The boy took the note and hesitated.
‘Yes, take it, thank you. That’s fine,’ said Mum.
He cast a wary glance towards the taverna entrance and then made off.
‘Mum!’ I exclaimed. ‘That was worth over two pounds.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you see? He looked half-starved.’
‘Yes I did. I don’t know why you let him take our stuff in the first place. Honestly, two pounds for carrying a suitcase fifty metres? I thought we were meant to be on a budget. If you’re going to give hand-outs to every Greek…’
‘He wasn’t Greek. He was Albanian.’
‘How do you know?’
‘His accent. It wasn’t Greek.’
‘To every Albanian then…’
‘Lucy… Don’t you read the papers? Those people – they don’t have anything.’
‘Oh honestly, Mum.’
‘Honestly what?’
‘You exaggerate. He’s probably got a job. He may even work at the taverna…’
An awful thought struck me. What if Ben had left? What if that boy had got Ben’s job? Maybe he’d been sent to wait at the bus stop and drum up trade for the Old Rogue – Stavros.
‘Come on, we’d better go and see if we can get our room back,’ said Mum.
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and followed Mum with a thumping heart. Stavros was sitting alone at a table on the terrace. Ben was nowhere to be seen. The minute Stavros caught sight of us he leapt to his feet.
‘You come back!’ he said, waving his arms about in a wild greeting. ‘You no find other place nothing like Paradisos – no?’
‘No,’ said Mum. ‘I mean yes, we’ve come back. I hope you have a room free?’
‘I have room, your room yes? Best room in the taverna. You like, eh?’
‘Yes,’ said Mum.
‘We like very much.’
‘You like views – quiet, peace, eh?’
The dredger let loose a joyful welcoming cascade of gravel.
‘Umm, quite,’ said Mum suppressing a smile.
‘Oh they not work long. They go. Very soon,’ said Stavros with a dismissive wave towards the bay. ‘Bad for business.’
‘We really don’t mind,’ I said.
‘Siddown,’ said Stavros. ‘You have drinkses. On the house.’
I sat down and cast a searching glance towards the kitchen. At any moment Ben would come out with a tray in his hand and give me that wicked smile of his. I waited.
‘Whaddya want?’ asked Stavros.
Ben didn’t come out. Stavros went to get the drinks himself, and I realised with a sinking feeling that Ben wasn’t there. But maybe he was out windsurfing. He must get some time off during the day.
Ben didn’t come back while we were having lunch either. And he still wasn’t there when we took our bags to our room and started to unpack.
Mum threw the shutters open wide while we did so.
‘Lovely,’ she sighed.
I gazed past her. There was a really good view of the bay but I couldn’t see a windsurfer out there.
‘It really is such a nice room,’ said Mum, unzipping her suitcase.
‘Mmmm.’
I stood at the window, scanning the sea for a glimpse of a pink and blue sail. The sea was a milky blue in the harsh midday sun. Maybe the sun was too hot for windsurfing. The dredger had fallen silent – the workers must’ve knocked off for the day.
‘I wonder what happened to that English boy,’ mused Mum. As if she’d read my mind.
‘What English boy?’ I asked innocently.
Mum stood holding up her sundress and examining it for creases.
‘The one we had to come back for,’ she said, without looking at me.
‘Oh Mum, honestly.’
‘Well, I hope we haven’t come all the way back for nothing.’
She was like that. She’d always been like that. She knew instinctively the kind of boys I fancied. It was so maddening. I’d do everything to cover up. I’d send out a massive smoke-screen of negative comments or drop red herrings about some other boy who wasn’t even in the running, but I never fooled Mum.
I lay there on the bed while we were meant to be having our siesta, thinking about it. She always looked kind of crumpled when she was sleeping – but she wasn’t bad-looking really for a mum. One of the best in my class at school, as a matter of fact. How was it that someone who was such a brilliant judge of who I liked could have made such a mistake in her own life? I mean, she must’ve been in love with Dad once. Weren’t you meant to know if you really loved someone? And if you did, wasn’t it meant to last? And if it didn’t last… was it really love in the first place? It was a terrible circular argument which went round and round in my head and never seemed to have an answer.
As I tried to get off to sleep my mind kept swinging back to Ben. I could imagine him right now, sitting outside under the vines, having lunch maybe at the table by the kitchen door. Or sitting with a drink in his hand, in silhouette against the sunlit sea. Maybe he was there now. I strained my ears for the sound of a chair scraping on the concrete or the chink of a knife on a plate. There wasn’t a sound. Where was he? Maybe he had left? I couldn’t just lie there doing nothing. I had to find out.
I crept to the door and peeped out. The sun was beating down from practically overhead. It was the hottest time of day and very still. I had the feeling that the whole village was asleep. Even the chickens were quiet.
Ben wasn’t on the terrace. Nor was Stavros – I could hear his steady snoring coming from a room beyond the kitchen. I went back and lay on the bed again. Oh curses and botheration. I picked up my book and tried to concentrate on reading.
I must’ve fallen asleep. I woke with my face crushed uncomfortably against the book. Mum was still asleep. I glanced at my watch. It was four o’clock. If I left her sleeping I could have a look for Ben in peace, without her interfering.
I tiptoed out of the room and across the terrace in bare feet and picked my way down the long flight of steps that led down to the beach.
The pile of windsurfers was neatly stacked. The shack was locked up and the sign advertising that they were for hire was leaning up against the door. I tried to make out whether the pink and blue sail was rolled up with the others. Did he always use the same sail? I stared at the boards, wondering if his was among them… They all looked identical to me.
That’s when I caught sight of them. Footprints in the sand. Large strong footprints with a fine curve inwards where the foot arched. They looked like male footprints. They were deeply imprinted as if whoever they belonged to had been carrying something heavy. I went up to one and tried my foot in it. Yes, by their size, they were definitely male.
They led down to the water’s edge. And beside them, where the water met the sand, something heavy had been placed down – like a windsurfer’s board.
With