The New Mrs D (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

My mobile phone keeps telling me it’s unable to perform operations. What a relief! I wouldn’t want it to start one on me when I’m not expecting it.

A
fter cheering myself up with a silly Facebook status, I threw on a swimming costume and sarong and headed upstairs to see Chris. This was too bad. I needed to get our next meeting over with now so that I didn’t spend the last few days avoiding him.

He smiled as I walked towards him and handed me a cup of coffee.

‘Going swimming today then?’ he asked. I couldn’t be happier to follow his lead by not referring to the flashing incident at all.

‘It’s a free day today, nothing planned,’ I said. ‘So after breakfast I thought I’d check out the little private cove down the lane you told me about, for a spot of sunbathing.’
Like I hadn’t been there last night with all the naked folk.

‘Well, that’s a fine idea,’ he remarked. ‘I have a free day too. Well, there may be a client later this evening, but all day I’m free, so I was going to go out in my kayak before lunchtime.’

‘So what exactly
is
a kayak?’

‘It’s a lot like a canoe. Very easy to steer,’ he explained. ‘I try to go out every day. Exercise for the body and soul.’

Being alone all day didn’t appeal too much. Linda was still loved-up with Eydis, who in turn was busy in rehearsals with Gelle. A day with Chris would be nice. Maybe we could start to be friends again, just like old times.

‘Well, okay then. I’m not doing anything else. Why not?’ I said.

He looked confused. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Oh! You weren’t inviting me to come watch you on your kayak thingy then?’ I said, knowing full well he hadn’t meant to invite me.

He paused, scratching his chin. I could see he was trying to think of an excuse not to spend any more time with me than he had to and it hurt.

‘I really hate being by myself,’ I said, trying my best to look pathetic.

‘Well, I suppose it might be fun,’ he said at last. ‘There’s room for two. I could take you out on it if you like? Oh, but you hate deep water, don’t you?’

‘I’m sure I’ll cope,’ I said. ‘Divide and conquer as they say. Although, I was always rubbish at maths, so I’ll just try the conquering thing for today.’

Chris’s kayak was stored at one of the many pretty, secluded coves only a stone’s throw from the villa. There was a small taverna at its heart, which Chris told me was run by Stefano. Stefano greeted his old friend warmly.

‘Cristos, you want
Mythos
?’

‘Oh good God, no,’ Chris laughed, ‘save that shit for the tourists.’

Stefano threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh, before taking his
Mythos
loaded tray to a table, with I assumed, two waiting tourists, not far from where we were. David loved
Mythos
; maybe now was not the time to mention this.

As we dragged the kayak and oars over to the beachside, my eyes took in the gorgeous, twinkling turquoise expanse before me. Every time I came to Greece, the prospect of staying forever in this Aegean paradise of hot sunshine and clear blue seas seemed even more inviting. No wonder Chris stayed here for six months a year. Lucky him.

‘We’ll park it here and go have a little drink first, okay?’ he said.

He pointed to a line of chairs with parasols in front of the tavern, looking out to sea – a place I could have sat happily all day without physical exercise. Today the temperature was a searing 32 degrees, a burning heat that was hopefully shielded from my all too willing to burn, peel, then drop off skin, by factor 50 sun lotion.

‘You know, Stefano told me yesterday that Priscilla Hart and Kurt Davies moored a boat up here and came by for a drink the other day. How cool is that?’

‘The movie stars? Very cool,’ I agreed.

Directing me to a couple of seats in the shade, overlooking the beach, he asked, ‘What would you like?’

‘Well, I do love Priscilla Hart,’ I said, taking my chair. ‘What did she drink? I’ll have some of that.’ I was feeling adventurous.

A couple of minutes later, as Stefano delivered my glass of iced water, ‘
Gee, er . . . thanks
,’ we noticed a fishing boat beginning to get closer, as if making its way to shore. Chris heaved a heavy sigh.

‘Great! Now we’ll need to wait a while longer to go out,’ he said, annoyed. Stefano, however, looked pleased.

‘Why?’

The boat dropped anchor and its occupants began hopping off its side onto the jetty.

‘Because this beach is about to get crowded for about an hour,’ Chris said.

As Stefano took off to prepare for an unexpected burst of business, Chris told me about his life on the island.

