A Breeze Across The Aegean Read online

  “My parents had moved back to the UK six or seven years ago, but I had missed Rhodes. A friend suggested I apply to be a researcher with the Ministry of Culture here on the island.”

  Nicholas enjoyed listening to her talk. There was something of the free spirit about her. He found it rather disarming.

  “A job had just become vacant at the museum in Rhodes town. Despite my background, I had always been interested in archaeology. Perhaps it was being brought up on Rhodes where you are surrounded by ancient history wherever you are. Looking back, I should probably have done archaeology rather than English.

  “Anyway, somehow I managed to get the job. I think my complete enthusiasm for the opportunity must have made up for my lack of technical competence. That was last year, and I have been here ever since. I have learnt so much in this time.”

  Alessandra’s warmth and her sheer exuberance was captivating. Her face was alight, her excitement obvious. Nicholas enjoyed watching the changes in her facial expression and her animated hand gestures as she took him through her immersion in the history of Rhodes. Nicholas didn’t doubt that she had persuaded her interviewer to take her on. He suddenly felt more alive than he had done in a long time.

  “That sounds wonderful. I am envious. Many congratulations for following your dreams.” He raised his plastic coffee cup to her.

  “That’s kind of you. I’ve decided I’m going to start a course next year here at the university.” She leant towards him. “I love the work I do. Even the more repetitive work, the documenting of each artifact that comes into the museum. I can really lose myself in some of the early history of Rhodes and the Eastern Mediterranean. There is something special about the whole area.

  “It’s very varied and I actually get to go out to some of the sites where excavation work is going on.” Her face shone.

  “Have you been to Ancient Kamiros?” she asked. “If you came from Lindos you would have passed the signs on the way this morning.” Nicholas said that he had visited the ruins the last time he was on Rhodes but suspected he might not recognise it now.

  His eyes followed her hand, as Alessandra brushed a strand of hair away from her face, drawing attention to her slightly upturned nose and the small scar high on her right cheek, near the corner of her eye. He wondered how she had acquired that.

  “The site probably has changed a lot. A large amount of excavation has been done over the last few years. In fact, I’ve just finished doing some work there, documenting what we found from the most recent dig. We have all been really excited by a recent find of a marble head of what we now believe to be the god Hermes. It has just been put on display at the museum, which is where I am now working, back in the office.”

  Nicholas’s attention wandered slightly as he tried to estimate her age. She was probably five or six years younger than him. Late twenties? Perhaps thirty? The landscape around them forgotten, they didn’t notice that Halki was becoming ever closer as they chatted.

  Alessandra told Nicholas that she had made good friends on Rhodes since her return. She already had a few close school friends from when she lived on the island before. When she wished to emphasis a point she placed her hand lightly on his arm. The touch felt good.

  Nicholas talked about his interests. He had until fairly recently, played a lot of competitive tennis and cricket. Looking slightly sheepish, he admitted that he had also played bass guitar in an indie rock band at University. “We were not great, but we modeled ourselves on The Strokes. We thought that we sounded just like them, but of course we didn’t. We played around the campus and had the occasional gig at local pubs in the area. It was fun but I have not played in many years.”

  Alessandra surveyed Nicholas critically and then said, smiling “Sorry, I am struggling to see it.”

  “Ah. I looked slightly different then – much more like your typical impoverished student.”

  He was an only child and Alessandra said she was too. They shared experiences that were familiar to them both. Nicholas also told her a bit about his parents, who were now retired and lived in the Hampshire village of Chawton – as a literature student, Alessandra knew this as a place of pilgrimage for Jane Austen devotees. Nicholas became aware of how much he had opened up to this fascinating woman. That had not happened in a long while.

  Suddenly they noticed that the port on Halki was close.

  Alessandra found that she was attracted to this tall, slightly awkward, Englishman. He was not normally her type but she found herself asking “Have you been to the museum on any of your trips to Rhodes town?”

  “Not yet, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, if you are planning another trip into the town, why don’t you come by? We are in the Old Town area just across from the main port. It’s in the old Knights’ Hospital, signposted as the Archaeological Museum.

  “Come by and we can go for a drink or even have a bite to eat in the old Knights’ Quarter – if you have the time. It is quite atmospheric in the evenings and I can show you some of the interesting areas.”

  Nicholas had been looking for a way to suggest they meet again. He tried not to sound too eager. Would she be there on Tuesday or Wednesday next week?

  “I’ll be there on both days. Just ask for Alessandra Bianchi at the desk when you come in.”

  “OK, I’ll do that. It will be nice to see you again. But, of course, you’ll be on the ferry home.”

  The ferry was pulling into the harbour and the first thing Nicholas noticed were the three windmills on the hillside to the left overlooking it. Alessandra pointed out the white, blue and yellow villas, all with their terracotta roofs, framing the crescent-shaped port.

  “You find exactly the same Italianate-style houses surrounding the harbour when you come into the port on Symi.”

  The ferry turned slowly towards the land, revealing cliffs honeycombed with caves, set deep into the limestone around the water line. Some were barred with iron gratings that were concreted into the stone. Nicholas wondered what they might contain.

