The Ebb

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  “Christian, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything,” he replied, cringing inside. He doubted he wanted to hear it.

  “Do you not seek the finer things in life at all?”

  “Such as?” His body tensed. He feared another of those horrid rows was coming.

  “I mean, what’s wrong with a boat ride, for example?” She let out an exasperated sigh.

  “I don’t need a damned boat ride, Laura!” he yelled with irritation that caught her off guard. “I’ve already seen bloody Newhaven, Hastings and Eastbourne!”

  “That’s not the point! Don’t you see?”

  “No Laura, I don’t see!”

  “Life isn't just sitting on a bench like this, eating candyfloss, Christian! Don’t you have any ambition? Don’t you want it all?” By now, she was totally uninterested in the curious glances that onlookers threw them both.

  “No Laura! I don’t! But since you obviously do, can I ask you a question?”

  “What is it?”

  “Why the hell are you with me and not with some fancy millionaire?”

  “Because I love you, you stupid ass!” She threw her candyfloss in the bin by them and strode away, bursting into tears. And Christian, instead of running after her like he always did when they rowed, this time he stayed on the bench. Hanging his head, he wondered how long it would be before her answer was going to be totally different.

  ***

  That row was soon forgotten just like every other. The two of them simply couldn’t be apart. The rest of a mild autumn soon gave its place to the harsh days of winter where the wash of the sea crashed violently against the Pier, soon rendering it unimaginable to swim any more. By December, it had become impossible on most days, even to stand on the deck comfortably, without the fierce wind whipping at your face, and the sea spray chasing you away from the railing.

  With the swimming pastime over, and grey horizons under stormy skies stirring Laura’s heart, she soon took up a new hobby, sitting at the landing stages idly whenever she could, writing verses. She used to write a bit as a little girl, but never had it been like this, flowing so freely and with so much fervour, because of her passion for Christian and the beauty of her coastal surroundings. Soon, she found herself writing about the sea, the secrets it held from sunken ships, the distant shores she dreamed to visit one day, and of course, about her love for Christian that she intended to hold on to forever.

  Despite their differences that threatened to rear their ugly heads every time she hinted on her ambitions, they had stopped fighting for quite a while. She hoped secretly that one day he would come round, and as for him, he was still tortured by his feelings of inadequacy, but he loved her too much to let her go.

  Over the Christmas period, they entered together a perfect world, one that existed on the Pier, but on the other side of where they normally stood as staff. Merry crowds, high on the Christmas spirit, visited the Pier over the holiday period, and Christian took Laura to attend the pantomime show at the Pavilion on Christmas Eve. They both had the night off, and this was a fortuitous opportunity that was simply too precious to miss. The show was ‘Cinderella’ and for Laura, it was quite apt, seeing that she felt only recently liberated from a life smeared by cinders, only to find a dazzling world that beckoned to her more insistently by the day.

  The auditorium was all alight, full of excited chatter, as people anticipated the sound of the final bell. Sitting in the stalls, Laura beamed at Christian and kept looking around her with eyes full of wonder. The house was full. Even the more expensive seats in the balconies and the boxes were all taken. She didn’t mind that they were sitting in the stalls; she was too enthralled to want anything more. For the first time, she was one of the crowd; not the serving outsider. That realisation had an enormous impact on her. It felt like she had jumped over an impossible hurdle, and she knew that night she would never be the same again. Even when she returned to the auditorium after Boxing Day, this time to sweep, to scrub and to polish, it remained rose-tinted in her eyes, like it had seemed that Christmas Eve, when she was sitting next to Christian on the gilt and red velvet seats, both dressed in their finest.

  Her Cinderella-like outings that Christmas didn’t end there. For New Year’s Eve, Christian treated her to a night at the Concert Hall. It was a ballroom dance and thanks to the local rent shop, they entered through its gates like any other visitor from high society. A stunning white gown for Laura, and top hat and tails for Christian rendered them unrecognisable even to Meg and Paul, who in the wee hours of the morning passed them by at the promenade and never recognised them.

