Page 19 of Pomegranates and Olive

The mostly rocky expanse surrounding the airport soon gives way to what I'm guessing is a recently built carriageway road. The view was all rather ordinary, car rental outlets and industrial parks, but soon enough I have my first glimpse of the sea as we come over the brow of a hill. I stifle a cry of delight. It’s everything I imagined it would be and just a little bit more. The sea is that deep, rich blue that you usually only see in postcards or maybe with an Instagram filter. It is the sort of view that you can never tire of gazing at; a glittering, endless expanse of blue water as far as the eye can see, with only an occasional ripple as a lone boat cuts its way in slow motion through the calm water. I can almost picture myself on a sun lounger, cocktail in hand, lazily gazing at non-existent clouds floating by.

A moment later my happy fantasy is gone as Ginny takes a corner too fast, which makes the tires squeal on the asphalt. This reminds me what a bloody awful driver she actually is, particularly when she'd race up the Bilgola Bends in an attempt to make it home before curfew when she was younger.

Squeezing my eyes shut and taking calm, steady, breaths I try not to think of my own mortality. I grab the door handle as Ginny takes another corner bringing us a little too close to the edge of the road.

Thankfully, we soon turn off the dual carriage on yet another hair-raising corner, and are now bumping down a road filled with pot-holes through a small village. This is the idyllic Turkish scene that I had imagined with its square, white-wash houses stacked close together along the hill-side amongst fruit trees and vines. A group of old men sitting under the shade of a large tree wave as we pass and Ginny honks her horn in reply as the dust from our tyres envelope them.

Ginger's eyes flick up to the rear vision mirror. "So where have you been, Deniz? Everyone has been worried about you."

His name is Deniz. That's hot.

"I’ve moved around a lot."

"Did you see her?"

There was silence from the back seat.

"And now you're back?"

"I am."

"And you're staying?"

"It's harvest time."

"And what about you?" Ginger’s eyes flick in my direction as she slams her foot on the brake to avoid a chicken before slowly moving again. "I guess you had a good flight."

Nope. Not going to be part of this conversation. "Oh my God, this heat is brutal! It's October. Isn't summer over now?"

A crooked smile pulls up the corner of Ginny’s mouth. She knows I just changed the subject. Thank God she’s got my back on this. "I know, right? I love it. Sure beats London in October."

"I remember your stories about where you used to live. You hated London. No doubt Aydin keeps things ‘hot’ for you." Deniz chuckles and leans forward between the car seats. "What about you, Russo? I think you might like it hot as well."

"No, thank you. No one wants to be hot and sticky all the time."

I can’t disguise the sarcasm in my tone, but it earns me a chuckle from the back seat.

"You really don't know what you're missing," he replies, deadpan.

He’s laughing at me!

"Lui è proprio un bischero." I turn slightly and glare at him. "Sei un idiota."

The deep-pitched chuckle made my heart unexpectedly leap. "Bacha ma culo."

"Alright, you two. That's enough mud-slinging for one day." Ginger pulls off the road and into a half-full, dusty, makeshift car park. "We're here."

A small sign is erected on the cliff. "The Olive Grove".

From our vantage point, I understand exactly how the place got its name. Row after row of olive trees carpet the slope, their leaves shining in the sun, leading down to a stone building right on the water's edge. Outrageously bright-pink bougainvillea grow up and over a trellis providing shade for its patrons below. On the beach, sunbathers relax on lounges spread out evenly along the sand. A long jetty floats on that forever blue water, and at the end, a pontoon with small wooden boats filled with happy holiday-makers splash around in the sea, despite the early hour. It was the type of view I would never tire of gazing at.

"I saw the photos you sent a few months back, Ginny. How on earth did you guys get all this done so quickly?"

"It was total chaos when I arrived." Ginny throws her head back and laughs. "But, and I still can't believe I’m saying this, Aydin had it ready to open when the season began."

"It's gorgeous."

"Both of the buildings are well over 200 years old. What is now the restaurant was once the mill where they made olive oil. Wait until you're down there Liv, all the original millstones used to crush the olives are still intact." Ginny's genuine enthusiasm for her new home is contagious, and I for one, have caught the bug. I’m grinning from ear to ear as she continues. "Our place used to be the warehouse but it's also been completely re-designed, thanks to this guy right here."

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