before I leave.
‘Thank you,’ she says, as I’m about to head off. ‘I never thought I would see my son again before I leave this earth but maybe now there is a possibility.’ She smiles thoughtfully.
‘Anything is possible as long as you have faith,’ I tell her. ‘I think you told me that once.’
She looks me in the eyes. ‘You are a good girl, Anna, you always were. Remember anything is possible for you too. Follow your dreams.’
I tell her I will be in touch soon and she waves until the van turns a corner out of sight.
I feel emotionally drained by the time I arrive back at the hotel and wonder how Demi must be feeling now. I wonder if she has told her sister about what she has learned, or is she pondering it all silently? I hope I haven’t opened up old wounds for her yet can’t help thinking that it was meant to be, stumbling across her son like that.
It’s late afternoon when I take my book out onto the balcony to read, yet I find I can’t concentrate too much. I turn my face towards the sun and must have dozed off, as I wake an hour later disorientated for a second before going inside and retrieving a bottle of cold water from the fridge and drinking it. I glance at my phone, charging on the small dressing table in the bedroom, and find I have a picture message from Dara accompanied by a message.
Well, Albania continues to surprise me. Beautiful beaches and lots of history. It would be just about perfect if you were here. I hope you are enjoying Kefalonia. Dara xx
I stare at the picture of the blue-green sea and sandy beach and agree that it looks beautiful. His next picture is of him sitting in a bar, chatting to a bloke and holding up a bottle of the local beer. His white t-shirt shows off his lightly tanned skin to maximum effect. He looks so handsome and I remember the evening we spent at the campsite as one I would relive all over again in a heartbeat, if I had the chance.
I get dressed for the evening and head down towards the harbour, to a taverna called Poseidon that was advertised in a leaflet at the hotel reception. When I arrive, the Poseidon restaurant looks like a rather grand affair, with white pillars and a statue of the goddess Venus draped in lights and foliage at the entrance. I glance inside at tables covered in white linen tablecloths and set with lit candles. I feel a little underdressed in my simple, long black cotton dress, although I am wearing a nice silver necklace and matching bracelet this evening. The restaurant is full and when I inform the waiter that I don’t have a reservation I am about to walk away when a couple from a table in the far corner stand up to leave.
‘Can you give me two minutes? Then you have a table,’ the waiter requests, suggesting I have a drink from a small bar area while I wait. Sipping my white wine from the bar, I glance around the restaurant and realise it isn’t as formal as I first perceived it to be, despite its décor. There are families dressed casually, couples dolled up to the nines and groups of friends dressed somewhere in between. A few minutes later, I am guided to a small table next to a family enjoying an evening out. I recognise two of the people at once.
‘Well hello again.’ Petros smiles and his teenage daughter says hello. He introduces his wife Ellen to me, and speaks to her in Greek as she turns and smiles.
‘Ah, Petros tells me you are the lady who bought one of my favourite necklaces from the stall today. You have good taste,’ she tells me.
‘Thanks. It was all so beautiful it was almost impossible to choose.’
‘You are dining alone? Please come and join us,’ she insists.
For the second time on this holiday, I am invited to join a family and think about how kind people are to lone travellers.
She gestures to a waiter and after a few words, he brings a chair for me to join the family at their table. He’s probably happy to do so, as it frees up the table for two again.
‘It’s very kind of you,’ I say as I take a seat.
‘Not at all, we haven’t ordered our main meals yet. Here.’ She pushes