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in through the window and buzzes around the room before heading towards the fan. Marina waits for it to be buffeted by the air current but instead it flies under the fan and lands gently on one of the blades.
    ‘A fat lot of good that is!’
    The fly sits for a moment before buzzing off to explore Marina ’s blouse, and then just as suddenly it is out of the window. Marina can feel her eyes closing. The fan motor whirs and she is lulled to sleep.

Chapter 4

    It is not much cooler when she awakes. She can tell she hasn’t slept as long as she normally does. The fan still turns slowly and there is a gentle breeze coming through the window.
    Marina sits up and sees the paper she had been writing on by her bed with ‘Yanni – donkey man’ at the top. She decides there is no time like the present, and rolls on her socks and eases her feet, now somewhat less swollen, into her shoes. They are comfortable once they are on. She rubs the front of the shoes with her fingers to take off some of the dust. The heat dries everything, dust everywhere. It is the same at the shop.
    She positions her feet on the floor and with her hands on her knees rolls her weight forward to stand. Her back feels fine. She stretches, adjusts her bra straps, which cut a little on the shoulders, and picks her blouse off the hook on the door. It feels cool to the touch. It slips on like silk and she buttons it up and tucks it in her nondescript black skirt and adjusts it until she feels respectable.
    The view out of the window up to the ridge catches her attention and she wonders how long it will take her, and if she is fit enough.
    She looks in her big bag, puts her hand in and touches the contents tenderly before she pushes it under the bed and leaves with just her small bag in which she has her purse, her list of one name, her pencil and the key to her room.
    The balcony view takes her breath away again. Marina stands for a moment taking in the sea and the whitewashed houses. She feels proud to be Greek.
    As she walks along the balcony she can hear voices.
    ‘I know, Roula.’ It is Zoe’s voice.
    ‘ But Mum, you can’t leave her like that. It’s not right!’ Roula’s voice is loaded with emotion.
    ‘ Why didn’t you tell me we had run out?’ Zoe sounds tired.
    ‘ I didn’t know. How was I meant to know?’ Roula sounds more angry this time.
    ‘ Well, you were the last person to get one from the cupboard. Didn’t you notice?’ Zoe’s pitch is heightening, the words coming out faster.
    Marina begins to tiptoe past the door which has been left ajar.
    ‘No, I just put my hand in and grabbed one. It’s my fault, isn’t it? Sorry, Mum, sorry, sorry, Roula’s sorry.’ Roula starts to cry, big heaving sobs. Marina pauses.
    ‘ No, my love, it is not your fault. Look, the order came today and Yanni will bring them over tonight. What else can I do? I can’t leave you on your own for that long to go and get them myself. It’s too much for even you, my love.’ Zoe finds her patience, and her words come out soothing and calm.
    ‘ I’ll be fine, Mum. You treat me like a baby sometimes – I am forty-two, you know.’ Roula sniffs but doesn’t seem to be able to stop crying.
    ‘ You are forty-one, not forty-two until next month, and I do not treat you like a baby. I just don’t want to ask too much of you. God knows I couldn’t manage without you.’ Zoe exhales loudly.
    Marina knocks very quietly.
    ‘Mum, there’s someone at the door.’ Roula is still crying and continues muttering, ‘It’s my fault, it’s my fault.’
    ‘ I didn’t hear anyone. Hello?’ Zoe’s voice approaches the door.
    Marina pushes the door open. The dust swirls in the shaft of sunshine that enters.
    ‘Hello. I hope I’m not interrupting?’ There is a curious smell in the room as the door opens. Roula is wiping her eyes and, with one foot in front of the other, is rocking back and forth and watching the television with the sound off. The large lady is