The summer of 1997 had been something of a ‘Bummer Summer’ in the UK, overcast, wet and even windy; this is not what Sun worshiper Debbie Allen cared for; coupled with this was the fact she’d been through a messy relationship break-up earlier in the year. 1997 had not been 30 year old Debbie’s year and she was therefore more than pleased, in September, to be away from it all and in the sun on the beautiful Greek Island of Zakynthos ( also known as Zante) with two of her best girlfriends, Sarah Peck and Carmel Bryant. Both girls, like Debbie, were recently single again. A week away from it all, in the sun, all girls together, chilling out and relaxing in the daytime, out on the town at night to have fun, getting drunk in open air bars, dancing in open air discos and playing havoc amongst the chaps. It was just the kind of escapism the girls needed and the holiday had been a great success. They had come on a Thursday and it was now Monday afternoon and they would fly back early hours Thursday morning – so they had two more evenings of all night partying and then Wednesday night would be a quiet affair of packing and a moderate drinking session in local bar.

Monday afternoon and boy was it hot, the girls had spent the another day sun bathing on the beach and sleeping off hangovers – though Debbie had managed a good swim in the mid-afternoon and had then returned to reading her New Woman magazine. Walking back to their apartment in the small pleasant resort town of Alikes, the girls had felt really hot and had stopped at a local cafe for some cold drinks under the shade. As Debbie sat drinking her ice tea, she crossed her left leg over her right and dangled her flip-flop. Something of a poser and a good looker in her tailor made khaki shorts, white designer tee shirt and designer shades, natural blond, blue eyed Debbie, being aware of her good looks liked being a woman in the 1990’s. Debbie was a cool girl round town, had the pick of the boys, and girls liked to be ‘in’ with her because of her local cool image back in her home town. A confident, glamorous, trendy, cool and image conscious independent woman about town, Debbie was no sugary pretty little ‘Barbie Doll’: she was an unashamed social climber and when the occasion rose, she took pride in being a bitch. Debbie was unashamedly fixated with her image, look, pursuing the ‘good-life’, being number one women locally and being ‘on-the-make’. In many respects she was a product of the ‘Yuppie’ 1980’s culture –except Debbie had never been a Yuppie. She had left school at sixteen, with few qualifications and had trained as a beautician, a suitable occupation for a girl obsessed with image. But after a period of low pay and relying on moneyed boyfriends, Debbie had loaned money from her father and set-up her own Beautician’s business. Pushy, a born networker and with her cool glamorous image, the business had developed into a local small town success. Apart from relationship disasters and unreliable British weather, life was good for Debbie.

She carried on dangling her flip-flop and the single strapped designer-labelled ‘Sports-Athlete’ style sandal slid down her foot onto the end of her toes as she gently played with the sandal, flipping it up and down with ankle-foot play and gradually the sandal was hanging at a ninety degree angle from only her big toe. Debbie glanced down and decided to flick the sandal back on her foot a bit more. Lazily Debbie kicked the foot of her crossed leg upwards in an effort to slide her sandal further back on her foot. But the sandal was right on the end of her toe. ‘Slap’ the flip-flop fell on the floor under the café table; “Lost it”, muttered Debbie.

“Lost what?” asked a tired Carmel.

“Oh its nothing, I’ve just lost me flip-flop under the table –no big deal”, replied Debbie in her nasally voice, which despite efforts, at times exposed her local West Midlands accent.

“Can you reach it?” asked Carmel.

“Errh …no”, muttered Debbie as she uncrossed her leg and reached under the big round table and attempted to retrieve her lost sandal with her bare foot.

Carmel looked under the table and seeing Debbie’s flip-flop was nearer to her, started to reach under the table to pick it up.

“Oh leave it Carmel, don’t put yourself out, I’ll pick it up when we move on”.

Debbie crossed her left leg over again. She looked down at her bare foot and admired her beautifully shaped well-manicured foot, with its red painted toenails. Debbie thought to herself what nice sexy feet she had, she also felt she should show them off more. Back home, in the evening, she usually went out in fashionable stilettos or court shoes with closed toes and closed backs. Also, she was generally not a dipping shoe player, though lately, as the beauty business was busy and keeping her on her feet more and more lately, Debbie had become more of a shoe dipper – what she did notice (and Debbie didn’t miss much) was if she slipped a shoe off and guys were around, one or two would be fixated by her half-shod condition and she kind of liked having that power to have them fixated. Earlier in the year, to wear at work, with comfort combined with trendy smartness in mind, Debbie had bought a pair of white strapped wooden Scholl Exercise Sandals. She really took to them and quite a few of her clients had commented on them favourably. She wore them with and without hose and would wear an ankle bracelet and a ring on one toe to complement them – but she never wore her Scholl’s out in the evening. On this holiday she’d gone out partying in the evening in white stilettos, which were starting to be an endurance to wear all night in the hot Greek climate; also fearful of soiling her immaculate shiny white strapped Scholl’s, she wore her dark coloured flip-flops on and around the beach and the dusty shoreline streets. However, on the Saturday, the girls had spent the day exploring and shopping in the capital of Zakynthos: Zakynthos Town. That day Debbie had worn her Scholl’s all day. She noticed a lot of local Greek girls wore these sandals to and like her in Scholl’s, were shoe dipping, she noticed a few guys paying more than usual attention to below her ankles – Scholl’s were sexy, she felt sexy in them with her beautiful feet and fancied the un-restrained freedom they gave to her lately tired and hot feet. Debbie had also noticed a few fellow English girl tourists out on the town in the evening in their Scholl’s: “And why not?” thought Debbie, they were out in the Greek Islands and not some posh Birmingham night-club. Debbie admiringly glanced down at her pretty foot again and decided she’d break with her usual conventions and she would wear her Scholl sandals for tonight’s night on the town. Yes, she’d add another coat of red polish to her toes, a ring on her middle toe on her left foot, ankle bracelet on her right ankle (yes right ankle as she was single again). She decided she would wear her cotton white above the knees summer dress; this had part of the back out, with straps over the shoulders – Debbie had a red rose with a thorny stem tattooed on the upper part of the back of her left shoulder and this dress would show that off nicely. And she’d take her light brown leather shoulder bag with her to break up the white. Debbie decided to have her shoulder length slightly permed hair down for the night, she would wear prominent gold earrings, a few bracelets and rings and regarding make-up – the area of her special expertise, it would be the usual smart professional job and yes, definitely some blusher to accentuate her high cheek bones and staring blue eyes - glamour chic no less. Although there were some who considered Debbie had a haughty arrogant look about her and that her piercing staring blue eyes had a hard bitch look about them.

