Ben by Kerry Needham Page A

walk home.
    Mum didn’t last long at Palm Beach. I think she preferred looking after her grandson to working. Fortunately for the family, Dad and Stephen won a new contract at the same time Mum was handing in her notice. Dad’s sociable nature had so far been responsible for them getting the plot for the caravan, acquiring all the kit for Ben from friends and getting my apartment at a knockdown price. Now he had met a man in a bar who had a proposition. His wife’s family had a rundown farmhouse up in the hills in a village called Iraklis. It was her dream to renovate theproperty to its pre-war glory. And it was her husband’s lot to do whatever she wanted.
    The man was called Michaelis Kypreos and he really was a good sort. As well as providing jobs for our two men, he said Dad could move the caravan up to the site and take advantage of the free water and electricity connections that ran to the dilapidated cottage. Not only would they be getting a wage and free utilities, they wouldn’t have to pay rent on the premises – and they’d never have an excuse for being late for work.
    When you’re nineteen, you don’t always appreciate how fortunate you are. Looking back, everything seemed to be falling into place. We didn’t need to earn much to have a decent lifestyle in Kos. Even when drachmas were tight, the sun and people’s happy faces more than compensated for it. As the weeks passed and the temperatures rose, the hotel got busier as all of Kos seemed to come alive. It was like being back in Chapel again with the weekly or fortnightly turnover of fresh blood, the only difference being the ones arriving here were pale and those heading home were tanned – or burnt.
    As more tourists arrived, the harder the bars worked to get you in. There were some great offers on cocktails and beers, and I have to thank Stephen for not being slow in exposing me to this side of the island. There is nothing in the world better or more satisfying than being a mum. But at nineteen there was a part of me that was fulfilled just being out with people my own age, having a drink, having fun, having conversations with strangers you’d never see again. As Stephen said: ‘It’s all very well having lovely friends like Athena and her husband Dino, but they’re our parents’ age. You’re missing out. You need to be out with people as young as you.’
    My only experience of clubs and bars had been when I was a schoolgirl. It made such a change to not have to lie about my age. I’d pretended to be eighteen then. Now I could go in with my head held high (and laugh at the dozens who were clearly underage).
    In the space of four or five weeks I went from a timid little housewife to a fully rounded woman with my own personality. I really came out of myself. I acquired some confidence I never knew existed and, once or twice a week, I let my hair down, enjoyed the company of others and felt like Kerry Needham for once. I hadn’t felt this free since my days of boob tubes and braids, during my Madonna and Boy George phase.
    I’m sure my happiness spread to my role as a mum. I’ve met so many parents who can’t help taking out their frustrations on their children. They feel held back somehow. I was lucky. I could indulge myself every now and then and know that Mum was looking after Ben with as much care as she’d ever looked after us.
    Occasionally Mum and Dad went out as well. Normally this didn’t affect me. Ben and I would be at our apartment, none the wiser. But one day I arrived for dinner at the caravan as planned. I was on breakfast duty the next day, so Ben needed to be there overnight. When we arrived, everyone was rushing around and Mum announced she and Dad were going out straight after eating. Normally I would have gone back home, but she said would I mind stopping over? Obviously, I didn’t need to be asked twice. We had a lovely meal under the stars as usual, then I put Ben to bed and waved off my parents. The fact that