The island - PART ONE

Beth and Tom had been married for 30 years, but she could tell they were growing apart and desperately hoped an idyllic Greek holiday would help to rekindle their love...
The sun was a perfect scarlet sphere hovering over the shimmering sea. On the horizon the mountain range had turned a dusky pink. As Beth's gaze settled on the tiny island something glinted, a flash of gold. She waited but there was nothing more, just a barren-looking cluster of rocks a few miles from the shore.

She took a sip of her wine and looked from the island to three small boys fishing with nets on long sticks at the edge of the harbour. A white cat loitered a few feet away. Thin and hunched, it seemed wary of the passing tourists. Every time the boys caught a fish the boys threw it to the cat, who devoured it in seconds.

Beth took her sketchbook from her wicker bag and began to draw the scene in front of her: the stripy T-shirts of the boys, the skinny body of the cat.

'Lovely, isn't she?' Tom was back, sliding his phone into the pocket of his polo shirt and sitting down on the chair beside Beth. He signalled to the waiter to get him another glass of wine.

'Who's lovely?' Beth asked.

'The yacht that's just come in. I thought you were sketching her.'

Beth glanced around the harbour. There were a lot of yachts. Huge sleek hulls, brass and chrome glinting. The flags of many different countries hung from their masts and moved lazily in the warm evening breeze.

'I was sketching the boys,' Beth said. 'And the cat. The boys are very sweet with it...'

'Cats are like vermin here,' Tom interrupted. 'Something should be done about them.'

Beth opened her mouth to protest but instead she took a gulp of wine to swallow her unspoken words. She didn't want to argue, especially on this holiday. A few months ago she thought she had lost Tom, and the fear and heartache still kept her awake at night.

'If this deal comes off maybe we'll be able buy a yacht.' Tom's voice was suddenly jovial as he took a handful of salted almonds from a bowl the waiter had left. 'I can see us now, sailing around the Med - you reclining on deck, me at the helm. Maybe I'll buy a captain's hat,' he laughed.

Beth looked at the luxurious yachts lined up along the ancient wall. They looked too big, brash and modern against the pretty pastel houses that tumbled down the hillside behind them. They dwarfed the row of shops and tavernas on the harbourside, and they were moored so closely together that their masts clinked together in the wake of the last ferry.

Tom was throwing almonds into his mouth one at a time, a party trick Beth had seen him do many times over the 30 years they had been married. He made it look effortless. She watched him. Tom was still as good-looking as when they had met at university. His arms were brown, the hairs bleached golden by the sun. The beginnings of a middle-aged paunch were evident but kept at bay by his frequent trips to the gym.

Beth shut her eyes and took another gulp of wine, trying not to think of the woman she had seen in the gym car park. She had a mane of blonde hair and impossibly long legs encased in lycra.

There was a sudden howl, and Beth's eyes sprang open. A large orange cat stood a few feet from the thin white one, who cowered, hissing, low to the ground. The orange cat let out a ferocious cry and lunged. Fur flew and then the thin white cat broke free and raced up a flight of worn stone steps. The boys threw a fish to the orange cat. It played with it, throwing it up in the air, batting it this way and that with its paws before swaggering away, leaving the lifeless body of the fish on the ground.

In the distance a woman called out in a sing-song voice. The boys turned, shouting something back. They got to their feet, laughing and jostling each other, and scurried up the steps, pretending to use their nets as swords. They reminded Beth of her own boys when they were young. She remembered how simple life seemed back then.

'Let's hire a boat tomorrow,' Tom said, throwing the last almond into his mouth.

'I think they all belong to people,' Beth replied, looking at the line of yachts. She could see animated groups in lavish dining areas and young crew members on the gangplanks. A beautiful woman in a kaftan leant against a deck rail drinking a cocktail.

'I'm not talking about those ones.' Irritation hardened Tom's face. He picked up a napkin and began to wipe his fingers meticulously. Beth looked down at her almost empty glass, wishing Tom had thought to ask if she wanted another drink.

