I blinked out of the fantasy, just as I heard Mitch reply, and looked around.

“What’s the matter?” I asked quickly.

“This damn car park!” my mom exclaimed, her frustration evident. “Everyone here parks like morons!”

I glanced around the car park, not seeing a single car that was over the lines, and said, “Mmm.”

I could have slipped back into the fantasy where I knew Mitch was pulling a harness and a length of rope out of his backpack but I didn’t want to. I knew it was something I had to get over but the idea of climbing, wherever in the cavern we were going to do it, terrified me. Once I’d managed it the first time without injury, once I knew that my body was capable of it, it would be easier.

I wasn’t sure if that was true or if I was just lying to myself but either way, it didn't matter. I stayed firmly in reality as my mom pulled into one of the many free spaces in the car park, ignoring the faint sensations from the fantasy world.

“That’s not too bad,” she said, pulling on the hand break and checking her lipstick in the mirror before switching off the engine.

“Yeah, it seems like a pretty good space,” I replied.

I could feel myself walking in the fantasy but I pushed it away even harder, trying not to get swept up in it again.

I started to get out of the car before pausing and inhaling deeply. The glorious scent of fresh pizza, cheese and garlic wafted towards me from Tony’s and I couldn’t help but hurry towards it. My mom did the same, rushing across the road and into the small, brightly lit restaurant.

I looked around at the familiar place, a smile on my face as I took in the pictures on the wall that had been there ever since we’d stumbled across the restaurant years before. Tony and his family smiled down at us from their original restaurant in Rome. In some, he was in the kitchen, in others serving customers and laughing with them.

It made me happy every time I saw the pictures. I could just tell he was doing what he wanted to do with his life. He seemed so happy, so fulfilled. Part of me wondered if I’d ever feel that way. The closest I ever got was when I was in Crete but… that wasn’t the same. It wasn’t real.

“Okay, kid. I’ve got everything set up, are you ready to go?” Mitch’s voice broke through my musings.

I returned to the cave deep under the surface of Spinalonga, my eyes landing on him immediately.

He was on the other side of the chasm, one torch attached to his shoulder and pointing straight at me, another on the floor and pointing upwards, lighting the cave. He was wearing a harness and I belatedly realised that I was too. It was attached to a rope that went all the way up to a metal hook and back to Mitch.

I couldn’t see the hook properly but I really hoped that it was a new one that Mitch had somehow drilled into the stone and not something that had been there for however long.

He had. I had faint memories of him clambering skilfully up the wall, pulling some tools and the hook out of his belt before attaching them. Anxiety had wracked me as he did it. I was almost certain that at any moment, he’d slip and fall to his death.

But he hadn’t. Before long, he was on the other side, smiling victoriously at me and urging me to follow his path across the gap.

He had assured me that, even if I were to fall, I would be fine. The hook would hold my weight and he’d pull me back up. I wasn’t so sure though and I didn’t want to stay in that world for long enough to find out.

“How does this table look?” the waiter asked me, gesturing towards a small booth table far away from the rest of the people in the restaurant.

“It’s great,” I said. “Thank you.”

My mom said nothing as she slid into one side of the booth and I shot the waiter a smile as I sat on the other side. I could see into the kitchen from where I was sitting. The huge pizza oven at the back had pizzas cooking in it, chefs waiting nearby to pull them out as soon as they were baked to perfection.

“There are your menus. Can I get you some drinks or do you need a minute?” the waiter asked.

I picked up the menu that he’d placed on the table before me, my eyes already going to the pizza section as my stomach growled hungrily. I don’t know why I even looked at the menu when I knew I was just going to get the same thing I always did but I still checked.

“I’ll just have a sparkling water,” my mom said.

“Can I just get a coke, please?” I asked, smiling at the waiter.

“Of course. I’ll bring those right over.”

I looked down at the menu again, my eyes unfocusing slightly as the urge to disappear back to Crete gripped me. I fought it though. I could feel what was happening and I didn’t want to be there.

