Page 113 of Never Too Late to Date

‘A morning with the bank manager can do that to you.’

Vicky didn’t mind at all. She’d got so used to sharing food after more than two months in Greece that it would feel strange now to just have one dish to herself and have to stick to it.

‘Fine by me.’

She took a big gulp of wine. It was her turn to speak.

‘Before the food comes, and we all stop talking about the sanctuary while we eat, there’s one thing I want to suggest.’

It was something that had come to her on the walk down. Maeve and Seamus were all ears.

‘There’s enough money in the budget now to take on a manager.’

Seamus frowned.

‘You?’

Vicky shook her head.

‘No. I don’t want a full-time role at the sanctuary for myself. I’m happy with things the way they are. I’ll continue volunteering most mornings, but I’ll need to go back and forth to the UK a bit, and I’d like to do some travelling around this beautiful country as well.’

Seamus nodded.

‘Understandable.’

‘I was thinking of someone who could take over a lot of the day-to-day responsibilities from you, so you could give yourselves a break sometimes too. Someone, dare I say it, younger than all of us, with bags of energy and some new ideas.’

Vicky hoped she hadn’t pushed it too far. She hadn’t even signed on the dotted line yet, and she was already suggesting a total restructure.

But Maeve and Seamus were at least smiling and doing their telepathic thing.

‘Maria!’

They shouted the name almost in unison.

‘The social media whizz?’

‘Yes.’ Maeve gulped wine. ‘She’s been volunteering for us for a while, but her parents have been pressing her into getting another proper job. After working in finance for years, she decided she hated it and jacked it in. If we could find her a proper salary, I think she’d jump at the chance.’

‘Great.’

‘And it will give us the opportunity to go on holiday after I don’t know how many years.’

Seamus leant over and kissed his wife on the head with such tenderness that Vicky had to look away. There was plenty of hard work ahead, but she had a place in the world again, her own place, shaped by her own choices. At the age of sixty, she’d finally broken free of the ties that bound her. Better late than never. Taking a leap of faith and coming to Greece had been her best decision in a very long time.

The arrival of the food brought Dolly out from under the table where she’d been snoozing, and all shop talk was halted. They made their way through a mountain of delicious kritharoto, delicate pieces of seafood, from prawns to mussels, smothered in a wine-based tomato sauce with onions and garlic and rice-sized pieces of orzo pasta. It was accompanied by a plate of saganaki, fried cheese with honey drizzled over the top, and a simple tomato and cucumber salad with tzatziki on the side. It was a lot more than she usually ate for lunch, but she wasn’t complaining.

Dolly got plenty of seafood morsels too in a little dish provided by the café owner, Georgis, alongside her customary bowl of water.

‘You’re spoiling her rotten.’

Georgis laughed.

‘She deserves it, after what she’s been through.’

Vicky had told him the story of Dolly’s rescue and recovery bit by bit whenever she stopped in for a snack or a coffee. Dolly was a survivor, like her.

‘That’s true…’