Katerina Papadakis welcomes you to the magic of Villa Ariadne and Porto Liakáda. No roads, no cars, no mopeds. You will arrive here by ferry from Chora Sfakion, fifteen minutes away, and immediately feel as if you have left behind the stresses of the modern world.
Villa Ariadne is a historic jewel. Built by the Venetians, sections date back to the fifteenth century. While retaining many traditional features, however, it has been lovingly updated to create a modern, luxurious yet laid-back and uniquely calming home.
Everywhere you look, there is some piece of art, pottery or sculpture to delight tired eyes and soothe weary souls and senses. Everywhere you go, you will be able to lose yourself in nature, whether in the mountains, by the coast, in the azure Libyan Sea, or just at home in the villa’s gardens, filled with aromatic flowers and trees.
The villa is set high up in the White Mountains overlooking Porto Liakáda, where discos and clubs don’t exist, just a few quiet bars and restaurants by the beautiful bay. Night life is you, your conversation, your next drink, as you gaze up at the night sky and feel yourself start to reconnect with what really matters in life…
Edie thought it could have been written just for her; it was uncanny. It was almost as if someone or something out there knew she was feeling sad and wanted to reconnect with her husband, but didn’t know how.
Quickly scrolling through the photo gallery, she found herself impressed with everything the villa had to offer: the large, airy bedrooms, some with sea views; the modern bathrooms and kitchen; the spacious dining room; interesting artwork; and most of all, the pool and lush green garden, filled with brightly coloured flowers.
Tucked away in a private stone courtyard, there was even a square-shaped plunge pool, decorated with beautiful blue and white mosaics. Edie could already picture herself with her nose in a book, cooling off in the crystal-clear water.
On the third and final website page, there was a lot of information on things to do and see around Porto Liakáda. There were no reviews of Villa Ariadne, however, and she couldn’t see anything about the price.
The only way of finding out was to email Mrs Papadakis. Edie suspected the house would be taken already and even it was free on the dates she asked for, it would probably be far too expensive. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained…
‘Dear Mrs Papadakis,’ she typed, before going on to explain what she wanted and asking how much it would cost.
She was about to sign off when something made her hesitate.
‘My husband and I had a dreamy honeymoon in Crete many years ago,’she quickly typed,‘but we haven’t been back since. Now our children are all grown up, I’d love to try to recreate some of those happy memories and maybe even recapture some romance!
‘I look forward to hearing from you.
‘All very best, Edie Lovell.’
Swiftly, she reread what she’d written and wondered if she should delete the final paragraph. Perhaps it sounded too personal and odd. After all, most couples seeking a romantic holiday wouldn’t invite their friends, too. Mrs Papadakis had no idea Edie wanted Hannah and Mac as a buffer, in case the silence between her and Ralph became deafening, the atmosphere between them unbearably chilly.
There again, it was unlikely the villa would be available anyway, so why waste time fretting about what the woman might or might not think?
She pressed send and waited to hear the satisfyingwhooshas the email went on its way. It was done.
Her tummy fluttered. Crete, the birthplace of Zeus, king of the gods, and also El Greco, the Renaissance painter. The centre of Europe’s first advanced civilisation and home of the fearsome half man, half bull, the Minotaur.
A place of rocks, mountains, deep gorges, pebbly beaches and secret coves with soft, golden sand. In other words, a land of contrasts.
It could be exactly what she needed.
2
She was lying in bed with her eyes closed when Ralph got home around midnight. After finishing her marking, she’d run a bath and soaked in lavender-scented water for a while, hoping it would make her sleepy.
Instead, to her annoyance, she’d remained wide awake, listening for the key in the lock.
Now she could hear Ralph as clear as day, talking nonsense to the dog in the kitchen in the silly sing-song voice he reserved specially for her.
‘Hey, bubba… Who’s a good little doggie, then…?’
He was obviously tipsy and she hoped he’d remember to put Dilly out in the garden for one last pee, then bring her back in and lock the door properly afterwards.
She heard his heavy steps coming upstairs and when he pushed open the bedroom door, the glare of the landing light made her flinch. Lumbering in, he caught his leg on the edge of the bed on his way to the bathroom.
‘Fuck me, that hurt!’
She had to suppress a giggle.
Soon, the bathroom lit up, too, and the bedroom, no longer soothing and peaceful, felt like the inside of an airport terminal. Ralph relieved himself loudly, sighed, then washed his hands and buzzed away with the electric toothbrush for what seemed like an age.
