They sat under the shade of the cypress tree, drinking retsina and sharing the inevitable Greek salad as they watched the sun go down over the Libyan sea. For Denise and Irene the setting felt like a romantic parody, because their respective lovers had decided they preferred each-others’ company; and proceeded to make their feelings public at Denise’s 23rd birthday party. That was only ten days ago. This last minute holiday was to enable Irene and Denise to escape the tedium of over-sympathetic friends. The sense of humiliation was definitely receding after only a couple of days under the Cretan sun. They giggled as they thought simultaneously of their ex-boyfriends’ chances of surviving the new set-up; two drama queens in one relationship is a disaster waiting to happen.
Get Published on Female First
The solitary man on the adjoining table smiled over and commented on how good it was to hear the carefree laughter of two lovely young women. Irene gave him her ‘don’t speak to me in that condescending manner you creep’ look, but Denise thought he was quite attractive and there would be no harm in having an innocent flirtation during this holiday, it would help heal her bruised ego.
After a while and a few more pleasantries, Denise invited Penn to join them. He explained that he was holidaying alone because his friend withdrew, at the last minute, due to unforeseen problems at work and it was too late to arrange for anybody else to take his place. They found his company mildly amusing and he became a regular at their dinner table.
During the day, the sun worshiping Irene dedicated her entire time to basking on the discreet nudist beach tucked in at the end of Plakias Bay. But Denise could only spend an hour or so sunbathing before she got bored: the rest of her time was divided between frequent swims in the calm and clear waters of the bay, leisurely strolls along the sandy banks and sitting in the shade, discovering the world of classical Greek theatre and its gods and heroes through the novels of Mary Renault. It was a wonderful introduction to Greek myth, she would later go on to study the subject in detail, but it was the stories which she immersed herself in during her stay on the southernmost tip of Europe which ignited Denise’s passion for the ancient Greek world.
But Denise was a little tired of the beach holiday’s inactivity and was glad of Penn’s suggestion of a day trip to the Samaria Gorge. Irene, on the other hand, couldn’t think of anything worse than walking through a hot and dusty gorge and having to slip downhill on loose stones for 16 long kilometres; she didn’t think craning your neck for spectacular views of the White Mountains impressive either, Irene could happily leave Crete without a single glance at the Lefka Ori. Why would you want to place yourself in danger to see an over-populated-with-tourists rock fissure, when you could be relaxing by the Libyan sea with nothing to bother you apart from the gentle sound of the sea rippling against the sand a few metres away? Irene also thought there was something about Penn which made her feel uneasy. Granted, he could be charming company: he had entertained them for several evenings with tales of his extensive travels, but after a while she got bored with his stories; no matter if he was on a beach in Goa or doing the Argentinian Tango in Buenos Aires, he was always the hero. It would be a breath of fresh air if he had something decent to say about somebody else for a change; apart that is, from the stock of flattering compliments he suavely sprinkled in Denise’s direction. She wasn’t jealous, she simply didn’t trust him, he was too smooth and those dark eyes of his were too cold for her liking.
Penn told them that they didn’t have to take the usual route down the Samaria Gorge; they could instead walk up from the south by hiring a jeep to take them to Hora Sfakion and get the boat from there to Agia Roumeli. This way, they could avoid the steep section further north, by turning back just beyond the water spring at Christos. It would be a breeze. If they were lucky, they might possibly see the rare Cretan goat, the Kri Kri. All Irene wanted was for him to butt out of her life but she encouraged Denise to go along and whilst they scrambled about in the scorching heat she would spend another perfect day working on her suntan.
The two of them started out at dawn the following day. The transportation had changed from a jeep to a quad bike and Denise found herself having to hold on tight to Penn as they raced up and down the track towards Hora Sfakion. She asked him to slow down but he replied that they had to hurry or they’d miss the boat. But they arrived with well over an hour to spare; this annoyed Denise because there had been no need for Penn to have driven so precariously. He made a few blithe comments which Denise chose to ignore.
Maybe this outing wasn’t such a good idea after all.
