Page 55 of All You Need is Greece

I spray some perfume onto my wrists and behind my neck and, taking a glance at my watch, which shows almost seven, I head downstairs.

Judith is putting the finishing touches to the dinner table outside, a fire pit gently glowing warm in the cooling evening air. Michael and Doll are laughing at something together and Lars lights a candle before giving Judith a kiss on the cheek. Judith smiles at Lars fondly, but I can’t help noticing the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

TWENTY-NINE

Marco is pulling up in his car as I make my way to the gate.

‘Perfect timing,’ he says, climbing out of the car and kissing me on the cheek.

‘You look lovely,’ he says. ‘And you smell gorgeous too.’

‘You recognise it?’ I ask, thinking of the first time he bought me the scent, after I’d commented on it when spraying samples in a department store. He’d surprised me with it on our next date.

‘Of course I do.’

‘You look nice too.’ I smile, taking in his fashionable shirt, and navy jeans.

‘Have you been to a hairdresser?’ I say, eyeing his freshly cut and styled hair.

‘Thought I’d make an effort.’ He grins. ‘I drove into Malia earlier and found a barbers. We should go there, the beach looks great.’

Marco has always been proud of his thick head of hair, and often frequents a Turkish barber’s back home so it always looks its best.

‘So how long are you staying around here?’ I don’t tell him about my drunken escapade in Malia with Artemis.

‘I thought I would stay for a few days. It’s a long way to come just for dinner.’

‘So where are we going?’ I pray it isn’t the restaurant at the beach that Artemis took me to.

‘Not too far. Somewhere that was recommended to me in Hersonissos,’ he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘It’s down a side street, close to the harbour. The food, I’m told, is outstanding.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘Tripadvisor. It’s got a rating of four point nine.’

Marco always consults public opinion before he visits restaurants, saying there is no sense shelling out a load of money for a bad experience. Maybe it comes from working in the family restaurant. I remember going to a fancy restaurant with him once, with a menu that declared foraged mushrooms and hand-selected onions. I laughed all evening after a woman at the next table asked what other way could you select an onion, other than by hand – pick them with your feet? Marco told me that anything hand selected usually meant it was home-grown, and not collected by machinery, but it was too late. I kept visualising farm workers picking onions up with their feet. We both laughed about it on the way home, and it was one of the things I really missed. The sound of his big laugh.

As we drive down the hill, I still can’t believe Marco is here, and find myself glancing at his handsome profile. I also catch him keep glancing at me and smiling.

Soon enough, we are pulling into the harbour at Hersonissos and I climb out of the car and close the door. For a second, I think of how Artemis always held the door open for me, something considered old-fashioned in the UK, at least amongst the younger generation.

The sun is setting, an orange orb floating above the water, as boat owners secure their vessels for the evening. A trio of old men wearing flat caps are playing cards at a fold-up table near a fishing boat, sipping an ouzo, others sitting at a bench overlooking the water, and chatting. I notice they are all wearing thick jumpers now as the evening temperature cools a little, although a light jacket is enough for me, as it still feels like a spring evening. As we walk, we pass many locals out for the evening, families and couples alike walking along the harbourfront, an occasional English or German accent as holidaymakers make the last trips here for the season.

We walk past a bar with a neon sign outside, and Marco asks me if I fancy a pre-dinner cocktail.

‘Sure, why not?’

‘Do you still enjoy sex on the beach?’ he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

‘No, actually, my taste is far more sophisticated these days. I’ll have a Cosmopolitan.’

‘I’m going old school and having a Harvey Wallbanger,’ says Marco, as a waiter approaches and takes our order. Sitting here with a cocktail, in the early evening, the sun shimmering on the water, I feel wonderful, yet wonder where this is all going. Still, I try and relax into the evening, as I am sure all will become clear as the evening progresses.

‘I can’t believe I’ve never been to Greece before,’ says Marco, taking in his surroundings.

‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I remember coming to Corfu years ago, although I can’t say I saw very much of it, to be honest. It was only a few days in Kavos to celebrate a friend’s twenty-first birthday.’

‘Crete is gorgeous, what I have seen of it at least,’ Marco says, as he takes a sip of his cocktail. ‘Are you enjoying being at the dog rescue?’

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