Page 10 of The Cruise Club
Ready for their first excursion, Carmen and Betty made their way along the quay, where Peter assisted them into a minibus, one of three waiting vehicles.
‘Be careful with my wheelchair!’ Betty told their driver as she hoisted herself onto the steps and flopped on a seat at the front.
Carmen followed and reluctantly sat beside her. Next came Fran and Sid, followed by Don, Debbie and four more passengers.
After ensuring that everyone was comfortable, Peter joined them. ‘Good morning,’ he said as the minibus chugged into life, ‘what a beautiful day you have for your visit to the magical village of Maxos.’
‘It would be a better day if the air-conditioning worked,’ Betty grumbled. She sat with her bag on her lap, arms folded, face grim.
‘The air will cool as soon as we commence the journey.’ Peter smiled sympathetically. ‘Today, we’re travelling north through the island of Kefalonia. Make sure you take in as much of the island’s beauty as possible.’
‘Everywhere is so dry,’ Betty interrupted. ‘Just look, it’s all so parched, the ground is as cracked as my poor heels.’
Unperturbed, Peter continued, ‘Please, sit back and enjoy the drive, which will take us through some of the island’s most striking landscapes. Look out for olive groves and vineyards.’
‘Oh, this heat, it’s unbearable,’ Betty continued to complain, ‘I don’t know how anyone gets used to it.’ She took a fan out of her bag and waved it.
Peter reached into a cooler and began to distribute bottles of chilled water. Handing one to Carmen, he patted her shoulder when she mouthed an apology. When he reached Fran and Sid, Peter was greeted with beaming smiles.
‘Lovely jubbly,’ Fran said, ‘and it’s icy cold.’ She thrust the bottle deep into her cleavage. ‘Oh, that’s cooled me down a treat.’
‘If this is ouzo,’ Sid said, ‘I’ll be dancing a Zorba in the aisle.’ He grinned and took a swig.
‘You can entertain us later, Sid,’ Peter laughed, ‘plenty of time for ouzo.’
As the road gradually climbed the hills, Peter pointed out a sweeping view of Argostoli surrounded by sparkling sea.
Passengers noted the dry, rocky terrain, and a fragrant hint of wild thyme and pine which drifted through the now cool air of the minibus.
Surrounded by hills on either side of the road, the view revealed deep blue bays and rocky cliffs plunging into the sea below.
‘Look at these hills,’ Betty moaned, ‘steep as anything, and they go on and on. You’d need to be a mountain goat to live around here.’
‘Mum, will you please keep it down? You’re spoiling everyone’s journey.’ Carmen nudged Betty.
‘Excuse me ,’ Betty bristled with a pout, then turned away.
As their journey continued, whitewashed houses scattered along the coastline appeared. The road snaked higher, and a gaggle of goats wandered onto the hot tarmac, causing the driver to stop and hoot his horn.
Peter began to explain. ‘As you see, the Kefalonian goat is quite unusual. With a black and brown coat which blends into the landscape, they are very independent and often wander the hills alone.’ Peter paused as everyone stared at the creatures.
‘The goats have a knack for popping up in the most unexpected places, on cliff edges, in the shade of an olive grove, or here in the middle of the road, and goat herders ensure that each goat has a bell around its neck to ward off predators and so they can be found.’
From the back of the minibus, Don called out, ‘What do you call a goat that acts immature?’ After a pause, he replied, ‘A kid!’
The passengers laughed, and Peter told Don that if he wasn’t careful, he’d make him a double act with Dicky Delaney.
‘Double act with Dicky?’ Don looked surprised. ‘I’d sooner share a flat cap with a sheepdog, and the last time I was paired with anyone, it was with Debbie on a tandem, and we didn’t speak for three days.’
More laughter rang out, but Debbie, grimacing, glared at Don.
Carmen studied the goats and envied their independence.
She longed to wander the hills, as far away from Betty as she could.
Gazing at the aquamarine sea, she thought it looked enticing and was entranced by the stunning views.
The goats skipped off and ambled over the hillside, and as the minibus pulled away, Carmen felt Betty’s head on her shoulder.
Her eyes had closed, and to her relief, Carmen saw that her mother had fallen asleep.
Carmen watched the landscape pass by and thought of her lead character.
She wondered if the Rainbow Sleuth might uncover a mystery in these mountains.
Was there a murderer on the loose, and might Carmen create a story with a Greek setting in one of her future novels?
Reaching for her notebook and careful not to wake Betty, she noted everything she saw.
Who knew? One day, the notes might be helpful.
