Page 9 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘He was utterly charming and terrifically handsome in the flesh.’
The food was as good as the occasion as far as I was concerned. And the four of us sat there for a long time, chatting, marvelling over the beauty of the day and occasionally wondering when we would actually do some painting.
The island seemed to hold a lot of promise for inspiration, with rocky crags plunging down into the sea, white houses strewn along the coastline and a few fishing boats moored alongside the harbour. There was a strand of beach too, where people were sunbathing, reading under the shade of parasols or, in the case of a group of girls, giggling over their phones. Customers came and went, the ever-attentive waiters happy to bring us chilled water, more wine and offer desserts.
Beryl took a deep breath and breathed out slowly.
‘Isn’t sea air simply marvellous? It really does make one feel better, don’t you think? My second husband said it was the ozone. I was thinking about that recently. How amazing the world is. And lots of different things are made up of the same elements. Carbon, hydrogen and oxygen. Which makes water, sugars, carbon dioxide, gas and of course alcohol. Isn’t nature miraculous?’
‘I’ve no idea what goes on in your head,’ Effie said. ‘If I can’t find something here to inspire me to paint, I never will, although I’m hopeless. Beryl is the talent. I didn’t actually come along for the art, I just fancied the holiday.’
‘I don’t think I have any particular ability,’ I admitted. ‘I enjoy it though.’
‘Nonsense, I thought your painting of the wall outside the village hall was excellent,’ Anita said.
‘Yes, but it was more of – what would Cassandra call it? – an architectural approach. Dennis said I should have put in a snail or something to liven it up a bit.’
‘Pooh, what does Dennis know about anything?’ Beryl said. ‘Have you noticed he is very free with his criticism but rejects everyone’s opinion? What is it he always says? It’s?—’
She held out her hands so that we could finish the sentence.
‘A work in progress,’ Anita and I said together, and we both laughed.
‘He was very annoyed when he found out you had taken Gwen’s place. I know he wanted to bring his brother along. But he was too late and Cassandra said she had filled all the places for our group allocation and Ronald would have to go on the cancellation list. A near miss I think.’
‘But I was allowed to come because I got in early even though I don’t come to the group very often, and I gave a raffle prize for the Christmas party,’ Effie confided.
‘Dennis would call that corruption,’ Beryl said, ‘and let’s be honest, you’re hardly ever in Lower Begley despite leaving all that stuff in my spare room. Now, are we going to have anything else or should we carry on exploring? I remember from my last visit, there are some little shops further up. I quite fancy looking for a bad taste fridge magnet.’
We paid the bill, splitting it equally between us, and left with the kind wishes of Yanni and his staff echoing down the road behind us. A most satisfactory start to our holiday, we all agreed.
‘Quick, hide, there’s Jillian with the others,’ Anita hissed a few minutes later, and startled, we all followed her into a shop where she peered out theatrically from behind a wire rack of postcards.
We even crouched down a little and watched as Jillian walked past holding a completely unnecessary little red flag, followed by a small group of our fellow artists. Two of them were women of about our age. There was a man who no one recognised, tall, quite distinguished with his Panama hat pulled low over his forehead, and the last one, dressed in a striped shirt buttoned up to the neck, some disreputable khaki shorts, white socks and sandals, was of course Dennis. He was briskly surveying his surroundings and looking very pleased with himself.
‘Why are we hiding?’ Effie whispered.
‘I don’t know.’ I giggled.
Beryl hissed, ‘Who is that gorgeous man with them? Just think, he’s carbon, hydrogen, oxygen too, and a lot more besides. He’s not one of ours, is he? I know I’d remember him.’
We came out into the open and stopped lurking, much to the relief of the shop owner, and watched as the group walked on, Dennis ostentatiously holding up his thumbs and forefingers to frame the view.
‘This could work,’ he said loudly, ‘if it wasn’t for all the people getting in my way.’
3
We waited for a few minutes until they had gone and then wandered along the side of the sea, finding a tourist information kiosk where we picked up a lot of leaflets about the island, most of which were in Greek or German and probably of no use to any of us except Beryl.
‘Wine tasting,’ Beryl said, pointing at one that was smothered with enticing-looking photos of happy people laughing and holding up their full wine glasses. ‘We are supposed to be doing that, aren’t we?’
‘And a trip to the ruins of some ancient town further along the coast,’ Anita added. ‘Minoans, weren’t they? I like that sort of thing. What could be finer than the distant echoes and cries of a long-lost civilisation, the ceaseless sound of cicadas vibrating in the heat of a magical Greek dayandan ice cream shop by the entrance? Life doesn’t get much better than that.’
‘Ice cream is a funny thing, isn’t it?’ Effie mused. ‘For decades there was just vanilla, now there are over a thousand different sorts apparently. And there are dozens of crisp flavours too. Is this really the best way that civilisation can spend its time and money? So people can try haggis and asparagus crisps with their dirty martinis?’
‘It’s progress,’ I said, laughing. ‘I read somewhere that there are over three hundred sorts of KitKat in Japan.’
‘Nonsense! That can’t be true,’ Anita said firmly.
