Little blue door box set, p.3
Little Blue Door Box Set, page 3
‘Pretty or lonely?’ I smiled at her, and she shrugged with a grin.
‘Just lonely,’ she said, and that was that really. I couldn’t dare to say no to her, if her own father couldn’t manage to – so, I went along.
We smoked cigarettes, drank too much, laughed at nothing, and danced more than I ever had before. It wasn’t until later that evening that I got the nickname “Melo”. It was my first time having jelly shots and I showed quite a taste for them. For a time there, I was “Melo-Jello”, which luckily didn’t have staying power.
Walking away from the jeweller’s, I felt lucky I’d met her. It was nice to have a link with someone here. I decided to go to a few bars and have the awkward “they died” talk with some of the owners and workers. Big smiles crumpled into frowns in seconds. The Greeks are so family-oriented, so caring. I had no idea how they managed to remember so many people, stories, lives.
When it was done, I started wandering the main road like a nomad again, slower than ever, flip-flops scraping along the tatty tarmac and hands back to clinging to my bag, reminiscing about laughter and good times we’d had. A snowball was building in my gut with every thought, tight and cold.
I was dreaming of the time when we had just got to within two metres of the restaurant Little Prince and a bird pooed all over Papa’s head. Mama and I cackled and winced, tears of laughter cooling our cheeks as we doubled over. It took another day for him to see the funny side though. His face was still, almost steamrollered at the whole thing, which just made us laugh more. Looking into Zorbas, I could see my grandparents again, table-tapping and whooping as the staff set fire to pretty much anything and everything for our entertainment. Peering across the tables as I passed, I had to bite my cheek at the sight of the phallic-looking cacti on some of the tables, which I had always giggled at every time we were there.
Walking past Olympia and their giant pots, all the waiters waved to me. Then I was back in my mind, passing more tavernas and shops, letting people, cats and cars roam past me. I had started to make my way back up to the small church. I’d never actually been inside it before; I’d only admired it from afar. The building was a traditional white and pale blue, with an archway to walk through to get to the door. As I passed beneath it, I took my cream spotted shawl from my bag and placed it carefully around my shoulders.
The church was very small and busier than I’d expected – not with people, but with pictures, shrines and lots of gold. I didn’t really know what I had expected. The outside was so calm and quiet, the interior busy and vibrant. The only sounds were those of a grasshopper and the distant sea. I wanted to sit and clear my mind, but my mind was as busy as the walls. Every time I tried, I started to think about the beautiful tall man and Gaia, the Greek mother of all life; or was she just a twelve-year-old girl? Who knew? I didn’t. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply the smell of wooden chairs, that had all been perfectly set out in rows and melting candle wax typical of churches the world over. Their candles providing a warm glow of reassurance and comfort to all who enter.
I sat for some time on a hard wooden chair. At the apex of the front wall was a painting of an eye. Watching over the church. Watching over me from inside its white triangle. It’s dark, aged paint made it almost menacing, the weighted eyelid pressing downwards, perhaps puffy from tears.
I spent quite some time looking at the eye before I stood up to leave. Putting some change in a big wooden box, I took a candle for myself. I could feel my abdomen tighten, and I held my breath. My hand shook a little as I tried to light the candle. Loss is the biggest realisation that no one truly has control over anything. The pandemic had done that too, of course. The eye studied me as I took my last look across the interior.
I slowly exited the church into the heat of the evening and the buzz of electricity and insects. Time was getting on, and I had to walk all the way back down the slope, following the road round to Vicky’s bar. I removed my shawl and took a leisurely pace, bag pressed to my side, arms folded across my chest. I had hoped to cleanse my mind fully of thought, but it hadn’t worked.
I paused in the lay-by opposite Fantasea restaurant again to absorb the irresistible view of the bay below. The sun was beginning to hang low in the sky to the side, but it still sat within its bright blue bed, with a skimpy orange cloud as a blanket. I took a step to walk away but got my foot caught in some old fishing line. I hopped forward trying to free my foot, I stuttered along, then my bag dropped forwards taking me with it. I skidded along the dirt on my right knee then my palms.
