Читать книгу Footprints in the Sand - Chloe Rayban - Страница 9

So we went back the following morning. Mum didn’t even seem to mind about losing the money she’d paid for the second night. And she didn’t want a swim either, so we left straight after breakfast.

We saw the bus coming as we finished our coffee and had to run for it across the olive grove.

The bus driver waited for us, grinning and honking his horn in a teasing manner. Mum and I flopped down in the front seats.

‘Two please, to Paradiso,’ said Mum.

‘To Paradiso!’ said the bus driver. ‘You go back?’

He winked at me. It was the guy who’d driven us here. It was such a small island he obviously recognised all his passengers. It was a nice feeling actually.

‘Yes,’ said Mum.

‘Ahhh! Paradiso. Paradise! Yes?’

‘Yes – I know.’

He leaned forward and switched on his radio full blast, and we set off with the sun glinting through the trees and the music clattering in our ears and the sea dreamily blue in the fresh morning light.

We drove back through the villages we’d passed on the way. Maybe it was the direction of the sun or something, but in the morning light, those villages looked completely different. Between the whitewashed houses, there were flowering plants brightening the place up with totally improbable splashes of colour, colour that plants simply don’t have back home. All the mad old ladies had disappeared and been replaced by younger women who had baskets of bread on their arms. And there were loads of children around, and contented-looking cats and well-fed dogs. And even the men sitting outside the cafés smoking and chatting had a kind of festive look about them, as if they were on holiday like us. I wondered how it could all look so different.

‘Maybe we should have rung first. What if he hasn’t got a room free?’ Mum interrupted my train of thought.

‘Oh no, I’m sure he will have.’

‘I think we should stop off at the next village and check. It’ll be a waste of time going all that way back if he hasn’t.’

I’d been dreading this. What if the rooms were let – they couldn’t be! No way! The very idea of not getting back to the Paradisos after all this effort – it was unthinkable!

‘Mum. Who else in their right mind would want to stay at the Paradisos?’

‘Yes, I suppose you’ve got a point there.’

It was about twelve by the time we reached the square above the taverna. The bus juddered to a halt, and with a gentle sigh of the power brakes, the doors swung open. The dog was still basking, but he’d moved out of the sun and into the shade. The donkey was still there – I could hear it braying a hilarious greeting in the distance. The sun was so bright on the chapel, you couldn’t see the flaking paint. Even the shop with its dusty display of out-of-date Hello magazines and battered sun-hats looked somehow welcoming.

The driver climbed out of the bus and hauled our luggage on to the cobbles.

‘Ahhh,’ he said, stretching out his arms as if encompassing the view of the bay. ‘Paradise!’

‘Mmmm,’ agreed Mum. ‘Isn’t it just.’

We were about to start the trek with our luggage, back down the goat path, when a figure shot out of the shadow of the chapel.

‘No,’ he said.

‘I carry bags for you.’

It was a skinny boy of about fifteen or so. He was wearing peculiar old-fashioned trousers made of cheap material and one of those tourist T-shirts they gave out free at the Tourist Office with the picture and the slogan on it – the one we’d cracked up about. You’ll learn to love Lexos.

He took Mum’s suitcase out of her hands and made a grab for my backpack.

‘No it’s OK,’ I said. ‘I can manage.’

But Mum said: ‘Let him, Lucy.’

The boy lifted Mum’s suitcase on to one shoulder and flung my backpack over the other. He put out a hand for the beach bag I was carrying too. But I shook my head, he was smaller than me. As we followed behind him, I thought Mum was being really crazy. We were on a really strict budget, it didn’t allow for luxuries like porters.

The poor kid was so puny too – I wondered how he could support the weight of luggage from both of us. But he went at quite a pace on the rough track as if he was used to it.

Carefully selecting a clean place, he put Mum’s suitcase down at the top of the steps that led to the taverna and placed my backpack beside it.

Mum was scrabbling in her purse. She came out with a one thousand drachma note and handed it to him. I frowned at her. Typical – she was getting all mixed up with the noughts again.

The boy took the note and hesitated.

‘Yes, take it, thank you. That’s fine,’ said Mum.

He cast a wary glance towards the taverna entrance and then made off.

‘Mum!’ I exclaimed. ‘That was worth over two pounds.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you see? He looked half-starved.’

‘Yes I did. I don’t know why you let him take our stuff in the first place. Honestly, two pounds for carrying a suitcase fifty metres? I thought we were meant to be on a budget. If you’re going to give hand-outs to every Greek…’

‘He wasn’t Greek. He was Albanian.’

‘How do you know?’

‘His accent. It wasn’t Greek.’

‘To every Albanian then…’

‘Lucy… Don’t you read the papers? Those people – they don’t have anything.’

‘Oh honestly, Mum.’

‘Honestly what?’

‘You exaggerate. He’s probably got a job. He may even work at the taverna…’

An awful thought struck me. What if Ben had left? What if that boy had got Ben’s job? Maybe he’d been sent to wait at the bus stop and drum up trade for the Old Rogue – Stavros.

‘Come on, we’d better go and see if we can get our room back,’ said Mum.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes and followed Mum with a thumping heart. Stavros was sitting alone at a table on the terrace. Ben was nowhere to be seen. The minute Stavros caught sight of us he leapt to his feet.

‘You come back!’ he said, waving his arms about in a wild greeting. ‘You no find other place nothing like Paradisos – no?’

‘No,’ said Mum. ‘I mean yes, we’ve come back. I hope you have a room free?’

‘I have room, your room yes? Best room in the taverna. You like, eh?’

‘Yes,’ said Mum.

‘We like very much.’

‘You like views – quiet, peace, eh?’

The dredger let loose a joyful welcoming cascade of gravel.

‘Umm, quite,’ said Mum suppressing a smile.

‘Oh they not work long. They go. Very soon,’ said Stavros with a dismissive wave towards the bay. ‘Bad for business.’

‘We really don’t mind,’ I said.

‘Siddown,’ said Stavros. ‘You have drinkses. On the house.’

I sat down and cast a searching glance towards the kitchen. At any moment Ben would come out with a tray in his hand and give me that wicked smile of his. I waited.

‘Whaddya want?’ asked Stavros.

Ben didn’t come out. Stavros went to get the drinks himself, and I realised with a sinking feeling that Ben wasn’t there. But maybe he was out windsurfing. He must get some time off during the day.

Ben didn’t come back while we were having lunch either. And he still wasn’t there when we took our bags to our room and started to unpack.

Mum threw the shutters open wide while we did so.

‘Lovely,’ she sighed.

I gazed past her. There was a really good view of the bay but I couldn’t see a windsurfer out there.

‘It really is such a nice room,’ said Mum, unzipping her suitcase.

‘Mmmm.’

I stood at the window, scanning the sea for a glimpse of a pink and blue sail. The sea was a milky blue in the harsh midday sun. Maybe the sun was too hot for windsurfing. The dredger had fallen silent – the workers must’ve knocked off for the day.

‘I wonder what happened to that English boy,’ mused Mum. As if she’d read my mind.

‘What English boy?’ I asked innocently.

Mum stood holding up her sundress and examining it for creases.

‘The one we had to come back for,’ she said, without looking at me.

‘Oh Mum, honestly.’

‘Well, I hope we haven’t come all the way back for nothing.’