'I mean one of these.' Beth looked up and saw Tom pointing towards a sign that read Demetrius Boat Hire. An old man sat beside a row of tiny multicoloured boats with pretty striped awnings. They looked like toys beside the huge yachts in the harbour.

The old man seemed to be watching them. Beth had noticed him before, walking up and down the harbour wall and sitting with other locals outside the taverna. She was sure she saw him raise a hand.

'They aren't superyachts, but we can pretend.' Tom's tone was suddenly jovial again. 'We've got to start somewhere.'

'I thought we were going to go to the ruins tomorrow,' said Beth. 'I wanted to paint the view before we go home.'

Tom rolled his eyes.

'You and your painting. Why don't you take up a less sedentary hobby?' He looked up at the sky as though searching for one. 'Like golf.'

Beth bit back more words as Tom leant forward to stroke her knee.

'We can spend tomorrow morning sailing the Aegean, then find a secluded little bay to drop anchor. You can doodle away with your pencils while your captain has an afternoon snooze.'

Beth looked out over the sea. She saw the flash of gold on the island again, and noticed the elegant silhouette of an old-fashioned sailing boat heading towards it.

'OK,' said Beth. 'We can take a picnic lunch.'

But Tom's phone was ringing again and he was walking away. She saw him throw back his head in laughter, then glance back at her. Beth picked up her sketchbook, but she didn't feel like drawing now the boys and the thin white cat had gone.

Demetrius had probably been very handsome in his youth, although now his face was as lined as a map, and the red scarf tied around his neck matched the colour of his cheeks. Beth noticed that his aquamarine eyes matched the colour of the sea.

'Only go along the coast,' he said for the umpteenth time.

Beth nodded as Tom counted out the money.

'Do not go over there.' Demetrius waved his hands towards the rocky island in the distance. 'Is very important - do not go there.'

'OK,' nodded Beth. Tom peered out across the sea as though noticing the island for the first time.

The old man took what seemed like an age explaining to Tom how to operate the outboard engine, the steering, and how to put the tattered awning up and take it down. Beth could tell by the pulsing of Tom's jaw that he was getting annoyed.

As they set off in the little puttering boat Beth waved goodbye to Demetrius. 'Keep away from the island,' he called one last time. 'What a fool,' Tom muttered without looking back.

Beth turned her face to the sun. On land the air had been excessively hot, making her linen dress stick to her back and her hairline prickle even at ten o'clock in the morning. On the water a breeze made the heat more bearable.

A wicker basket was stowed under the little padded bench she was sitting on. She had packed a loaf of bread, a tub of olives, a slab of goat's cheese, tomatoes and a bottle of the local wine. Her sketchbook and watercolours were at the bottom of the bag. She was looking forward to painting the deep turquoise shades of the sea around her and the yellow and orange cliffs.

As Tom steered the boat out of the harbour Beth found her heart lifting, and she began to relax for the first time in months. As her hair blew back from her face, it reminded her of their honeymoon in the South of France and the moped they had hired - no helmets, of course.

She had clung to Tom's waist and leant back, letting her long red hair stream out behind her as they sped along the twisting coastal roads, looking for hidden beaches where they could skinny dip and make love for hours. Now her hair had faded and was cut into a short, neat bob.

She wondered if she and Tom could ever find the passion they had shared all those years ago. She had hoped the Greek sunshine would reunite them, but the deep wound of betrayal still ached in her heart.

The little boat cruised past the beach they had walked to on their first day, and then some of the others they had reached by hiring colourful water taxis. Rows of umbrellas and sunbeds lined the shore and music wafted from beach tavernas.

They could hear the distant shouts of children playing in the water, and every now and then the sound of goat bells. Between each bay cliffs soared up majestically. They were dotted with caves and scrubby bits of vegetation.

A tiny white church perched perilously on a ledge, and they saw several secluded coves edged with sparkling white sand.

Beth let her hand trail in the sea, watching the patterns as the sunlight played on the water. She saw schools of fish darting underneath the boat and then a turtle moving gracefully alongside. 'Look!' she called to Tom. But by the time she had got his attention the turtle had disappeared.

