‘No, I haven’t,’ Petra immediately replied. ‘But I always planned to. When I’m done with the islands. Right now, I’m all about the secret beaches and water so clear you can perfect your make-up in it. But tonight is a bonus, isn’t it? A missed flight that’s going to gift us a night in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.’ She looked straight at Becky. ‘If we can bear to tear ourselves away from runway vistas.’
‘You are welcome to join me,’ Elias told them. As if the poor guy had been given any real choice in the matter! ‘But I will be taking the metro.’
‘Ooo ace!’ Petra exclaimed. ‘I love a dirty train. And who wants to be cooped up in an extortionately priced taxi when you could be side-by-side with real Athenian life?’ She sniffed. ‘Is it true that one time there was a guy who actually took his horse on the metro?’
‘It was not me,’ Elias answered. Becky watched him finish his beer.
‘Will you show us winding streets and white houses where people invite you in for whatever they’ve cooked for the evening?’ Petra had got to her feet now and was shimmying into another backpack that was only slightly smaller than the one she was carting about earlier. And how could she even think about food when she had already eaten bigger portions than a hungry great white shark? Becky finished up her wine and picked up her handbag that was way smaller than Hazel’s travel bag.
‘He still hasn’t said he’s not single,’ Petra whispered, ducking her head into Becky’s space. ‘Did you hear?’
‘I didn’t hear him say he was single either,’ Becky answered.
‘I know, right? Totally a man of mystery. I love it!’ Petra grinned. ‘Come on, Becky, we’re going into the city to see the sights with a hot guy. What’s not to get excited about?’ She linked their arms and giggled.
Bluntly direct or not, Becky couldn’t deny that Petra was absolutely right.
Fourteen
Plaka District, Athens
‘There was a man playing a violin with a cat! I actually can’t believe it! I could die tomorrow and be completely happy now!’
Elias couldn’t help but smile at Petra’s enthusiasm. It had been random, seeing the instrument-playing old man on the train, his furry pet by his side, ears alert as if listening to every note. But it was typically Greek. Greece was the very epitome of crazy sometimes. There was life and then there was Greek life. The same but slightly madder.
He sucked in a breath as they arrived on the cobbled streets of the Plaka area. It was bustling, it was still humid and tourists congregated to take photos of the narrow lanes filled with shops and the ancient church plumped right in the middle of everything. This church –Panagia Kapnikarea – was one of the oldest churches in Athens and it never failed to impress Elias. With its three different cream brick sections, a domed tower at its centre topped with terracotta tiles, it was a reminder of the city’s ancient past amid the taller, towering newer buildings around it.
‘It doesn’t look like part of a city.’ This came from Becky. She was standing on the cobbles, taking everything in in a little more subdued way to Petra. ‘It looks like a village that’s been put inside it.’
Elias had never thought of it that way before, but she was right. Plaka was the most visited area of Athens for a reason and that reason wasn’t just because here was the Acropolis, it was also because of the quaintness of its streets. It was like a throwback to simpler times. For all of Athens’ business smarts and modern movement, visitors were always drawn to the ancient Greece and the old-fashioned Greece – the home of gods and gyros, where you still couldn’t flush a piece of toilet paper down the pipes.
He could have come here alone. It would have been as easy to refute Petra’s eagerness as it had been to go along with it. But what would coming here alone really have been like? No matter what he might have told himself, he would have moped. He would have gazed up at the proud monument glowing amid the skyline and he would have thought about Hestia and all the hurt he’d endured. Even now, all this time having gone by, he still thought back to the workings of his relationship with Hestia. Had there been signs he had missed? Were there critical moments he should have noticed, times maybe when Hestia had eluded to what was going on beneath her surface? More than the being left, what hurt Elias the most was his lack of realisation, the utter shock at what had transpired so quickly. He had been completely clueless to something his wife had no doubt been struggling with her whole adult life.
The day Hestia had told him she was leaving, she couldn’t have sounded or looked more devastated. She had wept and apologised over and over, physically reeling from saying the words, while he had instantaneously solidified into stone. The complete bolt from the blue, the impact of her words sinking into him, had turned him cold. Cold and oh so angry. He’d had no capacity to feel anything else. He had simply never seen this coming.
Yes, being here with Petra and Becky tonight was giving him a purpose he only just realised he desperately needed.
‘You think this is like a village,’ Elias said to Becky. ‘You wait until you see the houses along the walk to the Acropolis.’
‘White-washed walls, Greek-blue shutters, hopefully more men playing violins with cats. Cats that dance to the violin would be amazing, I’m not gonna lie,’ Petra told them both. She danced a jig on the spot.
Elias shook his head, a smile on his lips. Maybe this was exactly what he needed before he returned to Corfu. Reconnecting with his heritage first, creating a new Plaka experience by showing its charms to two people who had not been here before, then seeing his parents might not be as awkward as he felt it was going to be. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘It is this way.’
*
Becky couldn’t believe she was in Athens. The inside of the terminal had obviously always been the plan from the moment she found there were no direct flights out of London with space at this late notice, but she had never in a million years expected to be walking the streets of vibrant yet cosy, Plaka. It was amazing. It was exhilarating. It was like nowhere she had been before. Restaurants full to bursting, their tables and chairs spilling out onto the street, glowing table lamps amid diners nibbling on crusty fresh bread or skewers thick with grilled chicken, purple red onion and green peppers, and waiters rushing back and forth perspiring in the humidity as they served. There was chatter, rising up from the cobbles, the music of an accordion, carefree smoking and a laid-back ambience that wafted from every eatery and bar. Becky wanted to imbed everything into her mind in case she never got to come here again. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime visit. That made it even more special.
‘Come on!’ Petra called from a few yards away. ‘We’re going to be walking the path that actual gods have trodden.’
Without any doubt this was so much better than a swim in the hotel pool with views of a landing strip. She stepped on to catch up her companions.
‘Why are you going to Corfu?’ Petra asked Elias. Becky stayed a step behind them, happy to admire everything they were passing. Leafy vines grew up crumbling buildings, mopeds whizzed up narrow lanes and alleyways and men tried to sell braided bracelets with the promise of late-night African music…