Greek Island Escape

by Patricia Wilson

  ‘Sofia, Blessed Virgin – is that really you, Sofia?’

  We fell into each other’s arms and I wept against his neck. He held me vice-like against himself, his wide chest shuddering with sobs.

  ‘Glory to God! I’ve missed you so much,’ he mumbled.

  ‘And I you, Zacharia.’

  We turned back to the shop, his arm about my shoulders, the customers taking everything in. When we reached them, they broke out in applause. Wiping his eyes, Zacharia boomed, ‘I’m not selling any more bread today!’ The people looked crestfallen until he continued, ‘It’s all free! Take it!’

  I laughed, mad with joy.

  ‘Come inside,’ he said, steering me through, locking the door and then flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. ‘When did they let you go?’

  ‘This morning. I came straight here. I feel like it’s my home, you know.’

  ‘It is your home, and always will be,’ he said. ‘This calls for a celebration! Raki!’

  ‘It’s eleven o’clock.’

  He shrugged, grinning. ‘Might be midnight in China. Now come and tell me everything.’

  We talked all day and late into the night. Seven long years had passed since I saw him last. We talked about Spyridon, Markos, and the tragedy of his death, both of us weeping. I told him of the joy of having our own child, and when I told him her name, Life and Freedom, he stared at the ceiling for a moment.

  ‘That is just like Markos. I loved that boy like a son, you know. He saved many people in the war, always putting their welfare before his own safety. Such selflessness and bravery – he should have been given a medal by his country, not executed. But where is your child? Is she safe and well?’

  I recounted the facts behind Zoë’s escape to freedom and told him how much I longed to hold her again. When I showed him the baby shawl I had crocheted and unravelled each month, swearing I wouldn’t finish it until the day I had her in my arms again, he smiled and nodded.

  ‘We need to sleep a while if you’re weighing dough for me in the early hours,’ he said. ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘Under the counter?’

  He laughed with a great bellow.

  ‘I won’t hear of it. Come to my house and sleep in the back room.’

  *

  In Zacharia’s spare bedroom, dead tired after a long and joyous day in the bakery, I recalled that last time I had been there, with Markos. I placed his beret on the pillow next to me and lay propped on my elbow, facing it. I told Markos about my day and my hopes for the future, until sleep took me away. When my head finally fell onto the pillow, the beret slipped forward and seemed to kiss my forehead.

  Goodnight, Sofia. Sweet dreams.

  Oh, Markos.

  *

  I worked for Zacharia for the rest of the week, but often my thoughts were pulled towards Zoë. How would I find her? What would she look like now? Sometimes I thought about my friends and wondered what had happened to them.

  One evening, we went over to El Greco’s where they told me Honey had been released a year ago, married, and gone to live in Thessaloniki. They had no address or contact with her. Madam Magdalena had died, and her establishment had closed. I hoped Agapi had found herself a man and settled down to a normal life. Thina would probably be working in a hospital, and I promised myself I would try to find her one day. I owed her so much.

  ‘Sofia, concentrate!’ Zacharia yelled, hurling a dough ball back onto the scales. ‘You’re well off the mark!’

  ‘Sorry, I keep thinking about my baby. What am I going to do, Zacharia?’

  ‘Why don’t you try to find Anna, and call on them? You said she gave you her address and told you to visit. How old is she – almost three? Perhaps you could watch them in the park, first. See if Anna is taking good care of her. Take it from there. Even if your daughter has another mother now, it doesn’t mean you can’t be part of her life.’ He stared at me for a minute before he said, ‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you. How’s your voice these days?’

  ‘I sang all right at the prison concerts, but I did have a good rest between each one, with changing locations after each show. And to be honest, I never gave a hundred per cent. It wasn’t as if I had Spyridon pushing me to do two shows a night, seven days a week. Why do you ask?’

  ‘The entrepreneur who took over Spyridon’s singers was asking about you. Do you want to meet him?’

  ‘I suppose – but only if you come with me.’

  ‘Then I’ll arrange a meeting in El Greco’s.’