Debbie heard male voices behind her and looked over her shoulder and spied four English lads, late twenties/early thirties, standing on the pavement by the café.

Carmel nudged Sarah and smiled. Debbie was on the case. Debbie half turned round and removed her shades. Yes she’d seen the four guys the previous night out clubbing, yeah two were good looking, especially the tall one, who Debbie had had some brief eye contact with a couple of nights ago. The guys became aware of a good looking blond looking at them – the tall guy, who Debbie was most attracted to smiled and Debbie smiled back.

“Hi” said the tall good-looking guy and gave a boyish laugh, not sure what to say next.

“Hi” said Debbie, cool as a cucumber, New Woman magazine said never to seem too keen, and she casually continued, “Going down to Lagana’s tonight then?”

Sarah an attractive raven-haired very tall leggy brunette shook her head and smiled at Carmel. Sarah and Debbie were best friends, but also deadly rivals and attractive as she was Sarah felt Debbie had the edge on her when it came to being cool and attracting the guys. This feeling of inferiority was masked with bravado, which caused Sarah to periodically challenge Debbie’s position as ‘lead girl”.

Debbie had struck-up a conversation with the guys, well mainly the tall good-looking guy, who was called Rich. Debbie had turned round completely and was half standing and leaning on her chair backwards. Her hands were on the top of the chair, her right foot was on the ground and her left knee was resting on the seat of the chair. Debbie’s bare left foot was up in the air and the bare sole was directly in Sarah’s view. Sarah glanced down at Debbie’s discarded flip-flop near Carmel, she winked at Carmel and reached down and picked up the sandal. Carmel shook her head and smiled as Sarah picked up Debbie’s flip-flop and put it in her bag. “Oh no” muttered smiling Carmel.

Debbie, keen on Rich, was eager to have a closer look and not have to talk in a slightly raised voice, decided to go to the edge of café and be by the pavement to talk to the guys. She pushed herself back from the chair and stood up, still maintaining contact with Rich and his posse. She glanced under the table to retrieve her flip-flop – No flip-flop: but Carmel looked embarrassed and guilty and Sarah was trying to look just a little too blank. But Debbie was cool. She smiled at her two friends, rolled her eyes and said in a totally unconcerned voice, “Excuse me girls,” and then whispered, “Bit of man business.”

Debbie walked slowly across the café to the pavement area. As she did her right flip-flop slapped against the sole of her foot, in contrast to the muffled silent thud of her bare left foot. Sarah and Carmel observed Debbie chatting to the four guys, well mainly Rich and a bit to his good-looking pal, Malcolm. Rich’s two other pals Scot and Will were not particularly good looking and both had a bit of weight on them.

When they spoke to Debbie, they got very brief conversation – they were not cool or good looking and held little interest for Debbie. All throughout, Debbie either rested her bare foot on top of her sandaled foot, or cooled the bare sole on the tiled floor, and on one occasion, whilst playing with her hair – she looked back at the girls, smiled and stood on the toes of her bare foot, exposing the bare sole full on to the girls.

After ten minutes, Debbie gave the chaps a girlie wave and returned to her friends.

“Back to the apartment girls?” said cool Debbie.

“Yeah”, “Sure” replied Carmel and Sarah.

They paid for their drinks and walked out of the café, with the odd slap noise against the sole from Debbie’s one sandal and the alternate barefoot thud from her bare foot.

As they got on the pavement Debbie said in her nasally voice and sounding monotonous

“Oh girls, those guys are going into Lagana’s tonight and they said they’d be in ‘Georges Bar’ around ten.” pause “This could be our lucky night girls” another pause “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t mind me flip-flop back”.

Carmel nudged Sarah and Sarah paused, smiled and produced from her bag Debbie’s missing flip-flop.

“Thank you” said smiling Debbie with some exaggeration in her gratitude. She wiped the dust off the sole of her bare foot and replaced the sandal on her bare foot.