Like a child, my eyes began to tingle and itch. My breath caught in my chest, somewhere between a juddered snuffle and a sniff. I pulled at the wire, which had tucked itself into the front of my flip-flop, and I tried to throw it with all my force, only for it to whip and float in a delicate swirl. It came to rest no more than a foot away from me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My palms stung and my knee throbbed. What a fool. What a bloody fool! I rolled onto my bottom and clutched my knee, pressing hard into the tender flesh to suppress the sensation.
‘Are you okay?’ The voice came from above.
Great. It wasn’t enough to fall over, or to be fighting back tears, but someone had to witness the spectacle. Fantastic.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I called back, without looking up. It was just my luck. I could hear their feet dancing towards me with a swift beat. Just what I didn’t want. ‘Seriously, I –’ I turned and looked up. It was him. Him from the airport. Him from the van. He was by my side, kneeling next to me. His eyes became as wide as mine – they looked almost golden as the evening sun giggled its way across his skin.
‘It’s you! Oh well, at least I didn’t knock you over this time.’ His voice had a note of Greek to it and his full lips softly curled up. Large warm hands were on my arms again, helping me up this time, gently lifting me to my feet, as though I were as hollow as a bird’s bone.
‘No Gaia?’ I said, looking past him towards Fantasea, waiting to see if she was staring down from their restaurant area.
His smile got broader at the mention of her name.
‘No, no. She is with her friends.’
‘Oh.’ I didn’t know what I’d expected. Perhaps that she was practising how to part the sea somewhere. Or something equally ridiculous.
‘How’s your knee? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. Honestly.’ I was acutely aware he was still holding my arm. I prayed he would let go before he noticed the breakneck speed of my pulse. I pulled away.
‘Thank you though.’ I turned away from him and began to walk. My face was twisted, my eyes wide and my fingers couldn’t help but cover my mouth.
‘Wait, do you need a lift? Your knee is bleeding. I have a first-aid kit in my van.’
I stopped to look down at my knee. So it was – bleeding. What did I have to lose? I had nothing. Nothing worth having. My eyes squinted then fixed back on him, almost a silhouette in the sun. My words came out faint, distant, isolated somewhere far away from who I once was.
‘That’d be lovely, thank you.’
Chapter 5
His van smelt of coffee and damp air conditioning. Both were unsurprising. The doors were littered with single-use coffee cups, crushed ready for the bin. He got in next to me and shut the door, his first-aid kit on his lap.
‘I didn’t catch your name at the airport. I’m Anton, or Ant for short if you prefer.’
It couldn’t be a more ironic name, given his size. His broad shoulders more than filled his seat and he made his first-aid box look like a child’s toy. I gave a snort of disbelief, and he rolled his eyes just as quickly.
‘I know, I know. Ironic. I’ve heard it all before. Stupid name if you ask me.’
The last part he muttered under his breath while continuing his rummaging. His black sleeveless top and shorts looked fresh and clean, which was impressive in the heat and dust. Other than his size and his eyes, he looked pretty Greek. He was rugged, with dark hair and thick brows, and a little on the hairy side. His strong jaw was hidden beneath his almost-beard. Then his large hands were fiddling, trying desperately to open a little sachet containing an antibacterial wipe.
‘Melodie,’ I said. ‘And I don’t mind the name Anton. It suits you.’ While suppressing a giggle, I held out my hand automatically.
He took it tentatively.
‘It seems a long time since I’ve shaken someone’s hand.’
Corfu hadn’t been badly hit by the pandemic but social distancing, and other tight rules, had been in place from the start.
‘I didn’t even think! It was automatic. Sorry,’ I said and pulled my shoulders up into a little shrug.
He managed to prise open the little packet and extract the wipe. He carefully passed it to me with a smile.
‘That’s okay. I trust you.’ There was more weight to his voice than I’d have expected for a comment so flippant. Unless it was just my imagination and wishful thinking. ‘Plus, I’ve knocked into you, helped you up twice, and now you’re sat in my van. It’s a bit late to care.’