  *

  At noon the following Wednesday, I sat on a bench near Anna’s house. My eyes itched. I’d been staring at Anna’s house since nine o’clock that morning, watching the door, waiting. Twice, my emotions reached breaking point and holding back tears was a struggle.

  Surely Anna would take Zoë for a walk before lunch and siesta. I half hoped she didn’t – I was too jealous to bear the idea of her being a good mother. I wondered if she had gone to visit family in Crete, the island of her birth, if I was waiting for her like a fool in Athens. I was about to walk over and ring her bell, when the door opened and Anna appeared.

  I gazed at the little girl holding Anna’s hand.

  Look, Markos, it’s our daughter. She’s so beautiful. My face, your eyes and hair. Oh, how I love you both.

  They walked towards the park, a hundred metres away. Anna hardly took her eyes off Zoë. I waited until they were out of sight, then hurried after them. When I reached the park, Zoë was in a baby swing, and Anna pushed her gently while singing the nursery rhyme, Κούνια – μπέλα, Swing, my pretty one.

  I watched, captivated, until somebody said ‘Excuse me!’ and I realised I had stopped in the middle of the path.

  At a park bench near the swings, I continued to observe. Anna lifted Zoë out of the swing and followed her. My child toddled to the slide with her arm outstretched. Surely Anna wasn’t going to let her go down the slide? Zoë was too young. I started forward, then held back.

  ‘Mama! Mama!’ Zoë cried, pointing, trying to drag Anna towards the four steps of the baby slide. After a moment, Anna picked up Zoë and climbed the baby slide herself, sat Zoë in her lap, and started down. My heart melted to hear Zoë’s cries of glee.

  Anna’s hips were wider than the chute. One metre down the gentle slide and I could see she was stuck. With her arms wrapped around Zoë, she tried to yank herself down using her heels. Zoë laughed loudly, entertained by it all. Anna glanced around, her face turning redder by the second. I swallowed hard, then walked over.

  ‘Do you need some help?’ I called. ‘Oh, goodness, it’s Anna Despotakis, isn’t it? Do you remember me? I was your nurse. Here, let me take Zoë while you get yourself free.’

  I reached for my daughter.

  Anna’s face blanked – and then she recognised me.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. It seemed a good idea at the time, but now I can’t move.’

  ‘I’m Sofia. Hey, Zoë, come to Aunty Sofie while Mama gets out of there.’

  I held my arms up to my daughter, and Anna passed her over. I clutched her to my chest.

  In that moment, a mad thought overtook me. I could run. I could take my child and run and not look back. I had time to get away, and Anna was stuck – she could not follow. Zoë was young; she would soon forget Anna existed.

  Run! the voice in my head yelled. Run! Get away now while you have the chance! It was now or never.

  Markos! What shall I do?

  Stand still. She’s our child, no matter who she’s living with. Think of Zoë. She loves Anna as her mother.

  I want her all to myself.

  ‘How embarrassing!’ Anna said. ‘Thanks for coming to our rescue. It was a reckless thing to do, perhaps, but she can be such a determined little monkey.’ She held her arms out towards Zoë. ‘Come on, give the nice lady a rest now – you’re too heavy to be carried all the time.’

  Zoë shook her head stubbor
nly and clung to my neck. I was in Heaven.

  ‘Shall we sit on the roundabout, Zoë?’ I suggested. ‘Look, there it is. We can all have a nice ride while I talk to Mama. Would you like that?’

  She nodded and gave me a kiss on my cheek as I put her down. Oh, Markos. We walked over to the roundabout with Zoë between us, holding both our hands.

  ‘She’s my husband’s pride and joy,’ Anna said. ‘Nothing’s too good for her.’

  She looked into my eyes and for a second I saw terrible despair.

  ‘Is he home?’ I asked.

  She shook her head. ‘You haven’t heard? They say the trial’s set for next summer. He and the other colonels are detained in the very prison where my daughter was born.’ She stared at the ground. ‘They’re not holding out much hope. It’s all too awful’

  The irony of the colonel’s incarceration in Korydallos Prison, the place where Despotakis had sentenced Markos to death, struck me at once. I should have been rejoicing. What terrible suffering and heartbreak that man had caused. Yet I was filled with great sadness for my new-found friend. And for Zoë – had she learned to love him as her father? Would she miss him dreadfully?