  Christian felt odd at the Ball in his uncomfortable attire, but he found joy and contentment in Laura’s excitement, which made up for it. That night, they danced together to all the romantic jazz tunes everybody loved. ‘All of Me’, ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’, and of course, ‘D’ Lovely’, Laura’s favourite tune, which she felt compelled to dance to every time the band played it.

  Laura looked radiant in her fancy, sequined dress. Around her neck, she wore the string of fake pearls Christian had won for her at the arcade. Her smile didn’t fade all evening, and Christian could not get enough of looking at her. He felt like his heart would swell, like the sea raging under their very feet. Oblivious to anything else in the world including his private fears, he gave it his all when his favourite song came on. He loved it best ever since he had first watched Fred Astaire sing it in ‘Top Hat’. It was Irvin Berlin’s ‘Cheek to Cheek’. As the band played it, he whispered the words softly in Laura’s ear. Their hearts soared, and their eyes shone as they swayed on the dance floor, carefree and irrevocably in love.

  Chapter 19

  1987

  On Saturday, Sofia arrived for work one hour later than normal. The reason was that on Saturdays, the pier got swamped from early morning with tourists who waited to embark on a daily excursion by boat. Therefore, that day of the week, her work could only begin only after the people had departed. It was nine o’ clock and right on schedule, Captain Spyros’s large caique was quickly filling with eager passengers. His old fishing boat had long been converted to a pleasure vessel for one day cruises. The old man with the deeply wrinkled, weather-beaten face, was dressed plainly in a tattered t-shirt, faded jean shorts, and the indispensable fisherman’s black hat.

  He was standing on the pier by the gangway, offering his hand to the lady passengers to help them get on board. The men, on the other hand, paced the plank without even touching the ropes, as if in a conscious attempt to impress the women with their bravado. Once on board, the tourists filled the air with enthusiastic exclamations, as they quickly surveyed their surroundings looking for a seat. There were many quaint sitting places available in the shade under the sundeck. The wooden benches there ran the length of the vessel on both sides. Just like the deck, the stairs, and all wooden panelling on the boat, the benches also gleamed with generous coats of varnish in the golden colour of honey. On the stern and the bow, there were scattered plastic chairs awaiting the young, who typically sought to sunbathe all day and got a kick out of getting splashed by the occasional high wave in the open sea. Long lines were hanging overhead where flags of many countries rustled in the breeze, welcoming everyone on board.

  After the last passenger had boarded, Captain Spyros hopped on last and removed the gangway, handing it to one of his two men to stow it safely. On his way to his post, he turned to Sofia to say goodbye and flashed another of his earnest smiles to her, patting his heart as he did so before turning away.

  It was an unusual gesture, the patting of the heart, that Captain Spyros often made, and Sofia always thought it made him very special. During their short exchange earlier during embarkation, he informed her that today’s destination was Syvota with its cool, emerald waters and the nearby Blue Caves. They were situated on the opposite shore on the mainland, in the Greek prefecture of Epirus. Sofia had visited these places as a little girl with her grandparents, and the beauty of
the landscape still remained vivid in her memory.

  To her delight, Captain Spyros also informed her that for the following Saturday, he was planning a visit to the nearby islands of Paxos and Antipaxos. He was on a busy schedule, doing excursions that set off from various spots in the wider area. So far, he scheduled his departures for these islands from the busy marina at Benitses, where he could find a lot more tourists willing to take a longer trip. For the first time, he had decided to include this pier as a pick-up point for the said excursion, too. Seeing that Vassilaki was a popular holiday spot, he could benefit from the extra customers, simply by making a small detour on his way.

  Sofia was overwhelmed to hear the news, seeing that she had always wanted to see Paxos. She had mentioned it to Loula many times, and over the years they both had shared the wish to go, but had never found the opportunity. Already itching to tell Loula the great news, Sofia felt hopeful they could plan their days off together so that they could be free for the following Saturday.

