I came down upon the airport beneath a sky of perfect blue and parked the van amongst the taxis. Visitors lay wherever they could stretch out, their serious faces turned towards the Sun God, a last chance for a top up tan.
I was in luck. There were spare seats on the next plane for Athens and they were able to amend my ticket. Two hours to go. No need to check in just yet with only my backpack as hand luggage. I looked at the Aegean. Silhouetted surfers skimmed and bobbed across the flickering rollers and when they fell off, they climbed back on again in wait for the perfect set. They climbed back on, were they mad?
Ah, Sophia. A few hours ago I was still there, involved in a minor way but nevertheless involved. In a couple of hours a plane would take me to Athens and comparative safety. Ah, Pantelis, my dear, dear, father, I dropped the baton and let you down. I am weak. But we can't all be heroes - nothing wrong with that.
From the tannoy came a soothing female voice. 'Please do not smoke in the airport. Except in desert naked areas. Thank you.' Signs in Greek and English. A shop and a café. Potted plants and potted languages but all I could hear was English.
Right in my ear an ostentatious, walking success-story cradling a crying baby was talking at me. 'You'd think the Greeks could give warnings about the August heat being unsuitable for travelling with a two month old baby now wouldn't you? And they're supposed to adore children. Well, I'll never ever come here again. Ever!'
The old Lotto man wandered among the passengers and as he passed, he interrupted his chanting and shook his head in despair. ''Don't know why I bother here. Nobody speaks Greek.'
The waiting area was a stuffy cocoon. Sprawled in a corner was a group of sleeping, travel-weary Romanies, their timeless faces seeming familiar, like those in my books, but they weren't familiar at all, I just wanted them to be. Limbs dangled over one another or lay fastened around kids, twitching and rolling through some wandering dreams.
One of them drags a colourful blanket to cover herself, then another drags it back. How far and for how long had they travelled and where were they going? Perhaps they were here to meet someone arriving, or someone leaving. People in transit traipsed and stumbled over them but they just slept on, bodies in limbo, minds somewhere else. The whole of human life, oblivious all, except for one little gypsy girl who'd pulled her t-shirt over head to keep the sun away. I happened to clear my throat and in a second, her dusty, scrunched up face sprung into view, bright brown eyes growing wider until she found me. She glared and growled something like, 'Sh! Be quiet!' and held my gaze, confident and true. I kept looking. She thumped her leg to warn me to mind my own business. She thrust her face at me and pouted. She frowned. She was fearless, ready to rumble - and she wasn't giving in.
I made no response at first but rolled my head from side to side like I'd seen animals do at the zoo. She seemed surprised and tried to hide a smile. Then she copied me and waited to see what I'd do next. I pressed my nose with my finger and squeaked. She chuckled, a beautiful noise that twinkled like honey and flashed her bright baby teeth.
'Will all passengers for Athens please report to the check-in desk, please?' The voice was loud and made us both jump and I thought it might spoil our game, but she giggled so much her dreadlocks flopped and waved about like palms in a storm. But time was pressing and I had to go, so I blew her a kiss and went to find the check-in.
A gentle breeze brushed my face for the last time as I swung across the threshold and surrendered to a different reality. The door hissed shut behind me. My heart was solid lead. At check-in we were told there'd be an hour's delay and I have to say I was pleased. I could always try again later. I wanted to go back and see my little friend. I returned through the throng and found to my delight that she was still there. In fact, she hadn't moved at all. She was still sitting and staring past the bodies to the door, looking for the clown who'd just made her laugh. I grinned at her huge eyes and blew her one more kiss. The tannoy announced another departure and this time she jumped as though startled awake. Then, to my sheer delight she lifted her stubby little palm to her lips and blew me a kiss. And with that simple tender motion, she almost broke my heart.
The little girl was Sophia. Uncomplicated, humble, brave. She was the everlasting mountain of clarity, the purity of the air and all the beautiful simplicity coming together to make me think again. We spend our lives in useless pursuits, leading us to yet more dissatisfaction. And Kostas, on my very first night in that patient hotel, had been right about the rope - all I had to do was choose. And in that moment I knew. I understood. I thanked my little friend and hoped that after she'd slept and woken later, she'd find our silliness in the memories of her dreams.
I had an hour to wait and every seat was taken. Some had taken two. I wanted to prod them awake for being so selfish but instead I dropped my bag on the floor by the door and sat, resting my face against the glass partition. The air-conditioning soon dried my throat and made my head ache. My skin felt tight, I was sure I could feel the torrents of blood raging through my body. It was very tired, my spirit was deflated and my conscious and subconscious twisted and wrestled with each other in confusion.
I thought I saw Mount Hymettos, sitting on waves as solid as the clouds in the sky. Athenians still call it Mad Mountain, or Trellovouno. Some believe it is named after the crazy colours you see when the dying sun strikes. I remembered reading somewhere that it was the last rays of the sun catching Mount Hymettos that told Socrates the time had come to drink hemlock and die.
I looked at my hands. They looked older. The skin no longer felt the burn from the sun, it just felt the heat. My feet took their time when I walked and their soles had grown tougher and tolerant of hot sand. Flies and creatures crawled over me without a swipe from my hand. I understood the place of death in life and no longer cringed at dead animals or birds. On Pani's island I'd grown used to pushing my way forward in crowds, and knew how much tolerance I was allowed in heated argument. Half an hour earlier, on the other side of that door, I'd been a foolish romantic nomad wandering over the land, crunching dusty tracks underfoot in tune with the pace of my life. Now here I was back between the cart shafts dragging a schedule again, with keys and locks to my routine. In another hour, I could check in or check out, depending on your point of view. Soon I would be leaving the land of Athena and Alexis and Alessandra and returning to live a modern myth, The Great Social Illusion.
I could just about keep my eyes from closing. Mirages and echoes of half remembered Rembetika music flashed into my mind. I waved to my father. He was grinning from his coffin, 'You find the limes and I'll make the Nerantzaki.' I walked to the tune of a mad Alexis fingering his air bouzouki, to a toneless Alessandra struggling with Zorba's Tune while tugging a golden comb through a vulture's shining wing.
'Back in Cornwall, we'll get some early nights,' I found myself saying aloud to the glass. I tried to focus through it at our incoming plane, but the Princess of Stephanos came steaming through the air in its place. Olives and raki filled my mouth. Dozing near the hut on the point at Faria, I watched the card games in the Antonis kafeneion from a purple plastic chair.
'Welcome my son, welcome,' now Pani took me to Mount Olympos. We were where we belonged. He put an arm around my shoulders and showed me the orange and pale yellow furze seeping into the cavities and crevices of Mount Hymettos and we marvelled at the mastery and finesse of the surfers. We were walking in the crucible of democracy, walking where, for a short, wild, flickering second in the rolling calendar of human existence I had been in tune with the infinite and had even managed to dance at the festival. Then he whispered something I will always remember, 'Be who you are now. Be complete and confident in that man. You are always in the right place at the right time.'
Always? Then this might be my last chance. I jumped up. I had to get back to Sophia while there was still time.
'This is a special and urgent announcement. Will Mr. Godfrey Ash on flight OA265 to Athens Venizelos report for boarding, please? Mr. Ash, this flight is due to depart. This is your final boarding call. Please do as you're told and stop being silly.'
What? What did she say? I could not believe my ears.
'Will Mr. Ash, Mr. Godfrey Ash, please hurry to Gate 5?'
But the door sighed ajar for more late arrivals and in rushed the familiar cloud of diesel, dust, sweet sage and tobacco, pulling me to my feet and pushing me back outside.
And all at once, I could breathe again.
I cut the rope.