A Handful of Pebbles (15 page)

‘
He should do what he feels is right. In this case, he feels going fishing is right, which says it all.’

‘
He’s not fishing, he’s ... never mind. Helena, he desperately wants you back. All he wants is for the wedding to go ahead. He is not happy about what happened with Pru, but he doesn’t want that to alter your lives; your future together is more important than anything Pru could say.’ Sarah is not sure what to say next, so she waits. When there is no answer, she adds ‘Ever.’

‘
I’ve got to go now.’ And the phone purrs.

‘
Who was it?’ Liz asks, putting her hands behind her new earrings to show them off.

‘
Helena.’ She pauses, wondering whether to ring Finn, or Laurence or Joss, or maybe it would be better to leave it until they are back on land.

‘
I’m getting hungry now. Shall we go and eat?’ Liz says, turning back to the jewellery display.

‘
Hang on. I just need to text Finn.’

‘
Call Helena, use any excuse, just make sure you ring her tonight, love Mum xxx.
’
She presses send and then with an intake of breath types a second message. ‘
Use any excuse except that I told you to do it. Mum xxx
’

‘
Do you prefer these?’ Liz asks, holding up a second pair in front of the pair already in her ears. Sarah tries to focus, but her thoughts are struggling with the mess everyone seems to be in—everyone including her. Something comes forward in her mind and she almost remembers it, something to do with Finn’s wedding and relief from her unhappiness. It’s so close to being words, to coming into focus, it just needs a nudge and her path to happiness would be hers for the taking, she feels sure. Just a nudge. It’s nearly there, nearly, nearly ...

Liz staggers into Sarah slightly, pushing her off balance
, and the memory is gone, like a snuffed candle, leaving a residue of smoke that bears no resemblance to the brightness of the thought that was nearly hers.

‘
What are you thinking?’ Liz asks.

‘
No idea,’ Sarah says. ‘Come on, let’s get some food.’ Maybe the shepherd will be at the taverna, the one with the flower-giving chef.

The restaurant is full, but the waiter encourages them to linger for five minutes and sure enough, a table becomes free. There is no sign of Nicolaos, inside or out.

Once Sarah and Liz are seated
, a second waiter glides to their table. ‘
Ti thelete? Exoume ...
’ The waiter recites what sounds like a Greek nursery rhyme; it has a rhythm and a flow that is hypnotic. At the end, he pauses for breath and Sarah interrupts.

‘Er, in English?’ Sarah requests.

‘
Wine?’ Liz says.

He doesn
’t miss a beat, ‘Red, white, or rosé? To eat, we have melitzana salad, Greek salad, green salad, beetroot with garlic, tzatsiki, courgette balls ...’ The list goes on and Liz’s shoulders round and she starts to slump. Sarah keeps one eye on her and tries to think what they had last time. In the end, the waiter makes a suggestion and it is settled, and as he walks away, Liz comes to life.

‘
You didn’t order wine.’

‘
No. The idea is to sober you up.’

‘
Why?’ Her cheeks rest on her hand, pushing creases of skin under her eye.

Sarah answers with just a look
. Liz lifts her face from her hands. ‘I can see no reason to stay sober.’

‘
You are going to have to talk to him. He’s just not being reasonable.’ Sarah shakes her head. Neville’s thinking is beyond her comprehension.

‘
Anyway, if it all gets too much I have my secret,’ Liz slurs.

‘
What do you mean?’ Not knowing if Liz is joking or serious, Sarah flicks through a smile and back to serious.

Liz fishes in her bag to bring out a foundation-smeared makeup bag which she opens and from which she takes out a couple of small bottles
of pills.

‘
What the ...’ Sarah is speechless.

‘
You know. Just in case it is all too much.’ Liz gives a drunken snigger and pulls out another two bottles, both with prescription labels.

‘
What are they? Where did you get them?’ Sarah tries to keep the harshness from her voice, but she is shocked and scared.

‘
They are from Miriam’s final days. Those are strong enough to kill a horse if you take too many, and these take all your worries away.’ She drops the bottles that she has lifted just a fraction back onto the table and Sarah picks one of them up to inspect the label.

The food arrives and Sarah closes her hand around the bottle and scoops the others back into Liz
’s makeup bag, embarrassed that the waiter has seen. Liz sits up straight, animated by the sight of food, her fork in hand, ready to try all the dishes.

The waiter puts the last dish down and turn
s to talk to potential new customers who are looking at a menu.

‘
Is it really that bad?’ Sarah asks Liz in hushed tones, to which Liz just shrugs and stabs at a meatball. ‘I mean, would you, really?’ Sarah persists.

