Of course joy was fleeting, the same as any other emotion, but she decided she’d suffer a thousand setbacks just to hold on to this glorious feeling for as long as possible.
They were a little late to arrive at the restaurant and some of their guests were already seated under a cheerful blue and white striped canopy, overlooking the sea.
Waiters had put together several large tables, as Stella had requested, covered in white linen cloths adorned with jars of fresh wildflowers and flickering candles, as it was already quite dark.
April, her husband and children were occupying one end of the table, close to Marina and Katerina. Baby Nikos had been provided with a highchair and looked very pleased with himself, clutching a big a set of keys which his parents must have given him.
He kept dropping them, then one of his siblings would have to bend down and pick them up. He was clapping and laughing, finding it all highly entertaining, his brother and sisters rather less so.
April had clearly gone to some trouble with her appearance and was wearing a revealing strapless black top showing lots of cleavage, and heaps of makeup. She’d also washed and blow-dried her blonde hair. It was the first time Stella had seen it down, and it made her look younger and prettier.
Her husband, in a jacket and open-necked shirt beside her, appeared proud and proprietorial, with an arm round his wife’s voluptuous, bare brown shoulders.
Meanwhile, Marina was in a silky, voluminous, bright-pink and orange shirt, with several buttons undone at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves.
Katerina had opted for a neat, cream, short-sleeved blouse. It wasn’t particularly dressy, but she’d picked some rather beautiful, eye-catching gold and amber earrings, with a matching necklace, and looked smiley and relaxed.
Stella hadn’t quite finished saying hello to the group when the five rescuers and four wives arrived together.
Black haired, deeply tanned and sporting bushy beards and moustaches, the men made quite an entrance, talking and laughing in loud voices and slapping the waiters on the back.
Judging by their exuberance, Stella guessed they’d been on a pre-lash, probably without their less boisterous wives, who were following behind.
She soon gathered that none of them spoke much English, so it was going to be difficult to communicate. Hopefully, some of the bilingual guests would help translate.
In any case, she thought, the occasion was more about raising a glass and buying the men a slap-up meal to say thank you, rather than attempting to have deep, meaningful conversations.
She also wanted to thank the kind villagers who’d expressed concern for her and Jon, and she’d even brought them little gifts.
One of the waiters arrived with carafes of local red wine, white wine in ice buckets and jugs of water, while another fetched baskets of fresh crusty bread and jars of local extra virgin olive oil for dipping. Stella and Louise suggested their families fan out and find places to sit, where possible, amongst the locals. Once everyone was settled and drinks had been poured, the volume started to rise. There were quite a few other diners, but luckily they were making plenty of noise, too, and Stella reckoned it was unlikely her party would annoy anyone.
She’d already agreed with Jon and Al that she’d make the speech. Jon didn’t want to say anything, and Al felt it would be more appropriate coming from his wife.
To psych herself up, Stella reminded herself this wasn’t about her; she was here to show heartfelt gratitude.
Without the help of the local men, it would have taken far longer to get her and Jon back to the village and airlifted to hospital. They might have died of hypothermia. And the villagers in general had shown great kindness and hospitality.
Before the food arrived, Al gave Stella a nudge and she rose to her feet, feeling self-conscious. Hector, across from her, pinged his glass with a spoon and the guests fell silent.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow,’ Stella began, feeling herself turn pink. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve fallen in love with Porto Liakáda and I don’t want to leave.’
She paused, noticing Katerina whispering in the ear of her next-door neighbour, one of the rescuers, who nodded, before passing the message along. Soon, the whole table erupted into laughter and cheering, and several people slapped their knees or banged their knives and forks. Even the waiters, in white shirts and black trousers, grinned and clapped.
When the cacophony died down, Stella cleared her throat and smiled.
‘I wanted to take this opportunity to say a massive thank you to you all for helping to rescue me and my friend Jon, here.’
She gestured to him and he put his hands together, as if in prayer, and bowed his head.
‘Thank you also for being so welcoming when we arrived. Thanks for your beautiful scenery and fabulous food, and heartfelt thanks to all you lovely people. We’ll be back!’
With that, she raised her glass and said, ‘To you all!’
This didn’t take long to interpret and after just a few moments, everyone raised their glasses and cried, ‘Yamas!’ and, ‘Cheers!’
The food began arriving as soon as she sat down, and it was a proper feast. They started with a selection of Cretan meze:Dolmades, delicate little parcels made of courgette flowers and stuffed with rice and herbs, which melted in the mouth;Dakos, a hard barley rusk topped with the sweetest-tasting chopped tomatoes and tangy, crumbled, Cretanmizithracheese, plus olives, capers and rich, golden, extra virgin olive oil; Tzatziki, made with thick Greek yoghurt, garlic, cucumber and more olive oil; a salad of smoked aubergine, nutty-tasting tahini, chives and parsley; fried aubergine with drymizithracheese and the lightest, crispiest fried calamari.
The wine flowed and when Stella’s faltering attempt to communicate with one of the rescuer’s wives came to an end, she sat for a few moments in silence, gazing round her at the animated faces and soaking up the warm atmosphere.
