Claudia's Big Break by Lisa Heidke Page B

birthday,’ I said.
    â€˜You just wanted to mention your birthday,’ said Tara, bending over to catch her breath.
    The truth was, I wasn’t rapt about turning thirty-nine — it was a whisker away from forty. I couldn’t get away with careless behaviour like sleeping with my boss for much longer. Being in your forties suggested a level of maturity I had yet to reach, so I certainly didn’t want a big fuss made about it.
    Two hours later, after our ferryman had successfully manoeuvred past dozens of fishing boats and shiny yachts all bobbing in the water vying for space in Fira harbour, we stepped off the boat and gazed up at the hundreds of steep steps we needed to climb to get back to the town centre.
    â€˜I’m buggered,’ I said. ‘I can’t walk. I’ve just spent two and a half hours walking up and down a volcano. That’s enough. My feet can’t take any more. I have blisters.’ I looked down at my very dusty sandals and charcoal toes and ankles. ‘Damn these beautiful but stupid sandals.’
    We gazed at the donkeys, then at the cable cars that had temporarily come to a halt.
    â€˜What do you reckon?’ said Sophie, hugging a weary Levi in her arms.
    â€˜Donkey?’ I suggested. There definitely weren’t any taxis, so a four-legged ride was the only option.
    â€˜Look at the poor things,’ said Tara, walking over to pat one. ‘They’re half-dead.’
    â€˜Tara! We’re half-dead.’
    â€˜They’re exhausted. God knows how many times they’ve already climbed those steps today.’
    â€˜Maybe you’re right,’ Sophie agreed. ‘We can walk.’
    â€˜It’s the donkeys’ job. They won’t get fed unless they take us up the hill,’ I said irritably. ‘Besides, they look happy — enough.’ An outright lie, but I was tired. I had to look after myself, being middle-aged and all.
    Twelve donkeys were lined up in front of us, ready for action, their black saddles decorated with multicoloured blankets and harnesses adorned in coloured beads. The beads gave them a soft glow. Or maybe it was the hot afternoon sun giving the weary tourists the soft glow. Either way, I won the battle. We chose three relatively friendly and agile-looking donkeys and clambered aboard. Eventually, they started walking. Very slowly.
    â€˜At least mine knows that the stairs are an inevitable part of his job, even if he is gnawing the lead with his teeth,’ I said to Sophie when her donkey stopped at the second step, blocking all the others behind him. He was happy to fling his tail around, swat flies and pick at nonexistent grass.
    â€˜No doubt trying to bore you off,’ Tara said.
    Instantly, a withered old guy with a stick spotted the trouble and came over.
    â€˜Please don’t,’ Sophie pleaded. He ignored her and gave the donkey a sharp whack on the rump. Not surprisingly, the old animal took off. Practically galloped up the next ten steps, which came as quite a shock to Sophie and Levi. However, after an initial burst of energy, the donkey settled to a slow walk with his four-legged friends.
    I was shaky in the saddle at first but as I got used to the donkey’s height and gait, I relaxed, smiling as we strode past foolish tourists who’d chosen to walk the uneven steps. Ha! Bet they were having second thoughts about that decision now.
    At the end of the twenty-minute journey we dismounted, and before anyone could turn and give them a thankyou pat, the donkeys had bolted back down the stairs. Obviously they hadn’t stopped to consider that no sooner would they arrive at the bottom of the stairs than they’d have to carry some lump straight back up again. Donkey logic.
    â€˜My legs won’t work properly for a good hour,’ Tara grumbled, shaking her legs as she stumbled along the pathway.
    A few metres away, Sophie and I stepped over a huge turd, evidently