17
Saturday, sunny, blue and bright. A day for the beach, and the day before they left for Iraklion. Their feelings were a little rough but not too bad considering. It was time to move forward armed with certain lessons learned on their trek of a lifetime. Such as going with the flow, having come to terms with flies tickling your legs and feet you must either ignore them or just continually waft and wave them away forever. Then, the acceptance of the stranger returning your gaze from the mirror. The happy conclusion that living in Crete just might be all you need. Perhaps in ten years time or four years or next year or perhaps maybe just stay where you are right at that moment.
Kevin was wandering around, muttering over and over again, 'Par-a-ka-lo! Para- kal-o! Pa-ra-ka-lo!'
Ben set off to buy a loaf. He thought of Andrea again and groaned.
Leading to the bakery he found a shortcut he'd never noticed before. It was a narrow alleyway and part of the way along he passed an open door. Retracing his steps, he beheld a scene he would never have imagined. It was someone's room but deep in the shadows was a donkey - just standing there, completely still. Upon inspecting more closely he saw not one, but two donkeys, and two goats, and about half a dozen chickens.
Over in the corner he could just make out the silhouette of a man sleeping in an old armchair, his head slumped against his chest. The smell in the room was purely agricultural, earthy, ancient and for some distant reason quite, quite heartening.
Apple, yoghurt, honey and the warm bread with marmalade and delicious coffee but not quite as good as the Greek coffee they enjoyed in the kafeneion. Nevertheless all was enjoyable before the tranquil sea. Off then, to the beach to be joined by Amanda and Michael and a girl introduced as Barbi by Mick. 'Friends will arrive, and friends will disappear,' said Mr. Dylan.
Ben had the longest swim ever in luscious laziness snorkelling exchanging glances and expressions with the fishes on the sea bed before choking and staggering back onto the beach for a sprawl beneath the sun. A Greek salad and local lemonade at a beach café topped off the afternoon. They got back to the Zorbus and Kevin wasted no time in making more coffee with his new toy, his totally efficient and practical little portable cooker. Outside one of the other vans sat an old lady dressed in widows' weeds crocheting in lace whilst her dinner cooked in the black pot on the open stove. That afternoon they tidied the Zorbus and cleaned and dried her windows in preparation for the off.
This was to be their last night in Agia Galini and after coffees at the workers' bar, Kevin, Barbi and Ben hit Cleo's for a memorable dinner of moussaka, spinach with rice, meat balls and chips, Greek salad, bread, beans with courgettes and potatoes, cauliflower and Retsina, all so very, very delicious and to their complete surprise, Cleo presented their table with no less than two litres of raki! Lucy and Bruno arrived with lonesome Mick in tow, then Amanda and Michael arrived, Suzanna, a gynaecologist from Hamburg, and a couple from the Isle of Man joined the evening and it just flew away. Amanda seemed pensive, if not down in the dumps, almost a smudge on the colourful evening.
At the end of the bottle Ben left, dawdling back to the Villa. For no reason, when he tried to open the door, he imagined it was locked so he lay on the grass, covered himself with two crisp and fragrant towels from the washing line and listened, drifting...early evening butterflies, grey, velvet-covered cats, wasps, flies, geckos, their last purple evening, simple existence, air heavy with perfume from the eucalyptus trees, Galini begonias in deep luscious yellow grow alongside roses of cerise and deepest crimson, remember the come-back-soon look in Amanda's eyes, now let me ask you a yestion…
There he swayed until Kevin shook him awake in the darkness. After the bottle was drained he remembered just one thing, getting to his feet and walking away without saying goodnight, Kalinichta or anything to anyone. Oh, yes, and not paying anything either.
Sunday opened with Ben's brain a cobweb, tangled with black holes. With great concentration and what was left of his will-power, he moved his body down to Cleo's where she took one look and told him to sit inside and wait. In minutes she returned with a 'very old and special' Greek coffee that he had to sip steadily until the cup was empty.
She watched over him as he performed this Herculanean task then took away the cup, and dropped it in a pan of hot water. She told him to go and lie down in darkness. He nodded and began to guide his body back to the Camping. Within ten minutes his head had cleared and to this day he does not know what was in that magical potion, but it helped fill the gaps.
In the country lane leading up to the Camping, sheep and goats ran with bells jangling and once they were aware of Ben they gathered round him, calling and complaining and probably mistaking him for the shepherd. And yes, it lowered his spirits.
It was leaving day. Sweet confusion came with empty phrases like, 'adjust the points', 'distributor OK?' and 'Iraklion ferry to Piraeus'. There was no doubt his brain was still mulch. And how the floor of the van was similarly littered with souvenirs along with their euro coin collection was beyond him. It was time to get going. But the Zorbus wanted to stay. She refused to budge. Her battery pretended to be flat. Daphna went for Yiorgos, their friend and saviour. He connected the battery to his with Ben's jump leads and in no time she was firing on all cylinders. Hugs and handshakes and after, it was necessary to give the Zorbus battery a recharge by driving along the road to nearby Timbaki. They invited their new friends Louise and Linda for the short ten mile trip.