Debbie, master of sussing guys out was keen on Rich. Rich and his posse came from the rural West Country of England, they all played soccer in the same local amateur club and Rich was cool - tall, dark, macho, but also cool, smooth and sophisticated. He spoke with a public school accent, was wearing expensive designer beachwear and was a director in his father’s company. Good looking and good prospects thought Debbie. Carmel and Sarah were not so keen; basically Debbie had organized a date for the evening, without their consent, because she fancied a chap – it mattered not if the other girls were keen or not.

That evening, in the apartment the girls got ready, as usual Debbie kept the rest waiting whilst she got ready; but in fairness to Debbie the professional beautician, she also did the girls hair and make-up for them; albeit in a showing-off manner: “Don’t know how you girls would manage without me”.

Finally the girls left the apartment and headed for the taxi rank, outside ‘Whispers’ Bar in Alikes. Debbie glanced at herself in the window of a bike-hire shop window.

She was glad of the way she’d decided to go out tonight; the short white summer dress looked cool and sexy as did the Scholl Exercise Sandals, especially when complemented with a ring on one toe and her ankle bracelet.

“Stop looking at yourself” called Sarah.

“The taxi’s here” called Carmel.

Debbie ran along the pavement, eager to sit in the front, but Sarah ran ahead of her. In the end Carmel in her strappy and strapped up high-heeled sandals made it to the front seat. Tall leggy Sarah, in her rush, had run out of her expensive gold coloured leather toe-throng flip-flop. Debbie, running along with her toes gripping desperately to her Scholl’s, had laughed and in that instant her toes loosened the grip a little. As she brought her right foot back, she felt her Scholl fly back, her foot felt bare and then there was the expected loud ‘CLACK!’ as her exercise sandal landed on the pavement. “Shit” muttered Debbie and then she laughed. She went back and retrieved her sandal.

The girls arrived in Lagana’s; the centre of nightlife, discos, partying etc. in Zakynthos. It was one main road (no traffic though – only taxis) and a whole load of bars, eating holes, and open discos. The place was noisy, active and ‘in-your face’. The local Greeks never went here, unlike other tourist places, where frequently Greeks and tourists would mingle – Lagana’s was built by the Greeks to accommodate the louder, heavier drinking, wild partying tourist types and to keep them away from the local population and the more passive, milder-mannered tourists.

The girls went to a open-air bistro-tavern, a restaurant, for a bite to eat, before starting the night’s party. Debbie, throughout the meal, enjoying the liberation her feet had found in their escape from closed shoes, shamelessly she dangled and dipped in her Scholl’s and every now and then a wooden thud would be heard as she lost a dangle and dropped her sandal.

After visiting a few bars and few drinks to lose any inhibitions, the girls arrived at ‘Georges Bar’, where Debbie had arranged to meet Rich and his merry men.

‘Georges Bar’ was a sort of nightclub; it had a roof, but no windows or doors. You walked up three or four wooden steps onto the elevated wooden floor, on one side was a crowded bar, in the centre of the building was a dance floor. The dance floor was crowded and a bit lower than the rest of the floor. Surrounding the dance floor, on the higher level were wooden railings and next to these (on the higher level) were tables and barstools. The barstools were the type that, unless you are pretty tall, you have to rest your feet on the cross bars because your feet won’t touch the floor.

Sarah went to the bar to get the drinks in and Debbie and Carmel found a table near the dance floor. As Debbie climbed up onto her stool, she dropped her left Scholl, she smiled at Carmel and climbed down and retrieved the errant sandal.

Debbie had on her right side the extremely crowded dance floor and a round table in front of her. She leant with her right arm on the wooden railing surrounding the dance floor and crossed her right leg over her left. Instantly her Scholl went into a steep dangle and she enjoyed flicking the sandal around on the end of her toes, especially as a few guys walking past were clearly fixated by this.

Sarah arrived back from the bar with the drinks: “No sign of your men Debbie”, she said.

“We’ll see” said cool Debbie, shrugging her shoulders and feigning disinterest.

Then …

“Ahoy!!! Good evening ladies – I must say you’re all looking gorgeous on this fine night” bellowed Rich.

Rich had arrived and barged past Carmel and Sarah and sat opposite Debbie smiled.

Sarah noticed how loud and boisterous Rich seemed compared to earlier in the day – but he had had just a few beers.

Rich’s friends, the good-looking Malcolm and the not so good-looking Scott and Will descended on the girls. Malcolm was supremely arrogant and full of his own self-importance: he bragged about how only a knee injury prevented him from being a top level professional soccer player and bragged how much money he was making as a self-employed builder. Scott was superficially pleasant, but pretty drunk and kept touching and leaning into Carmel. Will, the joker of the pack, was seriously drunk and offered to show the girls his ‘Baby Elephant’ trick. He pulled the insides of his trouser pockets out to represent the elephants ears and then said he’d produce the elephant’s trunk. He started to undo the zip on his trousers and was about to produce the trunk, when the other lads stopped him.

Carmel and Sarah were not impressed and told Debbie they were going to the toilets – was she coming with them. This was conference time. Debbie declined, Rich was maybe a bit loud and maybe a bit tipsy; but he was fun, she fancied him and she felt if she could keep him in one-to-one conversation he’d probably drink less.

