‘And this isPappoúsandYiayiá, our grandparents.’
He pointed to a black and white photograph of a young couple standing side by side in an olive grove. You could tell from their slightly weary expressions that they worked hard, and there was obvious pride in the man’s eyes as he stared into the camera.
But what really captured my attention were their clasped hands, fingers entwined.We’re in this together, those hands said. My heart flooded with warmth, which was more surprising than enjoying the tour.
I’d thought my days as a hopeless romantic were long gone, that I was impervious to love – public displays of affection, happily ever afters in romcoms, even real-life epic love stories likePappoúsandYiayiá’s…
But it wasn’t just Michalis and Giorgios’ grandparents. Hadn’t I melted – just a little – watching Trudy and Dale together?
Maybe the hopeless romantic in me wasn’t gone forever. Perhaps being confronted with my romantic history had unlocked something.
All this flew through my head in the time it took for Giorgios to move us along to the next photograph.
Reluctantly, I stepped away from the photograph of his grandparents, casting one last look over my shoulder at their hands. When I turned back around, Tommy caught my eye, his expression unreadable. A lump lodged in my throat, and I looked away.
I’d been musing about whether something had been unlocked in me? Try ripped open. Try pouring the contents of my heart onto that centuries-old stone floor.
‘Ally, get a load of this!’ Trudy called out. She was looking out the window, excitedly waving me over. Glad for the reprieve, I went over and looked out.
‘Oh, how lovely.’
Outside was a gravel terrace with picnic tables, café sets, and pairs of beanbag chairs under olive trees. Several small groups were enjoying the alfresco dining, and just the sight of those plump green olives on a nearby table was enough to make my mouth water.
‘Ahh,’ said Giorgios, coming up behind us, ‘you guessed the next part of the tour! Come on, we have some delicious food for you to try.’
He led us to a picnic table which was laden with severalmezéplatters – cheese, bread, hummus, olive oil for dipping, and of course, olives. I was suddenly ravenous, this morning’s coffee and yoghurt a distant memory.
But I waited until Tommy sat down before taking a seat at the other end of the table. I patted the bench next to me and Trudy awkwardly climbed in – though, to be fair, if there’s an elegant way to sit at a picnic table, I’ve never discovered it.
Giorgios signalled to a young woman, who brought over a bottle of wine.
‘Our local wine,’ he said, taking it from her and holding it up proudly. ‘Taxiarchis.’ He circled the table, filling our glasses, then showed the bottle to Minh, who was taking close-ups of the food. ‘Wine?’ Giorgios asked him.
‘Sure, thanks,’ said Minh with a smile.
Giorgios poured a fifth glass, setting the bottle down beside it. Minh took another photo, capturing the wine bottle, then sat next to Niki.
I was desperate to tuck in, but I sensed Giorgios had something else in mind, and I was right. First, he invited us to taste theirexairetikóparthénoelaiólado– the equivalent of extra virgin olive oil. It was peppery with a slight lemony taste – absolutely delicious. Then we tried the specialty oils, infused with herbs and citrus. I loved the rosemary best, instantly knowing I’d be handing over a wad of euros once we got to the gift shop.
After tasting the olive oil, Giorgios told us about the local cheeses, how the hummus was made – with their premium olive oil and lemons from the farm – andthenwewereinvited to eat.
I slathered a large chunk of bread with hummus and took a biterightas Trudy leaned in and whispered, ‘He’s watching you again.’
Note to self: do not inhale when you have a mouthful of bread. As I coughed up bread and hummus, I dared to glance in Tommy’s direction, but by then he was looking off towards the olive grove.
‘Are you all right, hun?’ asked Trudy, patting me on the back.
I nodded, reaching for the wine, which in the absence of water would have to do. I took a sip, cleared my throat, and inhaled deeply.
That was twice I’d nearly coughed up half a lung in front of Trudy – though, to be fair, she had terrible timing when it came to telling me things I didn’t want to hear.
‘Sorry, everyone,’ I said. HowEnglishof me – apologising for choking.
Niki gave me a commiserating smile across the table and Minh held off on taking the photo he’d lined up.
‘No, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you,’ Trudy said quietly.
‘Not shocked, just…’ I left the rest unsaid, then reached for my wine again and took a gulp. At this rate, I’d be drunk before we left for the cooking class.