  Jimmy hadn’t arrived yet to unlock their wooden cabin so that they could take the equipment out. She took the opportunity therefore to watch, as the boat was about to depart.

  Captain Spyros gave orders to a middle-aged man who hurried about eagerly, weighing anchor and removing the mooring line, while the last member of the crew, a young lad, seemed to be bestowed with the task to take care of the tourists’ needs. Sofia watched as the latter brought out onto deck more plastic chairs in order to accommodate the last people standing. Once finished, the young man was immediately collared to take pictures of enthusiastic couples that couldn’t wait to store away happy memories.

  Excitement rose among the tourists with every passing moment, as they chattered and joked noisily. It kept accumulating, brewing like strong Greek coffee that would inevitably soon overflow from its confines. And predictably enough, when Captain Spyros finally sounded the siren to signal the departure, the cheer that exploded among his customers was monumental.

  Sofia smiled brightly, feeling elated as if she were going along. The captain stood proudly at the helm, and his satisfied smile was worth a million words. Chuckling and shouting orders to the older man in his crew, he steered the boat dexterously away from the pier, as the serene water started to foam and ripple around it. Flashes of light emerged from every nook and cranny of the boat, as cameras were put to good use, the best use they were ever intended for: to record precious, carefree moments in their owners’ lives.

  Words from a wide variety of languages reached Sofia’s ears. Of course, she couldn’t understand most of what she could hear, as the boat slowly started to sail away. However, the language that her eyes perceived from the people was universal, and what’s more, unmistakable. The most beautiful and widely spread language of the world was once again in full bloom before her eyes, as people hugged, cheered, and laughed on board the pleasure vessel. Sofia had stood many Saturdays watching the caique as it sailed away, and every time she thought of that unique language of the world, and how it connects people, how it supersedes cultures, how it bridges differences and facilitates understanding. The language of happiness needs no dictionary. All those banners of the world hanging from those lines on the boat became one flag as the boat sailed away.

  Sofia loved to see so many different people huddle together united by a single emotion, and a single state of mind.

  She thought it must be wonderful to be able to create something like this with a bunch of total strangers. As the boat sailed into the hazy, sparkling distance, she felt envious of the adorable Captain Spyros with the disintegrating black fisherman’s hat, and the gnarled hands he used to pat his heart as he smiled and greeted people. He was a master of that universal language and, in Sofia’s eyes, that made him a wise man; for it is the heart that grants a man wisdom, and not his education or experience.

  Her reverie was rudely interrupted by a firm, yet affectionate pat on the shoulder from Jimmy. He had just arrived with a chirpy ‘good morning’, and he grinned from ear to ear to see Sofia jump and turn around startled. The devilish look in his eyes revealed he had done it on purpose for a laugh. Sofia slapped him on the arm playfully before following him to the cabin to take their equipment out.

  Jimmy was like that a lot, pulling her leg all day, cracking jokes, grabbing her by the shoulders from behind when she least expected it. As they removed the equipment from the cabin, Sofia told him all about the excursion she wished to go on with Loula. Together, they carried canvases, hooks and ropes to the pier as they did every morning, although today they were working quicker to make up for lost time.

  “So you’re going to Paxos and Antipaxos for the first time!” he said, right after telling her that if she wanted the day off, it was no problem.

  “If Loula can take the same day off, too.”

  “Oh come on, piece of cake! Your uncle and aunt will be happy to accommodate you.”

  She tilted her head and gave a huge grin. “Yeah, I guess they will.”

  “Oh, you’re in for a treat! I can’t believe you’ve never been to Paxos after all these years visiting Corfu.” Jimmy jumped on the speedboat to manoeuvre it to the right position, ready for the first spin of the day.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait!” shouted out Sofia from the shallows. She was now removing the padlocks that kept the pedaloes and the canoes secured overnight.

  When Jimmy jumped back onto the pier two minutes later, she asked: “Are you sure you will be all right by yourself on a Saturday?”

