‘Relax,’ Petra told her. ‘We made it to Corfu. We fought strange wildlife and an even stranger Greek lady.’
Becky let out a breath, kicking her legs beneath her. ‘We haven’t found the car yet. If she won’t let us get supplies in her shop, we might be barbequing the local wildlife to survive.’
Petra looked lost in the conversation. ‘She has a shop?’
‘Yes, she told me, when you were… finding the flamingo.’
‘But she won’t let us use it?’ Now Petra seemed even more confused.
‘She said it was for local people and she said the word “local” with a lot more emphasis than was needed. But she didn’t want us going to the supermarket either.’
‘So, she wants us to starve?’ Petra queried, splashing away a wasp that had landed in the water. ‘That’s not very hospitable and Greece is meant to be one of the most hospitable nations there is. Julia Bradbury didn’t seem to have any problems getting doors opened for her.’
‘Now you’ve said the word “starving” I’m really quite hungry,’ Becky admitted. She had had nothing since the divine meal on Kefalonia the previous night. Becky had put her need to avoid Elias and Petra above a spread of cheeses and hams at breakfast… and look where that had got her. With one of them as a new housemate!
‘There’s bottled water in the fridge and a platter of fruit. I ate some grapes,’ Petra admitted. ‘OK, I ate all the grapes but there’s other stuff left… peaches, nectarines and cherries.’
Now Becky’s stomach was really waking up to the fact it was empty. Her new approach to life had to be not to be bullied by anyone with a larger personality than her. She may not talk the loudest or have the most interesting stories for parties like Petra, but that didn’t mean her thoughts and feelings didn’t matter. And she wasn’t going to be told where she could or couldn’t shop.
‘Right,’ Becky said, taking one hand off the wall and kicking her legs a little harder. ‘Once we’ve finished our swim we’re going to have a good look around the grounds and we’re going to find the car and we’re going to drive to the nearest supermarket and buy our provisions.’
‘Ooo, provisions,’ Petra said with a laugh. ‘How old are you again?’
Was that a real question or was Petra taking the rise out of her use of the English language? She hadn’t quite got the complete tell of Petra yet… but there would be no real need to, would there? Because Petra was only staying very short-term. She needed to continue to make that clear. No amount of shovelling of bear-thing shit and cat pee was going to make Becky give in to Petra staying for the whole duration of her working break.
‘Shall I guess?’ Petra carried on, letting go of the wall and treading water as she seemed to survey Becky in a bid to work out her age.
‘Oh, you were serious,’ Becky replied, copying Petra’s move and swimming her way into the centre of the pool.
‘Thirty…’ Petra began.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. We won’t be having any more guessing now!’ Becky exclaimed. Did she really look thirty-something? OK, she didn’t have the whole skincare cleansing routine that seemed to be on fleek at the moment, but she washed her face morning and night and generally ate healthily. She might do well from a bit more exercise but wouldn’t anyone?
‘I’m twenty-five,’ Becky informed her.
‘Really?’ Petra said, looking a lot like she didn’t believe her.
‘Yes, really,’ Becky answered. ‘How about you? Thirty…’
‘Very funny,’ Petra said, poking her tongue out and swimming away from Becky. She chased her companion, trying to keep up with Petra’s strokes. Perhaps that exercise was more needed than she thought.
‘I’m twenty,’ Petra said, turning around and resting her back against the other end of the pool, arms outstretched across the length of the wall.
‘Wow,’ Becky replied. ‘And you’ve done all this travelling already.’
Petra shrugged her shoulders. ‘Life’s too short to waste it being someone’s workplace bitch.’
‘I… guess it is,’ Becky agreed. But wasn’t she Megan’s sandwich-making workplace bitch? She was sure Petra would have an opinion on her sister’s outburst about her having a holiday. But she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to hear it.
‘And I never really had any plans for my life before… before I started travelling.’ Petra smiled. ‘So, I’ve made travelling my life. And no regrets so far.’ She sniffed. ‘No pension pot for my retirement, but I’m hopeful of a rich sheikh or oligarch one day, you know, when I’m done toying with the Greek gods.’
It was a simplistic view. Some might say it was a ridiculous, frivolous idea for her future, but it was Petra’s life to live and she was definitely living it. Perhaps Becky could take a small lesson from her. Not the kissing lots of random men with only the briefest of introductions, but perhaps the living in the moment and not caring less what anyone else thinks part. Being true to herself. She sighed. The first thing she needed to do was stop feeling guilty about this argument with Megan and stop checking her messages for some sort of apology or at least a checking in, how-are-you-doing text. Becky didn’t regret anything she had said to her sister, therefore she shouldn’t be constantly going over it in her head thinking she might have said something different simply to keep the peace. Sometimes it was good to be confrontational, especially if you were confronting people with the truth from your heart. Who could ever go wrong with the truth?
‘Right, Petra,’ Becky said, confidently pushing away from the stone surround of the pool, arms and legs working the water around her body in nice smooth and fluid movements. ‘We are going to find this car. We are going to drive to the nearest place with a proper supermarket and we are going to buy lots and lots of…’ She stopped herself before she said the word ‘provisions’ again. ‘What should I be saying instead of “provisions” that doesn’t make me sound like the thirty-something I’m not? Shopping? Food?’
‘Ouzo and shit,’ Petra said with a laugh. ‘We’re going to go out and buy lots and lots of ouzo and shit.’
‘Ouzo and shit,’ Becky said, relaxing her shoulders into the water and preparing to push her stomach up into a float on the surface. ‘Great.’
Petra swam up close to her again, one of her plaits in her mouth, sucking it like a baby might suck a pacifier. ‘Are you really only twenty-five? Like, for reals?’
Thirty
Liakada Village
The sun was setting, turning the bright blue sky of the hot day into a fiesta of pink and purple. Elias watched it from the table he had chosen inside the cafeneon. He had drunk a half bottle of ouzo with his father that afternoon and now he was determined to drink his way through a carafe of his mother’s homemade white wine and get to the bottom of what was going on with his parents. His father was no longer at home. His father had made a place to live out of the storage shed they owned lower down in the village, next to the goats and the chickens. His parents were separated. And as he spoke that sentence in his head it still made him shudder. His parents, he had thought, were unbreakable. Together since school, so completely in tune with one another, so vital in each other’s lives… If a relationship like theirs crashed against the rocks what hope was there for anyone else? He swigged at his wine, not really tasting it. Except he didn’t believe there was hope for anyone else, did he? Surely this underlining of the mantra he lived by shouldn’t be coming as any sort of surprise. But sometimes, being right about something when you had thought there was one exception to the rule, didn’t feel so nice.