The girls came back from their toilet conference and walked past the lads, ignoring them, and announced to Debbie they going onto the dance floor and disappeared. Rich sensed the lads had blown it with the girls and could also blow it for him. He whispered something in the ear of his chief lieutenant, Malcolm. Malcolm gathered Scott and Will up and they disappeared.

“Where have your friends gone Rich?” asked Debbie.

“Oh they’ve gone on a scout-about – your mates aren’t to keen on them, so I thought I’d get them out of our way”.

“Our way?” enquired Debbie.

“Yeah you and me Debbie. I can spend any night with these guys and believe you me, I love them – I love them as if they were me own brothers. But Debbie” he paused.

He looked direct into Debbie’s blue eyes and putting on his well practised caring ‘New Man’ look and affected pseudo compassionate voice, he carried on, “how often does one have the opportunity to spend an evening with a beautiful charming lady like yourself.”

Liar thought Debbie, but she’d seen it, done it all – she fancied the guy and compliments and some effort would do for starters.

Debbie also noticed that Rich kept glancing down at her Scholl dangling show.

“Do you think I’ve got pretty toes” she asked tartly in her nasally voice and teasing.

“Yeah real cute!” blurted out Rich, sounding a little too enthusiastic and realising this.

Debbie giggled to herself.

She was a New woman a ‘90’s girl – in control.

Debbie uncrossed her right leg. But she didn’t rest her foot on the bar. She dangled her foot just above the floor and gently let her sandal slip down over her toes and onto the floor by her stool. Debbie then leant more heavily on the rail and lifted her right leg up again, but this time placing her bare foot on Rich’s left knee. Rich was a little surprised, but pleased and started to caress Debbie’s bare foot.

Meanwhile Carmel and Sarah had got talking to two guys – two guys who were relatively sober and gentlemanly. The guys were moving on to a more upmarket bar and invited the girls to join them. “What about Debbie?” asked Carmel.

Sarah spied Debbie having her foot massaged by Rich, “Oh, I think Debbie has her own arrangements for tonight”.

Carmel shrugged her shoulders and then said, “Shouldn’t we at least tell Debbie we’re going?”

“We’ve got two decent guys here and there’s two of us right now. Yes? If we can get Debbie to leave lover boy, she’ll want a piece of the action and one of us will lose out. If stay, and Debbie will try and get us to stay, we’re stuck with those drunken clowns.”

The girls left with the two lads.

As the night progressed, Debbie noticed how unfortunately Malcolm would bring more drinks over for Rich and he was becoming quite drunk. Nor could Debbie see her two friends on the dance floor or anywhere in the bar. Rich’s massaging of Debbie’s bare foot was becoming a bit rough and too assertive. It was starting to hurt her foot a little.

“Easy tiger, you’re starting to hurt” she squealed.

This clearly amused ‘Tiger’ and he started to massage her foot harder.

“Rich!” protested Debbie she tried to pull her foot away.

Just then Malcolm appeared and Rich just held her foot, but ceased the massage.

“We got some grief mate”, shouted Malcolm, “some guys have taken a dislike to Will” pause “he was only having a joke – anyway there’s four of them and we need you”.

Rich let go of Debbie’s foot and pushed it away, he jumped from his stool and shouted, “Don’t worry I’m up for it Malcybabe!”

Debbie didn’t like this, the girls were nowhere in sight, the guy she fancied was getting progressively drunker and now they were all leaving her to have a fight.

Standing Rich walked over to Debbie, who was still seated and still in one sandal.

He embraced her and said, “Got some business to attend to”.

He then kissed Debbie on the lips and rammed his tongue in her mouth, Debbie, surprised , tried to pull back, but his grip was firm.

Rich stood back, let go of Debbie and said, “I’ll see you out front in a bit love”.

As he pushed between the still seated Debbie and the table, he unwittingly kicked Debbie’s discarded exercise sandal. The sandal hit the table leg and bounced off, going under the railing and onto the heaving crowded dance floor, where it was again unwittingly kicked along the dance floor, finally going behind the DJ’s equipment – a total loss. But Debbie didn’t realise she’d lost her sandal at first.

Debbie was alarmed by the disappearance of her girlfriends, the drunken behaviour of the guys, Rich’s inappropriate behaviour and now they were in fight mode. What was she do?

She decided to have a look round the bar for her girlfriends and failing this she’d join the guys, who after a fight and being out in the fresh air would have sobered up. That was the plan. Debbie climbed down from her high stool and looked down at the floor for her sandal. She couldn’t see her sandal! Where was it? Debbie felt a flock of butterflies take off in her stomach and feeling of panic. She looked under the table. She walked round the table and stools, franticly looking for her sandal.

“Oh shit! I’ve lost me fucking sandal!” Debbie felt her eyes water and her bottom lip tremble slightly. This wasn’t the same as when she’d ‘lost’ her flip-flop and knew Sarah had it – she could play cool because she knew she’d get her sandal back: this was different, she’d genuinely lost her sandal. Debbie blinked the tears back and got a grip of herself, she was 30 and not a girl, she was a woman and she’d keep cool.

Debbie looked down at her beautifully shaped and well-manicured feet.