After I had wiped my knee, he passed me a rather large plaster, much larger than required. I carefully placed it on my right knee with a little pat. Even though it dominated my knee, with very little sympathy for my vanity, I didn’t want to offend his kindness.
‘So?’ His deep-green eyes were piercing through me again, down to my soul.
‘So?’ I mimicked vacantly. My heart was still pounding and the air conditioning hadn’t prevented my hands from sweating. The sweat was making my palms sting as the salt tormented my poor little grazes. I absentmindedly wiped them across the material on my thighs. Thankfully it didn’t mark the soft navy chiffon of my dress, even with the dirt from the ground mixed with my sweat. I was looking down, wishing I’d worn something a little more impressive. It was a nice dress, though, but quite plain – strappy, not quite a low neckline, short at the front and floating down at the back. That’s when I realised that we were sitting in silence while I over-analysed myself. He was just watching me with a half-smile on his face.
‘Are you not going to tell me where you need to be?’
My face felt like its temperature had gone up another ten degrees or so.
‘Oh! Sorry, yes, Vicky’s.’ What an idiot. At least he didn’t dwell on it. He just began to turn his van around. I was grateful not to have his eyes on me.
‘Vicky’s is nice.’ he said. ‘Have you stayed there before?’
‘Many times, but not today,’ I said, with a smile over my round lips. I lightly touched them and wondered how my lipstick was looking.
‘Really? Where are you staying, then?’
‘Astrakeri.’
‘Nice area. How long are you staying for?’
Was it just polite conversation or was he actually interested? I hoped he was interested. I was pulling gently at the hem of my dress so as not to stare at him. His hair was neatly cut but a little longer on top. I just wanted to touch it.
‘A month, or thereabouts.’
‘All on your own?’ He gave me a little sideways glance. He definitely seemed interested in what my answer would be.
‘Yes, but I’m meeting a friend at Vicky’s.’
We were almost there already. This little meeting had been both embarrassing and short. I’d hoped that if we had interacted again, I’d at least come across as mildly elegant, or at the very least, not a buffoon. Too late for that – I’d already been seen for who I’ve always been: clumsy.
He drove down the dirt road to the apartment blocks and stopped next to the surrounding wall. He twisted to face me while he drummed his fingers on the wheel absent-mindedly. Then I noticed. How had I not noticed before? I obviously hadn’t wanted to notice. A wedding ring. In Greece they wear their wedding ring on the right; I had known that, but up to that point I had conveniently forgotten. Of course he was married. Gaia was clearly his daughter. Based on looks alone, there was never a doubt of that. So why hadn’t I thought him to be married? Probably because I didn’t want him to be.
‘Thank you for the lift…’ I started to open the door. ‘…And the plaster. It was very kind of you.’
I got out, but just as I went to slam the door shut, he leant across my seat.
‘Wait! Will you be in Agios Stefanos again? Will I see you?’
‘I’m not sure your wife would approve.’ I turned on my flip-flops and attempted my sexiest storm-off walk. I’m still not sure if that’s actually a thing, but it’s what I was trying to achieve. I heard the van steadily pull away and my heart promptly sank. Oh well, another little dream crushed. It had been nice while it lasted. I might never understand his daughter’s eyes, but I’d understood his and adultery wasn’t a life complication I needed.
It was nice to laugh. Maria didn’t sit around pitying me. That was not her way. We sat at a table in the bar area after being fed to the brim with delicious souvlaki, feta, tzatziki, more salad, chips and rice! Perhaps not quite the brim, as we still had room for cocktails. Her laugh made me laugh even more, with an out-of-breath snort.
‘Come on, let’s go.’ she grabbed my bag from the floor and started to march off.
‘Wait for me, then!’ I scrambled to my feet and was off after her.
‘Where are we going, then?’
‘Condor? I hear Lady Gaga is there tonight.’
‘Oh well, we don’t have much choice then, do we?’
Our march advanced at quite a pace, and we continued to laugh as we went over the bridge and past all the cats.
