‘Of course it has! And you would be made more than welcome. It will be just like going on holiday all those years ago,’ I tell them enthusiastically.
‘I’m a bit shocked, I won’t lie, but yes, we know you love Greece, we all do,’ agrees Mum. ‘A holiday home, hey? I’ve often thought about having one of those. Well done, love,’ she says, and I breathe a sigh of relief that they don’t think I have gone stark raving mad.
‘I’m going over next weekend for a few days with Evie, so I’ll send you some pictures. I’ll be getting builders in, but you know, Dad, I will always appreciate your input.’
‘Maybe leave it to the professionals.’ Mum raises an eyebrow and glances at Dad.
‘How was I to know those boards were completely rotten?’ he says, referring to the time he decided to replace the bathroom floor after a flood and Mum screamed at the sight of Dad’s legs dangling through the ceiling during an episode ofCoronation Street.
‘Oh, I’m so excited, and I’m glad you don’t think I’m crazy.’ I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘Not at all. Me and your mum have been talking about a cruise in late summer. Maybe we could choose one that docks in Greece and come and have a look at your house.’
‘Sounds wonderful. Although you don’t usually get enough time on land on a cruise. Maybe fly over when it’s finished. I won’t have loads of time to be there myself, I have a job here remember.’
Which is why I am relying on Thea to help me find suitable builders. People I can rely on. I can use most of my annual leave to oversee the project, but I need people on board who I can trust to carry on with the work in my absence.
‘It is exciting,’ says Mum. ‘And whether it’s home or abroad, I’m pretty sure property is always a sound investment.’
Hopefully she’s right.
I fire up my laptop up and show my parents pictures of the villa. There is an outdoor stone staircase leading to a bedroom with a wooden balcony that looks completely rotten, but I can already imagine it with hanging pink flowers trailing down towards the garden from a brand new wrought-iron balustrade.
‘Oh, I can see that being really pretty when it’s finished.’ Mum clasps her hands together. ‘And Roda is such a lovely village, isn’t it? There was once quite an expat community there, I believe, although I don’t know if that’s still the case.’
‘Probably, but I don’t mind if there isn’t. I could probably do with brushing up on my very limited Greek anyway, although Iguess a Google search would tell me if there are any groups. It might be a good way to make friends.’
I went on several holidays to Roda with my parents when I was younger, that led to a lifelong love affair with Corfu. Some days we would take the bus down to busy Sidari and Mum would browse the souvenir shops, whilst Dad would ‘get us a seat’ at a restaurant with an outside table overlooking the sea for lunch – no doubt furtively sampling the baklava with his coffee before we returned. Mum would always buy a gift set of olive oil and herbs for our neighbour who kept an eye on the house, along with a touristy tea towel showing a map of the island. Even now I can’t resist a browse around the souvenir shops as it always evokes such pleasant memories. It’s just a brilliant place to go and relax and switch off from everything in the world.
‘Right, that’s me off then.’ I leave my parents’ house for the second time that day and head off home.
I never realised just how much their reaction would mean to me, but I’m so relieved they don’t think it’s a bad idea. A text pops through on my phone as I arrive home. It’s from Josh.
Have you told Mum and Dad about your plans yet?
Literally just this second. They like the idea.
Cool. I thought they might. Who wouldn’t like the chance of a free holiday to Greece?
I feel the need to flick through some photos of Uncle Jack and myself, and silently thank him for the gift of my inheritance, which came totally out of the blue.
There are photos of us on bikes, riding through Delamere Forest. It’s where he met my auntie Kathleen, when she served us at a tiny coffee hut at the end of a footpath in the pouring rain. They chatted about the native birds in the forest, when he remarked upon seeing a woodpecker, and discovered a shared love of wildlife. Six months later she had upped sticks and moved to Merseyside to be with him, perhaps partly due to the fact that he lived in a village that had wetlands close by and every type of wading bird you could possibly wish to spot. It was joyful to see how in love Jack and Kathleen were, especially later in life.
Putting the photo album away, I silently thank Jack for inspiring my desire to travel as memories of playing with the globe in his front room come rushing back again. I know how lucky I am and feel grateful to Jack for ensuring I have money for my future. If only there was something that could guarantee you won’t get your heart broken again.
ELEVEN
‘Passport, tickets, money, bank cards,’ I repeat over to myself as I zip up my bag for the flight.
Evie’s husband is dropping us at the airport early, en route to taking the girls to their grandparents’ place in Cheshire.
‘I bet this is a lot more exciting than painting and doing the gardening,’ says Nick as he drops us off. ‘Although it was your idea to do that, not mine.’ He laughs, probably making the point that he isn’t an uncaring husband who has his wife painting whilst he’s playing golf. As if he needed to tell me that.
‘I expected you to organise something fun for yourself,’ he reinforces the point. ‘I was surprised you wanted to paint the ceiling.’
‘I know and I appreciate that, but with not long returning from Greece, I felt a bit guilty going again so soon,’ Evie says. ‘But as you are going golfing, I did think about going out with the girls from work, but then my best friend stepped up and insisted I go along with her on an all-expenses-paid weekend.’ She laughs.
‘Well, have a great time. I’ll miss you,’ he says warmly.