Her left foot firmly placed in a white strapped wooden Scholl Exercise Sandal and a ring on her middle toe. Then she looked at her right foot, completely bare, no sandal, just an ankle bracelet. “Shit!” she murmured.

With remaining hope dwindling, Debbie leant over the railing and attempted to locate her missing sandal on the crowded, heaving dark dance floor. This was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, she walked half-shod around some of the other tables, and maybe her sandal was accidentally kicked along here. She noticed a few people staring at her one-sandal condition. She looked back at a girl who as staring at her feet. Debbie shrugged her shoulders and gave a fatalistic laugh; the girl smiled.

Debbie laughed to herself; she was Cinderella for the night.

Debbie decided to have a drink at the bar, if she had a drink at the bar, Sarah or Carmel might see her, or else they’d run out of drink and have to go to the bar and she’d see them. As she walked to the bar, Debbie walked on the ball and toes of her bare foot, though occasional she walked lopsided as she walked completely flat on her bare foot. She glanced down at her remaining sandal and felt the nostalgic pain of loss. “My beautiful sandal” she muttered to herself.

At the bar Debbie bought a drink and lit up a cigarette – bad habit, but she only smoked on nights out. Debbie leant against a pillar near the bar. She rested her bare foot on the top of her other foot, the ball of her foot resting on the buckle of her remaining exercise sandal.

A guy was staring at Debbie; “Hey, where’s your other sandal love”.

Regaining her composure and cool presence and resigned to walking around the rest of the evening with one sandal on, Debbie gave the chap a sideways and tartly look.

“Sweetheart” pause “if I knew where my other sandal was, I’d be wearing it”.

The chap hesitated and went to say something.

But Debbie wasn’t in the mood and she didn’t find him attractive anyway: “Look darling” , she said in her nasally voice, her West Midlands accent coming out and sounding tartly, “why don’t you run along and see if you can find my sandal”.

The guy, embarrassed, stomped off.

Debbie finished her drink and decided to have one more; if her friends didn’t show by the time she finished this drink, she’d move on and walk down the single road of Lagana’s in her single sandal and peer into the bars to see if she could locate the girls.

She walked to the bar feeling the dull ‘thud’ of her of her wooden sandal on the wooden floor and the contrast of light-weight slap of her bare foot. Debbie, resigned to her situation, had an ironic sense of humour and as she waited at the bar she smiled to herself when she remembered laughing at a girl coming out of a packed music concert in the 1980’s minus a shoe. She also remembered leaving a Birmingham night-club as it closed, in the early hours, as they walked out of the club and into the street crowded with clubbers, Debbie had seen three girls, good-lookers, but a bit on the tartly, over-made-up side and a bit common for Debbie – they could almost pass for prostitutes she’d thought. Then she noticed the girl in the middle: short black leather jacket, red mini-dress (really too short), tan nylons with seams down the back and A SINGLE MEDIUM HEELED SHINY BLACK COURT SHOE on her right foot. The girl was walking, awkwardly, for balance on the toes and ball of the foot of her left shoeless stocking foot. “Oh look, she’s lost her shoe” pause “fancy losing a shoe” giggled Debbie and the girl with one shoe had heard Debbie’s laughing at her and blushed with embarrassment, before walking off at a quicker lopsided pace. Debbie laughed to herself at the irony as she looked down at her feet, one foot resting in a smart newish wooden exercise sandal and the other foot also resting on wood –the wooden floor and all bare.

After another drink and avoiding eye contact with some un-fancyable chaps, Debbie realised the girls were gone, she decided that it was time to leave the bar and see if she could spot anyone outside and down the road. Debbie walked out of the club, she noticed a few people staring at her feet: one sandal and one bare foot, and ignored them. As she walked out and down the wooden steps, some guy shouted, “Good night Cinderella!” Debbie flicked her head back, gave a sarcastic laugh and turned her nose in the air and walked off.

Walking down the street and away from the loud music of ‘Georges Bar’, Debbie could hear the distant music of other bars and the usual noise(s) of revelers out on the town. She could also hear another noise, which was very regular; the wooden ‘THUD’ of her left Scholl sandal on the concrete pavement and the almost silent ‘patter’ of her bare right foot. She walked down the one Lagana’s road, peering into bars, hoping to see her friends. She wondered what happened to Rich and his crew; not that she cared now; Rich was much too drunk and she didn’t care for his crew, his roughness and she didn’t care for brawling guys. Unknown to Debbie, Rich and his posse had become involved in not only fighting the guys they’d fallen out with in the bar, but also in fighting the local Greek police. Rich and his gang were now going to have free accommodation and free food for the remainder of their holiday – in the police cells in Zakynthos Town.

As Debbie walked along the concrete pavement, she became less conscious of the odd-uneven sounds her feet made on the concrete, she lost interest in the stares her one sandal state occasioned. Time to time she would glance down at her feet and sigh to herself, looking at her one foot with one of her beloved sandals on and then looking at her manicured soft bare foot; “Oh my lovely sandal” pause “what a night” she would mutter to herself. But as Debbie walked more in only one sandal, she adapted to it well, walking mainly on the ball and toes of her bare foot, but occasionally, feeling a little lazy, walking a little lopsided as she put her entire bare sole on the pavement. “I’m getting quite good at this” Debbie thought to herself.

