A Greek Affair
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‘There. Look at you! The last thing you needed was another late night. Why don’t you let us collect Rosie from school and have her for a mid-week sleepover? I’ll make sure she does her homework. You can invite a friend around, relax for a couple of hours and maybe get an early night for a change.’
Having one’s mother constantly worrying about one’s lack of any sort of a social life can be rather demoralising at times.
‘Mum, we’re happy as we are. Having Rosie makes everything I’ve been through worthwhile. I don’t need a man in my life to make me feel complete, really I don’t.’
Mum turns away from loading the dishwasher to look across at me. I know it’s hard for her, too.
‘But what about Rosie, Leah?’
‘We had the conversation several years ago and she never refers to it. Rosie has accepted that her father isn’t coming back and she knows how much she’s loved by the people she does have around her. Her teacher says she’s one of the most well-adjusted kids she’s ever met. Checking that she isn’t having any problems is the first thing I ask at every parents’ evening I attend.’
‘That’s because she’s bubbly, like you. The glass is always half-full and if you both continue through life with that ethos, then you won’t come to any real harm. But the day will come when Rosie will want to spread her wings. What happens when it’s time to let go a little, as she wants to spend more and more time with her friends? It’s a natural progression. If an opportunity to find love comes along, Leah, don’t look in the other direction. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying.’
As we grab coats and don our shoes, it’s a quick hug all round before we head out.
‘Thanks, Mum. You are a star and thank Dad for being the taxi service, yet again.’
‘That’s what we’re here for, honey. And was that a yes to the sleepover?’
Rosie’s eyes light up.
‘A sleepover with Grandma and Granddad, tonight?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Guess it’s a yes, Mum,’ I mutter, as I steer Rosie out of the door. We’re already eight minutes late and it’s going to be impossible to get a parking space anywhere near the school. Oh well, I guess winning a prestigious award doesn’t make you that special, after all!
~
Sally and I are lying at opposite ends of the sofa, a glass of white Grenache in our hands as we toast each other.
‘I really was rooting for you, Sally. I feel awful because you are one of the blogging icons.’
She shakes her head, mid-sip.
‘I won it the very first year and just sporting that nominee badge again for the next twelve months will boost my income nicely. I’ve already had two very lucrative new clients jump on board since the announcement ten days ago. Besides, you and Rosie have taken it up a notch. I love her little feature, advising kids on what to pack and reviewing games, gadgets and items that will slot nicely into that case of hers. She’s become quite the intrepid little traveller since you began blogging.’
It’s true; we’ve been on over a dozen fully-paid trips abroad already, and five within the UK.
‘It was her idea, actually and although I do proofread her posts, it’s entirely her own work. We talk through what she wants to say but I don’t interfere, I simply steer. She loves the freebies and testing things out is fun. But last night came as a total shock and you’re right, the offers have already started to roll in. This could finally allow me to give up the freelance photography work.’
‘You are a deserving winner, Leah, and you should be proud of what you’ve achieved. If I was going to lose to anyone, I’m delighted that it’s you because it’s about time life gave you a break.’
I turn down the corners of my mouth in mock self-pity. ‘I agree. This abandoned mother, parenting her only child, is in dire need of a lucky break.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘No, that came out all wrong and you know it. What I mean is that you must stop feeling guilty for walking away with the award, lady. And anyone who works as hard as you do, deserves to reap their rewards. You’ve paid your dues, it wasn’t a lucky break at all. Now this is your time to shine.’
It’s been seven long years, and although those years have been a nightmare, I kept pushing forward.
‘You’re right, of course. I’m tired and I have to head up to North Wales tomorrow to take some shots of a trout farm for a magazine feature.’
Sally gives me a sympathetic look.
‘But that’s a three-and-a-half-hour trip from the Forest of Dean. Up and back in a day?’
I nod. ‘Yep. The photos will probably only take an hour. I’ll drop Rosie off at school and head straight up there. Mum and Dad will collect her in the afternoon and wait here until I get back.’
‘I don’t know how you do it, Leah. Fingers crossed those advertising and sponsorship deals come in thick and fast. What’s the daily hit rate, now?’
