‘There is a bin provided and the rooms are cleaned every day.’
Grace nodded. She needed to get away from the visual this conversation was creating, and she was sure Elena did too by the way she was looking at the ceiling.
‘So, what will be a typical working pattern for me?’
‘It’s six hours a day on weekdays as discussed, and three on Saturday mornings. We start lessons at nine-thirty in the morning, there’s a break from twelve-thirty until three when it’s too hot to teach, and then lessons again from three until six.’
‘Understood. Sounds good.’
‘Obviously we’re not expecting you to start teaching on travel day, so we’ll see you down there in the morning.’
‘Great. Looking forward to it.’
As soon as Elena left the room, Grace flopped face down on the bed, not even bothering to take off her shoes, and let out a huge sigh.
* * *
When she came to, it seemed like a minute had passed, but after scrabbling in her bag for her reading glasses, her phone told her she’d been asleep for an hour. Her hair was flat against her head with sweat.
She’d never seen the point of siestas before, but then she’d been on holiday whenever she stayed in a hot country. There’d always been so much to cram in that she hadn’t wanted to miss a minute. Now she was fairly sure that she’d be taking advantage of her bed in the afternoons on a regular basis.
After a limp but welcome shower, she changed into shorts and a T-shirt, before drinking a small bottle of water. Hat and sunglasses in hand, it was time to explore.
Before she got to the door, Grace remembered sun cream and the dire warnings of her daughters. No, she most certainly did not want to turn into a leathery old crone with skin the colour of rolling tobacco, thank you. She picked up the factor fifty and nipped back into the bathroom to put on one of the new swimming costumes. There were beaches at the back of the town, only a ten-minute walk away, according to Elena, and a swim would be wonderful.
Grace crept down the stairs in case anyone was sleeping, but also because she wasn’t overkeen to bump into Giannis again so soon. As she passed one of the classrooms on her way to the back door, she caught a flash of white jeans through a crack, and the sound of female laughter. She’d hadn’t heard Elena laugh like that, but maybe she did when she was alone with her husband.
The door opened further, and Grace saw the bottom half of a young woman’s long, tanned legs in very short shorts. It must be another of the new arrivals. Grace hurried towards the exit, and almost collided with a guy coming in.
As good-looking as Giannis, although a few inches shorter and several years older, the man smiled wide, showing perfect teeth. Was every male member of staff destined to look like a male model? At least he held out his hand in the usual way. Grace had washed her hands thoroughly after her earlier encounter with Giannis.
‘Hi, I’m Thanassis. Director of Studies. You must be Grace.’
Grace returned the handshake.
‘Welcome to our language school. I’m sure you’ll be’—Thanassis left a long pause before continuing—‘amazing, Grace.’
‘Oh, I’ve never heard that one before.’
The smile dimmed a little, and confusion overtook his handsome face. Grace hadn’t thought to research whether the Greeks had a sense of humour, but it looked like sarcasm was possibly off the menu.
‘It’s so lovely to be here, and I’m excited to start teaching tomorrow.’
She was gushing, but there was no point getting off on the wrong foot.
‘And we are excited to have you. I won’t keep you; we will go through everything in the morning before class starts. If you can meet me here at nine.’
Thanassis did a mock bow.
‘Until then.’
Grace hotfooted it out of the door and breathed a sigh of relief as she left the car park. The shady backstreets were calling to her, and Grace wandered through the alleyways that led up and away from the town, where loops of pink and red bougainvillea grown across canopies gave café customers respite from the sun.
She sat down at one of the cafés and ordered herself an Aperol Spritz with ice. Eating or drinking alone in Britain was dismal in her experience. She’d only tried it once, and they’d shoved her on a table near the toilets. Here, it felt like it wasn’t a problem, and many of the tables were occupied by a single woman or man. Grace stared into the orange liquid, bubbles of condensation dripping down her glass. Phil had hated the stuff, saying it tasted like cough mixture. She tried out the idea in her head that Phil’s opinion didn’t matter very much anymore, which made her both sad and a little bit excited at the same time. Grace took a long, luxurious slurp through her straw.
* * *
An hour later, she was desperate for that swim, and after walking to the top of the town, she glimpsed the beach in the distance, the water glistening invitingly. She made her way down the dusty slope, her body longing for immersion in the water with every step.
