Read Online Claudia's Big Break by Lisa Heidke - Free Book Online

get out and explore. But maybe I’d wait until the wind died down, the clouds disappeared and brilliant sunshine returned, as the pictures on the postcards promised.
    After I’d unpacked, I wandered downstairs just as Sophie was walking out of her bedroom.
    â€˜He was asleep before his head hit the pillow,’ she said, shattered but triumphant. ‘I’ll just light a candle, do some deep breathing and all will be fine.’
    Sophie produced a Jo Malone grapefruit candle and, after lighting it and exhaling deeply three times, sat down on the lounge and opened her knitting bag. ‘Peace at last.’ She rummaged around for her wool and needles.
    â€˜He’s a good kid, Soph,’ I said, breathing in the citrus aroma.
    She screwed up her face. ‘I know, but sometimes I want to strangle him.’ Her blonde curls appeared more tightly wound than ever as she twisted a ball of wool until the threads were at breaking point.
    â€˜Have a shot of ouzo instead,’ said Tara, walking in from outside.
    â€˜You ventured out into those conditions?’ I said, impressed. ‘Well done!’
    â€˜Yeah, it’s enough to freeze your tits off but my need for sustenance was greater than my need for comfort. Also, I found this,’ Tara twirled to show off the extremely bulky and ugly aqua parka she was wearing, ‘in the wardrobe.’
    â€˜You chose to wear that hideous creation,’ Sophie said, her nose in the air, ‘over my pale pink pashmina?’
    Tara shot me a grin and plonked several bags on the dining room table. ‘We have wine, red and white; ouzo, local and imported from the mainland; as well as olives, dolmades and pasta. In fact, we have all the essentials, as well as a couple of bits to keep Levi going until morning.’
    Soph and I gathered around, marvelling at the array of goodies.
    Tara held up a can of sardines and a bottle of ouzo that had been shrink-wrapped together, then shrugged. ‘Go figure. I tell you, there’s everything you could want and then some — honey, candied fruits, sausages, olives. I was overwhelmed with all the choices.’
    She opened a bottle and we raised our glasses. ‘Here’s to Santorini and to us,’ we shrilled and swallowed our first sip of Santorini retsina.
    Sophie spluttered. ‘Oh. My. God.’
    â€˜A hint of car oil, pig swill and cat piss,’ Tara said, taking another swig. ‘However, it is alcohol.’
    True. We all gagged but that didn’t stop us drinking the contents dry within ten minutes. Then we placed the empty bottle in the centre of the table, rather like a shrine. Or a silent reminder never to buy it again.
    â€˜It’s really stunning here,’ said Tara as we sat by the closed window and stared across the bleak Santorini sky.
    â€˜It is. But you’re right, it’s bloody cold,’ said Sophie.
    â€˜And extraordinarily windy,’ I added.
    â€˜At the shops I overheard a couple of tourists say it’ll be sunny and wind-free tomorrow.’
    â€˜I’ll drink to that,’ said Sophie. ‘And as long as Levi can manage a full night’s sleep, I’ll be happy.’
    â€˜Full on, isn’t he?’ Tara mused.
    Sophie nodded. ‘Sometimes I think little boys are sent from hell to test our patience and sanity. I can’t imagine what poor Colette goes through.’ Colette was another friend from our schooldays who had three boys, the oldest of whom was six. The other two were twins, Levi’s age.
    â€˜No wonder she drinks,’ said Tara.
    â€˜It’s overwhelming,’ said Sophie, picking up her knitting. ‘I sometimes think how much easier my life would be if I didn’t have Levi. I could do anything. Be anyone. Instead, I have to be responsible, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It’s never-ending — the screaming, tantrums, vomiting, washing, cooking, consoling, cajoling.