‘Yes, for when you’re based in the UK, but the type of places I was being sent to weren’t anywhere you’d want your nearest and dearest to be, believe me.’
Grace’s mind was whirring.
‘Were you Special Forces by any chance?’
Will’s eyes clouded over, and he looked up and out to sea.
Grace put up her hands. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
‘Sorry, I know you’re not allowed to talk about it. It’s just me being nosy.’ She could only imagine the things Will had seen and taken part in over the years. ‘Please carry on.’
‘As I was saying, my wife was happy when we lived up in Yorkshire, close to her family. But as soon as our son Jack was born, everything changed. We were so young, and she wanted to stay where she had guaranteed support. So, we bought a house near her parents, and tried, in vain, to make it work.’
It was the most she’d ever heard him speak about himself. Grace had no real idea of his age; she thought he was a bit younger than her, maybe mid-fifties, but it was so hard to tell. A tan always helped, and he was obviously fit. Interesting that he had a grown-up son.
‘But that’s enough about me. What about you? What are you doing over here?’
‘I’ve taken a summer job at the language school in town, teaching English.’
‘Ah, I thought you might be a teacher when I saw you with Thanassis.’
Grace bit into her baklava rather too fiercely, causing honey and nuts to ooze out of the sides. She didn’t want to be reminded of last night. Will’s eyes were on her as she licked the honey from her fingers.
‘And have you left anyone behind at home in Britain?’
‘Just two grown-up daughters. Well, one lives in Australia.’
‘You don’t look old enough to have grown-up daughters.’
‘Well, I started early too…’
What was she saying? Although it was true, she was making herself sound like a child bride.
‘So, you’re divorced, like me?’
‘Not exactly.’ Grace took a deep breath. There’d been enough misunderstandings. ‘I’m a widow.’
‘Ah, sorry to hear that. How long?’
‘Nearly three years. It was prostate cancer, caught too late…’
Grace’s voice broke and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying. He was the first person she’d told since she arrived. They desperately needed a change of conversation. She didn’t want to break down in front of a virtual stranger. A good-looking stranger who could cook, but a stranger nevertheless.
Most new people she told the truth to stopped talking immediately or made some excuse to get away from her as soon as possible. Only those who’d been through it themselves were willing to go further, and she really had no desire to sit in a room full of widows talking about their dead husbands for hours on end. She was sure it was useful for some people, but it wouldn’t work for her.
Will eased back into his sun lounger.
‘Did you know that next month is the fifty-fifth anniversary of the moon landing– July the twentieth, nineteen sixty-nine?’
Thank goodness he’d got the hint. A bit random, but it would do.
‘It’s a very special date for me because it’s also my birthday.’
‘Do you mean it’s the day you were born?’
That would make him almost fifty-five.
‘No, I was already a very excited five-year-old. I had a party and then my parents let me stay up to watch the main event the next evening as it was a Sunday. I can remember Neil Armstrong stepping out onto the moon surface, clear as day.’
