Back Summer in Greece
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Patricia Wilson
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24
  30. Chapter 25
  31. Chapter 26
  32. Chapter 27
  33. Chapter 28
  34. Chapter 29
  35. Chapter 30
  36. Chapter 31
  37. Chapter 32
  38. Chapter 33
  39. Chapter 34
  40. Chapter 35
  41. Chapter 36
  42. Chapter 37
  43. Chapter 38
  44. Chapter 39
  45. Chapter 40
  46. Chapter 41
  47. Chapter 42
  48. Chapter 43
  49. Chapter 44
  50. Chapter 45
  51. Chapter 46
  52. Chapter 47
  53. Chapter 48
  54. Chapter 49
  55. Chapter 50
  56. Chapter 51
  57. Chapter 52
  58. More from Patricia Wilson
  59. About the Author
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. Author’s Note

‘Dear David, Simon came with us on that holiday. You got the tickets really cheap off Teletext, for you, Roger and Simon, but Roger came down with mumps, remember? Please try and remember. Poor Roger! I ended up going in his place. Oh my, as I said, I was only sixteen so it was a real adventure. I’d been so sad, so full of guilt because my mum had been killed going for my Christmas present on Christmas Eve.

‘I was in love with you, desperately, head-over-heels in love, and you pulled my leg about it all the time. But in truth, I knew you were in love with me too.’

She watched his hands for a moment. ‘Do you remember, you got that busker with the guitar at the airport to sing, “She was Only Sixteen”, and you twirled me under your arm. “She was Only Sixteen” became our song.’ She sang the first lines, staring at his face. ‘It’s still our song, my darling David. It always will be.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I wish you could hold me for a moment, just once. One hug. One.’

David picked up a cylindrical brick and tried to push it through the triangular hole.

‘When we landed on the island of Paros, we got a bus from the airport to the town centre. Do you remember the promenade, that gorgeous little white church with the brilliant blue dome? And the big windmill with a thatched roof, David? Oh, those huge sails of white canvas, just next to the ferry port. Someone had painted PAROS CORNER in big blue letters on the wall behind the windmill. We lugged our cases onto another bus which took us to a beautiful little village on the edge of the sea . . . what was it called now?’ She stared at him, her mind begging for him to say the word, or even glance up and acknowledge her. ‘Naoussa, yes, I remember. How amazingly beautiful it was. All the pavements painted like crazy paving. Narrow alleys. Such a magnificent white church that towered above the village.’ She recalled the scenes they’d enjoyed so much. ‘We slept together, all night in the same bed, for the first time . . . for the last time. I remember snuggling up to you and thinking it was the happiest moment of my life, and it was.’

A nurse came in and asked if she would like a cup of tea. Shelly shook her head and returned her attention to David as she left.