Page 73 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘Well, I don’t really know what to say,’ he said, ‘I’m not a great one for talking?—’
‘Could have fooled me,’ Beryl murmured.
‘—I didn’t expect this at all. But I will say it’s been a very enjoyable week, with some really splendid locations and vistas. A decent room in a very pleasant hotel; thank you, Nina and Costas. And the arrangements have been first class. Thanks to Gregor for driving us, and to everyone in this little town who have made us all feel so welcome. Apart from the man in the bakery who put onion in my sandwich when I quite clearly told him not to. And to the lovely restaurants and cafés who have kept us well fed and entertained. And also I mustn’t forget?—’
‘I thought he didn’t know what to say?’ Effie said. ‘He only needs to get onto the council workers, the prime minster of Greece and the Olympic movement and then he has all the bases covered.’
‘—and so farewell, friends, it’s been such fun. And getting this award is the icing on the cake. Or should I say on thevasilopita? Just my little joke. Sally will be thrilled when I get back and tell her all about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she frames this and hangs it up somewhere.’
‘Bravo,’ Beryl called from our end of the table, and she started clapping. ‘Bravo, Dennis.’
We all joined in with the applause and Dennis went to sit down, looking very pleased and slightly embarrassed.
‘So this really is the end,’ Effie said. ‘Still, there is always next year. Another trip, a different activity maybe?’
‘Good idea,’ Anita said. ‘Anywhere warm, like this, suits me. Still, I’m looking forward to getting home and seeing Rick again, even if I do have to look at all his pictures of wet birds on a damp Scottish hillside. He’ll be in such a great mood; I might even discuss the hot tub idea with him again.’
And me? How did I feel?
A mixture of emotions. Part of me was looking forward to getting back home, doing my laundry and sleeping in my own bed. The other part was slightly sad to leave this beautiful island where I had enjoyed myself far more than I had expected to, and also that things had ended like this, with Will leaving early without any sort of farewell or explanation. And why? That was the nagging question at the back of my mind. Oh well, I would just have to put it down to experience and forget about it. It had been fun and rather exciting, but all good things must come to an end, after all.
21
Our plane landed at Birmingham airport an hour late, and of course it was dark and raining.
‘Flipping heck, talk about a come down,’ Beryl said as we trudged through the corridors dragging our cabin bags behind us. As we went, we watched the bulk of our plane disappearing behind the rain-smeared windows, and then we were on to security and the scrum of baggage reclaim, and for a while it almost felt as though the days of sunshine and the fun we had enjoyed had all been a dream.
June and Susan were picked up by Nigel, who swept June up into his arms as though she had been away for months rather than days. It was very sweet to see and I hoped he would be pleased with the new sweater she had knitted for him.
Beryl had organised a minibus to take the five of us home to Lower Begley, and we piled in with our cases and bags, Dennis in the front seat fiddling with the heating and complaining about the vanilla air freshener, and the rest of us tired and rather cramped behind him. It was very different from our excursions with Gregor, and this too made us all rather subdued.
I leaned my forehead on the window and looked out at the speeding traffic, the lights from the motorway blurred by grime and the lashing rain. I wondered if all good holidays triggered such a response. Disappointment that they were over. Regret that life might be going to get back into a normal routine. And then I thought about Will again and wondered where he was and why he had left so abruptly.
I guessed he was home, in his latest renovation project near Bicester. That’s what he had said. Was he the sort of man to wield a sledgehammer and knock walls down himself? Or did he have a team of builders doing it for him?
‘Well, this is depressing,’ Effie said as the traffic slowed and came to a complete halt after a few miles. ‘And so predictable. It’s like we never went away.’
‘Roadworks,’ the driver said gloomily, wiping the mist off the windscreen with the back of his hand, ‘it never blooming ends on this stretch. No sooner have they finished one bit than they start on another.’
I closed my eyes and thought back to the dusty Greek roads I had left behind, the views over the sea and the scrubby landscape, and wished I was back there. I could almost remember how it had felt in the heat of a Greek afternoon as the sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades. No risk of that here.
And yet, I realised, it might have been a marvellous experience, but the probability was I would not go back there at all. After all, there were other beautiful places to find and explore. I would be like Captain Kirk and boldly go somewhere else. Warm French beaches. Cold, snowy landscapes. Walled medieval cities and shimmering lakes. Perhaps I actually would cross the Atlantic or go on a river cruise.
Maybe this really was the start of a new chapter in my life, when I stopped worrying about what other people would think and did things that I wanted to. In my own time. Other people did; why shouldn’t I?
And Will? What about him?
I wanted to chalk it up to experience and forget about it. But I couldn’t seem to forget those wonderful moments when we had stood together overlooking the craggy cliffs, the dark, silken sea, and the memory of him coming towards me, bringing me pistachio ice cream – had that really been only yesterday?
We had exchanged smiles and glances and laughter. He had sought me out. He had kissed me and made me feel things I hadn’t felt for decades. Could I forget all that? It seemed as though I must.
* * *
I got home just after nine o’clock, later than I had thought because of the travel delays, and Ivan was there sitting on the bottom of the stairs like a resentful loaf of bread. He favoured me with a rusty miaow, stretched and stalked off into the kitchen.
I sighed. It wasn’t much of a welcome.
I dumped my bags and looked through the pile of post which Nicky had left on the worktop for me. There was a note too.