‘It eclipsed fifteen thousand unique hits for the first time, yesterday.’
She looks me in the eye.
‘You need to put up your advertising rates in line with your new status as the winner of such a prestigious award.’
Cradling the glass in my hands, I admit that’s not something I’d considered. But Sally is right and that alone could make all the difference. And, yes, there is a little thrill that courses through my veins hearing someone else refer to me as a winner.
‘Anyway, what did you think of the outfit? I didn’t look too dressy, did I? Posh frocks aren’t really my thing.’
‘It was perfect – you looked the business. And that’s quite an ass … et you have going on there now, girl. It suits you; the gaunt look wasn’t really your style.’
I smile. We both agree on that score.
‘Yep. I finally fill out a dress from the front to the back, again. My problem now is that if I’m going to be sitting down in front of the laptop every day from here on in, how am I going to maintain it and not pile on the pounds?’
‘When you’ve cracked that one,’ Sally says, jiggling her growing jelly-belly, ‘let me know.’
A New Routine
The problem with being the sole breadwinner is that you can’t afford to take any risks, whatsoever. There is no safety net. Running this little, two-bed stone cottage in the middle of the Forest of Dean is a modest enough outlay by a lot of people’s standards. However, I do appreciate the fact that we are still luckier than many, because I’m a survivor and Rosie is, too. We have learnt to live quite happily within our means. Yes, I’d love the big house with half an acre and two cars sitting on the drive. Who wouldn’t? But the cottage is pretty, and we’re surrounded by stunning views and forest walks.
To the front of the property is a road which leads on down to a cul-de-sac. We don’t get passing traffic, only neighbours coming and going. While our rear garden is small, it backs onto a swathe of forestry commission land. We have all the benefits of some beautiful, old trees with none of the worry of having to maintain them.
We don’t want for anything and I figure that teaching Rosie to live on a budget is a good discipline. It’s something that has become second nature to her and she’s used to making choices and accepting that she can’t simply ask and have.
I was holidaying in Italy when Antonio Castelli first crossed my path; his dark hair and wide smile was the first thing that attracted me to him. When I returned three months later to meet his parents, Guido and Zita, we had already fallen madly in love – the sort of madness that empties your head of everything else – and life became a waiting game. It was agony being parted and I lived for our evening chats via Skype and the constant stream of texts we exchanged daily. I slept with my phone under my pillow and I know Antonio did the same.
Then we had the agonising decision of where we would settle after the wedding. I felt awful for his family when, after careful consideration, we decided to make the UK our home. Mum and Dad were relieved, but knowing that Antonio’s family were so far away was a little cloud on our new horizon. And the paperwork to make it happen was the next nightmare on our journey.
Little did I know that less than three years later it would all be over, leaving me clutching little Rosie to ease the pain in my heart. But now that’s all firmly in the past and I’m extremely proud of my confident little nine-year-old, who is probably a little bit wiser than her years because of what we’ve been through. I was determined to conquer whatever obstacles life placed in front of us because nothing is going to rob us of the happiness we deserve.
I scan down the emails in my inbox and a smile breaks out on my face. One of the emails is a link to the press release issued by the Traveller Abroad publicity team and there it is – a photo, front and centre, the Caroline Blakely handing little old me the trophy.
When I rang the photographic agency to break the news that I was drastically cutting back on my hours, they were shocked, but for me it’s a step forward. Next on the to-do list is a total re-design of the website, taking out anything related to my photographic work. Then I need to maximise advertising space, add a rolling banner so that I can accommodate a number of premium rate advertisers instead of just the one, and review my schedule of charges.
I reach out for my coffee mug, only to find it empty.
‘Now that’s another thing you need to tackle, Leah,’ I admonish myself.
If I’m going to be sitting here working very long days, and nights, in order to develop The Sun Seeker’s Guide to a Happy Holiday into one of the best blogs out there, I need to stop comfort eating. It’s a habit I’ve developed to get me through those long evenings with only the glow of the computer screen to keep me company. I’m the first to admit that I often find myself reaching out for a biscuit, or four, and after a string of cups of very strong coffee I tell myself it’s wine o’clock. Okay, so I only have the one glass but it’s a large one, as I convince myself I deserve a reward for working such long hours.
