most men I had known, he didn’t want to talk about himself all the time, which was refreshing but also slightly annoying, because just like Fifi in Manchester, there were things I wanted to know. Why had he left his blossoming career and where had he gone anyway? What had he been doing to fill those years, and with whom?
17
Back in my room I checked that the kittens had finished up their breakfast ham – of course they had – and then I went and had a long, cool shower.
What day was it anyway? I normally had a hard enough time remembering what day of the week it was, but here, where one sunny day blended into another and I didn’t have to remember when it was Friday and time to put the bins out, it was even more difficult.
I thought for a moment and then decided it was Thursday. Which meant we only had two more days to go until we went home again. Back to my house in Lower Begley where the grass would need mowing. There would probably be a pile of uninteresting post and flyers for retirement villages on my doorstep, and Ivan, well fed and adored by Nicky, would not run up meowing to greet me with his tail held high, but fix me with one of his withering looks.
I sent off a quick email and some more pictures to my daughter and then turned to the pressing problem of what I was going to wear that evening. Perhaps my new rose-printed sundress, or maybe the one I had brought with me which was pale blue, and I still had a clean white t-shirt to wear underneath it. But that was a bit informal, wasn’t it? Maybe some smart, dark trousers and a blue linen blouse? I looked as though I was going for a job interview. Jeans and a polo shirt? Too casual. Dark trousers and a striped, green top. There was a small red wine stain on one side of the neck which scrubbing with handwash had failed to completely remove, but I could cover that up with an artfully draped scarf. Would my zebra-print kitten heels bear another outing, even though one of them was still a slightly darker colour than the other one?
I bet Will wasn’t worrying about such things. I expect he just slung on the first clean shirt he found in his suitcase and thought no more about it.
So what would I feel most comfortable in? Never mind what he might think of me.
In the end, hoping to avoid detection, I sneaked quietly out of my room to go downstairs just before six o’clock in dark trousers and a clean pink top, my kitten heels clacking on the marble stairs. I was reasonably confident although I held firmly on to the handrail as I went, because I was sure one of the shoes could skid out from underneath me and send me flying down to the bottom. Not a good first impression at all.
‘So,’ said a voice behind me. ‘You’re off with the divine Will again.’
I turned to see Anita hanging over the banister at the top of the stairs, and I realised she must have been listening for my door to open. It did have quite a distinctive squeak.
‘Oh, just off for that meal I was telling you about,’ I said airily.
‘Excellent news. I shall take great pleasure in telling Jillian when she is flapping around trying to round us all up for the ouzo tasting evening at the Poseidon bar. She’ll be very annoyed. You must tell us all about it when you get back. Unless it’s after midnight, in which case we will all be asleep and not interested enough to wake up. On the other hand, if you end up locked in a passionate embrace in his room, I insist you do bang on my door when you finally get back to your own bed and tell me all about it. I will want to know every titillating detail.’
‘It certainly won’t be that late and I certainly won’t end up doing any of that stuff!’ I said.
‘I live in hope,’ Anita said.
‘Oh, you!’
I resumed my careful way down the stairs.
‘Have fun!’ she called after me, her voice echoing down the stairwell. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Actually, I’ve always thought that’s a bit meaningless, isn’t it? Doallthe things!’