  The small town of Emborio came fully into view, nestling below sunburnt foothills leading up to the craggy mountainous interior. Alessandra picked up her bag and packed away her water bottle. A snorkel fell from the bag and rolled across the aisle. Nicholas sprung up and retrieved it from under the seats opposite. “Thank you kind sir,” she said laughing.

  “Are you heading for a beach?”

  “I thought I might do later. I’ve arranged to meet my friend at her place in the town. After that we will probably go for a drink. We’ve some catching up to do.” Nicholas thought he could detect a slight anxiety in her voice. “I will see. And you?”

  Nicholas hesitated as he consulted his guidebook. “I am here purely as a tourist for the day. I think I am going to explore the port area and then look around the town. I might go to Pondamos beach later – my guide book says it’s the main beach and just over the hill. Presumably over there” he pointed.

  “If I have time I might come by the beach. I have to resolve a few sensitive things with my friend. I might be in for a difficult day I’m afraid.” A frown played fleetingly over her face.

  “Will you be all right?”

  “Oh, I will be fine. Thank you. If I don’t make it to the beach, why don’t we meet at the ice cream cafe in the port? It’s highly recommended, according to my friend. It should be near where the ferry will dock. We could meet there at, say, four-thirty?”

  The ferry made its way through crystal waters to the harbourside. Fish darted amid abandoned fishing pots and barnacled anchors marooned among the rocks. Suddenly everyone was getting to their feet, jostling on the gangways and stairs to reach the lower level. Nicholas helped Alessandra off the gangplank to the quay. She kissed his cheek, saying: “I have really enjoyed meeting you, Nicholas. Enjoy your day.” She headed towards the narrow lanes between the stone and ochre-painted shops and houses. Be
fore she turned the corner she called out: “See you later, Mr Adams,” and waved.

  Chapter Three

  Halki and Rhodes

  As Alessandra headed away from the port, she felt lifted. The meeting to come would be difficult, but the encounter with Nicholas had left her feeling happier … and more positive. She hadn’t enjoyed talking to a man so much for a while and she was glad they had arranged to meet later. The split with her boyfriend, the impact of the breakup on those around her, coupled with her recent concerns about the behavior of her boss at the museum had left her feeling raw and untrusting.

  She replayed her conversation with Nicholas, as she made for the narrow street where her friend lived. If she could still trust her instincts, there was a kindness and solidity about him. That she could somehow also sense a vulnerability only made him seem more attractive. There was something there and she wondered what that could be. She smiled to herself. She was looking forward to seeing him later. For now she needed to concentrate on what she had to do.

  Alessandra knocked on the white door and, moments later, her friend opened it. “Come in,” she said. The two embraced. “It is good to see you.” Her friend seemed nervous.

  Like all the traditional houses on the island the dark wooden beams made the house seem dark inside. Downstairs was a small living room, with a kitchen to the rear. To one side was a wooden staircase leading up to the next floor. Alessandra sat while her friend disappeared into the kitchen to make coffee. She looked around. Little had changed since the last time she had stayed there. The furnishings were simple and old fashioned, in keeping with the style of the cottage. The only concession to modern living, apart from the air conditioning, was the hi-fi system and the laptop and monitor sitting on a desk in the corner. The smell of percolating coffee started to permeate the room.

  Alessandra was surprised at the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. She turned and was startled to see the last person she expected.

  “Hello Alessandra,” he said smiling. “It is good to see you.”

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped, half-standing. She momentarily felt dizzy with the shock and put out her hand to steady herself. Her friend came back into the room carrying a tray with three coffees. She smiled and handed Alessandra a cup. “ No milk or sugar,” she affirmed.

  “What is he doing here?”

  “I‘m very sorry. He needed to see you. I’d told him you were coming over today.”

  “What I came over to discuss with you was between us, only” Alessandra replied. “No one else. You told me you could help to sort everything out with him. You knew I have no wish to see or speak to him,” she said, nodding her head angrily in his direction.

  “Don’t be like that,” he interrupted. “She is only trying to help us resolve our differences.”

  “I told you that I never wanted to see you again. I expected you to respect my wishes. We have nothing, nothing at all to resolve. These were not just differences of opinion. Just leave … please,” she implored.

  “I am afraid it is not going to work like that, Alessandra. You know what I am looking for.”

  Alessandra turned, angrily, to her friend. “You knew I didn’t want to see this man again, ever. You also knew exactly why. You said you knew how you could stop him trying to contact me. That’s why I came over to see you.”

  “I am so sorry,” her friend repeated. “You need to just do what he says. Please give him what he is looking for. He has promised that if you do he will leave you alone. It’s the only thing you can do.”

  “You tricked me into coming here. Why have you done this? I’ve known you most of my life. You’re meant to be my friend.”

  “She is also my friend,” he interrupted quietly.

  “What!” exclaimed Alessandra. “What on earth do you mean by that?” she looked from him to her friend.

  “He is now with me,” she confessed, quietly, looking away.

  “Dear God, when? … How did that happen?”

  “I don’t think that is important,” he interrupted, standing in front of the door. “Sit Alessandra, please. You don’t look well.”

