‘You not want to live here?’ She frowned slightly. ‘It is a good street to live,’ she explained in her strong Greek accent.
‘A holiday home, maybe. I’m not sure I could find a job here to actually live,’ I told her. ‘Or that I would be ready to leave my family and friends back home either.’
‘Hmm,’ she said, before going inside and closing her front door.
I thought I’d upset her then. Maybe she would have preferred a permanent neighbour, rather than someone who just came over for holidays, but to my surprise she returned with a map of the island.
‘You visit here. It is a nice place,’ she said, having circled a monastery and a Byzantine castle in the hills. ‘There are nice things in the mountains, not just the beach.’ She spoke of the place proudly.
‘Thank you. Oh, and my name is Claudia. What’s yours?’
‘Phoebe,’ she answered.
I imagined her to be around seventy years old, small, and sprightly looking, and wearing a long dress, her dark hair plaited. She had pretty dark-brown eyes, and small features, and I pictured her as a vibrant, young woman, reminding me that life slips by so quickly.
I thanked her once more for the map and stood for a while thinking about the little white villa, although the walls were more of a dull grey right now. I closed my eyes and imagined gleaming walls and a traditional blue painted front door. Inside, there would be a modern bathroom, maybe a glass sink, set against open exposed brickwork. I would display art on white walls and have a tasteful mix of modern and traditional Greekfurnishings. Windows with wooden shutters would be flung open in the evening so I could listen to the sound of the crashing waves at the nearby beach that would lull me to sleep.
‘Do you live here alone?’ I asked her, before wondering if that sounded a little nosey.
‘Nai.My husband. One year ago, he passes over.’ She crossed herself and I offered my condolences.
‘I have a daughter who lives in Athens and a granddaughter.’ Her face broke into a smile when she spoke of them. ‘She lives in a village,’ she told me, pointing somewhere towards the mountains.
The narrow road that the house stood on curved slightly upwards, and had maybe a dozen villas in total with a nearby taverna, a small bakery and a bus stop at the end of the road that headed into the centre of Sidari, a busy tourist resort. There was a path behind the houses on some grassland that snaked down to the beach, passing some shops and restaurants, before arriving at the main high street of Roda, lined with colourful shops and tavernas. Imagine, no more apartment rentals, I thought to myself, lost in an improbable daydream of owning this house and turning it into my dream holiday home.
‘Did you want anything, or not?’
A colleague pulls me out of my daydream and back into the office to the sound of people tapping away on their computers.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘From the machine. I’m in need of some chocolate,’ she says cheerfully.
‘No, I’d better not, thanks though.’ I smile at the new office apprentice, who has already made a good impression with her hard-working attitude and cheerful manner.
I answer an email, then an incoming call from a bloke who wonders why he can’t call in and collect his passport this afternoon, as the last one went missing in the post. I try toexplain that it is in the system somewhere, having only recently been applied for, with assurances that it will arrive in due course.
A busy afternoon soon passes, and I am finally at home nursing a latte, made in my recently purchased coffee machine, and call my friend Evie.
‘Claudia, hi, how was your day?’ she asks cheerfully.
‘Oh, you know, the usual. I did speak to a guy with a very sexy voice, although all he did was complain about his passport taking too long to arrive.’
‘I’m surprised you still want to work there now that you’ve come into that inheritance,’ she teases. ‘I think I’d be off like a shot.’
‘Of course I still want to work. I haven’t come into millions,’ I tell her, even though it is a substantial amount. ‘Besides, I enjoy my job. I’d just love to buy a place abroad too. But maybe I ought to concentrate on getting a bigger place here.’ I pop a couple of blueberries into my mouth, attempting to ward off a sugar craving with my coffee. ‘Plus, the novelty of sitting around with a pile of money and no routine would soon wear off, even if I did come into millions. I’ve read about those lottery winners who miss their daily routine.’
‘If you say so. Although I’m not sure why you would want a bigger place over here. Are you planning on starting a family or something?’
‘Yeah, right. I haven’t even got a partner. And I’m in no hurry to find another. In fact, you’re right. Thanks, Evie.’
‘Pleasure. Although I’m not sure what for.’
‘For making me realise that I can do whatever I choose to. Why on earth do I need a bigger place here? I have no children, or even a boyfriend, so all that domestic stuff is definitely a long way off. And it’s not like I can only work from the UK.’
I seriously consider the fact that I could keep my flat here, the place I have worked hard to make a comfortable home, and buy somewhere in Greece. It could work, couldn’t it? I’d be more than content with that, and I would have some money left in the bank to secure my future.
I feel excitement stir in the pit of my stomach the more I mull it over. A holiday home in the sun.