Being Shirley Page 14

  “Tell me what she was wearing again.” Carl’s hands were clasped in anticipation of being titillated and horrified.

  Annie smiled at the memory. “Well, she had really excelled herself this time and I think she must have come straight from line dancing because she had a white Stetson hat on, a white fringed leather jacket, a white leather mini skirt, and fringed white leather ankle boots.”

  “Oh my God, she must have looked like some kind of ageing Country and Western angel! I’m thinking Dolly Parton without the knockers or an over-the-hill Taylor Swift! And I can just imagine the wrinkly knees.”

  Annie laughed. “You have such a way with words but yes, she was definitely channelling her inner country music chick and her knees just about had facial expressions of their own.” Ngaire had the most appalling taste in clothes but in a strange way she would miss being appalled on a regular basis by her wardrobe. She had dined out over the years on Ngaire’s choice of clothes. Her smile disappeared, though, as she relayed the mouthful she had been on the receiving end of that afternoon. There had been no pleasantries as like in a scene from that old time and appropriately named musical Annie Get Your Gun. She’d launched into her, all barrels a blazing.

  “I’m here to find out just what you think you’re playing at, madam, treating my son the way you have?” One ankle boot had pawed at the ground. For a moment, she had reminded Annie of a bull in a ring and she half-pie expected steam to start coming out of her flaring nostrils.

  She’d drawn a deep breath, determined not to let her frighten her. “I’m not playing at anything, Ngaire, and I’m sorry that things between me and Tony haven’t worked out.” She’d paused for a moment to look her straight in her beady, over-made up eyes. “It’s nobody’s fault; it’s just the way it is. It happens and we both need to make a clean break of things now before we wind up making a big mistake and growing to really dislike each other.” She’d given a small shrug, hoping her explanation would suffice. But Ngaire wasn’t done—no siree, not by a country mile—and her eyes narrowed even further between their rim of thick blue kohl liner.

  “Oh, I know it’s not my Tony’s fault because he’s not the one swanning off to some godforsaken country on the other side of the world, now is he?”

  “I’m going to Greece, actually, and it’s quite civilised or at least it was the last time I checked.”

  “Don’t condescend to me, young lady. I know where Greece is. I just don’t understand why you are going there.”

  “It’s something I need to do. You wouldn’t understand.” Annie didn’t want to tell her about Roz and the pilgrimage of sorts she was going to make. The older woman would probably only snort at her plans anyway. Besides, it felt wrong to talk to her about her sister because she had always been quick to mutter on about the past being the past and that is exactly where it should stay.

  “Too bloody right I don’t understand. You don’t just pack up and leave your life behind with no word of warning to anyone. What you are doing is selfish, pure and simple.” Spittle flew out of her red lipsticked mouth. Annie took a step backwards and her grip tightened on the door handle.

  “I’m sorry you think that but I have talked to Tony and explained my reasons for going and he understands, even if he doesn’t entirely get it right now. He agreed with me, you know—that we weren’t really going anywhere and that he wasn’t ready to get married. It’s just that I’m the one who decided to do something about the rut we were in.” Annie didn’t like the way Ngaire clenched her fists but she carried on in her attempt to explain her actions. “We’d become a habit and we needed to part ways before we became an unhealthy habit.” She was pleased with her summing up; she felt it was rather eloquent.

  Ngaire, who must have been digging holes in her palms with those talons of hers, did not.

  “Don’t you be comparing my son to an unhealthy habit, young lady! He isn’t a packet of cigarettes, you know. Tony is a lovely, kind boy with feelings!” She unfurled her right hand and pointed her index finger at her as though she’d prod her in the chest but had changed her mind at the last minute. She waggled it at her instead. “Feelings that you’ve hurt by stomping all over him the way you have.”

  Annie opened her mouth to protest but Ngaire was determined to say her piece. “But I came here today to tell you, madam, that you needn’t think you’ve broken his heart because there’s plenty more fish in the sea. And in my opinion, he’s better off without a hardnosed, orange-haired shark like you.”