She suddenly felt better, yeah she was pissed off about losing her sandal, and yeah she was pissed off about having to spend the rest of the night walking in one sandal. But what could she do about it? She certainly wasn’t going to sit about and cry about it – she was a 90’s women and she was out on the town to party and losing a sandal wasn’t going to stop her partying (she just had to find the girls).

After looking into bars for her friends, without success, Debbie decided to go into a bar for another drink, there were too many rowdy drunken guys now coming down the street and Debbie felt safer being in a smart bar with door staff/security. ‘Nikos Bar’ looked smart (by casual summer Greek Island standards anyway) and there was a good balance of males and females. Debbie walked in, there was a clear path to the bar and she walked along the wooden floor. She was conscious that people were staring at her. And people in the bar were staring at Debbie; a very attractive, sexually exciting blue-eyed blond was walking past them - a very attractive, but also challengingly aloof looking blond. She was a very attractive woman, on her own, good body and a sexy dress on. And in only one sandal! Debbie ignored the stares, though she gave a quick cheeky smile at a smart, darkish Steven Segal look-alike guy she found attractive. She heard someone say, “She’s lost her sandal”. Debbie felt self conscious, but she wasn’t going to let things bother her. She bought her drink at the bar and stood back, near a column, lit up a cigarette, leant against the column and rested her bare foot on top of her sandal-shod foot.

Debbie began to feel alone, missing her two friends, fed-up of the disaster with Rich and decided to finish her drink and catch a taxi back to her apartment. She looked up and saw the Steven Segal look-alike guy approaching her. Smartly dressed in a very lightweight off-white suit and light blue shirt. Nikos gave Debbie a big confident manly grin. “How do you like my bar?” said Nikos, local Greek entrepreneur and charmer. Debbie liked what she saw.

“Very impressed”, answered Debbie, trying to effect a posh English accent, but her voice sounding its usual nasally West Midlands self.

Nikos glanced at Debbie’s feet.

“Don’t ask” pause “bit of a mishap in a crowded bar – these things happen” another pause “I’m Debbie by the way”.

Soon veteran charmer and local stud Nikos was working his charms on Debbie. Debbie, after the disappointment of Rich, the abandonment of her girlfriends and the nights calamities, was only too pleased to be charmed by a good looking smooth operator – especially as Nikos, bar owner, gave her drinks on the house and she lost all inhibitions. Soon Nikos was winning Debbie over. Nikos’ staff winked at each other: another conquest for the boss. Eventually Nikos invited Debbie back to his apartment in Zakynthos Town, and half-shod Debbie left the bar and drove off with Nikos in his open top sports car.

That night at Nikos’ apartment was an earthmoving experience for Debbie, as Nikos the stallion rose to the occasion more than once. As the light of morning came through the gaps of the shutters in Nikos’ plush apartment, which overlooked the harbour and was situated in a baroque style building, Nikos jumped from bed and started tidying up the apartment. Debbie lay in bed, satisfied with Nikos and optimistically wondering what next? Perhaps he’d spend the day with her. Nikos, veteran stud, but still essentially the gentleman must have been reading Debbie’s mind.

“Debbie you, my dear are a hell of lady – but”, Nikos gave an affected well practised fatalistic laugh, “life is not simple.” Debbie frowned and felt a sulk coming on; she knew the general scenario.

“Indeed”, Nikos continued, “life is not simple; I must tell you Debbie I have a wife”.

Nikos went on to explain that he had married young and into a powerful local family, but was not in love with his wife anymore, but was unable to divorce etc.

Debbie was annoyed, but Debbie was Debbie, always determined to keep a cool front.

“Don’t tell me, she’s been away helping her sister with a new baby and is due back today”, Debbie said with mocking sarcasm.

“Well errh Yes” pause and look of surprise from Nikos “that is correct Debbie –you’re right!”.

Debbie smiled nonchalantly, “Then I better leave”.

She washed herself and put her clothes on. Then she looked down at her single sandal: in the night of passion at Nikos’ she’d clean forgotten her predicament. “Oh shit”, she muttered and shook her head. She paused for a moment and thought to herself, well she’d managed okay the previous night and she’d manage now. Debbie placed her left foot into her remaining Scholl sandal. She walked out of Nikos’ apartment, giving a cheeky unconcerned wave.

Outside in the street Debbie weighed her options up, she had spent too much of the money she’d brought out with her the previous night to buy replacement footwear and to be able to catch a taxi back the holiday apartment in Alikes. Debbie shook her head and thought to herself, “Here we go again One Sandal walk Debbie adventure”. She headed through the harbour area and towards the clock tower and square where all the cafes are situated and where the main taxi rank is. As Debbie walked, she heard the now familiar sound of a wooden ‘Thud’ of her exercise sandal, followed by the faint slap of her bare foot. Debbie thought to herself, “I’m getting quite good at this” as she got back into the swing of walking at a brisk pace with only one sandal on, it was now becoming very matter-of-fact, as she walked in her left sandal and on the toes and ball of the foot of her bare right foot.

Debbie got a few stares, which she expected; she noticed a couple of Greek girls smirking and pointing at her one sandal- one bare foot state. Both girls were wearing Scholl exercise sandals and Debbie envied them for having both sandals.

