Page 24 of The Greek Café

I’m decked out in a long floaty white dress, straw sunhat and matching bag.

I daresay, we might look like quite the attractive couple. Pity I don’t fancy him.

‘Bugger, I left it in my hotel room,’ says Kai. ‘I’ll buy another. There will be tons of shops around.’ Maybe the truth is he doesn’t want to mess up his hair.

‘I’m not walking with you if you buy a hat that says “I love Rhodes”.’ I giggle.

‘As if.’ He laughs. ‘Although from what I’ve seen of it so far, I think I am beginning to love Rhodes.’

He gives me an appreciative once-over and compliments me on my dress.

‘I can see why,’ I say, ignoring the flirty look in his eyes, and taking in the fields of pine trees spreading out in the distance. We pass the occasional house, one painted a pale yellow, and with an older guy in the garden watering some colourful plants in terracotta pots. He bids us a good morning as we pass.

‘Imagine living here,’ I say as we make our way downhill. ‘Such tranquillity, yet the harbourfront’s not far away. I suppose it’s the best of both worlds.’ I sigh.

‘Not that great in the winter though,’ he tells me. ‘I mean, not as cold as home or anything, but most tavernas close for the winter, so it gets pretty quiet. And there are no direct flights from the UK.’

He has a point, of course.

‘You worked out here, didn’t you? Was that over the winter months?’

‘Late autumn really, just as the season was ending. It’s when a lot of building work is done,’ he tells me as we approach the harbour. ‘So as not to disrupt the tourist activity too much. The flight out was okay, but getting home in late November meant a flight to Athens, then home.’

The harbourside is bustling with people, some standing looking at boards advertising various boat trips. A party boat is leaving in an hour and the fact that I can’t think of anything worse makes me feel as ancient as the Acropolis.

‘Not your thing then?’ I tease when I follow Kai’s gaze to a bunch of young women giggling as they head up the plank of the party boat that leaves shortly.

‘I suppose it has its merits,’ he says, eyeing a particularly attractive brunette.

‘I could never do that.’ I shake my head. ‘I get seasick.’

‘What? Now you tell me?’

‘Not on a short ride to Lindos.’ I laugh. ‘But a long sail on a party boat with alcohol and dancing is something quite different. I would probably panic if I got seasick and wanted to get back to shore. I’d be asking the captain to man the lifeboats.’

‘You don’t strike me as someone who is anxious.’ He turns and looks at me.

‘Ah, well, it is easy to hide sometimes; ask any anxious person. Unless it is something really overwhelming and then you can’t conceal your feelings.’

‘Like performing in front of a crowd to Abba.’

‘Exactly. I was a nervous wreck but actually the event itself wasn’t so bad, which is often the case. And the vodka helped.’

‘You were drunk?’ He raises an eyebrow.

‘Not at all. One shot was all, to take the edge off.’

We hop onto the boat and take our seats ready to take the trip to nearby Lindos, feeling the warm sun wash over my skin.

The trip is a short but delightful journey. We glide across the blue waters amongst a group of excited holidaymakers including a family with a young boy who is carrying a fishing net on a pole. It reminds me of when I was a kid, and Dad took me crabbing in Cornwall. I count myself lucky to have such happy childhood memories to look back on.

As the boat pulls away, the harbour at Rhodes slowly fades into the distance, its mediaeval walls and bustling streets giving way to the vast sea and glimpses of cliffs bathed in sunlight. I try not to think about the last boat trip I took here with James, determined to enjoy the moment.

The water is a rich turquoise and I can hardly wait to dive into it when we reach the beach at Lindos. We carry on, the boat hugging the coastline passing tiny coves and hidden caves. I turn my face to the sun, feeling the warmth wash over me. As I do so, I once more imagine this being my home. It is a feeling I cannot seem to shake off, however improbable it might seem.

Kai is glancing over the side of the boat, watching a bloke in a speedboat zip by, with two bikini-clad women.

He turns to me. ‘Fancy doing that one day?’