‘
Oh I don’t know. It just feels kind of comforting to think I could shock him that much.’ Liz is beginning to sober up with the food, and Sarah feels a little relief that she recognises her old friend again, back from her drunken haven. But part of her wonders if she knows Liz at all anymore.

‘
Just to shock him?’ Sarah picks up her fork but has not started eating yet. Liz shrugs and flashes a mischievous little grin.

‘
You are too much sometimes, Liz,’ Sarah says and urges Liz to try the peppers stuffed with feta.

‘
They’re amazing,’ Liz says, speaking with her mouth full. The mood lifts and they chat about the heat, their accommodations, and other easy subjects. Halfway through the main course, Liz decides she had better text Neville, who immediately rings back. Sarah can hear his slow enunciation even with the phone pressed against Liz’s ear.

‘
I am in Saros looking for you. Where’s the car?’

‘
It’s parked by the sea.’ Liz looks down at her nearly empty plate.

‘
Well, do not drive it. Are you drunk? Where are you? I am coming to get you.’

‘
No, I am fine. I am with Sarah.’

To this
, there is a moment’s silence.

‘
You may be fine, but I have been worried sick. Where are you?’

Liz looks up and Sarah can see the trace of a smile on her lips
, as if it is a game. Liz pulls her napkin from her knee and reads the taverna’s name on it. ‘The Ormofo Tavernaki.’ Liz speaks slowly and quietly.

‘
Don’t move.’ The phone peeps; the line is dead.

Neville is there within ten minutes. He insists on paying the bill and asks Sarah if she wants a lift back.

‘I am fine, Neville. I am waiting for Laurence who ...’ But that is as much as he listens to.

‘
Right.’ He takes Liz, with his hand around her waist, and propels her off towards the car-park by the sea. Liz is grinning.

Sarah survey
s the remains of their food. A hasty, tense meal. Sarah had so been looking forward to her time alone, but there was no joy in it finally. Not that she holds anything against Liz, poor Liz. Poor Liz, poor Finn, poor Helena, poor Joss. ‘And poor me,’ she whispers to herself as she leaves a tip and walks away from the joyless dinner.

Everyone
’s concerns seem so big and so complex and so life-changing that Sarah struggles to keep it all in her head. After walking a couple of minutes toward the main square, she makes a conscious decision to not think about anything at all and she is amazed at how easily all thoughts and concerns drift away and she becomes lost in the warm air, the festoons of bougainvillaea that are slung from balcony to balcony, the red-tiled roofs, the urns of flowers on either side of deeply panelled doors, boys on mopeds, and women who pass by, leaving the scent of coconut oil and perfume.

By the time she enters the main square
, she has the illusion that she has lived here all her life. It feels real. It feels alive. In a silly way, it feels like home.

She will go to a
café and have a sweet. She selects the café under the plane tree which is lit from below, the lights turning the leaves silver green. From a distance, it could be a night painting by Van Gogh. A boy runs around her with a football, his friend chasing him. A couple saunter by, the man in a light suit, the woman in an evening dress and heels so high, Sarah fears for her ankles if she misses a step. The café under the tree is almost full. The waiter greets her in English and leads her to a table for two behind the tree’s hollow trunk and leaves her to peruse the menu. Either side of her, lovers sit, holding hands, kissing, laughing, and Sarah’s heart yearns, but she does not know for what. She has a husband who loves her, she has two successful boys, she has a beautiful home, she wants for nothing. Except her struggle for breath tells her there is something, something that would change her life from sleepwalking to living.

A dark-skinned man is approaching each table in turn, a cheap flat attaché case open, full of watches. His progress is slow even though no one shows any interest. It is her turn. He begins with a smile.

‘Nice watch?’ he asks in English and then something in Greek. Sarah glances. Rolexes, Cartiers, Breitlings. They look like the real thing.

‘
No thank you.’ Sarah smiles.

‘
Pretty lady like you needs to know the time.’ He eyes her wrist.

Sarah looks again. Amongst the watches are bracelets, silver snakes with enamel charm beads.
‘Ah, the bracelets.’ He hitches the case onto a raised knee and, balancing on one foot, tries to unhook the bracelet with the most charms. Sarah is about to say ‘No thank you’ but her eyes are still on the bracelet with no charms, plain, simple. His nimble fingers swiftly unhook the right one and, snapping the case shut and clamping it between his knees, he holds out the silver snake, offering to put it on Sarah’s wrist. It would feel rude to say no and she allows him. It does look nice. As she looks down at it, she notices his shoes, the toe coming away from the sole on one foot, the other with no laces. Embarrassed, she looks up at him and smiles. Now she notices his fraying shirt collar and that he has a missing tooth. His eyes search her face, eager, hopeful.