  For a moment, Annie had toyed with tossing back that at least she didn’t resemble a chocolate-covered raisin like Ngaire did thanks to the pancake foundation she insisted on trowelling on but she bit it back. She was bigger than that. “I have shown you the courtesy of hearing you out, Ngaire, even though I don’t think that what’s going on between Tony and me is actually any of your business, so I’d thank you not to hurl cheap insults.”

  They eyed each other in a silent stand-off until Ngaire broke it with a sniff. “Anyway, I suppose I should be thanking you really, because you’ve done us a favour by buggering off. I never liked you much, what with your hoity-toity ways. You always thought you were better than us.”

  It took all of Annie’s willpower to remain calm but she knew from experience that the best way to deal with a rabid ex soon-to-be mother-in-law was to agree with her. “Well, it’s probably best all round that I am going then because I don’t think there is any going back now you’ve said your piece. And you know, this might surprise you, but I don’t want any ill feeling between Tony and me because we were together too long for that and do you know what else?”

  Ngaire opened her mouth to cut her off but Annie was on a roll. “Despite what you think of me, I haven’t suddenly stopped caring about Tony and what happens to him, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stir the pot.” Annie realised she shook after that little impassioned speech. She had stood up to Ngaire and it had felt good. As she hovered by the door and waited for her to leave, she could almost see the cogs slowly turn in her brain, or at least she would have, had the white Stetson not blocked the view. She was trying to process Annie’s sudden cockiness and Annie watched, fascinated by the tiny ribbons of lipstick that snaked out from her pursed lips. To have the last word, Ngaire did prod her in the chest this time.

  “Like I said, my girl, there’s plenty more fish in the sea for a catch like my Tony, so when you come home with your tail between your legs, having had an allergic reaction to all those olives, don’t you even think about sending out a baited line. Got it?”

  “Got it, thanks, Ngaire. Goodbye.” Annie shut the door on a face she hoped she wouldn’t bump into again for a long, long time. She stood in the hallway and exhaled slowly. She couldn’t help but feel she had had a lucky escape.

  Carl jarred her recall. “I bet she was like a female Clint Eastwood, you know,” he squinted and made a pistol with his index and middle fingers aiming it at Annie as he said, “go ahead—make my day.”

  It was a pretty good comparison, Annie thought as he crossed his legs and gave her yet another good boot in the shin. She bent over and rubbed at where he’d bruised her. Her legs would be black and blue by the time they landed in Athens—not a good bikini body look. She shot him a dirty look before she leaned back into the seat’s head rest and thought wearily that this whole nightmare situation would be funny if she wasn’t so darn tired. She couldn’t help but think, too, that the television networks could make a reality show of this trip titled The World’s Worst Travel Companion. They’d be guaranteed thirty hours of riveting viewing. She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer that this flight would eventually come to an end.

  Chapter Fifteen

  God had heard her prayer, Annie thought as she forced one sleep-encrusted eye open in order to peek around the unfamiliar room. The walls were painted a shade of buttercup yellow that even in her foggy state demanded cheeriness and from where she lay in her single bed under a thin blue coverlet, she could see a set
of French doors. The thick white paint coating their frames had peeled away in places and gave them a rustic charm that anywhere else might seem shabby. They were framed by an airy set of ineffectual blue drapes that they had left open last night, too tired to bother to draw them closed. Besides, it would have been a pointless exercise, anyway, for all the light they would have blocked out. Now as daylight streamed in through the doors, Annie could see the tiny wrought-iron balcony that they led out to. She felt a frisson of excitement as the realisation slowly seeped through her half-asleep brain. They were here—they were actually here in Athens!

