Page 5 of Never Too Late to Date

Angeliki wagged her finger at her friend.

‘Stop it! And no, Nick and I…’

Suzie couldn’t stop herself putting on a silly voice. ‘Nick and I…’

‘And stop that too. Nick and I both have an early start, and we’ve got to go home and feed our own animals now anyway. They’ll be starving.’

‘Spoilsports. Both of you.’

Suzie turned to Vicky again.

‘So great to meet you. And it’s lovely that you’ll be here for Easter. Greek Easter really is something to behold. It goes on all week, and it’s bigger than Christmas.’

‘So Angeliki tells me. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘I’ll have you calling her Ange before you can say Dirty Den.’

Vicky felt warm hands take hers in the darkness.

‘Please come to the bar as soon as you can. Us single girls have to stick together.’

‘I will do.’

‘Kalinychta, kids. The night is still young.’

Suzie walked towards the mixed group at the water’s edge. There’d be someone to talk to without a doubt. She wasn’t about to head back to her own bar, as she’d just get roped into serving. And there was zero point going back to her flat to stare at the sea until it got dark.

Chapter Two

The light streaming in through the thin curtain forced Vicky to open her eyes slowly. She stared around her in confusion at the white-painted walls until she reached the bright blue single wardrobe in the corner.

She wasn’t in her flat overlooking Crosby Beach; she was in the volunteer house at the Freedom Animal Sanctuary on a tiny Greek island. The accommodation was clean but basic, which was as it should be; any spare money should go to the animals. However, it would be nice to have a firmer pillow. And maybe a rug or two. Even a bedside light.

A glance at her phone told her she still had half an hour before her alarm went off, so it made sense to dash to the communal bathroom on this floor before anyone else was up. Sharing a bathroom was rather a shock to the system. After leaving her parents’ home, it was something she’d only done with two people: her ex-husband, and Angeliki for the ten years they’d lived together. Her Greek friend had had parents who’d bought her a little house near the university rather than let their precious daughter live in student accommodation, and she’d been the lucky lodger.

Grabbing her sponge bag, she was relieved to find the bathroom free and locked the door securely behind her. She’d only met one of the other inmates briefly, a young Irish girl called Aoife, but she knew there was at least one man on their floor as she’d heard a gruff voice on the landing last night when she fell into bed.

Taking two paracetamol was her first task, as her hangover from the welcome party was making itself known. Not shouting at her yet but talking quite loudly. The bottled water was back in her room, and they’d been told not to drink the stuff in the taps. Surely, a handful wouldn’t hurt. She wasn’t going to risk losing her spot in the queue, so she swallowed the pills with the minimum of liquid.

They weren’t allowed to put any toilet paper down the toilet either because of the plumbing. Greek island plumbing was notorious, apparently. The paper had to go in a bin at the side, the thought of which made her want to retch, but hopefully she was the first person to set foot in the bathroom today. The bin was emptied each day, she’d been assured, and she tried not to look inside when she flipped open the lid with her foot. This was all part of her big Greek adventure. She couldn’t be squeamish.

A quick shower and she was done. It was probably selfish to spend ages drying herself, and if no one else was up, she could make a run for it to her room in the towel, which went all the way round her, but was a little skimpy on someone as tall as she was. She’d have to try and buy something on the larger side in town.

Barging out into the corridor, head down, her body met something that didn’t budge. Looking up, she saw a middle-aged man, wearing a slightly too short dressing gown with a towel gamely flung over his shoulder. He was giving her a thorough going over with his eyes.

‘Hi. I was wondering when we’d meet.’

He thrust out his hand.

‘I’m Graham. Sorry I missed the party. I was out night fishing. Something I enjoy doing with my time off.’

Definitely British. The socks with sandals that completed his outfit could have told her that without hearing his voice.

Vicky’s grip tightened on the knot at the top of the towel.

‘Hi. I’m Vicky.’

She glanced at the hand holding her sponge bag and then at her boobs.