Some Like It Greek - Sue Roberts Page 0,59
she came across my father and his friends. I know I’m meddling a little, but I’m so glad I came here to the convent and find myself wondering what those young girls would have done all those years ago if such places had not existed. I know some mother and baby homes haven’t had the best reputation over the years, but I think these particular nuns are a gift from heaven.
Twenty-Two
It’s a little after eight o’clock when I head to the taverna next to the hotel. There is a large tree outside threaded with lights and I’m welcomed inside by a smiling Greek waiter who shows me to my table. I decide against a gyros and instead choose a huge Greek salad and a glass of chilled retsina. As I relax, sipping my wine, the family I met the previous evening stroll by and we wave. They all look very relaxed and I hope that they are having a nice holiday. I strike up a conversation with a couple from Glasgow sitting next to me when the woman is startled by a ginger cat that has just threaded itself through her legs under the table.
I ask them if it’s the first time they have been to Greece and the pretty dark-haired young woman tells me it is.
‘We’re here on our honeymoon,’ she tells me. ‘It’s so nice to be somewhere warm. It’s still quite nippy in Scotland, even though it’s July,’ she says with a laugh. ‘Although Tom doesn’t like it too hot, do you?’
Her fair-skinned husband agrees. ‘That’s true. It’s the Scottish colouring.’ He strokes his beard, which I can’t help noticing is the same colour as the cat beneath the table.
I can empathise. Well, with having fair skin, anyway. Although, after all the time in the sun it is actually beginning to take on a soft golden glow, much to my delight.
Later on, I take a gentle stroll along the harbour, thinking about Demi once again and the time she spent at the convent. I can’t imagine how hurt she must have felt when her mother turned her back on her completely, forcing her to hide her pregnancy away from the people in the village. Sister Parthenia was right when she implied that attitudes have changed a lot in recent years.
It’s almost ten thirty now and darkness is beginning to draw in. A pale moon shines gently on the sea, casting silvery shadows. It’s so peaceful here and although I’m relishing some time spent alone, I suddenly wish Dara was here to share a nightcap with me at a beachfront taverna. Roz telling me that Joel has ended his relationship with his latest squeeze made me realise he has never changed and I was grateful to find out. I know I’m worth more but as it’s so soon after my last relationship, maybe a serious relationship is a mistake. A glorious dalliance with Dara, on the other hand, sounds very tempting.
Turning back, I pass busy bars with music pumping out and crowds of teenagers huddled around a creperie stand, chatting and eating pancakes. Families are strolling leisurely along the harbour front, enjoying their holidays and heading into family-friendly bars, lured inside by the music. It feels completely safe walking around here in the evening and I can’t ever imagine doing the same thing at home at this time of night. It’s a world away from my little flat in Manchester.
Twenty-Three
The next morning, after a breakfast of fruit and Greek yoghurt, I head down to the harbour front to find Petros’s jewellery stall, following his directions. Meandering through the market, I pass stalls selling traditional wares such as sea sponges and olive oils. I stop and browse at a clothes stall selling pretty cotton dresses and colourful beach kaftans. There are fruit and vegetable stands selling outsized melons and peaches and the huge tomatoes that taste so good in the refreshing Greek salads. Stalls selling children’s toys attract the eyes of youngsters on holiday who linger hopefully with their parents. There’s a bag stall, stuffed with bags and purses of every shape and size hanging from the awning, with a man outside who proclaims that they are ‘all leather’ when he sees me looking at them.
As I approach Petros’s jewellery stall, I see a woman with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail sitting on a chair behind the displayed goods reading a book. This must be his daughter, although there is no sign of him. I stand