‘Oh, Andreas,’ I added, looking directly at him, ’but you don’t have a grandson. This is a granddaughter. Rosie. She wears pink ties and likes to draw cats on the walls. And her favourite donkey – what’s his name? Oh, that’s right. Professor.’
There was silence at the table. Andreas turned to look at Rosemary. She froze, then giggled nervously.
‘Andreas,’ she said quietly, trying to sound playful, ’I think Rosemary is making a strange joke. You know my memory…’
Her hand reached for her glass, and I noticed she was trembling.
Mistake one. But I wasn’t done yet.
‘And Andreas, don’t you share a hobby with Marta? It’s so cute that you both enjoy the same things.’
Rosemary frowned for a moment…then lit up. ‘Oh yes, antique shops! Andreas, that’s wonderful. What did you find there? Surely there must be many little treasures on this island!’
Andreas set aside his fork.
‘There are no antique shops here. And I’m not into antiques.’
Mistake number two. Rosemary is now hooked. I continued.
‘Of course you are, Andreas. You restore old furniture. You told me the last thing you did was the beautiful table that still sits in your garage. Remember you were supposed to sell it to the woman from the next street over?’
Andreas frowned, then turned to Rosemary.
‘You’re not Martha. How did I not notice that right away? Show me your passport, please.’
She tried to guffaw. ‘Come on, don’t be so dramatic…’
But passports are not to be trifled with. A minute later it was all on the table, like a cheque in a restaurant. No surprises. Just the unpleasant truth.
‘I’m sorry,’ Andreas said quietly, turning to Rosemary. ‘But I didn’t invite you.’
Rosemary’s smile cracked. She stood up quickly.
‘The real Martha is boring! She’s quiet, always thinks things through and never improvises! You’ll feel like you’re in a museum with her!’
‘That’s exactly why I fell in love with her. For her attention to detail. For the pauses. For taking her time: because she’s not chasing the thrill, she’s searching for the truth.’
‘Oh, I was just seizing the moment to build happiness!’ cried Rosemary. ‘Martha was too slow and less keen than I was.’
‘You cared more about the itinerary than the person,’ replied Andreas. ‘You asked about house size, internet speed, beaches. Martha…she knows what colour ribbons Rosie wears.’
Rosemary hummed and grabbed her bag.
‘Well, suit yourself! But you’ll run away from her in three days. You’ll get tired of the silence. And the buns every day.’
She raced around the house like a hurricane, shoving clothes into her suitcase with the fury of a tornado at her heels. Then, a slam. The door shook in its frame.
Andreas and I were just sitting on the terrace. In the distance, the sea whispered. The night enveloped us like a soft shawl.
We drank herbal tea without saying a word.
‘Stay a week,’ he said after a while.
I looked at him. ‘What if I never want to leave?’
‘Then we’ll buy another toothbrush.’
And next week…
We laughed. We baked scones. We picked olives with sticky fingers. We walked along the beach without saying a word.
I didn’t feel like a guest. I didn’t feel like I was passing through. I felt alive. And I felt…at home.
Andreas asked me to stay a little longer. And I… was in no hurry to come back.
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