Patsy glances at her watch, and tells us we had better get a move on if we want to catch the next taxi boat. So we take the short walk to the pick-up point at the beach.
‘The boat looks a bit small,’ says Irene doubtfully, as we stand in line ready to board. ‘I hope it can take my weight.’
‘Of course it will, you’re not that big,’ says Patsy, which is actually true.
‘See,’ says Patsy as we settle into our seats. ‘The boat man would have said something or at least asked you to sit in a certain place, but, not a thing.’ She winks. ‘So just relax and enjoy yourself.’
‘I will do,’ Irene replies with nod. Then, ‘Oh, look.’ She points out a shoal of fish in the clear blue water. ‘I wish I had a little bread,’ she says, recording the silvery fish on her phone as they swim around in circles.
As the boat moves along the sun-dappled water, a grey-haired bloke sitting opposite Irene smiles at her.
‘Nice day for it,’ he comments.
‘Oh, it is. A bit too hot at times, though. For me at least.’ She returns his smile.
‘I know what you mean,’ he agrees. ‘I thought it might be a bit cooler out on the water.’
‘I thought so too,’ she tells him.
As they continue their conversation, Patsy gives me a knowing look.
‘I think she’s in there,’ she whispers.
I study Irene’s pretty face, her startling blue eyes framed by soft, slightly curly hair. She has such a magnetic personality too; it’s not surprising the bloke has taken an interest inher. I wonder how many other people out there have worries and insecurities about the way they look that are completely unfounded.
We settle into our short trip across the water, and we reach Kamari in no time. The boat docks several metres from the black sand beach and I notice Irene looks a little panicked.
‘I didn’t realise we would have to get into the water,’ she says, looking a little flustered.
‘It’s only a few feet,’ says Irene’s new friend as she flushes bright red.
‘But I’m wearing a long dress,’ she protests.
‘Hitch it up around your knees, you’ll be fine,’ Patsy tells her.
‘I most certainly will not,’ replies Irene, her usual humour deserting her.
‘Maybe I try to get the boat a little closer,’ the elderly Greek boat man says, noting her obvious embarrassment.
He glides as close to the sand as possible, without actually mooring on the gravel beach, and Irene thanks him. It takes her a little time to descend the rope ladder of the boat, as she carefully places one foot in front of the other.
‘Thank you.’ She smiles to the boat man, who takes her hand for the last few steps.
‘No problem,’ he says kindly, even though he will have to push his boat back into the water. ‘I hope you have a nice afternoon.’ He smiles warmly.
Once in Kamari, we head to a bar and Irene knocks back an ouzo.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask her.
‘Oh yes, fine, much better now.’ She musters a smile. ‘I just got myself into a bit of a tizz and that ladder felt a bit flimsy, I was holding on for dear life.’
‘Well, we’re here now, so let’s enjoy it,’ says Patsy. ‘And I have to say, that bloke on the boat was quite taken with you,wasn’t he?’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Can’t take you anywhere.’ She laughs.
‘What do you mean?’ Irene looks bemused.
‘He definitely fancied you,’ says Patsy.
‘Nonsense, he was just a friendly bloke, making conversation. How could you even think that?’ She seems shocked by the very suggestion.