  She stretched languidly and shook off the remnants of what had felt like the never-ending journey before she pulled herself up into a sitting position. Across the small square room on a matching single bed pushed hard up against the wall was the slumbering bulk of Carl. Both his legs protruded out from his identical coverlet; his feet dangled over the end of the bed as he lay face down, starfished. He had not been impressed upon their late arrival at the guesthouse Annie had booked as a last-minute deal to find that it was also a budget guesthouse. Not only did it not have air con but it was, in Carl’s opinion, the absolute bottom scraping of the barrel to have to share a bathroom with other guests. Annie had hissed back at him that he wasn’t on one of his all-expenses paid photography shoots now and that as they were only in the ancient city for a couple of days, she didn’t want to blow her budget on luxury accommodation. She fanned herself and wished that the budget had stretched to air-conditioning, though, because the room was already beginning to feel like an oven. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

  Perhaps if she were to open the doors up and let a bit of fresh air in, it might cool the room a little? She flung her cover aside and tiptoed across the room to unlock the doors. She didn’t bother to hook them back as not even a hint of a breeze stirred the hot air that blasted her as she stepped out onto the balcony. Last night on the long bus ride into the city from the airport, the darkened graffiti scrawled buildings had not taken her breath away.

  The vista had improved, however, as they reached the much more grandiosely lit buildings of the historic district. Finding themselves deposited on the side of the road, bags and all, they had tried to flag down a taxi. Mercifully, it hadn’t taken long and before they knew it, they were driven at breakneck speed through a tangled maze of streets. Annie had tried not to think about the statistic she had happened upon in her guide book that the Greeks had the highest road fatality statistics in Europe and was relieved when it hadn’t taken too many twists and turns before they had ended up here at Achilles House.

  Now, as she looked at her surrounds curiously, she could see the guesthouse was tucked away, down the bottom of a narrow one-way street. Across the street were apartments and she watched a woman peg her washing on a line strewn across her balcony. In the distance, she could make out the hectic horn honking noises of a city going about its business. Annie sniffed the air appreciatively and inhaled the scent from the jasmine climbing the wall below her. She leaned over the rail and spied a couple seated below in the pebbled courtyard, breakfasting. Cars and motorbikes lined the street, wheels mounted on the pavement in order to park. Hugging herself delightedly, her senses swam with it all and she had to fight back the urge to run downstairs to begin exploring right away. A glimpse down at her T-shirt, which barely covered her knickers, put paid to that idea, though, and as she spied an older gent across the way who had also just noticed the same thing, she quickly ducked back into the room.

  Carl still snored as she flopped back on her bed. Lying there for a moment, she watched the ancient ceiling fan rotate laboriously before she cocked an ear. She desperately needed a long, cool shower to rid herself of the stale, sticky reminder of all that travel. Not hearing any signs of life from out in the hall, she decided the coast was clear. She scooped up her toilet bag and tiptoed out the door.

  ***

  “Ah, coffee! It is indeed the nectar of the gods,” Carl announced but his words lacked his usual theatrical gusto as the cup and saucer were placed in front of him.

  He did look a bit wan. Annie wrinkled her brow with concern as a waft of much-needed caffeine tickled her nostrils. As the smart young waiter removed her own cup and saucer from the tray he expertly balanced on the flat of his palm, she decided to bite the bullet, even if she did feel a bit of a fraud. “Ef-ha-ri-sto.” The Greek didn’t exactly flow off her tongue as she thanked the waiter.

  “Pa-ra-ka-lo.” His dark brown eyes twinkled as he gave her a broad smile before he retreated back inside the café to collect his next order.

  Ah well, at least her efforts had been appreciated, Annie thought and hoped he had replied something along the lines of you are welcome because she’d be none the wiser had he told her she had nice boobs. “How are you feeling?” she asked as Carl took a ginger sip of his brew.

  “So, so. Those tablets have helped a bit.”

  “Are you sure you should be drinking coffee with an upset stomach?”

  “It would take more than a bout of the trots to put me off my daily caffeine fix.”