‘
How much?’ She is a little shocked by his display of poverty.

‘
To you, lady, it is cheap.’ He shows her the price tag. Not even the price of a coffee at her favourite restaurant back home. It’s obviously not really silver, but it is pretty. Without quibbling, she fishes in her pockets and pays. He takes the money with a broad grin. ‘A watch for your husband?’ he persists, at which point a waiter walks past, pausing to see if the man is being a nuisance. The man looks nervous and moves on.

Sarah admires her bracelet. She pinches the hook to keep it closed
; the metal feels soft. Still, it is pretty.

Looking up
, she sees Stella and her husband heading towards her. What was his name? She shrinks a little into her chair. She does not wish to be unfriendly, but she would just like this time on her own. It may be the only chance she gets to sit here in her own company out in the town. They get closer. Sarah picks up the menu, feigns interest, lifts it a little higher.

‘
Hello, you need help with the menu? They do have English ones you know.’ Stella’s voice is so full of life, it lifts away Sarah’s reservation with these words.

‘
Hello Stella, hello ... ‘ Sarah turns to the man but she still cannot recall his name.

‘
Mitsos,’ Stella bubbles and she takes his arm. The sleeve of his left arm is ironed flat and tucked into his trousers. ‘Have you tried the, how you say, balls and honey? It’s very good, but that is Greek. They have waffles, too.’

Mitsos speaks quietly in Stella
’s ear.

‘
He would like to offer you the balls and honey because it is Greek and you are in Greece,’ she interprets.

‘
Oh how kind. Will you join me?’ Sarah puts down the menu and Stella pulls out a chair to sit, pats the one next to her whilst making eye contact with Mitsos. He is clearly a good few years her senior, but they seem so happy.

‘
You are liking the Greece?’ Stella asks.

‘
Well it has been a bit of an emotional roller coaster so far.’

‘
Rolla Kosta. What is this?’ Thin skin crinkles above her nose, her eyes narrow, and she thinks.

‘
No. Roller coaster. It is a fairground ride, you get in a ...’ She is about to say ‘carriage’ but thinks this might lead to another explanation, ‘seat and it goes along a track like a train, only it goes up and down.’ She uses her hands to explain, ‘So quickly, sometimes your heart is in your mouth.’ She wonders if Stella will understand.

‘
Ah, like the Crazy Mouse at Allou.’ She nods her understanding. She sits up straight. ‘Ah, I understand, the emotions you have been having are up and down like the Crazy Mouse ride.’

‘
Yes,’ Sarah agrees and makes a mental note to Google the Crazy Mouse.

‘
Oh, so you no have fun?’

‘
Well, in between, I can see Greece is a very beautiful place.’

‘
Very beautiful.’ Stella looks at Mitsos.

‘
Have you guys been married long?’ Sarah asks on a hunch.

Stella turns to Mitsos and speaks in Greek
. He smiles as Stella answers, ‘Nearly two years now.’

‘
Ah newlyweds,’ Sarah sighs.

‘
But we know each other for many, many years, only I was in a bad marriage.’ The joy drops from Stella’s eyes.

‘
Oh I am sorry.’

‘
Ha, ha.’ Stella laughs. ‘It was he who was sorry and Mitsos chased him off.’ She wraps an arm around his.

‘
It seems everyone has a bad relationship somewhere in their lives.’ Sarah sighs. Mitsos talks to the waiter.

‘
If you stay long enough, Greece will heal everything. You just have to be,
pos to lene
.’ She talks in Greek, trying to remember a word. ‘
Ypomoni
.
Ah yes, patience. We need patience. Nothing happens quickly but like the Crazy Mouse, the fun is in enjoying the ride.’

Sarah wonders
if Nicolaos has enjoyed his ride. Greece did not heal his rift.

‘
Do you know Nicolaos the shepherd?’ Sarah asks.

‘
The Australian.’ Stella smiles.

‘
Yes, but he’s Greek, isn’t he?’

‘
But there is another Nicolaos who has sheep, so he is The Australian who has sheep.’

Sarah cannot fault the logic. A bird lands on the back of an empty chair at the table next to
them. She watches it watching them, surveying the table for food. Their ‘balls and honey’ arrive and reveal themselves to be deep fried dough balls sprinkled with cinnamon and drenched in honey. They are light and crisp and delicious.