‘It’s been a wonderful few years,’ he said. ‘So much has happened. My art has improved no end with all this lovely nature to paint.’

Recalling some of the wonderful, framed prints on the wall of my apartment, I said, ‘Yes, your work is remarkable.’

‘Thank you.’ Chris’s voice faltered a little as he gazed across the water. He was watching what looked like a line of about twenty or so tourists making their way to the beach. Clearing his throat, in what I imagined was irritation, he added, ‘I love it here. There was nothing to keep me in England. I’m thinking I may move out permanently.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he said flatly.

His clear blue eyes misted and he took a long swig of water before wiping his mouth and turning back to me. ‘I go back to touch base when it’s winter here. But you know what? I don’t really want to.’

‘I can understand that,’ I said, ‘but I . . . we missed your friendship. David was sad we never saw you much. That’s why he persuaded me to come here on our honeymoon.’

A young, slender, tiny-bikini-clad woman and an older, more portly man began to lay towels down in front of where we were sitting. Seemingly not even noticing us, the woman turned to face Chris, beckoning to her partner to loosen the clasp on her bikini top.

‘Yes, I know I’ve been guilty of being a bit of a loner,’ Chris said, staring at his glass and not noticing the young lady who,
Oop, yep there it went
, was released from her bikini top to reveal pert bosoms thanks to the deft hand of her fella, right in front of us. Without understanding why, I felt uneasy. I looked at Chris, who was still gazing at his glass of beer thoughtfully. He took another long gulp from his drink and turned to me. ‘There was nothing for me in England. Nothing but misery.’

The woman began smearing sun lotion generously all over her breasts. My eyes flicked back and forth from her boobs to Chris’s face. I felt so uncomfortable; Lord knows why I couldn’t just stop staring at her. Chris remained oblivious.

‘I’ve never looked back. It’s been wonderful,’ he continued. My eyes pinged from him to the breasts. Then back to him. Then the breasts. And the smearing.
Oh, God, the smearing!
It’s customary, I’m sure, to avoid staring at people undressing on a beach – the most natural thing in the world – yet I was embarrassed.

‘What about you then?’ he asked, looking at me, still oblivious to the goings on behind him, as I flushed more hotly than the sun. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened with David?’

I wondered, not for the first time, if Chris had been calling him. Letting him know where I was and providing updates on me, as only a good friend would.

‘We had . . . issues.’

Thank God the half-naked, sun-lotion-daubing goddess was now making to lie down. I sucked in the sit-down spillage again and hugged myself, suddenly feeling the familiar sting of body-consciousness.

‘That you don’t want to talk about? That I can understand,’ he said. ‘What I don’t get is him leaving you alone here without a fight.’

‘Hah!’ I laughed. ‘Why would he bother?’

Chris looked at me and smiled. ‘You women,’ he said. ‘Why do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Put yourselves down all the while,’ he answered, frowning. ‘It’s ludicrous really.’

I pulled my wrap tighter around my shoulders. Gazing beyond Chris again, I noticed more topless women sunbathing without a care for who might be watching them. I had never sunbathed topless in my life, even as a younger, slimmer woman. I dreaded the sight of them all before every sunshine holiday yet, secretly, I was in envy of their blithe uninhibitedness. It was a matter of my own confidence, not prudishness. My problem, not theirs. It was only now, with Chris not giving them a second glance that I realised David’s inexorable gawping at every opportunity probably hadn’t helped me. Who here now was gawping?
Me
. Judging myself, not them. Who would give two flying fucks if I decided to release my second pair of flip-flops on the world today?

Taking a long sip of ice-cold water, I looked beyond the topless sunbathers to the calm ocean beyond.

‘This is what my life should be like,’ I said, almost to myself.

‘What?’

‘When I look out to sea,’ I explained. ‘I think of the horizon as a place that’s far away from all my worries, my insecurities and all the confinements of imagining what people are thinking of me. And the thing is, no matter how far you sail, you never really reach the horizon, do you? Yet just for that moment, while I’m looking out there, I’m at peace with myself for one exquisite second in time.’

‘Is that what you do all the time?’ Chris asked. ‘Worry what people think of you?’

‘Isn’t that what everyone worries about?’