However, the boat trip was lovely, and the ill feeling she felt towards Penn was washed away by the cool sea-spray. When they disembarked in Agia Roumeli, her usual high spirits had returned and Denise was looking forward to the trek ahead. They had to walk for three kilometres before entering the gorge, and the time was spent pleasantly enough with Penn relating his skiing adventures in the foothills of the Himalayas.
Once they entered the gorge, the mood changed. Penn became surly and complained of how Denise had behaved whilst waiting for the boat; she told him in no uncertain terms that he was out of order and that it had been his fault for driving the quad in such a reckless manner and ignoring her requests to slow down. Christ, thought Denise, what was she doing in this place with this bloody man, who she hardly knew and now realised didn’t want to know either. She considered turning round and waiting for the next boat, there’d be a bus from Hora Sfakion which would take her somewhere and she could somehow wind her way back round to Plakias and Irene’s friendly face. But no, she was being silly; it was only a few hours, she’d better make the best of the situation and try to enjoy the rest of the day.
She walked ahead of Penn, to avoid further conversation. They had managed an uneasy truce by the time they reached the Iron Gate, the narrowest and highest part of the gorge. But she felt hemmed in and feared that the cliffs towering over her would trigger a panic attack; Denise breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the clearing at Christos.
By the spring, there was a young man playing a beautiful and haunting melody on his flute. As she looked at the flautist, he gave her a mischievous wink which she happily reciprocated. She still felt wary of Penn, not now knowing how he would behave in any given situation. But as they refreshed themselves with a drink of the cool, clear water, he was again his old charming self.
Penn suggested that they go on a little further because they were approaching the most beautiful part of the Samaria Gorge. Other tourists were now trickling down to Christos; she was no longer alone with the changeable Penn, so she felt comfortable to carry on. After a few more minutes rest, accompanied by the sweet music, they moved on. He was right, the scenery was stunning. Denise felt relaxed even though her feet were now hurting quite badly; she didn’t really have suitable footwear for walking on the pebbles in the dry river-bed. She rested her feet for a while by sitting on one of the large boulders and taking the opportunity to look up at the magnificent White Mountains: Denise always felt ambivalent about such landscape, along-side appreciating the grandeur she thought of the inevitable poverty and suffering of the people who have lived in this inhospitable terrain.
She shook away her musings, stood up, and proceeded to walk through the ravine. There was a break in the stream of on-coming tourists and Denise was glad of the opportunity to admire the scenery without any interruption when, without warning, Penn grabbed Denise from behind, violently swinging her round and accusing her of seducing the randy flautist; the monster was emerging from behind the charming smile and Denise felt the fear coursing through her, creating an adrenaline rush and triggering a knee jerk reaction which caught Penn squarely on the shin, he uttered a sharp cry of pain and thankfully the impact forced him to release Denise who was propelled screaming back towards Christos. She could hear the flute music, it was getting louder and louder; then she heard the rumble of the mountain and Denise stopped, turned around and looked up to see a Kri Kri, a Cretan goat, thrusting its horns against an overhanging part of the cliff wall as if it were trying to push it downwards.
Penn was caught in the ensuing rock fall; one of the park wardens later told her that he didn’t stand a chance. Three tourists had arrived in the distance and witnessed the falling stones hitting Penn. They had run forward when they heard Denise screaming. The warden said her screams could have set off the precipitation; but these freak accidents, though rare, did occasionally happen and there had been strong winds up in the mountains the night before which must have loosened the boulders. There was no mention of music or goats.
The park warden guided her gently down to Christos and once they’d firmly established that it was an unfortunate accident, Denise was left in Dion the flautist’s delicate hands. The two of them ambled in sympathetic silence towards Agia Roumeli. After they arrived in the village, Dion gave Denise a shot of Ouzo as an impromptu rescue remedy before they sat in the shade and had a light meal of bread and olives, washed down with a glass of retsina. He then borrowed a friend’s boat and they sailed to Plakias and Irene’s safe hands.
When Denise arrived back, though in a dishevelled state, her eyes were sparkling and Irene noticed a pine cone entangled in her hair; there was also a distinct aniseed aroma in the air, was it fennel? Denise turned round to introduce her hero to Irene, but there was nobody there.
Elsie Dafis is currently a creative writing student (MA) at Trinity St David's Lampeter.