  ‘I’m sorry, Anna.’ I knew what she would suffer, and that wasn’t fair. ‘How will you manage with Zoë?’

  ‘Money won’t be a problem, at least. My husband is due a grand pension, and we have the house.’

  Zoë sat in the centre of the roundabout, with her arms sticking out and a smile on her face.

  Then Anna said, ‘Tell me about your baby. I remember you were pregnant in the hospital. What did you have?’

  ‘I . . .’

  ‘Mama! Mama!’ Zoë cried, crawling over the top of the roundabout.

  I turned at the call, but of course she did not mean me. She pulled Anna’s hair so her head tilted back, and then kissed her face again and again. Zoë giggled and clapped her dimpled fists. Then she repeated the procedure.

  ‘Zoë, stop it, you little devil!’ Anna laughed, although Zoë tugged hard and it must have hurt. After a moment lost in pleasure, Anna turned to me, beaming with happiness.

  She must have read the desolation on my face, because her grin fell and she reached out and touched my arm.

  ‘Sofia, I’m sorry. Your baby – what happened?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘I had a little girl, but . . . I lost her.’

  As if I had something contagious, she drew her hand away quickly and placed it over her mouth.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I know how painful that is. It’s almost unbearable. So unjust. God knows what I would have done if . . .’ She stopped, shaking her head sadly. ‘You know, you’re always welcome to come to my house, Sofia. In fact – forgive me for the abruptness, but I have been looking for some time – I don’t suppose you’d like a job, nanny to Zoë, just a few hours a week?’

  Before I could think about it, Zoë turned her attention to me and, to my great joy, I got the kissing treatment too.

  ‘I must apologise – it’s her latest game.’ Anna smiled fondly. ‘Last week it was taking her shoes and socks off at every opportunity.’

  My feelings were in disarray. This was my child, a part of my body, and Anna had her. It was clear that Zoë was well looked after, happy and unconditionally loved. And it was clear too that she adored Anna. Could I really bear to be so close to my daughter, to work in her home, and hear her call another woman ‘Mama’?

  ‘Look, Anna, I have a few jobs in the air right now. I’m working full-time at the bakery, and I might be able to go back to singing. Can I meet you again next week and let you know?’

  ‘Of course you can. Did my husband tell you I was a great fan of yours? I have all your records. I wondered . . .’ She hesitated, suddenly appearing shy. ‘Next week, after the park, would you come to my house and sign them for me? I’d be so thrilled.’

  *

  While Zacharia and I prepared the bread in the early hours, I told him all that had passed between Anna, Zoë and myself.

  ‘What should I do, Zacharia? I want so badly to be near Zoë. It’s a longing that’s gnawed away inside me since the day she was born. But I’m not sure I can stand it, being so close and yet so far from her.’ I threw a dough ball on the scales – perfect. ‘Even if I did have the money to support her, there’d be no way for me to prove she’s my child. Anna is the only mother she’s known.’

  ‘Why not try the job? If it’s too hard for you, give it up.’ He sighed. ‘I think it’s good you’re making friends with Anna. She’s not your enemy. As far as she’s concerned, Zoë is her child, and she loves her dearly.’ We were silent for a while before he spoke again. ‘Remember I told you about the music entrepreneur?’

  I nodded.

  ‘We’re meeting him tomorrow evening. Let’s see what comes from that, shall we?’

  *

  Vagellis Gregorio was a tall, imposing man who knew what he wanted. With his Churchill cigar, pale grey trilby and black pencil moustache, he gave the impression he had just walked off a fifties film set.

  ‘The public are hungry for pop music after the military regime,’ Gregorio told us. ‘Across Europe, the bell-bottom brigade’s fizzling out, Motown is old town, and the Beatles have broken up. We need new stars and a mixed bag of music. Sign with me, Sofia, and I’ll make you a star – not just here, but across the continent and beyond.’

  We talked for two hours. I agreed to think about his proposal and meet him again the next night.