'I'm not sure there's anything more in this direction,' Tom said. 'Nothing to see, according Google Maps.'

'But there's so much.' Beth swept her arm around her at the sea and cliffs. 'It's all so beautiful.'

'Boring, you mean.'

'What exactly are you looking for?' Beth asked.

Tom shrugged. 'Just something more.'

Beth thought of the women in the gym car park. She imagined her in a kaftan on a yacht. She wondered if the woman played golf.

Letting her head rest on her arm her eyes grew heavy. She dreamed of finding a pale blue egg on the sand. The egg hatched and became a turtle that let her ride on its back, through warm clear water and then through the air, up and up towards the sun.

Her eyes opened with a jolt.

The boat was rocking from side to side, waves slapping against the sides.

'What's going on?' She looked around. The sun was gone, the blue sky replaced with swirls of inky grey. The waves were getting bigger by the second.

'Just a bit of a swell,' said Tom.

Beth saw that the shore was now far away. She could no longer make out the patterns of the rocks or see any of the bits of scrubby vegetation.

'Why are we so far out?' she asked Tom, but he had his back to her, the muscles in his forearms tight as he steered the boat through the churning water. She saw the island ahead of them and thought of Demetrius's warning.

She started to tell Tom to turn back but her mouth filled with water as a huge wave crashed over the boat. Beth spat and coughed. She tried to shout again but another wave came, then another, drenching her dress, her hair, blinding her with salty water.

'Tom, Tom, Tom.' She couldn't make him hear her over the crashing of the sea. There was water around her feet and the wicker bag bobbed into view. She caught it between her shins and found the tub containing the olives. She threw the contents overboard and started to use the tub to bail out the water. It was hopeless. The more she bailed, the higher the water rose. A wave whipped the tub from her hand and she gave up, clinging onto the edge of the boat for fear she too would be swept overboard. She felt the rough straw of the basket between her legs and tried to concentrate on the feeling, as though keeping hold of the bag would keep her safe.

Wave after wave crashed over the tiny boat as Beth squinted through her stinging eyes, praying that Tom was still in front of her. She thought of their wedding, his back at the altar as she walked down the aisle. Something hit her on the side of her head and fabric smothered her face. She realised it was the awning, ripped off by the wind.

She pushed the fabric away and saw huge cliffs looming in front of them, jagged rocks poking out of the angry sea. Her heart was pounding. Images of her sons came into her mind. She could see them as babies, warm and heavy against her breast, then as red-haired toddlers running into her arms. As schoolboys with scabs on their knees and cheeky grins, and as men at their own weddings. She wanted to see them, to hold them again.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the water seemed to calm like a placated child. The clouds rolled away and the sun beat down once more on the flat blue sea. The chaos in the little boat was the only sign it hadn't been doing so all morning.

'Blasted bathtub!' Tom said as he pulled the cord of the outboard engine. Smoke began to pour out, then it spluttered and returned to life.

'Is this still boring?' Beth asked.

Tom said nothing. He was steering with one hand, shaking water from his phone with the other.

'I think we're sinking,' Beth said as they limped past high cliffs. She tried to bail with one of the plastic wine glasses from the basket.

Just as she was wondering if they were doomed she saw the tall masts of a sailing ship behind a craggy headland. As they cruised towards it another world was revealed, like the page of a picture book being turned.

In front of them a terraced hillside was bright with foliage and flowers. From the top of the hill a pale-yellow castle looked out to sea, and above its crenulated roof a huge metal sun spun slowly around, glinting in the rays of the real thing.

Beth heard a shout and two men in boiler suits appeared on a wooden jetty. She couldn't understand their words but their gesticulating arms made it clear they weren't being friendly.

'Our boat has a leak!' Tom shouted.

That was when Beth saw a man striding down the path. He had long brown legs, dark hair streaked with grey, and a white shirt billowing out behind him. 'It's OK,' he shouted in impeccable English as he reached the jetty. 'You are welcome. We will help you here.'

PART TWO IN NEXT ISSUE Pictures: Adobe Stock