All that stops now – no cheating. Also, no biscuits, or cake, or chocolate. One coffee to get me going in the morning and then I’m on the water and herbal teas.
A wicked grin creeps over my face. But think of the upside! No more dashing around the house before breakfast getting suited and booted, spending half an hour on hair and make-up. I can throw on a jumper over my PJs and leave early enough to get that prized parking space right next to the school gates. The only space nestled between the end of the zig-zag lines and the start of the double yellows. The one everyone covets so they can watch their little darlings walk the three strides up to the member of staff on duty who ushers them inside.
I glance across at the sparkly crystal award sitting in pride of place in the middle of the bookshelf. Sally was right: I deserve this and I’m going to make it work.
~
‘Mum, are you really going to be around all the time now?’
‘Mostly. Why?’
‘I’ll still spend time with Grandma and Granddad, won’t I?’
Rosie is sitting opposite me at the kitchen table, her little face crinkled up into a frown.
‘Of course you will. You can still have sleepovers whenever you want and we can pop over after school at any time for a visit.’
I can see she’s putting this together and I know there’s a question coming.
‘When someone dies, where do they go?’
Ah. I suspect someone at school has lost a grandparent and the kids have been talking.
‘Well, your soul goes to another place. Some people call that heaven. But usually people only die after they have had a long and happy life and they leave behind lots of wonderful memories.’
Now she’s toying with the chips on the plate in front of her, aimlessly pushing them around.
‘But what if you don’t want them to go?’
I walk around the table and kneel down next to her, easing the fork out of her hand.
‘When we truly love someone, they remain in here.’ I place my hand over my heart. Rosie’s eyes follow my every move. ‘They are always with us. Grandma and Granddad are fine, darling. There’s nothing at all to worry about.’
She hangs her head.
‘I don’t want anyone to die, Mum. I like things the way they are.’
I wrap my arms around her, planting a kiss on the top of her head and then smoothing back her long, dark brown hair away from her face.
‘Life is all about change, Rosie, and mostly that’s a good thing. The only thing that’s changing for us right now is that we’re going to have a new routine. Life won’t feel quite so rushed and I’ll be here whenever you need me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
At last, the smile is back on that pretty little face of hers.
‘Yes, Mum. I like it when we can have dinner together and watch TV before bed.’
It’s always the small things that children miss when life gets hectic. There have been too many nights when I’ve missed dinner entirely, barely arriving back in time to put her to bed. It hasn’t been fair on Mum and Dad, and it hasn’t been fair on Rosie.
‘Well, I like that too and if you’ve finished here let’s quickly clear this away and curl up on the sofa, together.’
Her smile broadens enthusiastically and I find myself taking in every little detail. My little girl is growing up so very quickly and I wonder, fleetingly, how different life would have been for her if Antonio hadn’t left us. But he did, and I’ll never forgive him for that.
I’m in the News
It’s the start of week two of the new regime and I’ve made two new discoveries, already. Firstly, that living in PJs isn’t quite me and the postman was beginning to wonder what was going on. One morning when I also happened to be having a particularly bad hair day, he asked me if I was feeling any better! The other discovery is that sitting in the same position for hours on end isn’t good for you. Even if you can avoid the snacks and sugary drinks, your body starts to rebel. I’ve invested in some track suits and after being caught lusting over a fitness tracker, Mum and Dad turned up at the weekend with two neatly wrapped little parcels. Mine was a Vivofit with a gorgeous red strap and Rosie’s present was a watch.
‘Just a little congratulatory gift,’ Dad said, as we opened the boxes.
I couldn’t protest, but it did bring a tear to my eye as we had a group hug.
Suddenly, my mobile kicks into life and I see that it’s Sally.
‘Morning. I’ve just retweeted you and shared your latest post,’ I inform her.
‘Thanks, I’m running behind this morning. I’ll be online shortly to reciprocate. I’ve only just had time to glance at the free paper. Did you know there’s an article about you?’