  “I feel sorry for you,” Alessandra said ignoring him and turning back to her friend. “You know you both probably deserve each other.”

  “I am not going to hurt you,” he said. “I just need you to be reasonable and help me find what we were both looking for. That is all I need. I promise I will then leave you alone. You will never hear from me again. You can then get on with the rest of your life.”

  “You know I can’t do that. You see, I now know exactly what your business is about, and it disgusts me.”

  She turned to her friend. “I wonder if you actually know what he really does for a living?”

  “Yes I do. I have known for some time.”

  “Look, this is not getting us anywhere,” the man said, getting increasingly impatient. “You are going to tell me where it is and take me there.”

  Alessandra began to feel frightened. She knew the violence he was capable of. She released her grip on the chair and made to leave. “I feel very sorry for both of you. I want you both out of my life.” She moved towards the door, but he blocked her way. He was a good six or seven inches taller than she was.

  “Sit down Alessandra.”

  —

  Nicholas watched Alessandra until she disappeared, then looked about him. The village spread out around the bay on both sides. He headed for the church he had seen from the boat and up the steep steps. Inside he sat for a while gazing at the gilded ceiling and the well-preserved dark-blue frescoes above. The cool, calm interior provided a respite from the jumble of his emotions.

  Alessandra was certainly very attractive, but it was her nature, her obvious spontaneity and love of life, together with her compassion, that drew him. On the surface she reminded him of the actress Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Alessandra had the same tumbling curls and wide appealing smile. There was a similar vivacity, particularly when she laughed.

  Nicholas was not the most spontaneous of men, he knew, but he could appreciate that quality in others. She had touched something in him. She had made him laugh. He hadn’t laughed in such a long time, nor felt as free. Her vitality had infected him. He replayed their encounter on the ferry in the stillness of the church. There was one thing he had noticed at slight odds with her natural openness. Most of the time Alessandra had been fully engaged with their conversation. Every so often she had seemed distracted, her attention diverted briefly to the stairwell whenever someone came up from below. Had she been expecting someone? Whilst he quickly put the thought out of his mind – he was sure he was making too much of it – he had sensed that she was concerned about the meeting with her friend. He wondered what it was about and hoped it went well for her.

  He was looking forward to seeing her later, if not at the beach then at the café in the port. His spirits lifted at the thought.

  Emerging from the quiet of the church he turned right, walking back down towards the sea. The small harbour was lined with bars and tavernas, already starting to fill with early-lunchtime customers. He saw a tour group he recognised from the ferry enjoying drinks in the shade of a plane tree and was reminded that he had missed breakfast that morning.

  The small town seemed to fan out up the hill behind in a series of terracing, perhaps six or seven houses deep. Most were large neoclassical villas, dating back to the nineteenth century. Some seemed to be holiday rentals. others had been renovated to offer more modest individual rooms to rent.

  Small roads snaked around the hillside, one leading steeply up towards a ruined castle, standing alone on the bare mountain two thousand feet above. Nicholas sensed an air of mystery and foreboding about this majestic backdrop to the island, contrasting the tranquility of the harbour scene.

  He turned back from the end of the waterfront at a fisherman
’s house at the water’s edge. He walked back along the pedestrianised waterfront, where brightly-coloured fishing boats bobbed in the breeze. Taking out his phone he took a number of photographs of the port, the moored boats alongside, the buildings and restaurants, as well as people going about their normal business. Looking directly away from the sea he also took a number of photos of the skyline behind the town; the palette of painted villas outlined against the stark grey mountains above.

  Outside the bars and tavernas, cats sidled around chairs and tables or dozed, still watchful, in the shade. He passed a small “super market”; watermelons piled high on the trestle table outside.

  The heat of the day was increasing. A cold beer would taste good. He headed along the cobbled pathway leading away from the port. The winding road passed shuttered villas, closed for the season. The beach further along the road would be his final destination.

  He found a taverna at the far end of the bay and ordered the beer he had been looking forward to, a prawn saganaki and Greek salad. The saganaki was good, spicy with a rich chili-based tomato sauce and sprinkled with feta. The taverna at Pondamus Beach fronted the sea. Nicholas had become used to eating alone at restaurants and had become adept at people-watching. He noticed a few of the passengers from the morning ferry at tables along the water’s edge.

  Nicholas spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach beside the taverna reading, every so often looking up in the hope of seeing Alessandra. He was disappointed. She didn’t turn up at the gelateria either.

  Nor was she on the boat. He had boarded just before five o’clock and found a seat upstairs, near where they had sat previously. The boat had already filled up. The engines were running, but departure was delayed as the crew and tour guides tried to reconcile the number of blue tickets collected with their lists of returning passengers. There was still time for her to arrive. His gaze was fixed on the stairs.

  There was much shrugging and animated discussion among the crew. One, clipboard in hand, the name Nikos Express in yellow letters on the back of his blue jacket, went around the boat counting the passengers. He eventually confirmed what they had initially suspected – they were one short. After further discussion between the captain and the tour guides a decision was reached. The gangway was hoisted. The throb of the engines grew and the ferry left, twenty-five minutes late.