Wish You Were Here

Chapter 18



Alice didn’t want to leave the villa for the rest of the day because she sincerely believed that Milo would call and explain everything and she didn’t want to miss him when he arrived. Of course, that meant spending the rest of the day with Stella, but the villa was big enough for the two of them and Alice was determined to remain positive.

Something must have happened to him, she kept thinking over and over again. Maybe there’d been some emergency at home like the washing machine had exploded or his moped had broken down. There might be any number of explanations for him not to be able to leave her a message and explain things properly.

‘If only I could think of one really good one,’ she said to herself.

As the day wore on, she thought again of her idea to try and find Milo. If he wasn’t going to come to her, why shouldn’t she try to find him? Maybe he’d done something simple like twisted his ankle or broken his wrist and couldn’t ride his moped either to work or to see her. Perhaps he was sitting on the island somewhere, hoping and praying that she’d make an effort to find him.

With this thought whirling through her brain, she left the villa, shouting a quick goodbye to Stella. She decided it was probably best that she didn’t ask about Milo at the Villa Argenti for fear of them being put on stalker alert, and Milo’s colleague didn’t seem to know much anyway and there had been that slight problem of him coming on to her. What was it with the men on Kethos she wondered? She’d never had this effect on men back home in England.

Putting thoughts of flirtatious Greek men out of her head, she walked into town. She’d got to the harbour before she’d worked out what she was going to do but fifty-five minutes later, a little bus dropped her off at the town of Kintos.

Pelagios was there, waddling along the harbour front and Alice ducked her head for fear of being spotted by him. Now was not the time for an amorous encounter with a pelican.

Ignoring the lure of the pretty shops, she went into the little taverna where she had shared a meal with Milo and walked boldly up to the counter. The man who had served them immediately recognized her and a huge smile bisected his face.

‘Ah!’ he said. ‘The beautiful English girl!’

Alice bit her lip. She was alone and no longer had the protection of Milo when it came to overly-romantic men, but what choice did she have if she wanted to find him?

‘Hello,’ she said politely. ‘I was here yesterday.’

‘Yes, yes!’ he said nodding enthusiastically. ‘And you came back today! This is good news indeed. It means you like me, yes?’

‘No!’ Alice said quickly. A little too quickly, perhaps, judging by the look of dismay on his face. ‘I mean, I came here hoping you could help me. I was with a young man – remember?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Him! I remember. But I do not think he was right for you. He was – too young. Much too young! You need an older man. A man with – how you say – experience!’

Alice shook her head vehemently. ‘But I need to find him. It’s important. His name’s Milo Galani and I don’t know where he lives. I was hoping you might be able to help.’

‘You want to know where he lives?’

Alice nodded. ‘Please help me. I’ll do anything.’ It was the wrong thing to say because the man’s face immediately lit up and he crossed to Alice’s side of the counter in record time and grabbed her hands in his, kissing them fervently.

‘Anything?’ he said, his breath heavy and ragged and the colouring of his face rising alarmingly.

‘Please let go of me!’ Alice cried, trying to tug her hands away from him but his grip was too strong. ‘I said – let go!’ Before he could even think to respond to her protest, Alice’s foot shot out and kicked him in the shin. It wasn’t a terribly hard kick but it was enough to startle him into submission, giving Alice time to flee the taverna and bolt into a little shop further along the harbour.

Her heart was racing wildly and there were tears in her eyes. This was not turning out the way she’d imagined. All she wanted to do was find Milo but how could she do that when nobody would even listen to her?

‘Hello?’ a voice suddenly called from behind her. Alice turned around and came face to face with a woman in her thirties with long dark hair and a kind smile. ‘You are English?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Alice said. ‘And you speak English?’

‘Not so good,’ the woman said with a little smile.

‘But better than my Greek,’ Alice replied. ‘Can you help me?’

The woman nodded. ‘I try.’

Alice told the woman about Milo – how they’d met and how she needed to find him but didn’t know where he lived. The woman listened quietly, nodding occasionally and then, when Alice stopped, she shook her index finger excitedly.

‘You need to speak to Alexandros,’ she said.

‘Who’s he?’

‘The postman. If your Milo lives near here, Alexandros will know.’

‘Of course! I should have thought of that!’ Alice said excitedly. ‘Thank you so much.’ She leaned forward and hugged the young woman who giggled like a child.

Leaving the shop and following the directions the woman had given her, Alice soon found the little cafe which Alexandros regularly patronised and, sure enough, there he was, sitting in a pool of sunshine with a glass of something tall and cool in his right hand. He looked ancient. At least ninety, Alice thought, although that couldn’t be right if he was still working. Maybe his job had exposed him to every hour of sunshine on Kethos and his skin was paying the price for it.

She suddenly felt nervous as she rooted around in her handbag for a pen and a piece of paper. She’d been warned that Alexandros didn’t speak any English but he nodded when she showed him her piece of paper with Milo’s name on it and watched as he took her pen from her and proceeded to doodle a little map on the back of it, chattering away in Greek and motioning with his hands.

Finally, he gave her the piece of paper and Alice thanked him. She was just walking away when he called out to her, motioning to his drink and nodding towards her with a great fat smile on his ancient face. Alice shook her head as politely as she could and fled the scene.

The little bus that left the town of Kintos fifteen minutes later was even smaller and rattlier than the other two buses she’d experienced on the island but she didn’t mind. As long as it takes me to Milo, she told herself, looking out of the window and then down at the doodle that Alexandros had made for her and recognising the bend in the road and the little church that he had drawn. Hers was the next stop just outside a small village at the bottom of a hill.

When Alice got off the bus, she was immediately aware of the silence. Kethos Town and Kintos had been full of cheering noise but this place was different. This, she felt, was the real Kethos – the Kethos that Milo adored – and she could see why. Few tourists would make it to this part of the island. There were no shops here, no monuments and no tavernas. There were barely any locals either, judging by the size of the village, but the place held a magical aura with its tiny white houses and uninterrupted view of the sea.

Looking down at her map once more, she followed the road up the hill, passing a small herd of goats, their little bells tinkling merrily. The house, according to the postman, was just around the next bend. He’d marked it with a large cross as if treasure might be buried there and Alice certainly hoped that he was right.

A nervous hand flew to her hair which she did her best to flatten, fearing that it had gone flyaway in the warm breeze. Before leaving the villa, she had changed into the violet dress that she’d bought in the little boutique in Kethos Town and, for once in her life, she didn’t feel overdressed. She felt as if she was wearing exactly the right thing.

Turning the corner, she saw the tiny white home that the postman had indicated was there and saw Milo almost immediately but some instinct told her not to call out. He had his back to her and she looked lovingly at the dark curls of his hair.

She watched for a moment. He was carrying a large basket which he put on the ground and she smiled as she saw him take out two stripey shirts, placing them on the washing line. But her expression changed a moment later when he picked up a tiny dress and pegged it onto the line.

It was the dress of a little girl.