We wouldn’t see Gerry or Hannah until much later that morning, and Patricia wouldn’t emerge from her alcohol-induced coma until the afternoon.
*
‘Wanna steer?’ I looked up from my Kindle, which is sealed in a Ziploc bag for waterproofing, to see that Duncan was talking to me.
‘Really?’ I hadn’t known I’d get to steer the boat.
‘For sure.’ I looked over at Gary who nodded at me encouragingly.
‘Okay, yeah!’
‘Stand here.’ I put my Kindle down and stood in front of Duncan. ‘Hold the wheel here and here.’ I held my hands at ten and two like he showed me. ‘It’s not like a car; it takes subtle adjustments. We want to head to the right of that island in the middle of the caldera. You got it?’ I nodded. ‘If we start to go too far in one direction, correct our course, but gently. Okay? And I’ll be here if you need help, or if you get sick of it.’
‘Me too,’ added Gary.
‘I got it.’ A grin spread across my face. I was sailing! In truth, I was only steering, but it was one of those cool things I could check off my endless bucket list. Some people have a finite bucket list, but I keep adding to mine. I figure it’s the best way to make sure I keep going out and doing things. Imagine saying, ‘I’m done,’ and then staying home for the rest of your life. That would do my head in. So, sailing (okay, steering) a boat through Santorini’s caldera – check!
It was incredible to feel the responsiveness of the yacht as it sliced through the water. We were sailing under power, as the winds were not cooperating that morning, but it wasn’t like I knew the difference between steering with wind power and engine power. Did I mention I was sailing?
As we passed to the right of the small island, I could see the town of Fira far above us. It was just as spectacular from the water as it was from within. The contrast between the stark white of the buildings and the craggy, reddish cliffs was incredible. I was definitely regretting not spending more time on Santorini. I promised myself I would return someday, adding to the bucket list again.
The sun was already hot, even at ten in the morning, and I tipped my heavily sun-screened face towards it. I inhaled deeply and felt the warm, salty air in my lungs. I’d abandoned my hat as soon as we left the marina, because it kept blowing off, and my unfettered hair whipped around my face. I must have looked quite alluring, because it wasn’t long before Josh came and sat close by, anchoring his feet against the boat and gripping the railing with one hand. ‘Having fun?’
‘Yes!’ I grinned at him. ‘Did you want to have a go?’ I asked, hopeful he’d say no and I could keep my sailing gig a little longer. He may have picked up on that because he waved off my offer.
‘Plenty of time for that. You’re doing a good job.’
‘So, how did you sleep?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, not that well. That’s some pretty loud snoring. I ended up putting in earplugs. They helped a bit.’
‘I thought about you last night.’ Oh crap, not like that. ‘I mean, because of the snoring. Hannah and I were up for most of the night – we took Ambien at around three. I was out after that. She’s probably got more – you should ask her for some.’ Quit rambling, Sarah.
He shrugged. ‘I guess I can always go sleep in the dining nook if it gets too much.’
‘And how is Patricia otherwise? Did you talk to her much?’
‘A little when we got back from dinner. She seems pretty interesting. She’s travelled a lot.’ I felt like I’d been rebuked.
‘Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that.’
‘It’s cool. I didn’t think you did.’
I hoped not. I didn’t want him thinking I was bitchy. I wasn’t – well, not really. I decided I would talk to Patricia when she eventually woke up – she couldn’t be that bad.
Several hours later, Patricia emerged wearing a voluminous kaftan and a sour expression. She squinted at us, then sashayed over and plonked down next to Josh. I got a waft of sweat and stale alcohol and tried unsuccessfully to stop my nose from scrunching.
She can’t be that bad, I reminded myself, but it didn’t take long to regret my decision to engage her in conversation.
‘Well, there’s your problem right there,’ she said. I hate when people say that, as though it’s soooo obvious why you’re soooo stupid.
‘Sorry? What do you mean?’
‘You went all the way to Lake Titicaca, but you didn’t cross the border into Bolivia? Rookie mistake. You missed the best part!’
We were talking about my trip to Peru. Her being a citizen of the world, I’d decided that travel would be a safe topic on which we’d find some common ground. I was wrong. Apparently having world citizen status gives you carte blanche to be a superior twat about everywhere you’ve been that other people haven’t.
‘Well, I couldn’t really cross the border considering we were on an organised trip.’ She scoffed at this with what sounded like a ‘huff’. I thought it was somewhat hypocritical considering she was currently on an organised trip. ‘Well, anyway, I really enjoyed Peru.’
I’d given Patricia nearly half-an-hour of my time, and most of it was spent defending myself. I figured that was enough of an effort and decided I was done with her for the duration of the trip.
And poor Josh was sleeping with her, so to speak.
‘Hey, guys, check this out,’ Gary called from the bow of the boat. Grateful for a reason to extricate myself from Patricia’s snarly glare, I climbed up onto the side of the boat and made my way up to join Gary. This may sound easier than it was, because the boat was moving and there wasn’t a lot to hold on to. I had to be very careful I didn’t get pitched over the side into the raging sea. Well, gently rolling sea. Hannah and Marie followed closely behind me, also carefully.
The boat was rounding the tip of an inlet on Ios and at its mouth was a stunning white church, an island sentry of sorts. Unlike most churches I’d seen on Santorini, it didn’t have blue or gold embellishments – it was stark white, gleaming against the green scrub and red earth of the surrounding hills. Its spire rose from the curve of the roof like three tiers of a wedding cake.
‘Whoa,’ said Hannah behind me. ‘Whoa’ was right.
Gary turned to grin at us. ‘Yeah, pretty nice, huh?’
As we sailed into the inlet, the port of Ios sat directly ahead of us. While Gary and Josh darted about the boat following Duncan’s orders, I searched for signs of life along the waterfront. The grocery store was open, so that was good. And it looked like there was at least one café open – we wouldn’t starve. I got called away to buoy duty and joined the others to secure the large rubber bumpers along the length of the boat on both sides. I was going to have to get better at tying knots.
As we neared the dock, Duncan turned the boat around and manoeuvred it into a slip next to a slightly longer yacht bearing an Italian flag. As we approached, an older man wearing a straw porkpie hat ran up his gangplank to the dock and signalled to Gary to throw him our tow rope.
There was some reverse throttling of the engine and some more quick footwork by Gary – he really did know his way around a boat – and with the Italian skipper’s help, we were soon secured to the dock. We called our thanks to our new neighbour, and he waved it off modestly and tipped his hat at us. I adore Italians.
A flash of red hair and swish of flowing fabric pushed past me. ‘Don’t wait up!’
‘As