‘Absolutely not. You know how cheap the apartments are. Luckily, there is one available. We can stuff our face with cake and sit on the balcony watching the sun go down with a kumquat liqueur after a day on the beach.’
‘Kumquat?’
‘The fruits of Corfu. There were bottles everywhere in the gift shops. They were hard to miss, with that vivid orange. Don’t you remember?’
‘Surprisingly enough, I don’t pay too much attention to bright orange liqueur these days. Maybe once upon a time, but I think I’ll stick to the white wine now. But an unexpected return to Greece though, how could I possibly refuse?’
I think of the map of the island Phoebe had given to me. Maybe we can hire a quad bike and take off into the mountains to visit the castle and the monastery. Or just visit the local beaches. I guess there will be all the time in the world to explore properly, once I have my house there.
‘That’s my girl.’ I’m thrilled Evie is coming along.
If Nick hadn’t been going away golfing and the girls to their gran’s, I would have probably suggested they come out too, and happily paid for the apartment. I would also value my brother’sopinion on the house too, but know it would be difficult for him to get away at such short notice.
After the call, I fire up my laptop and book everything and look to see if there are any photos of the villa in Roda. To my disappointment, I can’t seem to find it on the larger property sites though.
I wish I had taken the phone number of the local estate agent from the board outside the property, but never mind. Just as I’m about to give up, and accept that I can do that when I get over there in less than two weeks, I see it.
My potential dream home in Roda is there! Up for auction online on Friday afternoon at one o’clock, with a suggested opening bid of forty thousand pounds. It’s hard to ascertain the exact state of the interior of the building, as the online photos are pretty dark. No doubt to disguise the reality, but even so, I find my heart beating that bit faster thinking of the possibility of that house being within my grasp. I have even met the next-door neighbour, so perhaps it’s meant to be. If only the auction was after my next visit, then I would at least be able to arrange to have a look at the inside of the villa. I’ve seen it from the outside though, and it looks solid enough, apart from needing a good coat of paint, and maybe there is a crack or two in the walls, but it is probably just the plaster. How bad can it really be?
For a moment, I wonder whether I’m being a little selfish buying a place abroad even though it’s only a holiday home, at least for the foreseeable future. With Josh moving down south, will my parents miss having their kids nearby, or is that a ridiculous notion? We’re both fully grown adults after all and they both have friends, along with their respective bowling and crafting clubs. Yet I know Mum likes inviting me around for tea, and how much she enjoys having a coffee and catch-up at our favourite café on the high street once a week. Or perhaps it’s me that would miss that. I’ve always felt close to my family andenjoy the thought of my parents being a stone’s throw away, and probably overreacted way more than I should have done when Josh decamped to Essex.
Still, children fly the nest, don’t they? And we never forget our childhood memories, which are wonderful even though I selfishly would have liked to have lived in a house full of siblings crashing up and down the stairs, and enjoying dinner around a huge table. I guess Josh and I were lucky to be raised in a happy home though, which I know isn’t the case for everyone. I have a lot to be grateful for.
FIVE
Brian Hamilton did a great job with Uncle Jack’s funeral. He dressed in a black top hat and tails and walked solemnly in front of the hearse, as Mum and the rest of us looked on with heavy hearts.
There was a good turnout of mourners, despite Jack having no children. Neighbours stood alongside blokes from the pub he frequented, and staff from the high street café he visited for breakfast. It comforted Mum knowing how well he had been thought of.
Josh and his wife, Zoe, had travelled from their home down south, and I thought my brother looked tired. My three-year-old nephew, George, behaved impeccably at the service, and tucked into pasta at the pub afterwards.
‘So, how’s work going?’ I ask my brother as we sit nursing drinks in the pub, whilst Zoe has taken George outside to the children’s play area.
‘Stressful.’ He takes a long glug of his pint.
‘I guess a job in sales was always going to be stressful,’ I remark.
‘That’s true, but I was always very good at it. Even though it wouldn’t have been my first choice of career.’
It’s a shame that we often fall into careers that aren’t necessarily our dream. Josh had been a promising painter, but never really pursued it.
‘It’s never too late to switch careers,’ I suggest, Josh only being in his thirties.
‘Maybe.’ He shrugs. ‘But the job pays well, at least it did.’
‘What’s changed?’
‘The economy, I guess. People aren’t buying new cars as much these days, opting for hiring them, or buying older ones which means my commission has reduced,’ he reveals. ‘The electric car thing had a boom for a while and people were waiting months for them on order. Not so much now. I’ll be honest, Jack’s inheritance has come at the right time.’ He sighs.
‘So, what will you do with the money?’ I ask.
‘Pay off a load of debt,’ he admits as he takes a sip of his beer. ‘How about you?’ he asks, a strain showing in his eyes, I can’t help noticing.
‘Oh, Josh, I’ve got this crazy idea that won’t go away. I’ve seen a house in Corfu that I’m thinking of buying. It’s a bit of a do-up, but you know how much I love it there.’
‘Sounds great. You should go for it.’ He smiles.
‘Do you think so?’