The rocks dug into my fingers and my arms shook with effort. My legs strained too. I had barely started climbing but I really hadn’t thought it would be that hard. I just wasn’t used to it. It had been so long since I’d climbed last and that was making me want to do it more. Not because I was enjoying it, I just knew I needed to get better. I needed to be able to manage it next time because what if it wasn’t just a fairly small chasm we needed to climb over? What if I needed to actually climb something properly? I wouldn’t be able to do it.

“What are you feeling?” my mom asked, surprising me.

She never asked what I wanted normally.

“Um… I think just a cheese pizza,” I said.

She nodded, her eyes scanning the menu.

“That does look good. Are you not having a starter?”

I looked at her in shock. Normally she told me I was eating too much, not suggesting we have more food. But I guessed that being in Scotland was rubbing off on her. It was probably making her want to rebel.

I glanced at the starters, my eyes taking in the options quickly.

“Oh, maybe the bruschetta,” I said.

It sounded delicious. There was even a drizzle of pesto on it.

My mom hesitated before saying, “That does sound lovely.”

Something told me she was biting back the urge to say something cruel. It didn't really matter to me though, I knew that I wanted to eat the bruschetta, no matter what.

“Are you going to have a starter?” I asked.

I saw my mom purse her lips before carefully saying, “Yes, I think I will.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between us before I made myself speak again.

“What are you going to have?”

“I think I’m going to have the scallops to start and then the pesto pasta,” she replied, without looking up at me over the menu.

“Mm, sounds good.”

I looked back at the menu awkwardly, starting to reach out for the comforting dizziness to escape the awkwardness that stretched between us, but the waiter returned, sparing me from having to experience any more of the rock climbing.

I was so close anyway. I was almost on the other side.

“There we go,” he said, placing our drinks in front of us. “And have you decided on what you would like to eat? Or do you need another couple of minutes?”

I glanced at my mom who said, “I think we're ready. I'll have the scallops to start and then the pesto pasta.”

She looked over her menu at me expectantly.

“Oh, can I have the bruschetta and a four pizza, please? And some garlic mayonnaise?” I asked.

“Great. Any other sauces or sides?” the waiter asked.

“No, thank you,” my mom said, answering for me.

“Wonderful.”

The waiter finished scribbling down our order before taking the menus and walking away from the table.

Once more, the silence grew between us. I smiled awkwardly at my mum, not sure what to say or if there was anything I could do to start a conversation.

“So,” my mum said slowly, clearly searching for something to say too. “how are you finding school?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s alright.”

“What is your favourite subject at the moment?” she asked.

It surprised me. I didn't really expect her to say anything more but keep talking.

“I'm not sure really. Maybe philosophy? I'm really enjoying that.”

My mother nodded, her smile only slightly forced.

“So… you want to become a Philosopher?” she asked, a hint of mocking in her voice.

“No,” I said immediately, fighting back the urge to point out that I didn’t think it was really a job anymore anyway. “I’m not sure what I want to do.”

“No? Does your school not have a career advisor?” she asked.

“No, not really. I mean, there’s a person who comes once a year and tells us what she thinks we should do.”

Not that she was any good or actually listened to what we wanted.

“Oh? And what did she say you should do?"

“It varies every year but she’s said I should look into journalism, law or medicine,” I answered flatly. “I’m pretty sure that she gives that advice to everyone though.”

I saw my mom’s eyes light up and I knew she had ignored the second part of what I had just said.

“Law or medicine, huh? Do you think you have the grades to study either of those?” she asked, her voice strangely excited.

I knew what she was thinking. She was hoping that I would go into medicine, study something that was better than any of my cousins and that would finally make my grandparents proud of me and, by extension, her. It wouldn't happen though. I didn’t care about the subjects and I was pretty sure I wasn’t smart enough to do either.

“I’m not sure. I’m not really interested in law or medicine though,” I told her.

