‘I haven’t. At least I don’t think so. What’s it called?’
‘I can’t remember the exact name now, but I have been reading up on it. Apparently, the view of the sunset is second to none up there, from a rooftop in a particular restaurant. I’ve booked us a table.’
‘That sounds lovely.’ I also think it sounds very romantic.
‘It’s around a half an hour’s drive from here, so buckle up.’
We are sitting in a four-by-four and I think of the contrasting style of Artemis’s sleek BMW. Marco has a Jeep back home that he loves to nip around town in, and to the food suppliers for the restaurant.
‘Tell me all about Judith’s hen do,’ he asks as we drive. ‘Did you have a good time?’
When I tell him about us all dancing the hokey-cokey at Yolanda’s request, he laughs loudly. Gosh, I’ve missed that easy, infectious laugh. We always laughed at things, sometimes things that other people never found amusing. It’s good to know that we can still laugh together now.
‘And then Helena at the bar surprised us all by introducing a trio of Greek dancers in full costume, they were brilliant. There was no plate smashing, though, a sign of the economic crisis apparently. We had a brilliant evening.’
‘Sounds a lot livelier than our evening. I would have been up for a bit of that Greek dancing.’ He grins. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I was chuffed to be invited along by Nicos. I’d have been sitting alone in my room, pining for you otherwise.’ He turns and smiles at me and a warm feeling floods through me.
‘Really?’
‘Of course really. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the other night.’ He reaches over and squeezes my leg, and there go those butterflies again.
‘I still can’t believe you came all the way here,’ I say as we descend the mountain road as a soft shaft of yellow sunlight filters through the leaves and bathes the road in a golden glow. ‘I’ll be home next week.’
‘Ah, but I didn’t know that. I bumped into Jess in town and asked after you, as I hadn’t seen you around. She told me you had gone to Greece, but was very vague about when you were coming back.’
‘Did you think I had decided not to come home?’
I realise Jess would have been loyally trying to protect my feelings, as she knew I was coming out here to try and get over him.
‘I wasn’t sure.’ He shrugs. ‘But when my mother said that the deputy manager at the supermarket said she would be in the role “indefinitely”, I did wonder if you were coming back.’
‘She said that?’
I’m not sure why she would say that, when she knows for certain I will be back at work later next week.
‘Why would that prompt you to visit, though?’ I need to know what’s changed, but I can’t bring myself to ask so directly.
‘I’m hoping I can explain. Maybe I can do that over dinner.’
At the foot of the hills, we head onto the highway, before turning off and following a sign for a village. For a moment, I almost think we are heading to the restaurant I went to with Artemis near the monastery, but we drive on past that sign before following another one, that shows the name of the village.
‘You look really lovely, by the way,’ says Marco as we climb higher. ‘I used to like it when we got dressed up and ready for an evening out back home, a cheeky glass of wine before we hit the pub,’ Marco reminds me.
‘With you singing at the top of your voice to noughties floor fillers. It’s a wonder we never got kicked out of our apartment.’
‘Hey, my voice isn’t that bad.’ He laughs.
I remember those evenings. Sometimes, we would go out alone; other times we would meet some friends and go for dinner. Occasionally, it would be at his family restaurant when he was working, and we would hang around drinking until after midnight when the other diners had long gone, before walking home to our apartment. Good times.
‘You scrub up well too.’ I return his compliment. Marco looks as though he has really made an effort this evening, with a navy suit and a crisp white shirt underneath. I’m glad I decided to wear one of the pretty floral dresses I brought with me, and some nice earrings.
When we pull into the centre of the village, I’m stunned by how pretty it is. A single cobbled street is flanked by several bars and restaurants, a few gift shops nestled between them. A wooden handcart is displaying locally produced goods such as honey, wine and olive oil, with sprigs of lavender tucked in between the produce.
‘This place is gorgeous,’ I comment as we walk past a stone fountain at the centre of the village. People are sitting on benches surrounding it, beneath fig trees, eating ice creams and chatting.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ agrees Marco. ‘Even nicer than it looked on Google Images,’ he says, smiling to himself, and I can imagine him searching through the comments on Tripadvisor too, leaving nothing to chance.
We walk up an incline in the road, and at the end find a pretty restaurant with flowers threaded through its open roof beams, which are painted white. The wood beams are painted in a traditional blue shade. A friendly waiter informs us that it is two for one cocktail hour, as he escorts us to our table, overlooking the valley below.