  “Of course! Every day is the same here,” he said, before taking a sip of cold water from his flask.

  They were all set. Sofia had just finished her chores, too. A young British couple that had been watching them from under a beach umbrella, approached then to ask about the paragliding. Just a few moments later, a party of Italian teenagers arrived rather noisily as well, asking to hire a pedalo. Jimmy took over the British couple that wanted to have a ride together, while Sofia tried to communicate in pigeon English with the Italian youngsters. In between assisting them all, Sofia spared a glance or two out to sea where Captain Spyros’s boat was now nothing but a dark spot.

  The early morning was her favourite time for looking out to sea. At this hour, the distant haze resembled a cotton pillow on a sparkling bed, with the dark blue hue of the water a velvet sheet. And the sun, rising like an eager worker, excited for the beginning of a new day.

  On other days when they opened earlier for business, Sofia often had a few idle minutes to enjoy that magnificent view before anyone arrived. She felt deeply attached to the sea, and that was no surprise, seeing that as she loved to say herself, there was no Greek sea that was missing from her veins. The Ionian, the Aegean, and the Cretan sea, they all ran through her heart as it pumped away, as her blood flowed through, as she thought and felt at any waking moment.

  From her father’s side, her ancestors derived from the Ionian islands of Corfu and Lefkada. As for her mother’s side, her forefathers hailed from the island of Lemnos in the Aegean as well as from Crete, where her maternal grandfather had been born. Whenever Sofia looked out to sea, something incredible happened to her, or at least, that is how she perceived it.

  First, her heart would swell with a sense of peace and tranquillity at the sight of the sun glinting on the glassy surface of the water. Then, her ears would fill with faint whispers, as if the salty breeze and the lapis lazuli vastness before her awoke her ancestors in her heart, unleashing their spirits for a while to look out for her, to consult her on her life that lay ahead. Without the sea, Sofia felt unprotected in life, unsure of herself, robbed of all sense of joy and security. She had felt like that all her life, ever since she first remembered the world.

  Chapter 20

  Two hours later, the beach was bustling with crowds of people across the bay. Loud music echoed from several beach bars in the distance, filling the air with all kinds of beats and vibes. As for the blistering midday heat, it was in full swing more than ever that day. Not a leaf
stirred in the trees. There wasn’t even an occasional breeze to cool things down in the slightest. The unsuspecting tourists had left their countries, their jackets and raincoats behind, to be faced in Greece with the other extreme: a vicious heat wave with the highest temperatures in decades. The forecast for that day was 47 degrees Celsius - quite a scorcher. The sea seemed to be boiling under the ruthless hammering of the sun. Getting in the water felt like immersing yourself in a cauldron of simmering soup.

  Sofia had come to work adequately prepared with a new suntan lotion of higher protection, and a wide-brimmed cotton hat in a blue colour that matched her swimsuit. It had no ribbons or designs on it, except for splashes of white here and there that broke the azure monotony. She had just assisted a German tourist take off from the pier head with his paragliding chute. He was now waving cheerfully with his legs swaying in the air as he enjoyed the ride. Jimmy’s speedboat led the way from the water, pulling him along at a leisurely speed.

  There was no other customer waiting to be served after over an hour of busy work, and Sofia, standing on the pier head, sighed with gratitude for the opportunity to catch her breath for a while. She was still looking up at her last happy customer when she heard someone speak. It sounded as if it was coming from way below, and she looked down at the water before her, startled.

  “Excuse me?” a young lad said, and Sofia was astounded to see it was Crazy Boy. He was paddling in the shallows, looking up at her with a bright smile. He was wearing his straw hat again over his short and spiky hair. His laughing eyes were brilliantly blue and clear, like fresh water ponds.

  Sofia felt pinned to her spot, unable to let go of his gaze. A preposterous thought crossed her mind that if angels were to walk the earth, then that’s exactly how they would look like. She felt silly and consciously blinked a few times, trying to shake the mesmerising effect of his eyes.