Eduardo

The bad times were over and I was feeling good again.

All winter and Spring I had been ill. Very ill, they said, but eventually I was allowed to leave the clinic and gradually I began to regain some of my strength. My husband was relieved to see me more like my old self and suggested, now that I was stronger, that a change would do me good.

Somewhere in the sun, he said, and I began to plan my summer in the sun. 'I'll finish the job I've been working on and join you later, in September, and we can explore the Roman ruins there. He sounded excited. The last few weeks before I flew out to the island were spent enjoyably. I had my hair cut and shopped for colourful summer clothes in flimsy fabrics. At the airport I bought several pairs of leather sandals, decorated with beads, a bikini and a large sunhat. I felt like Shirley Valentine and couldn't wait to sink my toes into soft white sand. On arrival I was picked up by a young man and driven to the villa. His English was not bad and he showed me, courteously, from room to room. He left me cards with telephone no's and led me to the path down to the beach.

His name was Eduardo, he said, and told me that I must phone the agency in town if I needed anything. I said I would be on my own for a month and then my husband would join me. He was youthful with dark eyes and hair and the whitest teeth I had ever seen. When he smiled I thought that if I had not had a son nearly his age at home, I might have flirted with him a little. Now I was on my own to explore my temporary home and the beautiful surroundings. Walking past the telephone I picked it up but there was no ringtone. If only I had tried it before Eduardo had left. Before I did anything I would have my first drink and sit with it on the terrace to de-stress.

The fridge was full of basics like cheese, olives, tomatoes and several bottles of white wine. On the table beside the telephone was a bowl of fruit, fresh bread and two bottles of red wine. The kitchen cupboard had pasta, rice, sauces and lots of dried herbs and garlic. I decided that I would walk into town the next day for fresh salads and cold meat and visit the agent to tell them about the phone. I would need it to keep in touch with my husband.

Now, the most important thing was a glass of white wine and then a stroll down the path to the sparkling azure sea, where I would swim and lie for a while on the white sand. So I spent my first and many following afternoons doing just that. I grew tanned and languid. I read my books and collected shells along the beach and watched the gulls swoop and dive from high up in a brilliant blue sky.

The beach was private and my own paradise. Sometimes, in the distance, I spied someone or a couple walking at the water's edge, but they never clambered over the rocks that separated their beach from my own private one. The morning after I arrived I DID walk into town for some fresh supplies. It was hot and the local women I saw dived from their doorways into the shops and back again. Maybe they ventured out of their cool, shadowed apartments to meet in the evenings on the streets. They took no interest in me, and neither did the thin dogs, trotting along the pavements.

The shop-owner served me silently without so much as a glance, and brusquely handed me my change.

My shopping done I found the agency for the villa and was surprised to find that it was closed. There was a long message on the door that I could not translate. I was hot and my shopping heavy, so I was pleased to walk slowly back to my villa in the sun.

The noise and worries of other people, added to my own life's complications, were what had caused my breakdown, and I was happy to be stretched on my bed, in the quiet, with the curtains blowing in the sea breeze. As the days passed with no call or letter from my husband, I continued with my beach walks and sat for hours watching the sea and sometimes the dolphins, leaping in the spray. I dozed and thought my thoughts and forgot the time, and then even the days. Occasionally I woke in the dark and wandered down to paddle in the black sea, my flimsy summer nightdress clinging to my ankles.

The fridge had been empty for many days and the wine all gone.

Gradually I had emptied the cupboard and cooked the last pasta and rice. I ate it greedily with my fingers. The days, I noticed, were getting shorter and my summer wardrobe no longer seemed to keep me warm. I would wear my long cotton skirts and dresses one over the other, underneath a loose cardigan. My reflection in the mirror, at the same time, horrified and amused me and my youthful summer haircut was now straggly and unkempt from the salt sea and wind.

One morning I swam in the sea and walked quickly up the beach, naked and shivering. I covered myself with the blanket from my bed and huddled on the terrace, trying not to think. My mind seemed muddled and wretched.

I had felt like this before.

Curled up in the foetal position on the bed, I lay listening to the quiet, until it became a roaring in my head. I covered my ears with my hands and lay there dozing until the next morning. When I woke I was thankful for the silence and the light that came in from the window. I got up from my warm cocoon, still wrapped in the blanket, and went to open the curtains.

Standing, I felt dizzy and lightheaded. My thoughts flitted and darted and I stared outside at the white, covering the terrace and shrubbery. Could it be snow? My heart raced. How could this be, and where was I? My husband, my son. I knew I needed them but in my confusion I couldn't remember their names. Staring wildly about me I caught sight of the mute telephone on the table. I shivered and stared down at my cold, bare feet. Months ago I had known an Eduardo. But from where and how would I find him now? He was my lifeline with his dark hair and beautiful smile.

Eduardo...