‘Er . . . no.’

‘They don’t?’

‘Can you imagine a life without all that, Bernice?’ He said. ‘What would you miss? Some important and accurate information about yourself? The joy in accepting everyone else’s opinion as your own? What do you suppose will happen if just one person decides they don’t like you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know . . . guilt. Shame. Hours and hours of wondering what the hell I did wrong.’

‘Exactly.’

I looked away from the horizon now and turned to face him, blinking back tears. How could one man speak to my heart so well?

‘Actually,’ I said. ‘I
can
imagine it. I can imagine it because once upon a time that is what my life was like. Way back when I was a young woman. I was funny, flirty and downright – well −
sassy
to be honest. I do remember not caring what anyone thought of me then.’

‘I think you just described the woman you are now,’ Chris remarked, staring hard into his beer and not looking up.

I felt surprised.
That
was how he saw me?

‘Chris,’ I said. ‘Why did we stop talking?’

He looked up now. ‘What?’

‘I mean, before you came out here. We got on so well and then, I don’t know why, but we seemed to just stop being friends.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ‘We were fine weren’t we?’ He sat up straight and waved at Stefano for another round of drinks, before deciding all too soon to change the subject. ‘Hopefully, that bloody boat will be going again soon and we can get out for some fun on the kayak.’

The moment was gone, brushed aside. Chris didn’t want to talk about whatever it was. Maybe he just didn’t like me and that was that. But then, why would he give me so much thoughtful advice?

‘Yes, it’ll be great,’ I agreed.

‘And for the record, whether they know it or not, most men are naturally drawn to curves,’ he went on. ‘Be grateful for your God-given shape.’

‘
Most
men? Give me a break!’ I said sadly. ‘Not my David.’

I felt tears well up in my eyes and withdrew from Chris’s stare to sip my water.

‘Whatever David did or didn’t do, it’s obvious you have a really skewed view of yourself Bernice,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry, Chris. This is such a bloody awkward conversation under the circumstances. I’m going to shut up now.’

‘Look,’ he said, seriously. ‘Of course, I don’t know what has happened between you and as I keep saying, I’m not going to pry. But, if it’s so bad that you end up having to cut all ties . . . I know about heartbreak and all I can tell you is it gets easier over time. Not easy, but easier.’

‘You know about heartbreak?’ I said, not able to stop myself sounding surprised. As far as I knew, Chris hadn’t had a relationship with anyone for years. Was it clog-woman, or a more recent liaison, here on the island?
Was he in love with Ginger?

‘Yes, I know a lot about heartbreak,’ he said with an air of indifference. ‘Now where is that drink?’

Stefano appeared on cue with a tray and I cursed myself for not ordering a glass of wine – or even beer − as he delivered another tumbler of iced water à la Priscilla Hart. With the help of a little Dutch courage, I could have more easily delved deeper into this very interesting new side of Chris. And I could ask him about Ginger.

‘Do you remember the night at Julian’s wedding?’ I asked him instead. ‘When everyone was whispering about some woman called Clarissa that they hoped I wouldn’t bump in to?’

‘You heard all that?’ he said, looking surprised.

‘Yes I did. I wondered who she was, but never got up the courage to ask David.’

‘And now you’re asking me?’

‘Yes, I think I am.’

He put down his glass and stared out to sea again. ‘Why on earth are you asking me that now? It was maybe six years ago.’

‘Because I need to know if he was cheating on me.’

‘Well, as I’m his best friend, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I said no.’

He was wrong. Somehow, I’d always felt I could trust Chris not to lie to me. Avoid the question perhaps, but not lie.

‘Is that what you’re saying?’ I asked. My heart was in my mouth because at that moment I was afraid of the answer.

‘That’s what I am saying,’ he replied. ‘Clarissa was – is – Julian’s cousin. David and she had a one night stand way before you came along.’

‘Is that it?’

‘That’s it,’ he confirmed. ‘Who on earth was saying that though?’

‘Oh, I just overheard some of the wives talking. And as for David, well, he didn’t take his eyes off her all night.’

‘Clarissa? Hah!’ he laughed, but seeing my sorrowful face, he turned serious again. ‘Well, he never said anything to me. Why are you asking me now?’