  Zacharia seemed to think Gregorio had put a good deal on the table, but my concern was how hard he would work my voice once I signed on the line. I hadn’t sung since the prison concerts, and although I felt ready to start again, if he pushed for more concerts than I could handle, the consequences might be devastating.

  Nevertheless, I signed a contract and started out on a fresh chapter in my life.

  I cut a new record straight away and, thanks to the advancement of the industry, most of the time at concerts, I mimed to my recordings. This saved my voice from being overworked. My fame spread, new fans idolised me and my old fans returned, too. I acquired a small apartment of my own and moved out of Zacharia’s, but I still tried to help him once a week, and sometimes cooked a meal for us at his home or mine.

  On 28 July 1975, the trial started for the instigators of the 21 April 1967 coup. Ironically, the trials were held at Korydallos Prison. I bought a TV for Zacharia’s shop and we had the live programme on as we worked.

  Over twenty defendants were charged with acts of high treason and mutiny. Security surrounding the trial was heavy. A thousand soldiers armed with sub-machine guns stood guard at the jail’s perimeter, and tanks patrolled down Solomou Street and the main roads surrounding the prison.

  We watched Despotakis as he took the stand. Like the other colonels, he seemed to think he had served his country and done nothing wrong. He refused to defend his actions and was completely unemotional.

  The trials finally ended on 23 August, with the death penalty by firing squad for mutiny sentenced on all the major players in the coup.

  I had mixed feelings about the trial. I wanted the murderers of my beloved Markos to suffer as we had, but it was painful to see Anna’s distress, and to know Zoë would be without a father. I understood what Anna was going through and my heart ached for her.

  The colonels’ death sentences were changed to life imprisonment. The news angered me, because nobody could change Markos’s death to life, but I saw Anna’s relief.

  Wednesdays were the highlight of my week. I went to Anna’s house and played with Zoë while Anna shopped and had her hair done. On one of these occasions, I sensed something was wrong the moment I arrived at the house and saw her dishevelled state. After a few months behind bars, Colonel Despotakis had a heart attack in prison and died before they could get him to the hospital.

  Death was too good for him – but still, I felt sorry for Anna. Devoid of make-up, in her drab, black widow’s weeds, she looked tiny and l
ost. Zoë had caught her mother’s mood and had no appetite for play.

  ‘I won’t need you for the thirty days of mourning, Sofia. I’ll be home by myself – and, to be honest, I’m not sure I can afford to pay you. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how my finances stand, now that I’m a widow.’ I could see she was fighting tears.

  Zoë pulled the head off her doll, and started crying. I scooped her up and said, ‘Let’s fill the sink and play with water, shall we?’ That did the trick.

  ‘But you’ll still get an army pension, surely?’ I asked, as I sat Zoë on the draining board and ran the tap.

  ‘I hope so. Nothing seems certain.’ She hung her head. ‘I loved him, you know? He was a difficult man at times – harsh and determined, but he was my husband, and he adored our child.’ She turned towards the stove. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  We were silent with our thoughts for a few minutes, until she said, ‘It’s all too upsetting, Sofia. I have a sister in Crete. She lives in our grandfather’s property in a little village called Kissamos. I was thinking I might go and spend some time there.’

  My heart lurched. She couldn’t move away.

  ‘You shouldn’t leave your home, Anna. You belong in Athens. Would you like me to find out about your pension for you? I’ve got a quiet week and I’d be happy to help if I can. Listen, you don’t have to pay me to come and play with Zoë on a Wednesday. It would be my pleasure. I’m really fond of her.’

  Anna gave me her details and I spent most of the afternoon on the phone. I made notes and discovered her army pension was about to stop. The meagre widow’s pension from the government was not enough to keep Anna and Zoë in the lifestyle they were used to, especially in the city.

  I tossed and turned in bed that night until, unable to sleep, I pulled on my clothes and went down to the bakery.

  ‘Need a hand?’

  Zacharia closed the door behind me and we worked in silence for a while. Then I told him what had happened.

  ‘Stop fretting about the problem,’ he said quietly, ‘and concentrate on a solution.’