Page 12 of Not My Greek Wedding

‘We could have a nice meal and a mocktail or two?’ suggests Irene.

‘Then how can I refuse,’ Tasha replies with a wide smile. ‘I kind of did have one back home, but I would love to spend the evening before my wedding with my favourite aunts and my oldest friend,’ she says fondly.

‘Then it’s settled,’ says Irene. ‘An early meal, and a little drink. We must toast your future.’

‘Brilliant,’ says Tasha. ‘I look forward to it, although we did book a couples massage in the hotel, so I hope Owen won’t mind,’ she says a little uncertainly.

‘I’m sure he will understand. And traditionally you are not really supposed to see the groom the night before the wedding,’ says Irene.

‘I know, but as we are sharing a room, that isn’t likely to happen,’ she reminds her. ‘And as we have lived together for several years, I’m not sure tradition really applies. I’m hardly going to be the blushing bride,’ she says, with a peal of laughter.

‘But it’s bad luck. If you see your groom the night before the wedding you will have ugly children,’ says Irene, and I burst out laughing.

‘Irene. You can’t say that,’ says a shocked Patsy, shaking her head. ‘And I’m pretty sure you made that one up.’

‘Well, I might have.’ She chuckles. ‘Although, I swear I read it somewhere.’ She frowns in thought.

‘Luckily, I don’t hold with all that superstition then,’ says Tasha good-naturedly.

When Irene takes Owen to one side to ask if he minds if we steal Tasha this evening, I overhear him confess to her that he is not really fond of massages, but went along with it for Tasha.

‘And don’t worry, we will make sure we are all fit for tomorrow, including Tasha,’ Irene reassures him.

A taxi has been ordered to take the four of us to Tasha and Owen’s hotel tomorrow morning at eleven. One or two guests, including Tasha’s dad and his new girlfriend, are staying at the wedding hotel too.

Tasha did give people the option to stay at the hotel under their own expense, but was generous enough to book the apartments free of charge, which many guests have taken her up on. Last night, Irene confessed she didn’t think she could have afforded the prices at the ‘posh’ hotel, and was grateful for the offer of the apartment stay.

‘I had to cut my hours down at work,’ she had confessed as we sipped ice-cold beer at the restaurant on the black beach the previous evening. ‘I’ve got a dodgy back and recently been told I am heading for type 2 diabetes,’ she tells me, and I recall Tasha saying that she hadn’t been well lately.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Has the doctor given you any advice?’ I had asked.

‘My doctor just told me to lose weight, which is easier said than done.’ She had sighed. ‘But after this wedding, I’m going to try hard to do something about it. Being here in this heat has made me realise that.’ She had said told me with conviction.

‘Ooh we will have to make sure we keep hydrated. Says Patsy as we finish our breakfast and she consults her weather app, ‘There is meant to be a heatwave starting tomorrow. It might be reaching forty degrees, but at least everywhere indoor has air conditioning, thank goodness.’

‘A heatwave? Dear Lord, as if it isn’t hot enough,’ moans Irene. ‘Even my eyelids are sweating.’

‘You’ll be fine ‘I assure her. ‘As long as you always have a bottle of water with you, as we all will,’

I had taken a picture of our delicious breakfast that included fruits, yoghurts, pastries and granola, along with a photo of theblack sand beach, its blue and white umbrellas flapping gently in the breeze and quickly posted it to my socials.

It’s so beautiful here. I think of how fortunate I am to be at my childhood friend’s wedding. I fleetingly wonder if I will ever marry and, if I do, would it be in a place like this? Or maybe an English country mansion, with grounds sloping down to a river.

Gran doesn’t think it matters where you marry, and maybe she has a point. Her and Grandad married in a registry office, and were happily wed for over forty years before he passed. She thinks huge weddings are all for show, and has been to known to say, ‘The bigger the wedding, the quicker the divorce.’ Which is probably a bit unfair, although several people I know who have had the fancy nuptials are, in fact, now separated.

An hour later the groups disperse and head off to enjoy their day. I give Tasha a hug and tell her I will see her this evening.

It seems many of the guests are staying here for a week to enjoy a holiday before and after the wedding, thanks to Owen and Tasha footing the bill for the apartments.

‘So tell us about your social media stuff,’ says Irene as we stay at the café and order another coffee. ‘Is there any money to be made from that?’ she asks, before resisting a croissant on a nearby plate.

I tell her a little bit about it, before a waiter appears and asks if we have finished with our food.

‘Take it,’ says Irene, pushing the remains of breakfast away. ‘Or I’ll eat the lot.’ She laughs.

After settling the bill, Irene and Patsy opt to read on the beach beneath an umbrella, so I take myself for a little walk around the village before the sun reaches its height.

Heading towards the edge of the main street, I spot a car hire place that is offering incredibly cheap hire rates, and I negotiate a great deal for a car, before calling Lulu and telling her I will collect her from the airport in the morning rather than her takea taxi. She had messaged me earlier, apologising that she was taking a later flight than the planned two p.m. one after an incident at home – which she said she would fill me in on later – and wouldn’t now be arriving until early tomorrow morning. I didn’t mind, though it’s just a shame she will miss Tasha’s impromptu hen evening.

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