Hello good people, George Pendlebury here again, in the Ferret and Wardrobe.

I had a most interesting encounter with Sylvia Gosford, the other day, one of our Wisstingham residents, when she called in at the post office. She’d just got back from her holiday and told me all about it.

Sylvia said she would be quite happy for me to share it with you, so here is her story. Hope you enjoy it. 

Cheers!

A New Start.

Jemma glanced back at the growing queue that had formed at passport control and turned to me. ‘Wow, we just made that in time. Is dad OK?’

   ‘Yes he’s fine, no problems,’ I reassured her.

   ‘Even check in was a doodle, this time. Now, it’s just the wretched duty free maze to negotiate.  It always makes me feel like a lab rat. There’s got to be a Starbucks on the other side.’

   ‘It was kind of Julian to drop us off. You’ve got a good husband there,’ I said, once the waitress had taken our order.

   Jemma grinned. ‘He has his uses, mum.’

   The return to Tolon was the last thing I’d expected when Geoff left me. Our summer holiday had been organised months earlier, another fortnight in our favourite resort. It’s calm, crystal clear waters, sandy beach, welcoming people and entrancing views of the surrounding hills and islands had drawn us back year after year, a resort that time appeared to have forgotten and left unchanged. 

   But that agonising slamming of the door, the subsequent gaps in the wardrobe, and the disappearance of certain ornaments and other things that Geoff had either acquired or been given, had seemed to be the undeniable point of no return.

    ‘You’re throwing away forty years of marriage Geoff,’ I remonstrated, ‘does all that, and the times we’ve enjoyed together, count for nothing?’

   Geoff had merely tossed an empty coathanger onto the bed, exasperation etched on his face, perhaps with a tinge of anger, no doubt at his feelings of guilt, I guessed, knowing the man as I did.

   ‘Sylvie, I’m sorry, but things aren’t the same as they were,’ he replied. ‘I just don’t love you enough, anymore.  I’ve got the chance of a new life and happiness and I’m taking it.’

   ‘Well don’t come running back to me when your door to rejuvenation slams shut on you,’ I countered, through my tears, and stormed out of the room.

   For some time I had recognised that complacency had crept into our marriage.

‘But you can’t expect to have the same novelty and excitement in each other’s company after all that time,’ I sobbed at the dressing table mirror, that evening, after he’d gone. I could never have imagined that Geoff would be prepared to abandon me, our comfortable companionship and countless little routines, so late in life.

   That had been over five months ago, since when, settling into a solitary life had been desperately hard. The sympathetic attention and ministrations of friends, over the first few months, had helped to fill the many empty hours, but this had since gradually waned in intensity. A tedium of solitude and lack of ambition in doing anything, or going anywhere, had slowly begun to creep into my seemingly very empty life.

    ‘I’m cancelling the holiday booking.’ I eventually told Jemma.

    ‘Oh don’t do that Mum, you know you love the place,’ she had urged. ‘Why don’t I come with you? I’ll pay for the change of name for the flight, and Julian won’t mind being left on his own, He and Michael will manage, as long as I fill the freezer for them.  We’ll have a great time!’

    I thought about it and a couple of days later, somewhat reluctantly, I agreed. It’s true, I did indeed love the resort and Jemma is always great company.  I’ve often regretted not spending more time with her. Maybe this was just what I needed to make a new start.

   Since then, so much has transpired, leaving me precious little time to myself. Everything happened so quickly. Geoff was no longer with “the woman”, as I referred to her. She’d not wanted anything more to do with him. 

   So, he was now back home, never more to roam. I, of course, forgave him everything, there was nothing else I could have done. Things were never going to be the same again, but the three of us were to fly to Greece.

    Whilst still very unhappy, I was now at least more at peace with myself, and reassured as to the future.  This had by no means been an easy transition and I was glad to be jetting off to the warmth and sunshine of Greece, and to be leaving the anguish and tears of the last few months behind. Life, I knew, was going to have to change, but the adjustment could wait.

   ‘I couldn’t have done with catching the bus and coach in all this heat,’ I admitted, once our taxi was finally loaded with us and the luggage, outside Athens airport. There had been no objection to this break from tradition.  Previously an intrinsic part of our holiday experience had been the our routine of taking the bus from the airport to the coach station, a coach to Nafplion, and then the bus to Tolo.

   ‘Welcome, welcome, welcome,’ beamed the hotel Manager in Tolon, quickly stepping forward to greet us as we mounted the steps from the beach. With a well-practised flourish, he escorted us through the large glass door.  Inside, the greeting was echoed by the smiling reception staff. Keys were handed out, the luggage collected and we were shown to our rooms.

   ‘I love my room,’ Jemma later enthused, as we strolled along the beach to our  favourite restaurant, named after the  island Romvi that overlooked it, on the other side of the bay, ‘it’s got such a Mediterranean feel and the sea view’s just magnificent.’

   Later that evening, unable to sleep, I rose and sat alone on the balcony, gazing out over the sea. The white lights illuminating the island of Koronos cast long shafts of light across the sea.  The fishing boats bobbed slowly at their moorings, as if  breathing, and the palm tree fronds gently swayed in the warm breeze.

   Slowly, the gentle lapping of the water on the shore blurred the edges of the thoughts and memories that flitted through my mind until eventually, as the fleeting images of dreams that mark the onset of sleep, began to blur my thoughts, I climbed noiselessly back into bed and drifted quickly into slumber.

   The following morning, after breakfast, we boarded a hire boat and set off round the island of Romvi.  The mood was quiet and little said, as we were plunged in thought, that is until we reached our destination on the other side of the island. Once the engine was cut, the quietness on the boat reflected the stillness of the sea around us.  

   There, at the picnic spot Geoff and I had so often visited, with tears, and a few gentle words of farewell, Jemma and I scattered Geoff’s ashes onto the clear, blue sea.