We had two more days before going home, and the next morning I stood on the jetty waving goodbye to a screaming Nikos, who had to be carried kicking and shouting onto the yacht. I asked his parents why he couldn't stay and go home with us, but they were adamant to keep him at their sides. If it was for his safety, it was horrible, as they were happy to leave Ermioni to drive back with us.
But the sun was shining, the sea was like a piece of blue glass, and after Ermioni was fed and put to bed, I went for a swim. I have extremely porous bones I think, as I could float for hours lying on my back, bobbing like a piece of cork! after lunch I put Ermioni in her pushcart and walked to the little bay where we had such fun with Paolo, and I cried some more, but on noticing that it upsets Ermioni when I am sad, I told myself bluntly that I was not a bally teenager, and that I have the man's telephone number.
I was looking forward to going back, as us nannies had a lot of things we wanted to do. Also I have a date with one of the South African nannies for a game of tennis. Now, I am not the world's best player, my lack of speed standing in my way but I have some beautiful shots, my double backhand being my best. With this speed handicap and all, I played in the lower leagues for my club for years, and loving it, that is, until one year with the mixed doubles, when I got......., lets call him jack! Jack was a youngish guy, always beautifully dressed, his nails perfectly manicured, his hair cut in the latest style, his shoes shining fit to use as a mirror! And of course this fetish for perfection was carried over and onto the tennis court!
Oh my good heavens, this woman nearly had a nervous breakdown that Saturday afternoon as we had to go on for our first match. Jack was first doing his preparation, never giving any sign that he knew we were standing grinding our teeth as he slowly and carefully pulled  knee-guards over both his knees, then two wristguards came on, then a kind of a fingerless glove, then a headband, and with me and the opponents steaming with impatience, he then powdered his hands, before he started walking to the court, his white tennis shoes blinding the eye!
Now, Jack had the most beautiful style, so, so gracious, and he glided over the court like a bally fairy, but oh lord, he was what you call all show and no play, as he concentrated so much on his style that he hardly ever got a ball over the net!  His serve was executed like a piece of ballet, the motions fluent and beautiful, but if he ever got one bally serve over the net, it could be the world's eighth miracle! And to top it all, he thought himself so good that he kept on taking my balls, smashing them far out, or spinning them into the net. I hyperventilated so badly I had to stop for a drink of water, and when I saw the sympathy on the opponents faces, I cried! Needless to say, we lost both matches 6-0, 6-0! Anyhow, I had to stop thinking about that, as it was time for Ermioni's dinner.