A Greek Affair. Linn Halton B.
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The divorce was more than enough drama to inflict upon them and this is going to rock their world all over again.’
The coffee arrives and there’s a temporary lull in our conversation. I can’t help thinking that one glance at Harrison and the assumption is that here’s a man whose life is sorted. And yet, that’s so far from the truth.
‘I know precisely what it’s like to be surrounded by people whose lives seem to fit the mould, because mine doesn’t. I hate the fact they feel the need to tread carefully around me. I’m grateful for the help and support I’ve been given, of course I am, but I don’t want people feeling sorry for me. A lot has gone wrong but that only seems to perpetuate the sympathy. I cringe every time someone close to me says it’s about time I had some good luck. That makes me sound ungrateful, doesn’t it?’ I shrug ruefully.
Harrison stirs his coffee, moving his cup so the waitress can lay his breakfast plate on the table in front of him. It’s a stack of pancakes with blueberries and I have French toast with crispy bacon. But instead of tucking in, we both play with the food in front of us, our appetites having evaporated into thin air. We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity and then both look up at the same time.
‘I’m done. How about you?’ The look on Harrison’s face makes me wish my stay on board was longer. After a rough night, he needs something to lift his mood.
‘Let’s get out of here. I feel the need for some fresh air.’ I’m already pushing back on my chair.
Harrison offers to walk me back to my cabin but we amble, going slightly out of the way to linger and take in the view out over the port. We stand together by the guard rail, two people united by the baggage they find themselves carrying.
‘I wish I could stay just one more day, but I can’t. I want you to promise me that you’ll shrug off all those negative thoughts and find someone who is going to cheer you up for the remainder of the cruise.’
He makes a face. ‘One of the lonely widows, you mean?’
I smile at him, because there do seem to be a lot of elderly single women on board.
‘Yes, that’s just what you need! Someone who is out to have a thoroughly good time and would really appreciate a little company.’
He looks at me, studying my face.
‘I doubt I’ll find another Leah,’ he replies, rather soberly.
‘I think one Leah is enough for this trip. I’m best tolerated in small doses.’
He laughs out loud and it’s good to see his face light up again.
‘Well, that works both ways. You managed to drag my secret out of me and that’s a first.’
‘Friends in need, eh?’ My eyes search his face, reaching out to him.
Harrison steps forward to give me a brotherly hug.
‘What’s the saying? Two heads are better than one? Between us we’ll finally knock our lives into shape, you can bet on that.’
He puts a smile on my face, too, but even though I’d love to stay, thoughts of Rosie and home are calling.
‘And you need to look into getting some help the moment you get back home.’
I stifle a sigh, but I know he’s right and I wonder how often Mum and Dad have longed to say that to me and haven’t, for fear of upsetting me? Sally has touched on the subject a few times over the years but always ended up backing off when she saw my less than enthusiastic reaction. I thought I was coping well enough on my own. But maybe I’m not.
~
‘Mum, I missed you!’ Rosie runs forward, wrapping her arms around me and hugging with all her might.
‘How was the journey back?’ Mum looks at me over the top of Rosie’s head.
‘Good. Uneventful. The plane wasn’t full and I had a window seat with no one sitting the other side of me.’
Rosie finally releases me so I can hug Mum and Dad. Dad looks a little flushed, but is his usual bright and breezy self. Mum looks drawn and I wonder what’s up.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Dad says, heading off to the kitchen. Rosie follows him, probably more interested in grabbing a biscuit than helping with the preparation.
‘Are you okay?’ I make eye contact with Mum but it only lasts for the briefest of moments before she turns around to sit back down in her chair.
‘Everything’s fine. You look chirpy considering that must have been quite a tiring little break.’
She’s trying to change the subject but I need to know what’s gone wrong.
‘Mum, I’ll only worry if you don’t tell me.’
She looks exasperated, glancing at the doorway and then back at me.
‘It’s probably nothing. Dad’s had some blood tests taken because his blood pressure was up. There’s nothing to worry about, really, as they’re keeping an eye on it.’
It’s the little nagging worry that never goes away. Ever since Dad had his heart attack Mum watches him like a hawk, and I know it’s a daily worry for her. She’s my barometer when it comes to gauging how he’s doing and one look at her face is enough to see that she’s concerned.
‘You will let me know when the results are back, won’t you? I thought he looked like he’d been rushing around. Maybe it’s just—’
Rosie appears, her mouth full of biscuit as she puts the tin down on the coffee table.
‘Grandma and I made biscuits,’ she says, a few crumbs escaping, making her put her hand up to her mouth to stem the fallout.
‘You know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full, Rosie,’ I admonish.
‘Sorry, Mum. Did Grandma tell you I won the pupil of the week award? I’ll find the certificate.’
Dad arrives with a tray of drinks and we soon settle down to allow Rosie to have her little moment in the spotlight. I inspect the certificate, noting that it’s in recognition for the excellent work on her project and having the tidiest desk. It seems the island was finished while I was away then, and Dad proudly shows me the photo on his phone. As for the tidiest desk, well that’s a welcome surprise.
‘Wow – that’s amazing! Well done, darling. I’m so proud of you.’
Rosie and Dad exchange conspiratorial smiles. I bet they had a lot of fun finishing off that model. We’re so lucky we have Dad; if something awful ever happened it would break our hearts. The fact that his heart attack was caused by the break-up of my marriage is something for which I can never forgive myself. Or Antonio.
Even given the amount of online work I managed to fit in while I was away, it was inevitable I would come home to a backlog of emails. In addition to the work generated by the trip itself, I’m going to be very busy indeed. I have a lot of notes and photos to trawl through for what will become a series of articles, as well as the report to compile, and it all takes time.
The hours between dropping Rosie off at school on this murky, grey Friday morning and collecting her speed by but I seem to fly through the work with relative ease. Maybe it’s true when they say that a change is as good as a rest. Just as I’m about to switch the laptop onto sleep mode and head out for my second walk before the afternoon school run, a new email pops into my inbox. It’s from Loving Life magazine and I’ve long been a fan. I really do have to leave, as I’m already running a few minutes late, so I quickly scan down the email. I’m shocked to see it’s an invitation to write for them. I can hardly believe my eyes. I’d dearly love