The day in question I was suffering with a hangover, regretting a third ouzo in a karaoke bar, after drinking wine.
‘I’d prefer not to.’ I pull a face and she laughs.
‘Well, anyway, I went out, you know, window shopping, and I had a gyros at the café. He served me and we got chatting as it was quiet. I always caught him looking at me after that whenever we walked along here,’ she reveals. ‘He’s really nice.’
‘So is your husband,’ I remind her. ‘Is everything alright with you and Nick?’
‘Yes, it’s fine.’ She plays around with her food a bit. ‘It’s just… Oh, I don’t know; we’ve been together for so long we’re more like mates these days,’ she reveals. ‘I mean I was nineteen when we got married, and we had already known each other for four years. Sometimes I wonder what on earth I was thinking.’ She gazes out across the water. ‘The girls are older now, doing their own thing most of the time. No doubt they will be off in a few years.’
‘Oh, Evie, is everything okay? I think your story is so romantic, not many people marry their childhood sweethearts.’
‘Yes, everything is fine, don’t worry.’ She pours us more wine and paints on a smile.
My heart breaks at the thought of her having doubts about her marriage going forward, although she did marry very young. I love Nick as much as Evie and have always envied their relationship. They’ve always given each other space, she’s sitting here with me right now after all, and he’s golfing in Scotland. But maybe they do their own thing a little too much.
‘I imagine marriages go through many stages. Maybe you just need to inject a bit more romance into things,’ I tentatively suggest. ‘When was the last time you had a romantic weekend away together?’ I ask, thinking that the girls seem to go to their gran’s so that they can explore separate hobbies.
‘Not sure. Oh, Claude, don’t worry, just because I fancy a local café owner, it doesn’t mean I’m thinking of jumping into bed with him.’ She grins.
‘Ah, so you do fancy him.’ I point my finger at her, and she rolls her eyes and laughs.
‘No harm in a bit of harmless flirtation, is there? Maybe it just feels nice to be paid a little bit of attention, that’s all.’
‘I’m not sure many people flirt after years of being together, but I’m sure Nick still fancies you.’
‘Well, I’m not.’ She places her wine glass down. ‘I had my hair coloured last week and bought a new dress to go to his aunt’s fiftieth birthday party and he barely noticed.’
‘He never noticed your highlights?’ I ask, surprised.
‘Well, yeah, but he never said much, just, “Have you had your hair done?” Not even followed up with “It looks nice”, or “It suits you”. He never pays me compliments these days, even though I always tell him if he looks nice.’
‘Have you told him how you feel?’
‘I did, actually, the day after the party.’ She dips bread into some hummus. ‘I told him I felt like I had gone to a lot of effort for the family party, and he never appreciated it.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He hugged me then and told me I always look beautiful, and that he always thought actions spoke louder than words, which of course is true. But he didn’t really do anything either. I guess I just feel a bit taken for granted.’ She shrugs.
‘Does he ever plan dates or anything?’
‘He used, and so did I, but I guess we’ve been so busy with the business and the girls, we don’t focus on us,’ she admits. ‘When we do have nights out, it’s usually with a group of friends or business associates.’
Evie and Nick kindly invite me along to some of their get-togethers.
‘Look, I’m no marriage expert, how could I be? I’m resolutely single. But I imagine you must have to work at it a bit, especially in a long marriage. I think you should find a gorgeous hotel and book that weekend away,’ I tell her firmly, and she promises me that she will.
We finish our delicious food and head to a local bar with neon lights flashing across a small dance floor, with promises of no more marriage talk. We are only here for the weekend after all, so intend to make the most of things. We chat to a couple of girls from the North East, who tell us they got a bargain price holiday in early season, and join them for a dance on the dance floor, before topping the evening off with a cocktail. A couple of blokes are glancing over at us, locals I think, but I don’t make eye contact.
It’s just after eleven o’clock when we say our goodnights to our new friends and stroll back towards the apartment, as the restaurant owners place food boards inside, ready to close for the evening. A group of young men are chatting outside the gyroscafé and glance over at us as we pass. Just then, Kostas emerges from inside with some food for the boys and waves us over.
‘Kalispera, ladies. Would you like anything?’ He gestures to an empty outside table.
‘Are you hungry? It’s ages since we’ve eaten,’ coaxes Evie. I am a little peckish, which often happens after a few drinks, but I know the real reason she wants to be here. And I don’t want to encourage her. But what the hell, I’m not her keeper. What harm can it do?
Kostas, who is maybe forty years old and good-looking, serves us chicken gyros and as the last customers leave, he dims the lights in the café and joins us outside. The air is a lot cooler now, especially being so close to the sea. Evie, who is wearing a sleeveless dress, gives her arms a little rub.
‘Are you cold?’ Kostas goes inside, then returns with his zip-up hoody from a chair and drapes it over her shoulders.
