Page 37 of Never Too Late to Date

Nerves over the forthcoming gigs had made her knock back the booze, along with the thought that she was voluntarily placing herself back in the world of performing, the world she’d left behind all those years ago. A world that had taken her heart, squeezed it tight for a moment and ultimately broken it. No one but she knew quite how much.

Leaving the bar in Kostas’s hands for the week wasn’t exactly relaxing either. It was the first time she’d left him in charge for so long, definitely a risky experiment, and one that she couldn’t afford to backfire.

But she needed to stop catastrophising and focus on the week ahead. Several friends were coming over from the island to see her perform, and it would be good to have their support. Vicky was the first and would be pitching up in two days. Suzie had asked that no one come the first night, in case she was terrible.

But she needed to banish such negative thoughts and enjoy the opportunity to relive her youth and sing her heart out. Once it had been her favourite thing to do. It still was, deep down, and not many people got a second chance to do something they loved.

A face appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘Mama. Are you coming or not? Otherwise, I’m getting off.’

You could always rely on your family to bring you down to earth. There was no danger of getting big-headed with Giannis around.

‘Erhome. Save me a seat.’

They’d been lucky with the weather, and the sun held firm as they passed by various monuments and museums. From the top deck she had a bird’s-eye view straight into the stunning National Gardens, a free oasis in the middle of the city with its thousands of trees and bushes. On their trips to the capital, they’d always stopped off here so the boys could have a good run around and a look at the pond to see how many water birds they could spot.

Kostas had had to be stopped from climbing into the pond every time, while Giannis took it all very seriously and learnt the names of the birds from a friendly official. A memory of the four of them wandering through the gardens, her ex-husband with Kostas on his shoulders, Giannis holding onto her hand tight, stopped her in her tracks for a moment. There had been plenty of good times as a family of four, just not quite enough good times for her and Panos on their own to make it last. At least they’d managed to stay friends.

She pointed over at the gardens.

‘Gianni, look! Do you remember coming here?’

His face creased into a smile when he turned to look at the gardens, which lifted her heart. The way he’d leant back in his seat told her he was starting to relax. She’d insisted to Frank that she and her son had separate double rooms in the hotel, rather than a twin, or two singles, before he could even suggest it. He’d always been one to save money on the arrangements if he could, and she couldn’t believe he’d changed much over the years. It was hardly an outrageous rider; she wasn’t asking for booze and drugs or toyboys on tap. Just reasonably sized separate rooms and plenty of camomile teabags and honey.

It would have been weird to share with her son anyway, but as his wife Kat was also coming to see her perform, at least they’d have a nice place to stay.

Not that she wanted to count the number of people she knew who were coming. Somehow it was worse if she knew someone in the audience. She’d still give her performance plenty of welly, but she had a fear of catching a familiar eye and stumbling over the words. Thankfully, it was usually impossible to see anyone clearly because of the brightness of the stage lights.

A big yawn from Giannis pulled her out of her thoughts. As a parent, you never stopped worrying about them, however old they were. Her eldest son worked too hard. Not that she could talk – he’d obviously picked up his work ethic from her, rather than her ex-husband, who was more of the ‘only do what’s strictly necessary’ school of thought.

The sight of Syntagma Square, formerly the old royal palace and now home to the Greek Parliament, grabbed her attention. They were going to be lucky and catch some of the Changing of the Guard. The soldiers, in their traditional garb of shirts and waistcoats with what looked to Suzie like white puffball skirts from the Eighties, complete with white tights and shoes with big black pom poms on the end, were a magnet for tourists and amateur photographers the world over.

‘Look, Gianni mou.’

Her son looked up momentarily, not bothering to take off his sunglasses, and just nodded before settling back down into his seat.

Further into the route, she checked their position on her phone.

‘We’re nearly at the Panathenaic Stadium!’

‘And?’

‘We’re getting off here.’

Giannis pushed his shades onto the top of his head.

‘Are we?’

‘Yes, come on. Let’s go and wait downstairs, ready to jump off. I’ve always wanted to go inside. I’m really excited to run around the track.’

The sigh was long and loud.

‘You’re not like normal mothers.’

‘Good.’

Entering the horseshoe-shaped stadium was an awe-inspiring moment for Suzie. She was genuinely keen to see the place. The facts she’d boned up on to impress her son about the birthplace of the modern Olympics leapt off the page and came to life. The sheer size and atmosphere of the space bowled her over, as row upon row of stone benches reached up towards the sky and she imagined people in togas rushing to bag their seats to watch the spectacles of times gone by.