The drive to Maxos was almost complete, but before the driver negotiated the steep hill that led down to the village, he pulled over on the side of the road and Peter invited passengers to step out to see the view.
The heat was intense, and a hot breeze blew as everyone stared at a cove below, glimmering like a jewel in the sunlight.
Peter explained that the beach they could see was called Myrtos. It was one of Kefalonia’s most iconic places, having served as the location for the film Captain Corelli’s Mandolin .
‘Oh, we saw that film, didn’t we, Sid?’ Fran said excitedly.
She stood beside Sid, gripping his hand as the sun-soaked landscape before them dropped dramatically.
With her other hand, Fran held her hat firmly as the breeze rustled her kaftan, the red floaty fabric flickering like flames in the heat.
They all gazed at the crescent of pure white sand and the vivid shades of turquoise and sapphire that shimmered in the sea.
‘The waves can be quite lively,’ Peter called out, ‘I don’t advise swimming at this beach, but for those of you who fancy a dip, the waters are calm in Maxos.’
‘Eee, that sounds lovely,’ Fran said, removing her giant sunglasses to mop her brow with a hankie. ‘I’m roasted and glad I’m wearing my cossie under here.’ She flipped up the skirt of her kaftan to reveal a baby pink tankini.
‘Time to move on,’ Peter called out.
Moments later, they began their descent to Maxos.
The tight horseshoe bends required skilful driving, and passengers gasped as the vehicle neared the edge of the road where the drop was perilous.
But soon, the reward was clear when a peninsular came in sight, and the small, picturesque village emerged, tucked into a bay with pastel-coloured houses spilling towards the sea.
Framed by lush greenery of pine and cypress trees, a Venetian fortress loomed on the opposite side, high above a harbour.
‘Oh, Sid, it’s perfect,’ Fran breathed as she stared at the bright blue shutters of the pretty buildings and terracotta pots overflowing with vibrant oleander.
The driver negotiated the narrow entry to a parking space, and as the engine died, Peter announced, ‘Our transport will stay in this spot while you explore the village. Despite past earthquakes in this part of the island, a few interesting remains of Venetian houses can be found. Please enjoy the beach, bars, and tavernas, and I shall be in the harbour area if anyone has any questions.’
‘What’s the fort like?’ Don called out.
‘It was built by the Venetian army in the fifteenth century and said to protect the villagers from pirate raids. As we aren’t expecting any marauding pirates today, I recommend a visit, but it’s a steep climb,’ he warned, ‘so if you intend to go, take plenty of water.’
The driver unfolded the wheelchair, and with Carmen’s assistance, Betty was soon seated. Carmen gathered her bag and made sure that Betty had everything she needed. She placed a brimmed bonnet on Betty’s head, and they set off.
‘Why have we come here?’ Betty grumbled. She reached for her fan and furiously waved it.
‘Because it is a beautiful place,’ Carmen replied, ‘and I can’t wait to look around.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to join you,’ Betty was adamant. ‘You can find a decent café in a shady spot, and I’ll just have to sit on my own while you go off galivanting.’
Carmen breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom!
The sooner she got Betty settled, the sooner she could escape and discover the mysteries of Maxos.
She picked up her pace and navigated a winding path past an avenue of cottages and pastel-coloured houses.
Wandering into the village square, Carmen gazed at pink and white blossoms bursting from woody stems of vines climbing along terracotta-tiled rooftops.
She strolled by buildings hiding dark alleys that led to steep steps and noted properties further up the hillside.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Carmen murmured as she looked around for a suitable taverna to park Betty.
A young man appeared. His glossy black hair gleamed in the sunshine, and as he grinned, Carmen saw his slightly crooked teeth.
‘You need refreshment?’ he asked.
‘Well, er, yes, we are looking for somewhere shady and cool for Mum to relax for a little while,’ Carmen said. ‘Can you recommend a taverna?’
‘Of course, come to Psara Taverna and meet my family. I am Spiros,’ he added.
Before Carmen had time to consider the young man’s offer, his olive-skinned arms reached out and strong hands grabbed the handles of Betty’s chair.
‘You will like,’ he said as they set off and in moments, reached a bar shaded by colourful umbrellas on the side of the harbour. ‘See, is good?’ He grinned as he waited for Carmen’s approval. ‘My mána, she cooks.’
‘It’s perfect.’
Carmen picked up a napkin and as she removed her glasses to polish them, she looked around at the pretty harbourside setting, where tables were covered with gingham cloths and dotted with vases of wildflowers. Boats bobbed alongside in the calm water.