“That doesn’t matter! You don’t need to actually care about them. They’re good jobs, you’d be able to actually make something of your life,” she said.

I scrunched up my face in disagreement. I wanted a job that I did care about. Well, at least something that made me happy. Maybe before it wouldn't have mattered too much to me. I would have been content to just do anything, work mindlessly at whatever job I fell into or study whatever seemed achievable at university, but not now. Somehow, seeing Mitch enjoying his life made that feel less acceptable. I knew that he was just in my head probably but still he made me want to actually do something I enjoyed with my life.

“Yeah,” I said reluctantly, “but that there might be something else I enjoy more or that I’m better at.”

My mother looked at me like I had said something ridiculous.

“Does that matter? Why do you need to enjoy work?” she demanded, her tone quiet so that no one would overhear how she was talking to me. “Do you really think I enjoyed all of my jobs? When I practically ran that media company, do you think I had a good time? Or when I managed over one hundred people, do you think that was fun for me?”

I almost wanted to say yes. She brought those jobs up all of the time. Depending on what point she was trying to prove, she either found the jobs so easy and had a wonderful time or she had to put in extra hours, worked overtime and was never at home. Either way, she painted herself in such a positive light that I doubted the stories completely.

I settled for grunting noncommittally.

“Exactly! It’s better to work a job that you don’t really enjoy but that means you can support yourself to have the lifestyle that you want!” she said. “And, if you are a lawyer or a doctor, you should be able to find yourself a nice wealthy man to settle down with!”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her. She brought that up a lot. Half of her advice to me was about how to find a nice wealthy man to marry and have children with. I was never sure quite what to make of it. I mean, most people had considered what their dream wedding would be like and how their futures would look but I didn't think about it that much.

I didn't like to. I wasn't sure why but the idea of the future just filled me with such… Dread. Talking to anyone about it made me anxious. I didn't want a future, especially not one like my mom was talking about. I didn't want to think about finding a person to marry and spend the rest of my life with them, working in a job for the next however many years and popping out a dozen children, like she wanted me to.

None of that appealed to me. Well, some of it did, I guess I didn't mind the idea of marrying some guy, as long as it was someone who actually liked and wanted to spend time with. That didn't sound like it could happen though. I’d never even had a boyfriend, how could I be thinking about a husband? It was impossible to find someone who liked me and wanted to even date me.

My foot finally touched the ground on the other side of the canyon but I couldn’t let go of the rock just yet, even though Mitch had grabbed my arm and was pulling me further onto solid ground. My fingers stung from how hard I had been gripping the stone and my legs were shaking. I glanced back at the wall, marvelling at the fact that I had actually managed to climb it.

Not really climb, of course it was just a fantasy and I wasn't even there, but I had managed it. I didn't think I would be capable of it.

“Good job, kid!” Mitch cried, clapping my shoulder. “Ready to move on to the next bit or do you need a minute?”

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling some of the adrenaline drain from me now that I was firmly on the other side. I wanted to say that I didn't need a break, that I was ready to keep going and see what challenge or trap awaited us next, but my hands were trembling. My legs were too. I was genuinely worried that I might fall over.

“Is it alright if I take a bit of a break?” I asked sheepishly.

“That's fine, kid. I want to take some photos of this wall anyway, just in case the Sterlings do find us and blow it to smithereens,” he said with a grin.

My stomach clenched his words. Suddenly, it felt so stupid to even consider stopping, even if it was only for a few minutes.

“Are you sure?” I asked, glancing back at the other side of the cave, checking to make sure they weren’t sneaking up on us somehow.

The light barely reached that side but I was pretty sure there was no one there. I couldn’t see any movement at least.

“Of course. Take a seat, I’ll get it all set up for the photos and then we’ll keep going,” he said in a reassuring tone.

I smiled at him and started to sink down before being ripped back into reality.

“The bruschetta,” a waitress said, looking between my mom and me.

