The beach was deserted. I sat in the shade afforded by a ruined stone hut and for a while I tried to read a book I’d brought with me, though I couldn’t concentrate and eventually I put it aside. Out in the bay several large yachts rode at anchor, brilliant white against the deep blue of the sea. I went down to the shore and swam out towards them. The water was clear and cool and almost completely flat. I swam hard, powering myself out into the bay with long, even strokes, the salt water sluicing off the dead cells, shedding old skin. I didn’t stop until my muscles ached and my chest was heaving, by which time I was almost alongside one of the yachts.
It was deserted, perhaps forty-five or fifty feet long. I wondered where it came from and who owned it. The idea of sailing the islands, stopping where I wanted, moving on without any particular destination or schedule seemed appealing. I trod water for a while engaged in this idle fantasy before I swam back again and came ashore dripping onto the pebbles where I lay down to dry and fell into a light sleep.
When I woke it was early in the afternoon. I’d had too much sun and I felt thick-headed. I was bathed in an uncomfortable sheen of sweat. I staggered groggily to the sea to cool off and lay with my head immersed looking up at the sky through the water. The images of a dream I’d had filtered back to me. My father had been standing by his boat when a shadowy figure approached from behind with his arm raised. He brought it down and my father collapsed. I knew it was only the workings of my unconscious mind fuelled by Irene’s suspicions. My father was seventy-two when he died. He had a bad heart and a history of drinking. Maybe his wild claims had all been a ploy to gain Irene’s sympathy. In fact I thought that made sense. Maybe he’d been trying to win her back from Theonas.
Once I had towelled off I decided to drive up to Stavros and find somewhere I could buy a beer and sit in the shade. At a junction just back from the beach I checked carefully for traffic, wary of the erratic driving habits of the locals. Fifty yards away a figure was squatting beside a scooter stopped at the side of the road. I almost drove on but then she stood up and I realised that it was Alex.
She looked around when she heard the Jeep approaching, but she didn’t realise who it was until I stopped.
‘Hello again,’ I said.
She smiled uncertainly. ‘Hello.’
‘How are you feeling today?’
‘Fine. I slept late.’
‘I went to the place where you’re staying earlier. I got your note.’
She gestured to the scooter. ‘I wanted to get out and take a look around so I hired this. I couldn’t face being in my room all day.’
I looked at the scooter. ‘Is there a problem?’
In a gesture of frustration she pushed a damp strand of dark blonde hair back from her forehead. ‘Yes, actually. It won’t go.’
In the light of day she looked a lot better than when I had last seen her. The dark smudges beneath her eyes had already begun to fade. I was struck again by the colour of her eyes. Now that they weren’t reddened and puffy, the full effect of them was even more pronounced. Their unusual paleness somehow added to her vulnerability. It was as if I could look right inside her. She was, I thought, quite beautiful. But the overriding emotion I felt was one of protectiveness as I had when I had sat watching her sleep. Tearing my gaze away I bent down to have a look at the engine, checking that the lead and plug were secure, then opening the fuel tank.
‘I filled it before I left Vathy,’ she commented drolly. I smiled and gave up pretending that I knew what I was doing.
‘The best thing would be to leave it here. I’ll give you a lift back to the place where you hired it and they can come and pick it up.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ She sounded disappointed and glanced toward the hills across the bay.
‘Is that where you were going?’
‘Yes. There’s a village I wanted to see.’ She pointed to a towering hill where the hazy outline of a few buildings was visible perched precariously on the steep upper slopes. ‘But it doesn’t matter. I can go another time.’
‘I could drive you there if you like,’ I offered.
‘I didn’t mean to suggest …’
‘Suggest what?’
‘I mean you’ve done enough for me already,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Look, about last night. I feel terrible about it. I mean I feel like an idiot.’
‘You shouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I’m just glad that I was there.’
‘I haven’t even thanked you have I?’
‘Yes you have. Last night.’
‘Did I? I don’t remember much to be honest. Anyway I really appreciate what you did. I don’t know what came over me. I’d had a few drinks. Actually more than a few. I don’t think they mixed well with those pills I took.’ She shook her head in disbelief at her own actions. ‘I just felt this black mood sink over me. I couldn’t shake it off.’
‘At least you seem better today.’
‘I am. Much better.’ She looked at me intently, almost beseechingly. ‘I didn’t really mean to kill myself you know. I mean I don’t know what I was doing. But it wasn’t that.’
‘Like you said, it was probably the pills. If I were you I’d get rid of them.’
She smiled gratefully. ‘I already did.’
I looked back towards the village on the distant hillside. I wanted to ask what had brought her to Ithaca and why she had been drinking alone and taking pills to help her sleep, but I thought if she wanted to tell me she would. ‘So, how about that lift? I’ll take you up there if you like.’
She hesitated. ‘I don’t think there’s much to see,’ she warned.
‘That’s OK, I haven’t got anything else to do. Besides there are probably great views from up there.’
I still sensed a residue of uncertainty in her, but then she suddenly smiled, whatever doubts she had melting away. ‘Well, if you’re sure, that would be great. Thanks.’
It turned out the village was called Exoghi and the road that led to it ascended in a series of tight switchback curves. At times the drop to Polis Bay far below was perilously close to the wheels, and the Jeep’s engine, stuck in first and second gear the entire way up, howled in protest. Now and then I glanced at Alex and though she smiled when our eyes met, most of the time she was preoccupied with her thoughts. Despite everything she’d said earlier I could sense that her assurances were a thin veneer to mask whatever was troubling her. As we got closer to the village however, she began to take a keen interest in it, craning her neck for a better view as we glimpsed the tower of a church among some cypress trees.
When we arrived it turned out there was a small parking area beside the church where I pulled over. I’d been right about the views. We could see for miles. To the east was a broad fertile valley where olive and fruit trees grew and beyond the coast, the blue-grey shapes of scattered islands were visible in the far distance. To the west across the strait the towering coastline of Kephalonia seemed close enough to touch.
It was very quiet and there was a curious stillness about the place that heightened its distinct feeling of isolation. ‘It looks deserted,’ I commented.