  Poor Carl had woken with the traveller’s runs, which had only served to intensify his distaste for having to share a bathroom. It was the other guests on their floor she felt sorry for. Annie screwed her nose up as she tried to block out the awful sound effects that emanated from the bowels of the bathroom. She hoped her fellow guests didn’t think she was responsible for them!

  Once he’d showered and dressed, he looked more like his old self. As he checked his hair one last time in the mirror, he’d turned round, arms outstretched, to ask, “Will I do—will Athens love me, sweetheart?”

  Annie had to choke back a giggle because in true Carl fashion, he looked as though he’d just stepped out of an advert for the latest in outdoor travel gear.

  “You certainly look the part of Metropolitan Man goes global,” she managed to reply.

  “Good to know, even if I don’t feel it.” He ran his fingers through his freshly shampooed hair and noticed what Annie wore. He frowned. “Are you going to be alright out and about in that skirt?”

  “I have to wear a long skirt because of all the bruises on my legs but what’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. It’s pretty, very ethereal. The perfect skirt for floating around ancient Athens in. It’s just that I’d hate for you to chaff in that heat. You might be better off in shorts because it can be quite painful, you know.”

  She didn’t want to ask how he was so knowledgeable about such things and so assuring him her thighs would be fine, thank you very much, they set forth in search of their first stop—a pharmacy. This didn’t prove a difficult task as the hard to miss neon green crosses that signified medical help seemed to be on every street corner—unlike public amenities, Annie noticed. She hoped Carl, who swaggered with a cowboy’s gait, would be okay.

  While he had chomped on a Maalox tablet, Annie opened the map they had been given by the Achilles’s concierge and pondered the best route to the heart of the old district of Plaka for their first glimpse of the Acropolis.

  “My sense of direction is not usually the best but it looks like we carry on up here and then hang a left.”

  Carl leaned over her shoulder, his breath lemony from the tablet, and traced a finger over the route. “I think you’re right. Come on.”

  The pavements they walked were old and cracked, their kerbs high, and on the road, the traffic was an incessant cacophony of car horns and motorbike engines revving. The smell of exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke mingled on the hot air as they wandered past elderly couples sitting outside their shops on plastic stools, waiting for passing trade to call in. The scene was a curious mix of both the laid-back and a chaotic bustle, unlike anything she had seen before. Annie was determined to soak it all in.

  “Look, Carl—” She pointed to a brick church across the road and they paused to admire its quintessential Greek design as its huge brass bell hanging in the tower began to toll. They watched
a thin man with impressive facial hair clad in a long black robe with a black domed style hat perched atop his head as he hastened up the street. He ducked under one of the church archways and disappeared from view. They grinned at each other in an unspoken delight at the foreign scene they’d just seen unfurl and carried on. Annie willed herself not to look up because there was a precariousness it didn’t pay to think about in the way the geranium-filled concrete balconies jutted out over their heads. As they reached the end of the street, the looming old buildings gave way to a fork in the road, which presented them with their first glimpse of the ancient ruins that overlooked the city. Annie nearly walked into an outdoor café table setting. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She apologised and reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the Acropolis to the couple clinging on to their table.

  “Hey, no problem, honey. It’s quite something, isn’t it,” a broad American accent stated from beneath a cap.

  Annie nodded, lost for words, as Carl pulled her away to find a quiet spot away from the long line of red umbrella shaded tables where they could stand and soak up the scene they had come so far to see. Beneath the shade of a tree, they stood in silence with their arms linked and watched the lines of people make the pilgrimage to the Parthenon at the top. They looked like a never-ending stream of worker ants, snaking their way up the hill, Annie decided. She shivered despite the heat at the sight that was both surreal but familiar at the same time, having seen it so many times in movies or read in books. “Think how many changes that building has borne witness to from its perch up there. Thousands of years of changes—the thought of it is giving me goosebumps,” Annie whispered; she didn’t know why she whispered—it just seemed appropriate.

  “It’s amazing—absolutely bloody amazing,” Carl whispered back. They looked at each other and laughed.