Slowly, their eyes drifted down the shadowy mountainside towards the twinkling lights of Porto Liakáda and after that, the shimmering, silvery sea.
‘It makes you feel so small, doesn’t it, looking at such vastness?’ Cleo commented.
Tash didn’t reply; she must have been lost in the beauty of it. But then all of a sudden, Cleo became aware of Tash’s breathing; she was panting and wheezing, seemingly struggling for air.
Swivelling round, Cleo was shocked to see her new friend bent over, with one hand on her chest, the other clutching the top of the balustrade as if to stop herself from keeling over.
‘Oh God! What is it?’ Cleo asked, momentarily frozen to the spot. ‘What’s happened?’
Her first thought was that Tash must be choking on something, some food, perhaps.
Feeling panicky, Cleo dithered for a few seconds before pulling herself together. She was a nurse, for God’s sake. Out of practice, for sure, but she had years of training and experience behind her.
Springing into action, she struck Tash hard between her shoulder blades with the palm of her hand, hoping this would dislodge whatever might be causing the obstruction.
When this didn’t seem to work, she stood behind Tash and made to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre. Tash shook her head violently, however, and tried to push Cleo away before sinking to the floor with her back against the wall.
Even in the shadowy moonlight, Cleo could see Tash’s face had turned pale and sweaty and her chest was heaving as she gasped for oxygen.
Cleo knelt down opposite her friend and observed her closely while figuring out what to do next. She realised Tash was trying to get her breathing under control – and she was partially succeeding.
In between gasps, every now and again she managed to inhale a little more deeply and her shoulders started to relax. It was then it dawned on Cleo that she was dealing with a panic attack.
‘That’s it, take long, slow breaths,’ Cleo said gently, feeling her own shoulders untense a little. Though frightening and horrible, she knew panic attacks were temporary and not dangerous.
‘Let’s count backwards from fifty. That’s it. You’re going to be all right; it will pass.’
Cleo had had a couple of panic attacks herself straight after Paul left. Being in the health service, she’d felt embarrassed and hadn’t intended to tell anyone. Luckily, though, the second attack had happened in front of her GP when she’d made an appointment about another matter.
The GP had been calm and helpful, advising her to count to four while inhaling and exhaling and telling her to focus her gaze on a soothing picture of flowers on the wall. It had worked.
‘Focus on the pool, the water,’ Cleo said soothingly. ‘Look at how still it is, there’s not even a ripple.’
Tash nodded and did as she was told, continuing to inhale and exhale as slowly and deeply as she could.
At last, after what seemed like an age, Tash’s body stopped shaking and her breathing returned to normal. She seemed exhausted, though, and stayed on the ground for quite a while with Cleo alongside, her arm lightly round Tash’s shoulders.
Cleo herself felt wiped out, too. It was as if the stress of being in this situation, not knowing at first what the matter was, had drained all her energy.
‘I’m so sorry for putting you through this,’ Tash managed to mutter at last.
‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Cleo replied with feeling. ‘It wasn’t your fault. It must have been terrifying for you. It was a panic attack, right?’ she added tentatively.
Tash nodded.
‘Have you had one before?’
‘Yes,’ said Tash in a small voice. ‘I’ve been getting them a lot, ever since my husband fell ill. They seem to come out of nowhere, without any warning. Suddenly – whoosh! – my heart starts pounding, I feel faint and I’m gasping for breath. I’m on antidepressants and they help a bit, but they don’t stop the attacks completely. I’ve found tranquillisers like Xanax work better, but they’re addictive. I can’t use them long-term.
‘The panic attacks are the main reason why I’ve given up acting. The thought of having one on stage or in front of the camera is horrific. I can’t do that to myself or anyone else.’
Both women were temporarily distracted by the sound of bleating goats some way down the mountain, their neck bells jingle-jangling. One goat seemed to set off another, then the whole flock, plus any other herds nearby. Their plaintive cries, echoing in the still night, were strangely soothing.
Cleo pulled up her knees and hugged her arms round them.
‘I get them too,’ she confessed, ‘but I haven’t had one for a while now. At the time, it feels like you’re dying, doesn’t it? It’s such a frightening feeling. What do you think triggered this one? Have you any idea?’
Tash shrugged. ‘Not really. Well, maybe it was something to do with looking at that view and feeling so powerless, I don’t know. It sounds so stupid. To be honest, anything can trigger me. I’m a bundle of nerves.’ She smiled sadly. ‘You can’t take me anywhere.’
