decided I wouldn’t share my recent thoughts with him. With his love for analysis, I knew I’d never hear the last of it.
Over beers and a feta salad with fresh olives that I’d bought from a stall in the harbour, I explained to Theo properly about the armillary sphere with its quotations and engraved
coordinates. And the letter Pa Salt had written to me.
‘Well, it certainly sounds like he was well prepared. It must have taken some planning.’
‘Oh yes, he was that sort of person. Everything was always organised perfectly.’
‘Sounds like my kind of man,’ Theo said, mirroring my earlier thoughts. ‘I’ve written my will and issued instructions for my funeral too.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I said with a shudder.
‘Sorry, Ally, but all sailors are in a dangerous game and one just never knows.’
‘Anyway, I’m sure Pa would have liked you a lot.’ I looked at my watch to swiftly change the subject. ‘Should we be leaving to go to wherever it is we’re
headed?’
‘Soon, yes. I want to time our arrival perfectly.’ Theo smiled secretively. ‘Swim?’
Three hours later, when I saw the setting sun flood the sky above a tiny island with a deep orange glow, reflecting off the white-washed houses dotted along the coastline, I understood why
he’d wanted to wait.
‘See? Isn’t it just perfect?’ breathed Theo, who had one hand on the wheel and one arm around me as he steered us into the little harbour.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, as I studied the way the sunset’s rays had seeped into the clouds, rather like an egg yolk gently releasing its contents after it had been burst. ‘Pa
always said that Greek sunsets were the most beautiful in the world.’
‘Then that’s another thing we would have agreed on.’ Theo kissed my neck tenderly.
Given my earlier thoughts, I decided I’d definitely steer clear of Pa Salt’s likes and dislikes for the duration of our holiday.
‘Will you tell me where we are now?’ I asked as we drew into the port and a swarthy youth hurried to grasp the rope I threw in order to secure the boat.
‘Does it matter? You’ll find out in due course. For now, let’s simply call it “Somewhere”.’
Expecting we’d have to haul our rucksacks up the steep hillside, I was surprised when Theo told me to leave them where they were. Having locked the cabin securely, we disembarked and Theo
paid the youth a few euros for his efforts. Then he took my hand and led me along the harbour front to a row of mopeds. He fumbled in his pocket for a key and then fiddled with a padlock, which
released the twisted mass of heavy metal chains wound around one of the bikes.
‘The Greeks are lovely people, but the economy is fairly desperate just now, so it’s better to take precautions. I never want to arrive here and find both wheels are missing. Climb
aboard,’ he offered and I did so reticently, my heart sinking.
I hated mopeds. During my gap year, I’d done as Pa Salt had suggested and set off to see the world with two friends, Marielle and Hélène. We’d started in the Far East
and visited Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. Making our way back to Europe, where I had secured myself a summer waitressing job on the island of Kynthos, we had travelled through Turkey on hired
mopeds. On our way down from Bodrum airport to Kalkan, Marielle had misjudged a treacherous hairpin bend and crashed.
Finding her seemingly lifeless body in the scrub on the hillside, then standing in the middle of the road waiting desperately for any vehicle to pass and help us, was something I’d never
forgotten.
The road had remained deserted, and eventually I’d grasped my mobile and called the only person I could think of who would know what to do. I explained to Pa Salt what had happened, and
where, and he told me not to worry, that help was on its way. An agonising half an hour later, a helicopter had landed with a pilot and a paramedic. They airlifted the three of us to a hospital in
Dalaman.
Over beers and a feta salad with fresh olives that I’d bought from a stall in the harbour, I explained to Theo properly about the armillary sphere with its quotations and engraved
coordinates. And the letter Pa Salt had written to me.
‘Well, it certainly sounds like he was well prepared. It must have taken some planning.’
‘Oh yes, he was that sort of person. Everything was always organised perfectly.’
‘Sounds like my kind of man,’ Theo said, mirroring my earlier thoughts. ‘I’ve written my will and issued instructions for my funeral too.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I said with a shudder.
‘Sorry, Ally, but all sailors are in a dangerous game and one just never knows.’
‘Anyway, I’m sure Pa would have liked you a lot.’ I looked at my watch to swiftly change the subject. ‘Should we be leaving to go to wherever it is we’re
headed?’
‘Soon, yes. I want to time our arrival perfectly.’ Theo smiled secretively. ‘Swim?’
Three hours later, when I saw the setting sun flood the sky above a tiny island with a deep orange glow, reflecting off the white-washed houses dotted along the coastline, I understood why
he’d wanted to wait.
‘See? Isn’t it just perfect?’ breathed Theo, who had one hand on the wheel and one arm around me as he steered us into the little harbour.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, as I studied the way the sunset’s rays had seeped into the clouds, rather like an egg yolk gently releasing its contents after it had been burst. ‘Pa
always said that Greek sunsets were the most beautiful in the world.’
‘Then that’s another thing we would have agreed on.’ Theo kissed my neck tenderly.
Given my earlier thoughts, I decided I’d definitely steer clear of Pa Salt’s likes and dislikes for the duration of our holiday.
‘Will you tell me where we are now?’ I asked as we drew into the port and a swarthy youth hurried to grasp the rope I threw in order to secure the boat.
‘Does it matter? You’ll find out in due course. For now, let’s simply call it “Somewhere”.’
Expecting we’d have to haul our rucksacks up the steep hillside, I was surprised when Theo told me to leave them where they were. Having locked the cabin securely, we disembarked and Theo
paid the youth a few euros for his efforts. Then he took my hand and led me along the harbour front to a row of mopeds. He fumbled in his pocket for a key and then fiddled with a padlock, which
released the twisted mass of heavy metal chains wound around one of the bikes.
‘The Greeks are lovely people, but the economy is fairly desperate just now, so it’s better to take precautions. I never want to arrive here and find both wheels are missing. Climb
aboard,’ he offered and I did so reticently, my heart sinking.
I hated mopeds. During my gap year, I’d done as Pa Salt had suggested and set off to see the world with two friends, Marielle and Hélène. We’d started in the Far East
and visited Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. Making our way back to Europe, where I had secured myself a summer waitressing job on the island of Kynthos, we had travelled through Turkey on hired
mopeds. On our way down from Bodrum airport to Kalkan, Marielle had misjudged a treacherous hairpin bend and crashed.
Finding her seemingly lifeless body in the scrub on the hillside, then standing in the middle of the road waiting desperately for any vehicle to pass and help us, was something I’d never
forgotten.
The road had remained deserted, and eventually I’d grasped my mobile and called the only person I could think of who would know what to do. I explained to Pa Salt what had happened, and
where, and he told me not to worry, that help was on its way. An agonising half an hour later, a helicopter had landed with a pilot and a paramedic. They airlifted the three of us to a hospital in
Dalaman.
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