‘I think Rihanna should be there tonight too, you know,’ Maria stated very matter of fact, with a pause before laughing again.
When we arrived at the bar, it was buzzing. It wasn’t as busy as I’d seen it in the past but everyone was smiling, laughing and many were dancing. Every other person was singing along, or swaying, or pointing their finger to the beat. The bass vibrated my chest. It was early still, maybe around half nine, something like that and we were already a little drunk. Maria started flinging her hair from side to side, shoulders bouncing to the music. I went to the bar.
‘Two Sexy Greeks, please,’ I said, with a tiny slur.
I got a wink and a smile before he went off to make the cocktails. The tribute act was halfway through “Bad Romance” when I got our drinks. Maria grabbed her drink in one hand and me in the other. We were shouting the words and dancing; limbs were flying everywhere, as were our drinks. When the singer went on her break, Mud’s “Tiger Feet” came on. Maria started jumping up and down, laughing and kicking her feet all over the place! She was unstoppable. Suddenly she was up on top of a table and pulling me up with her. I was laughing so hard my sides ached. She was swinging her feet about so frantically to the music, one of her flip-flops flew off her foot and hit a man square in the back of his bald little head! He spun around, literally not knowing what had hit him! She jumped off the table, grabbed his little shiny head and kissed it, apologising, almost thrusting the poor man into her bosom – much to the irritation of his wife. I could feel tears of laughter streaming down my face. I climbed down, apologising to the people who had been sitting at the table, gulped down my drink and pulled Maria away.
‘Athens Bar?’ I shouted over the music and laughter.
She grinned with a nod. She was still hurling apologies over her shoulder as we left while clutching her partner in crime, her flip-flop.
Athens Bar had a live band on, too; it was more loud music and dancing. All ages in together. That’s something I had always loved about Greece. It’s like there is no age gap between people. It’s just people and family. Respect for all. I will always love that. We danced until we could feel our feet aching in spite of the alcohol filter. Sometime in the early hours we found ourselves lying on the beach talking, just like we had all those years ago.
‘Thank you…’ I paused. ‘It’s nice to be drunk with someone else. It’s been weird,’ I slurred.
‘So weird!’ She sat up, throwing her arms to the sky. ‘Wait, what’s been weird?’ she burst into fits of giggles.
‘You, silly arse, the pandemic nonsense and life and stuff.’ I looked up into the sky, trying to focus on the stars above, wishing they would ground me and stop bloody spinning.
‘It’s okay.’ She looked over at me. ‘You’re here now. Nothing better than Greek food, booze and people to soothe a soul.’ She gently tapped me on the forehead and laughed again.
I closed my eyes, because the stars had started to taunt me, and I didn’t appreciate it one bit.
‘I can see how sad you are, you know, Melo. It’s more than your grandparents, isn’t it?’ She spoke softly through her own little boozy slur.
‘Maybe. You’re the first person I’ve spent time with in a long while. The pandemic just made it easier for me to slip away, you know? Easier to shut people out. I’m just sick of being lonely and afraid of people. That’s why I pushed myself to come back here, you know? Make or break or something? You know?’ My eyes were shut but I was frowning as I spoke. It was more than I meant to say, but that’s alcohol.
‘I know. I hear you, girl,’ she said. ‘You need a boyfriend.’
She laughed and lay back down next to me. She’d oversimplified my issues somewhat, but in essence she wasn’t wrong. After that, it was a blur. I don’t remember if we kept on talking or if I just fell asleep in the sand.
‘Hello, you two.’
‘I know that voice,’ I croaked, without opening my eyes. The sun was warming my lids as I accepted the fact we had fallen asleep on the beach and stayed there. ‘Hi, Harry. Do you happen to have any water?’ I sat up slowly and looked across to see Maria still asleep with an arm over her eyes.
‘Fun night?’
‘Yeah, from what I remember.’ I was looking at him with one eye closed. ‘How are you, anyway?’
‘Good, thanks. I was sorry to hear about your grandparents. They were good people.’ He was still standing over us but dropped his smirk to a more serious nod.
