‘It’s so cool,’ Petra agreed.
‘I do not think “cool” is the right word to describe this,’ Elias told her as their guide encouraged them forward towards their craft.
‘No,’ Becky agreed. ‘It’s not… a Topshop must-have or…’
‘Panos from Athens’ hair,’ Elias added. Petra gave him a glare and he immediately put his hands up as if in a show of surrender. ‘You did say his hair was cool.’
‘This… it’s… striking and… spectacular,’ Becky told them.
‘Breathtaking,’ Elias added.
‘Alright!’ Petra snapped. ‘You don’t need to verbalise the dictionary for me.’
‘And if you put a filter on any of your photos of this,’ Becky continued. ‘Well… it would be sacrilege.’
‘Are we allowed in the boat yet?’ Petra asked, stepping nearer the edge and smiling at their fifty-something swarthy-looking guide. He had a sheaf of thick, salt-and-pepper curly hair and a beard to match. Agelos had told them he was called Kosmos.
*
Becky had seen a couple of photos of the cave on Google, when they were deciding where to visit, and as pretty as the images had been, they were nothing when compared to being here in person, breathing in the damp air, feeling the moisture dripping down the rocks, remembering exactly how old these walls of stone were and thinking of all the people – and creatures – that had been here before her, thousands of years ago. The pool was so still, translucent turquoise where the light trickled in, with darker shades of blue at its border. It was nature at its finest. Nothing manmade. Nothing artificial. Complete purity.
Petra leapt aboard and made the small rowboat, sway back and forth with her motion. ‘Whoops! Not my fault! It’s a bit wonky!’ She settled at the very front of the boat.
Elias was next and he stepped on, turning back to look at Becky.
‘You are OK?’ he asked, reaching out a hand to help her.
More touching. She wasn’t sure she could deal with more touching. It was all getting too much for her. Hazel had told her that men still in the Eurozone were far more tactile than anyone she was going to find at Wetherspoons on a Friday night, and it was just their way. But it wasn’t her way. And, it was equally stupid to have butterflies about it, being as he was the first male she had come into contact with on this trip – stag party excepting. He was nice. He happened to be attractive. She really wasn’t thinking about what Tara would think if she turned up with someone like Elias at a dinner party. The last time she had ventured to one as a singleton, she had encountered ‘dipping’ foods and the couples had all fed each other. She mustn’t wonder what it would be like to be fed by Elias…
‘I’m fine,’ she answered, taking care to step into the vessel with all the aplomb of a woman who didn’t need her arm steadying. As her feet hit the wooden interior the boat wobbled and then Becky wobbled and it was all she could do to maintain her balance.
‘Said it wasn’t me!’ Petra remarked with a laugh.
Bracing her core until the boat had stopped swaying, Becky finally sank down at the back of the wooden bench that circled the whole exterior and looked again at the lustre of the pool they were now floating on top of. She could see her reflection in the water, then, beyond that, pale rock, and next was shadow where it deepened.
‘Are you ready to see the nymphs?’ Kosmos let out a throaty laugh as he got among them, in the centre of the vessel, and picked up his oars.
‘The what?’ Petra asked.
‘The nymphs in Greece are everywhere,’ Elias replied.
‘He is right,’ Kosmos answered. ‘But here, in Melissani Cave, their presence is felt even stronger.’ He whispered but such was the cavernous nature of their surroundings it sounded much louder. ‘This is because it is believed it is at this very place, in this very cave, that the nymph Melissani drowned after she was rejected by Pan, the god of the wild and the companion to the nymphs.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Petra said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Is this the story you make up for tourists? Are there keyrings of the drowned fairy at a gift shop on the way out?’
‘Petra!’ Becky exclaimed. ‘This is the history of the cave. It did say about the nymphs in your Greece guidebook.’ She really sometimes wanted Petra to put that filter she added to Insta onto her words before they made it out of her mouth. And this was coming from someone who believed in romantic comedies. Well, watched them anyway…
Kosmos put one hand on his heart, the oar almost slipping from his grip. ‘I promise to you. This is the fact of legend.’
‘Legend like a fairy story. Literally,’ Petra answered with a roll of her eyes. She got her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and began to snap pictures. At least she was impressed enough by the cave, even if she wasn’t into the myths. But this man was doing them a favour getting the boat out for them and all because Petra had wanted to come. The very least she could do was be respectful.
‘I’m so sorry about our… friend,’ Becky apologised.
‘Everyone who comes here with a broken heart…’ Kosmos continued, rowing a little, very slow, creeping from the rim of the lake towards the centre where the light was flowing in. ‘They feel the sadness inside of them more than others.’
‘What?’ Petra asked, pausing in her photo-taking to stare at their guide.
‘It is OK,’ Kosmos said, looking directly at Petra now. ‘The cave, it knows. And it will listen if you want it to.’
Becky watched Petra almost shrink back into herself. What was going on? Kosmos seemed to have hit a tender spot that had altered Petra’s entire demeanour. She might have wanted the young woman to quieten down a bit – OK, substantially – but she hadn’t wanted her to suck herself into a shell like a grumpy turtle. And that was a bit how she looked at the moment… but with great plaits.
As their guide continued his story, talking about the excavations of the cave in the 1960s that led to the discoveries of icons, plates and oil lamps, Becky felt herself relax into the moment. The sandwich-making enterprise was a million miles away. This relaxing, drifting into the centre of a cave-lake was hypnotically enchanting. The drip and gentle plopping of water spiralling from the stalactites into the cave was like soothing music. Time and reality were suspended.
‘Can you hear the nymphs?’
Elias had whispered to her from across the other side of the boat and Becky smiled at him. ‘No,’ she whispered back. ‘But I can’t hear Petra either.’ She felt instantly ashamed. It was wrong to make fun of anyone and Petra was uncommonly quiet at the moment. She already seemed to have developed a soft spot for her. Perhaps she was missing the interaction with Megan more than she had anticipated.
‘Do you think she is OK?’ Elias asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Becky whispered back, leaning a little towards him. ‘I don’t know her very well, obviously, as I only met her yesterday.’
‘Yes, but it is not always how long you know someone for,’ Elias said. ‘Sometimes the longer you know someone… the less you truly discover about who they really are.’