Eventually Debbie arrived at the taxi rank and was soon in a taxi heading back for Alikes. Sitting in the back of the taxi and relaxing, Debbie glanced down at her feet; on her left foot, her lovely white strapped wooden Scholl Exercise sandal and ring on middle toe …and her right foot bare. What a night!

It was now Wednesday evening and the last evening of Debbie Allen’s Greek holiday on the Island of Zakynthos. At midnight, Debbie and her friends Sarah and Carmel would be picked up from their holiday apartment by coach and taken to the airport for an early hour’s flight back to England. The girls had had a last drink at a favourite local bar and were now back at the apartment packing their cases. For the flight back, Debbie was wearing a red polo shirt and lightweight khaki trousers. She had a small brown leather shoulder bag and would carry a lightweight white cardigan to put on when she arrived in England. With comfort in mind, Debbie opted to wear on her feet her trusty long serving designer-labeled single strap ‘Sports-Athlete’ flip-flops.

Earlier in the day, Debbie had noticed a small rip on the single strap of her left sandal had grown bigger. This rip almost certainly caused by regular wear and was now about a quarter into the straps width. This should be okay, reasoned Debbie, but she would ‘retire’ the trusty ‘long serving’ flip-flops after this holiday and buy a new pair.

She glanced down again and looked at the rip in her flip-flop strap. Should she, perhaps, un-pack and change footwear? Debbie had spent ages packing and did not relish the idea of un-packing. Still, nor did she relish going through another one-sandal experience, like the other night/morning in Lagana’s!

Carmel looked at the _expression on Debbie’s face and thought she seemed miles away. “Okay Debbie?”

“Yeah, yeah, I was just a little concerned about my flip-flop, the strap has a tear in it – reckon it should be okay though”.

“Yeah, we’re just going to the airport and that rip looks okay to me – no big deal, that’ll be more than okay”, Carmel reassured.

Sarah looked down at Debbie’s foot, “Oh that’s more than okay. Some years back, when I was with Matt, we were in Spain and I think I caught the strap of me flip-flop climbing out of a boat or something like that – I don’t know; anyway the strap was all but ripped in two and there was only about an inch stopping the strap from splitting in two and I walked around most of the day in those flip-flops and the strap held.”

Sarah glanced down at Debbie’s feet again, “Let’s have a look –give it here a sec”.

Debbie took her left flip-flop off and passed it to Sarah, who held the sandal up and examined it, “That’s alright”, Sarah exclaimed, “Look I’ll show you”.

Sarah tugged on the sandal strap slightly, with both hands and then held the sandal up triumphantly to the other two girls “Look the rip has stayed the same. You’ll be okay Debbie” , Sarah smiled, giving Debbie her flip-flop back. Neither woman failed to realise, in the dark of evening, that Sarah’s toughness test on Debbie’s flip-flop had in fact split the strap a slight bit more.

Soon the coach arrived and the girls loaded their gear onboard: their holiday was over.

Arriving at the airport, it was hot, stuffy and crowded and the girls opted to check into departures straight away, so they could off-load their suitcases. After doing this, the girls passed through security and headed for the departure lounge – a primitive affair by Heathrow or Birmingham Airport standards. As they walked to the departure lounge, Debbie felt her left flip-flop was starting to become decidedly looser than her right one and it also, every now and then, seemed to slip about on her foot more then usual. Debbie, in the crowding and rush to offload the baggage had not inspected her damaged sandal. She now glanced down, with renewed concern: justified renewed concern. The rip in her sandal strap was now just over half way across the strap.

Debbie sighed, but felt it should be okay. Her sandal was a little looser now and she’d have to be careful not to walk out it, but it would hold.

As the girls walked through the doors of the crowded departure lounge a family group followed them in. The father, a large burly middle aged man, in a Hawaii shirt, red shorts, white socks and sandals, was arguing with his moody, stroppy teenage daughter who had attitude and he failed to look ahead properly. He almost walked into the back of Debbie, whilst entering the departure lounge. Instead, he accidentally placed his giant foot on the back of Debbie’s left flip-flop. As this happened, Debbie was leading with her right foot and was bringing her left foot up to go into lead and her heal was up. As Debbie walked forward, she felt her left sandal being pulled off. She stepped forward and her bare left foot landed on the airport departure floor tiles.

“Sorry luv”, grunted the Hawaii shirt man, as he walked past.

Debbie, nonchalant Debbie, gave a ‘couldn’t care less’ smile, “Oh no problem”, she replied in her nasally voice. The man walked on and continued arguing with his daughter. Debbie stepped back and put her foot in her lost flip-flop and walked on to Sarah and Carmel, who had stopped. Immediately as Debbie stepped forward, her left flip-flop fell off. Debbie felt a twinge of horror. She knew what the problem was and cringed, but holding out against hope, Debbie bent over and picked her flip-flop up.

Immediately Debbie’s fears were confirmed – the strap of her flip-flop was snapped completely in two, making her flip-flop totally un-wearable. Debbie was stuck in an airport lounge wearing one flip-flop and she would now, as their main baggage was being loaded, have to go around minus one sandal until the girls collected their baggage on arrival in England. Debbie was looking at about five hour’s one sandal time. “I don’t fucking believe it”, screamed Debbie, losing her cool in the hot, stuffy, crowded lounge. People looked round at Debbie and a man with young children shook his head and said in an affected superior voice, “Keep the language under control, there’s children about you know”.