I gulp. ‘No. What, in Saturday’s paper?’
‘Yes. It’s a nice little article, actually. Well done, you! Anyway, must make a start but I have that Monday morning feeling. Maybe I need a little sugar fix.’
‘Well, I’ve just done my first walk of the day and am about to make a chamomile tea.’
Sally groans. ‘Okay. Point taken. It’s mind over matter and I’ll have a cup of tea instead. You’re beginning to sound like a health nut, but I do hope some of it rubs off on me. I need to get back to the gym, that’s for sure. Catch you later.’
I rummage around in the sitting room for the paper and when I can’t find it, I ring Mum.
‘Only me. Do you have a copy of the local paper? I can’t find ours and Sally says there’s something in there about the award.’ I can’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.
‘Oh, that will be Keith. Dad said he bumped into him in the supermarket. He’s one of their reporters and Dad told him all about your success. Roger?’ Mum calls out to Dad and I wince, as she hasn’t pulled the phone away from her mouth. ‘Leah’s on the phone. She says Roger did an article on her – what fun!’
Fun?
‘Um … Mum, can you find it for me? What exactly did Dad say?’
‘Only how proud we were that you’d won an award. He’s found the paper. Oh, my!’
It’s a positive exclamation but a chill runs down my back.
‘Gosh, there’s even a photo of you. How wonderful! Roger, ask next door if they’ll let us have their copy. I’m going to frame this one and we need a copy for Leah to show Rosie.’
I feel like a bystander.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll go online to read it. Must go.’
‘Don’t forget you’re both here for dinner on Wednesday night. I’m making spaghetti bolognaise.’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for anything.’
My phone is already nestled between my shoulder and my chin, as I Google the paper’s website.
It’s probably a quarter of a page in total judging by the length of it and the headline is Leah Castelli Brings Home a Top Travel Award. I breathe out a small sigh of relief. Clearly this is based on the press release circulated by the Traveller Abroad publicity people and not merely the gushy words of a proud father. It’s all good publicity, just rather unexpected.
It’s time to head out for my second walk of the day and when I leave the house my head is buzzing. I up the pace a little, gradually calming down, and my thoughts return to the latest changes I’m making to the website. Then inspiration strikes and I come up with a way of cramming in more sponsored ads by including them in posts. I want the website itself to look informative, rather than to be covered with adverts and this solution would solve that problem.
Walking might be healthy but it’s also uninterrupted thinking and planning time.
~
At gym club, I watch enthralled as Rosie executes a perfect back-flip. She lands with apparent ease and both feet planted firmly on the ground. Throwing up her arms, she arches her back and maintains a dignified pose. Her face is beaming.
‘Good work, Rosie. Nicely done.’ Miriam Peterson’s approval is enough to make Rosie’s cheeks glow.
That was certainly a shining example of a perfect landing but every time I watch her perform my stomach does its own involuntary flip.
Miriam waves out to me and heads across the mats in my direction. Even so, her eyes are everywhere and she doesn’t miss a thing.
‘Liesel, relax those shoulders!’ Her voice booms out across the studio floor.
‘I hear congratulations are in order,’ Miriam says, with a gush. ‘I read the article and that’s quite something.’
I can feel my cheeks reddening, as this has caught me off–guard.
‘Yes, it was a bit of a surprise, though.’
‘Ah, well, it’s nice to have an interesting hobby and all those free holidays. I’m envious!’
I try not to frown.
‘It’s a bit more than a hobby,’ I add, but my voice begins to trail off.
‘A hobby with benefits,’ Miriam laughs, totally missing the point.
‘It is very hard work, actually.’
Why am I feeling so defensive? Miriam doesn’t understand any more about my industry, than I do about hers.
‘Nice, though. Guess you’ll be flying here, there and everywhere, now.’ It’s dismissive and her tone is beginning to irritate me.
‘I only blog about places I’m happy to endorse one hundred per cent. Being a critic isn’t always easy but it’s gratifying when a client invites me back after making improvements.’
