Page 53 of All You Need is Greece

‘Seems crazy to need a guide for a forest walk, but I think it’s designed to remind people to stay in touch with nature,’ says Hannah. ‘Maybe you ought to give your walking group another go. Sometimes when we are feeling tired, it’s the exact time to get outdoors and reenergise.’

‘Maybe. But having to climb in the car to get somewhere like that puts me off a little. My town isn’t exactly filled with hills like this.’

‘Perhaps it’s worth making the effort. You did tell me you could do with some hobbies,’ advises Hannah.

I turn to face her. ‘You are so right. Walking was a hobby, and so was gardening once upon a time. Maybe my work has gotten a little bit in the way of my own self-care.’

‘It can happen to us all if we let it, but we must make the time.’ Hannah smiles. ‘We have to make certain things a priority. Sorry, I sound like I am lecturing you.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’

Talking of being outdoors and gardening stabs at my heart a little. I think about the little two-bedroomed house my mum and I moved to, after the brief stay at an apartment that was entirely unsuitable for us, after Dad became violent. It had a small back garden that Mum filled with flowers in pots. We even grew potatoes in sacks and lettuce and cucumber in a frame that was already there when we moved in. I helped her to dig up the weeds from the overgrown lawn, and the kindly neighbour next door let us borrow his lawnmower. On sunny days, we would sit outside with cold drinks eating our lunch. Sometimes she would invite our widowed neighbour, who was sad to see us leave when we eventually moved on. I was thirteen at the time and he pushed a twenty-pound note into my hand with a tear in his eye and wished me well in my future. Mum was happy in that house, I know she was, despite her once telling me in a drunken ramble that she had never known any joy in her life.

‘Anyway, talking of romance.’ I turn to Hannah when we stop at a bench for a minute. ‘How are things going with Panos? Did he come and see you the other day?’ I ask, recalling him saying that he would.

‘Yes.’

‘And are you still friends?’

‘We are.’ She tosses a ball and several dogs chase after it.

‘You’re not giving much away, are you?’ I raise an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry, Beth.’ She sighs as she takes a seat on a nearby tree stump. ‘Maybe I am just trying to protect my heart. I’m sure you of all people can understand that.’

‘Of course I can,’ I say gently. ‘I also know that if we never take chances in life, then we are not really living. I’m sure you must have come across that quote about better to have loved and lost, in all those books you read.’

I pick the ball up and throw it once more, when a black Labrador drops it at my feet.

‘Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all.” It was in a book about Britain’s favourite love poets. I’m not sure I agree with it, though.’ She frowns. ‘How can anything be worse than losing the one you love?’

‘Well, you’ll never know if you refuse to give it a chance.’

‘Perhaps. But I’m heading home in a few weeks. There can never be a future for us, our lives are so completely different.’

‘You can think about it practically, but maybe you ought to relax and just let things happen naturally. Life isn’t all neatly wrapped up like it is in stories,’ I find myself saying, then hope that didn’t sound too harsh. ‘Sorry, that came out a little clumsily, I just meant that we can’t shield our hearts from everything, what is meant to be, will be.’

She doesn’t answer, and we round the dogs up and carry on with our walk, enjoying an unexpected blast of sunshine that has appeared from behind a cloud, and a warm glow is cast all over our arms. I remove my hooded jacket and tie it around my waist, enjoying the warmth on my face as we walk.

Turning a corner, I hear the sound of a moped, and suddenly Yolanda appears in the road. She comes to a stop and removes her helmet.

‘Kalispera, Beth. How are you?’

‘I’m good, thanks. How are you?’

‘Very good. Better now that my son has got rid of that gold-digging wife. Thank you for making him smile again.’

‘He made me smile too,’ I tell her.

‘Happy to hear that.’ She gives a cheeky smile.

‘Not in an intimate sense,’ I quickly add. ‘Neither of us were ready for anything else. In fact,’ I tell her, knowing that Judith will probably mention it anyway, ‘my ex-fiancé has arrived here to see me.’

‘Here in the village?’

‘Yes. I am going out with him this evening to talk.’

‘To talk, huh?’ She smiles and for some reason I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. ‘Well,kali tychito you. It means good luck,’ she says, before zooming off down the hill to no doubt have a good gossip with Judith.

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