Debbie blushed, all cool lost, her eyes watering and a tremble in her bottom lip.

“Never mind”, said Carmel, taking the broken un-wearable sandal from Debbie’s hand and examining it, “perhaps we can fix it”.

“How?” asked Sarah, as she took the broken flip-flop from Carmel’s hand and studied the sandal for herself.

Debbie, resting her bare foot on the floor, looked down at her feet, red painted toe nails, pretty feet, well looked after – and ONE flip-flop. She had kept herself in check and regained her composure; she shook her head, sighed and gave an affected ironic laugh. She thought of her crazy party night in Lagana’s, when she’d lost a sandal in a crowded bar …and now here she was again – minus a sandal.

Debbie, trying to act cool and ‘couldn’t care less’, gave well-meaning Carmel a sideways glance: “How are we going to fix my flip-flop?” Debbie asked in response to her friends’ initial comment.

“I’m not really sure”, mumbled Carmel, “super-glue? Staples?”

“Where are we going to buy super-glue or a staple-gun in this airport lounge”, smiled Debbie, now resigned to her predicament.

Sarah nodded in agreement. Sarah and Debbie were good friends, but despite this there was a rivalry between the brunette and the good looking cool girl-about-town Debbie who usually came out on top; so a part of Sarah couldn’t help but relish Debbie’s predicament. Cool Debbie was stuck with only one sandal. The part of Sarah that relished the opportunity of seeing her rival in such a predicament came partly out. “Yep! There’s no way this flip-flop is going to be fixed”, said Sarah, sounding a trifle too unconcerned and then for final effect Sarah, without asking Debbie’s permission, she lazily threw Debbie’s broken un-wearable flip-flop into a nearby bin.

Debbie gave her friend a tartly smile and shrugged her shoulders unconcerned – the sandal was lost anyway and we wasn’t going to show rival Sarah how pissed she was.

“Fancy a drink?” asked Debbie in her nasally voice.

The girls headed for the departure lounge bar. Debbie walked along with ease, the sole of her remaining flip-flop was thin enough to have minimal effect on her walking in one sandal. Debbie did feel aware, however the strange feeling of the placing one bare foot on the airport lounge tiled floor in contrast to placing her foot with a sandal on the floor. Debbie was also aware of the contrast of sound: her right foot in a flip-flop making a ‘SLAP’ sound as she walked compared to the dull virtual no-sound of her bare sandaless left foot. She was aware that people were looking at her one-sandal state to. But Debbie was going to keep cool.

In the bar, drinking, the girls had a good chat and a laugh and the mood was good. At one stage Debbie was so engrossed in the girly chat she momentarily forgot her predicament – she glanced down at her bare foot and went to slip her sandal back on – then she remembered! Debbie did feel conscious and sort of naked with her bare foot, especially when she noticed anyone staring at her one-sandal state and from time to time she would try and hide her bare foot behind her leg – but for the most part Debbie, resigned to her situation, became philosophical: she’d got pretty feet she was proud of them and it wasn’t her fault she’d lost her sandal, so she wasn’t going to be embarrassed and hide her bare foot. So after a while in the bar, Debbie defiantly stuck her bare foot out on display, not trying to hide it, but placing it next to her foot with a sandal on. She caught a man staring at her feet and gave him a deliberately false smile. The man looked away.

Eventually it was time to board their flight and the girls headed to their departure point. Being a Greek Island holiday season only airport, boarding the aircraft meant meeting the flight attendant at the departure point, boarding a coach to the area where the aircraft as parked and then walking on the concrete to the aircraft and going up the aircraft stairs. On the coach ride the pretty flight attendant glanced at Debbie’s feet.

“Excuse me for asking”, the flight attendant asked Debbie, “where’s your left flip-flop? I noticed you were only wearing one in the departure lounge”.

Debbie smiled, “I loaded all my main baggage off at ticket departure desk and was going into the departure lounge when this drongo stood on the back of me flip-flop; I walked forward and the strap snapped – Hey Presto, I’m minus a flip-flop”.

“Oh no. Never mind” the flight attendant replied with a sympathetic tone, “ about five or six years ago I was in Tenerife with my then boyfriend and one of my sandals must have dropped out of my beach bag as we were leaving the beach. …anyway it was a total loss and I had to walk for ages in one sandal to get back to our apartment”.

Debbie laughed; the flight attendant was nice and reassuring.

After leaving the coach, to walk to the aircraft, Debbie felt strange and a little apprehensive as she walked in one sandal across the concrete, which felt rough on her bare foot. She was glad to board the aircraft.

For most of the flight Debbie slept, on arrival in the UK, Debbie walked through the arrivals area at a brisk pace in her one flip-flop and arrived at the baggage carousel.

As Debbie waited for her baggage to come through, she looked down at her feet. A flip-flop on her right foot and a bare left foot. She lifted her bare foot and glanced at the dark dusty sole of her bare foot. She would be glad to get her baggage and get some shoes out – Debbie had been in one flip-flop for five and a half hours.