A thick cut of bread was on the plate in her hand, decorated with multicoloured tomatoes and sprinkled with pesto and balsamic vinegar. My mouth immediately started to water and I had to swallow before I could speak.

“Here, please.”

“Great, and yours must be the scallops?” the waitress asked, looking at my mother.

I glanced at the dish she was holding. I didn’t eat fish but it did look pretty good.

Large scallops rested in a cream sauce, flecked with black specks of pepper, with a thick wedge of bread on the side of the plate.

“Yes,” my mother said with a perfunctory smile.

“Great. Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked, looking between us.

“No, thank you.”

I stared down at the plate in front of me, suddenly so glad that my mom had suggested that we get starters. I’d only had the bruschetta a handful of times but it was always so delicious.

I picked up a half of the slice, tomatoes tumbling to the plate below and the juices already running down my fingers, and took a huge bite. I had to suppress the urge to sigh happily. It was just so good. It was somehow sweet yet perfectly savoury, the tomatoes so flavourful with a hint of saltiness and the pesto was incredible.

I quickly took another bite, savouring the delicious dish before me. The juices had started to soak into the bread but it was like a sponge, taking on more and more flavour.

I wished there was a place back home that did a bruschetta that good but there just wasn’t. There was a chain restaurant in the next city over that served it but it was always just a little… lacklustre. Nothing like the mouthwatering version they made at Tony’s.

I finished the rest of the bruschetta quickly, not even leaving some on my plate so as not to seem greedy, and scooped up some of the tomatoes that had fallen off the bread as I’d been eating.

My mom was so absorbed by her own dish that she barely even sent me a disapproving look. Even so, she almost finished all of hers, leaving behind just a small chunk of bread and half a scallop.

I leant back, a satisfied smile coming to my lips as I tumbled towards the dizziness.

“So, how are things going with Duncan?” my mom asked, pulling me back.

“What do you mean?” I asked, the words coming out a little too sharp.

“Well, aren’t you two dating? You used to spend so much time going on bike rides together.”

Her tone clearly insinuated that there was more going on than that but there wasn’t. Under the table, my hands clenched into fists but I wasn’t sure why.

“No. We’re just friends, that’s all we’ve ever been,” I said in as even a tone as possible.

It was true.

“Mmm,” my mom said, clearly not believing me. “Are you still just… friends then?”

“Yeah.”

She took a sip of her drink, scrutinising me over the rim of the glass.

“I’ve not seen him around in a little while.”

I didn’t need to answer her but I felt strangely defensive.

“I still see him sometimes.”

I bit back the urge to say that we still texted a fair bit too. That would make her suspicious that there was something more going on between us when there really wasn’t. We were just friends, we always had been and we probably always would be. He’d never want to be with someone like me, he had too many better options.

Not that I even liked him like that. He was a friend and I didn’t. Like, he was attractive, of course. He had a nice smile and he was on the rugby team so he had a good body, I’d seen him topless enough times to know that, but I only ever saw him as a friend.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket but I fought the urge to reach for it, trying to keep my facial expression as neutral as possible as my mother examined me doubtfully. I knew that it might have been Duncan and, for once, I didn’t want it to be. If it were him and I were to read the text and smile, my mom would demand to see the message.

I really didn’t want that. I hadn’t cleared his messages in a while so the one with the picture of the bottle of vodka would be there and she’d see it. I could already hear the rant she would give me now and it wasn’t worth it. It was always the same rant. She started by telling me how stupid drinking was and how drinking so early would ruin my brain and mean that I’d never achieve anything in my life so I’d be mediocre forever.

It was one of her favourite rants and every single time, I had to fight the urge to point out that she’d told me stories about her drinking from the age of thirteen so… surely she had ruined her brain too.

That wouldn’t be worth it. It would feel so satisfying for a moment but not for any longer.

“All done here?” a waiter asked as he paused by our table.

I opened my mouth to reply just as a deafening explosion sounded in my fantasy.