Grace kept the brim of her hat down.
‘No, it’s fine. It was only some leftovers.’
That wasn’t quite true, but she wanted him to go away.
‘It’s Grace under there, isn’t it?’
So, her disguise wasn’t worthy of the name. Rumbled. She took off her hat and sunglasses.
‘Oh, it’s you, Charlie.’
Grace bent down to stroke the dog and ruffle his spiky grey fur.
‘He’s a cutie, isn’t he?’
‘He’s a menace, but he’s my menace. Couldn’t be without him.’
Grace handed him the ball she’d found under the sunbed and lay back down again.
‘Here you go. This is what he was really looking for.’
Charlie threw the ball back in the direction of Anna and the guys.
‘Thanks, Grace.’
‘My pleasure.’
Charlie’s eyes were now on her rather than the dog or his friends. She was suddenly aware she was lying flat out on a sun lounger in a high-cut swimming costume rather than the shirt and shorts combo she wore for teaching.
He raised a hand to wave and treated her to another one of his winks.
‘Still got it, Grace.’
Cheeky boy. As he walked away, Grace thought she’d probably been right about him the first time.
ChapterFive
Grace couldn’t go back to the town beach. There were far too many hazards lurking there for total relaxation, current pupils and cocky young colleagues being the main ones. She deserved an afternoon of peace and quiet after her Saturday morning class of lively seven- and eight-year-olds, but she’d have to find somewhere else to go.
Striding past the path to the main beach, she upped her pace, and instead turned left and along the headland, enjoying the light breeze which regularly caressed the island. It meant that it never got anywhere near as hot as the Greek mainland, which would be a welcome relief as they approached July.
An impressive boat with its white sails flapping in the wind cut a path through the sea below her. Grace could see tiny figures rushing about onboard, and others lying flat out in bikinis on the shiny bonnet of the boat, or whatever the correct term was. Phil had been a keen sailor, dashing off in his waterproofs whenever he could to crew for mates with boats, usually based Portsmouth way. It was the trade-off for her spending time away with Sofia.
There were always trade-offs in marriage, but this one had worked for them. She’d been out on the boat with the crew once and felt her stomach lurch after the first five minutes. Never again.
Now there was no one she needed to consider or bargain with. The loss of her husband was a heavy price to pay for absolute freedom, but she owed it to him to enjoy the rest of her life as best she could. They’d had many a late-night chat in dim hospital rooms as the end approached, when he’d urged her to see more of the world and consider finding love again after he went, while she wept into her tissues.
In the immediate aftermath of his death, and for a good while longer, all she’d felt was numb, but like spring, little green shoots of hope were starting to sprout again, prompted by the soft caress of the Greek sunshine.
It was still too early for any thoughts of a new relationship, but reconnecting with her younger self, remembering what she’d liked and disliked before she became a wife and mother, was exhilarating. Not that she regretted a moment of their life together, but it was like the building blocks of who she was had been dismantled after Phil’s death, and it was up to her to put them back together. All the same elements were in the mix, but the shape would change, and a different Grace Foreman would eventually emerge.
The boat sailed on past as the breeze whipped the ends of the waves into little white peaks, which reminded her of making meringues, not one of her favourite tasks, although Phil and the girls had always loved them. Her years of cooking big family meals were well and truly over, thank goodness, but cooking for one was especially unfulfilling.
Finding out that you could buy freshly cooked meals in town, or grandma’s cooking as they called it here, was a delight. For around seven euros, she could pick up delicious dishes like gemista, green and red peppers stuffed with rice and herbs. There was also papoutsakia, the Greek for shoes, a hollowed-out aubergine stuffed with mince in a tomato sauce and topped with feta or, her favourite, briam, a huge variety of vegetables roasted in olive oil. You could even pick up the menu a week in advance, and plan what you were going to have.
Most Greek women spent quite a large proportion of each day cooking, as far as she could see, and it had been explained to her by Thanassis that the meals in the takeaway places were aimed mainly at working men, who needed a proper meal at lunchtime, poor things. But she wasn’t going to let the men have all the fun. You had to arrive at the shop by one in the afternoon to get the best stuff, so she was always watching the clock at the end of a lesson to make sure she got there on time. But it really suited her to eat at lunchtime and have something light in the evenings.
Grace adjusted the position of the bag over her shoulder. She’d packed her essentials, including the fashion and interiors magazines that she hadn’t had a chance to read on the plane when her mind had been whirling. She’d never get to wear the clothes, or live in the houses, but she liked to study the beautiful dresses and designer wallpapers to keep up with what was on trend. Some of it was laughable, and often just a direct copy of what she’d worn or decorated with back in the day.
