Page 1 of All You Need is Greece

ONE

‘Do you even like dogs, Beth?’

My friend Jess pulled a face as she looked over my shoulder as I read an online advertisement looking for volunteers for a dog rescue in Greece.

‘Er, hello. Of course I do. I grew up surrounded by dogs,’ I tell her, thinking of our own Labrador retriever and my gran’s slightly crazy boxer Mitzi that had a habit of leaping onto the chair in her kitchen and eating the food from her plate when her back was turned. ‘And I’m addicted to that programme about Battersea Dogs Home. I would have a dog here, if the landlord would allow it.’

‘Well, you learn something new about someone every day.’ Jess laughed. ‘I just never had you down as a dog lover. But then, how would I have known that, with dogs not being allowed in these apartments.’

Jess is my next-door neighbour and friend, who I met when we both moved in here two years ago. We’ve recently toyed with the idea of sharing an apartment and halving the rent, but ultimately decided that we like our own space, so put in the extra working hours to pay for it.

I smooth my long chestnut hair into a ponytail and pick up my bag to take the short walk to work at the local supermarket, where I am employed as general manger. I have already received two texts this morning from staff calling in sick, so it looks like it is going to be a busy day. I’ve furiously texted a few other part-time staff who so far have decided to ignore me. In a way, I can’t blame them. They have probably made plans for their day off and why not? It’s still a bit of a bugger, though; I can only hope the shop isn’t too busy later.

Jess and I finish our coffee that she has popped in for. She calls by most mornings, and then walks to the shop with me, before heading to her job in a local solicitor’s office. Today she has taken the day off work to visit her gran, so will nip into the bakery next door for some Chelsea buns to take round.

‘You don’t fancy a shift at the supermarket, do you?’ I joke. Although, given the staff situation, maybe I’d take her up on it if she said yes.

‘No, thanks! Let’s just say I wouldn’t have your tact and diplomacy when it came to dealing with tricky customers,’ she says, grinning. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t want to let my gran down.’

‘Ha-ha, fair enough. I just thought, you know, with you having a day off work…’ I give her exaggerated, pleading eyes.

‘During which I have promised to mow my gran’s front lawn and paint her kitchen ceiling,’ she reminds me.

‘Worth a try.’ I shrug.

‘Are you coming out later?’ she asks. We often head to the local pub for drinks and, sometimes, a karaoke song or two on a Friday night. ‘I’ll be ready for a few drinks by then.’

‘I might do. It depends how tired I am after work, especially as we are short-staffed.’ I’d planned wine, chocolate and a catch-up of the latest TV drama starring David Tennant.

‘Oh, come on, it will do you good,’ she says gently. ‘You can’t mope around on your own in the flat on a Friday evening. I’m sure Marco isn’t doing the same,’ she says, before quickly apologising, and saying that was a little insensitive of her.

‘It’s okay, and you’re probably right.’ I manage a smile.

TWO

As I arrive at the store, there’s already a small queue of locals standing outside as I open up and I wish them a cheery good morning. I guess if sales are buoyant, the shop won’t close down, like several others have along our high street, and that is something I have to be thankful for.

A text pings through from one of our students as I’m opening up. Thankfully she says she will cover for one of the sick employees and will be here in twenty minutes. It’s not as bad as having two staff off, as at least the shelves will be refilled, and I might actually have the chance to nip to the loo.

I rush around all morning, but by lunchtime it is a little quieter and my mind starts to wander. I know Jess didn’t really mean anything by bringing Marco up, and she might have a point. He always liked being busy, and I can’t imagine that’s changed much now.

It was me who ended things with Marco and, although I still miss him terribly, I wasn’t prepared to wait forever for a wedding. We’d been engaged for two years after being together for three, and I got the feeling he had gone cold on the idea of marriage. The sparkling engagement ring on my finger might as well have been a piece of costume jewellery. The final straw for me was when I pinned him down over booking wedding venues for next year and his silence said it all. He quietly ignored the bridal magazines I left out on the coffee table, even tidying the room and placing them in a magazine rack. Was it too much to expect my fiancé to be at least a little bit excited about planning our wedding? It was time to face facts. Our nuptials were never going to take place.

I met Marco at a local Italian restaurant on our high street, one of the businesses that still seems to be thriving in our market town. As he tended our table one evening, the tall, dark-haired Marco singled me out for extra attention, and by the end of the evening he had asked for my number. I tried to play it cool but there was no way I could ignore him. Especially with those startling blue eyes that contrasted perfectly against his beautifully styled dark hair and olive skin. Of course, my friends warned me off, saying he was a charmer and he probably chatted up all the diners in his family-run restaurant, but it seems he didn’t and we quickly became a couple. After two years, we rented a flat together and began to save for a future. That was until two months ago when we split, and I have had to work many extra hours to keep up with the rent on the flat, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want to commit to marriage. It matters to me, and it doesn’t to him. There is no compromise.

When I ended the relationship, Marco seemed genuinely heartbroken, and told me how much he loved me, but that he wasn’t sure he believed in the institution of marriage. I couldn’t see how we could go on after that, because I do believe in marriage, and longed to celebrate wedding anniversaries every year and have the dream marriage my parents never managed to achieve. Following the split, I had been thinking about getting away somewhere.

So, the ad for the volunteers at the dog rescue in Crete that I saw this morning could be perfect. The only problem was, the volunteers had to pledge six weeks, and there was no way I could be away from the supermarket for that long. Perhaps I could negotiate a shorter stay if I got in touch.

Maybe out there, in the Cretan hills, I might have the chance of shaking all thoughts of Marco from my head. Especially being amongst the animals.

‘You’re really going then? Who will I walk to work with in the mornings?’ asks Jess.

It’s Friday evening and we’re sitting in a booth at Charlie Parker’s Bar and Jazz restaurant, having decided to avoid the karaoke night at the local pub when we saw a hen party heading in there, already the worse for wear.

Judith, the lady who runs the rescue, was lovely when I called and asked if there was any way I could come over for four weeks. It meant I was taking almost all my annual leave at once, but my deputy manager was very keen to put her recent management course training into practice, freeing me up to go.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage. And it’s only for a few weeks. I just need to get away, somewhere completely different and try and fall out of love with Marco.’ I sigh.

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