and shorts in your rucksack.’
‘Ah but I always pack one or two shirts for special occasions. I’ve even been to the laundry room and ironed it.’ He grins.
‘So this is a special occasion? I’m honoured.’
‘Well, you might not say that when you see the food.’ He’s standing with his hands in his pockets and for a second, looks a little unsure of himself.
‘Demi already has plans so it’s just us, shall we?’ I say, and we wave goodbye to Demi and head off.
Dara’s tent is pitched at the end of a row that overlooks another small lake, surrounded by trees. He’s set up a little table that he borrowed from someone in a nearby caravan who has gone out for the evening. It’s set with a checked paper tablecloth and there is an uncorked bottle of wine resting. A few small tea lights create a cosy, romantic feel.
‘Take a seat, I’ll just go and grab the food.’
A few minutes later he appears in the tent doorway with a platter of crusty bread, pâté, cheeses and olives.
‘Lambrusco. I don’t think I’ve drunk that since I was a teenager,’ I remember.
‘It’s local to the region,’ he tells me.
‘You brought glasses? I was expecting the plastic variety,’ I say as he pours us a drink.
‘Borrowed from the camp bar, shh.’ He winks.
I take a long sip. I reckon the last time I drank this it was at someone’s eighteenth birthday party back home. It’s surprisingly refreshing and better than I remember.
We eat and drink and Dara asks me more about my father. I tell him how we enjoyed a good relationship and share some of the happy memories I have of spending time with him. As I recall how I accompanied Dad in his van on the fish round and how he taught me to swim at the local swimming baths, I realise I’m lucky to have such memories.
Dara takes a sip of wine. ‘You sound like you were really close. No wonder you miss him so much. My mum and brother always seemed close like that. In fact, he could do no wrong in her eyes. It didn’t half annoy me when she would reprimand me for the very same things he got away with,’ he muses.
I wonder if Liz felt the same way about me. I don’t recall either of our parents treating us differently, but thinking about what she said to me when we made up after the funeral about envying my relationship with Dad, it could be that she saw it differently. I’m so thrilled that I still have my sister around now that both of our parents are no longer with us.
As the evening draws on, I realise how relaxed I feel in Dara’s company and what a great time I’m having. There’s something about having picnic-style food on a warm summer evening, in a gorgeous location, that makes the delicious food taste even better. I learn more about Dara’s work in the city but I have to kind of squeeze the information out of him as he’s reluctant to talk about it. He’s much happier talking about the places he has travelled and the wonderful experiences he’s had over the last few years.
‘The only thing I ever wanted from the money was the freedom to do what I want with my life. Money gives you choices,’ he says thoughtfully as drains his glass. ‘Shall we open another bottle?’
I don’t want the night to end and I find myself nodding. ‘Yes please.’
‘So what’s Demi’s story, then?’ Dara asks as we pick at the leftover food and sip the delicious wine. Lights are being lit around the campsite and an old tree nearby suddenly becomes illuminated by a string of white lights.
‘I’m not sure exactly,’ I tell him truthfully. ‘I know she came to England as a young woman and was great friends with my parents. Dad helped her rent a place when she first arrived and in time introduced her to his friend Ted, who she married. They all ended up becoming lifelong friends and she even bought a house on the same street as Dad, just a few doors away actually. She doesn’t talk about Greece much, other than her childhood, when I ask her.’
‘We all have a story to tell,’ he ponders. ‘But sometimes it can be painful to tell it.’
The wine has gone to my head slightly and as I look at Dara, I wish we were cuddled up together on something a little more