Often Ben's Dad would say, 'good times are haphazard' and, 'you just cannot guarantee a good time' and that morning was one of those times. The couple of hours they spent around the table in Timbaki square in front of the main church, Agios Titos, just drinking coffee and talking with such relaxed rapport was the best way to remember the feeling of being free. Three days before they hadn't even met the girls, yet there they were, sitting comfortably in the shade of one huge eucalyptus as friends, laughing and listening and telling and loving every minute.
But Kevin and Ben were leaving. And amongst all the exposures they had experienced on their journey, they agreed the most valuable realisation came from the meeting of strangers. It taught them to accept the unfamiliar, to enjoy the community of others, tolerance, the pool of safety and warmth that happens by chance – and the comfort of silence amongst friends.
But it was time to get back to Galini for final farewells, and promises to keep in touch which they knew would never keep but before leaving Timbaki, the girls disappeared inside one of those treasured and cavernous hardware shops only to reappear minutes later with a gift. Louise presented them with a little terracotta chicken that you filled with water. When you blew on its tail, it gave a high-pitched whistle, 'Just a souvenir of a special cup of coffee.'
With pretend indifference Kevin shook his head, 'Oh, here we go', embracing her with tender kisses on both her cheeks.
They dropped the girls off at the camp shop and parked in the lane near the site. All the landmarks they had taken so much trouble to memorise when first arriving were second nature to them now. Out of the beach exit and along the sandy narrow track keeping the bushes on their left and the fence on their right, down to the river and across the rickety bridge where the terrapins plop into the murky depths from their sleeping holes along the bank. Further on down towards the sea but turning right along the path towards the cemetery through some new foundations, possibly for the new Yiorgos and Daphna build, and along past where they camped the night of their eviction from the street where Markos lived, cordially allowing Ben to sleep there that night. Past the 'Pent Pooms' near to where Marian used to stay. Past the rooms where they often heard Monica coughing over the cigarette she always shared afterwards. The open door where death had claimed the old man; the coffin now leaning, waiting, against the wall in the street, the lid now a signpost to the void.
Without any warning Kevin flopped into a chair outside Myro's, 'One last lemonade, Benedict?'
Amanda and Michael, strolled beachward, stopping at their table. Amanda smiling with her lips but not her eyes and Michael asking, 'What time are you leaving?'
Ben's reply was a little sharp, 'We'll take to the road when we're ready.'
Kevin coughed. Sometimes Ben wished he could just keep his mouth shut. The Isle of Man couple took their photograph. Barbi said goodbye with good wishes.
Whenever they drank the first of several rakis they would raise glasses and make a toast saying, 'Greena Shielda!' with loud stamps of each foot most likely in memory of an Green Shield advert, silly really. And in afternoons, watching the sun sparkling on the waves, they would squint through their eye lashes and see faces and the dancing, running men and flashes of fire on the blue green tideless sea. They had watched dragonflies chasing butterflies without threat or malice, and kingfishers holding fish in their beaks skimming across the waves, flying fish and marching ants, lizards and children without a care in the world.
Kevin caught a ball whacked by some kids playing rounders in the square but since they wouldn't let him play he collected Ben for a slow pace down to the beach to say goodbye to the mother sea with a farewell swim in her warm, welcoming embrace.
Dear, friendly little sister Lucy whispered, 'I missed you last evening.' Sad Amanda now says goodbye with her eyes, and they go, waving until the beach falls out of sight around the corner.
Back at the van, Ben soothes his flaking and burning head, Kevin tidies away all the disorder to allowing new energy to flow into their lives, a theory he'd learned from Marian, and already it was time to say goodbye to friend, Theo.
They got to Theo's bar but he and Tsaly were out somewhere so they took a couple of lemonades onto the balcony and sat in sunny Galini serenity overlooking the familiar cramped flat rooftops below. Stillness and silence reigned. Something had changed. They were leavers and leavers don't belong. But leavers always see things perfectly and unrealistically. Everything is colour, blue and yellow and green, all is pretty and leavers' hearts always leave a little of themselves behind. Leavers forget the bad bits and exaggerate the good. And it's always fond memories which take them back time and time again, and it is true you should never go back. You forget the sour-faced couple in Myro's in Galini square; the jazz-snob Ilya of the Jazz-in-Jazz Bar, the noisy discos blaring into timeless moonlit nights, the love and the warmth you leave behind, the love of Mammon distorting Cretans and it's all part of the ever spreading jigsaw. Galini's sins were just like Falmouth's.
Theo and Tsaly returned and it was clear they knew Kevin and Ben had come to say goodbye. Tsaly came and hugged them slowly without speaking before fading into the building somewhere. Theo, Kevin and Ben stood on the veranda overlooking the rooftops, not quite knowing what to say. Ben had stood on the same balcony, in the same bar, in the same town, on the same island and drawn the same conclusions three years earlier and thought then that he would probably be back some day in the future and now there he was again. He shrugged, pretending not to be too concerned.
Theo turned to them and said softly, 'Ben, Kevin, why must you leave? Why? I don't understand. Here you can work in my restaurant, you have the wide Cretan sky, the warmth of the seas and they are for you. Most of all, you have my friendship - so why?'
Ben could not speak. They hugged him. Ben lumbered down the steps towards the square. His eyes grew hot. He cried.
The booming voice of Theo called after them, 'My friends, may you live a life well lived .... and hey! Never forget that you are alive!'