Even her smile is now annoying me; it’s patronising.
‘You get a second trip? Amazing. And all those freebies for you and Rosie to test. I bet you never have to buy anything holiday-related.’
I give up.
‘Rarely,’ I concede, deciding it’s simply better to agree and change the subject. ‘That was a perfect back-flip Rosie performed there.’
‘If she worked harder, she’d make the team.’ Miriam’s gaze doesn’t falter and I can see she feels I don’t push Rosie hard enough. But Rosie is happy attending two classes a week and taking part in demonstrations; the fact that she isn’t interested in competing is entirely her own decision.
And that’s where Miriam and I differ so greatly. You can’t force someone into doing something and I’m not going to put pressure on Rosie for simply wanting to take part for the sheer fun of it. Much to the annoyance of the sometimes scary Miriam Peterson.
The Word is Spreading
I modelled my approach to evaluating a holiday venue on the iconic hotel inspector, Yolanda Jackson. I figured from the outset that whilst I didn’t have the scathing tone and quick-to-anger attitude I’ve witnessed her dishing out so often on her TV programme, I do admire her integrity. And the way she is simply trying to help owners to raise their standards so that visitors get value for money. That’s essential if they want to stay in business.
Today’s post contains several parcels addressed to Rosie, and I always leave her to open them herself. Aside from that, now I’m back from my walk it’s time to hit the emails.
With Easter only ten days away we already have a day trip to a theme park and a visit to a children’s petting zoo in the diary. It looks like our next trip abroad isn’t until the summer half-term holiday, at the end of May. So even if the UK turns out to be wet and windy, which is often the case for bank holidays, hopefully we’ll be basking in sunshine.
Surely it can’t get any better that that?
~
‘Rosie, can you see who’s at the door please? I’ll be there in a second.’
I press ‘send’ on the email I’ve just finished and a little frisson of excitement makes my stomach do a dip.
‘Mum, it’s Naomi and Callie.’
There’s a lot of laughter coming from the hallway as they all barrel into the kitchen.
‘Well, this is a nice surprise, neighbour. Shall I pop the kettle on?’
Naomi shakes her head, still laughing at whatever the girls found funny, as she walks over to give me a hug.
‘No, sadly we can’t stay. We’re on a mission.’ She looks across at Callie, her eleven-year-old daughter.
‘I’m doing a walk for charity, Leah. Will you sponsor me? It’s five miles and I’ve been training, so I know I can do it.’
‘Ah, that’s great, Callie. When is it?’
‘Saturday morning.’
She hands me the form and I take it, grabbing a pen. It’s for childhood cancer and who wouldn’t want to give to that cause?
‘That’s very kind, Leah. Every little bit helps.’
‘My pleasure and way to go, Callie – that’s awesome. Well done, you!’
‘Can I give some money too?’ Rosie pipes up. We all turn to look at her.
Naomi flashes me a glance and I nod.
‘Of course, Rosie. You can spend your savings on anything you want and I can’t think of a more deserving cause.’
As Callie and Rosie lean over the form on the table, Naomi gives me a look of ‘ahh!’
‘Sorry I’ve been absent lately, I had meant to pop down now I’m around a little more.’ I do feel guilty and I miss our interaction since Callie moved to the senior school last September. Her school is the other side of town and it’s not possible to do both trips and car share anymore.
‘I understand, Leah. Besides, judging from the papers, you’ve been very busy. First the local and now the national papers.’
‘What?’ It comes out like a pistol crack. Why am I always the last to know about these things?
‘I saw it in the Daily News, this morning. It was a big spread about the travel industry and some sort of awards ceremony. I didn’t know your blog was so popular. I mean, I knew you had a website for your photography business, but I had no idea! And is that your award?’
She looks over to the bookshelf and I nod, thinking maybe I should move it somewhere slightly less noticeable. But I work from the kitchen table and it’s the hub of the cottage.
‘Yes. It was unexpected news but very welcome. I’ll be focusing on that in future and the Rosie’s Suitcase feature is a big part of it.’
Rosie’s smile extends from ear to ear, as Callie gives her a gentle nudge.