The Santorini Summer by Christine Shaw Read Free Book Online

Athens? The contrast between this picture and my home life was a gulf which I did not know how to explain to him. But when I thought of leaving him and never seeing him again, that too was unthinkable.
    The remaining days were unbearable. The evenings we spent together were full of mixed emotions – the inexplicable happiness of being together, coupled with the bitter realisation that such meetings would soon be over. Our taverna evenings were over much too soon. Our polite goodnights were prolonged as much as decorum allowed. Sleep was impossible. Maureen never asked, but hearing me toss and turn and sigh in bed every night, she knew that I had fallen in love. All the girls were tender with me, those last few evenings, offering to lend me perfume, do my hair or paint my nails, seeing a need to keep me occupied until it was time to go out for dinner and be with Christos again.
    On our day of departure we were to leave early in the morning, and I knew I could not say goodbye to Christos in front of the Professor and everyone else. So I asked him to stay away, to go to the site and stay there until we’d gone. He looked hurt.
    ‘Are you ashamed of knowing me?’ he asked.
    ‘No, no, not at all. I just don’t want everyone watching …’
    ‘Ah, you might cry, perhaps? Will you cry to leave me, Olivia? ’
    How could I stand it? How could I go back to England and carry on as if my life had not been changed forever? I leaned towards him and placed my lips on his, uncertain how to proceed, but desperate to show him how I felt. His mouth softened, moulding itself perfectly to mine, and my first kiss was the sweetest I ever knew. Then he kissed me again. And again.
    He gave me a parting gift, a child’s story book. ‘You must learn to read Greek as well as speak it,’ he said.
    I had no gift for him so I undid my locket, which had my grandmother’s photo inside, and gave him that.
    ‘When you come to Athens next year I will return this to you,’ he said. ‘And one
    day you will wear it with our son’s photograph inside.’
    Each part of the journey that took me further away from him – the bus to Heraklion, the ferry to Piraeus, the flight to London – was even more painful than the last. Oh, the pain of love! I pretended to be studying Greek so that I would not have to speak to the others, and Maureen engaged the Professor in discussions about the dig to keep her away from me. My misery felt physical, an actual pain in my chest.
    England was covered in a thick layer of grey cloud as we landed – a perfect reflection of my current mood. My mother was waiting for me at the airport, clutching her handbag nervously as if she expected to be set upon by thieves. She hugged me, then held me away to scrutinise my appearance.
    ‘You look well, darling. So brown. Did you enjoy it? Was the food awful? I expect you’re longing for a cup of tea.’
    I was longing for something, but it definitely wasn’t tea.
    *
    I had plenty of work to do to fill up the remainder of the summer vacation. There was a paper to be written about Knossus and books to be read for next term, but still the days dragged. I was impatient for the new term to begin, to get back to Cambridge and away from my mother’s suburban bubble. I needed my days filled with lectures and my evenings filled with study if I was going to cope with this crippling sadness.
    The Professor was very impressed by my determination to learn Greek properly. She found me the name of a woman in town who gave lessons, and when I wasn’t attending lectures or writing papers I was learning to speak, read and write Christos’ language. When his letters arrived I would write at least one paragraph of my reply in Greek, to show him how hard I was trying.
    He was anxious that I explain to my mother that I would be spending part of the next summer in Athens. I did not know how to deal with this. I had not told her about Christos, because I knew she would disapprove. Foreigners, like