The Ebb

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  “Let’s say goodbye right here,” she proposed and without a word, he opened his arms, and she fell right into his embrace.

  With closed eyes, she breathed in the scent of his skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. He smelled of deodorant and aftershave, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, she found they looked just as sad as she was feeling.

  “I won't forget you,” he said first.

  “Neither will I…”

  He smirked. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “You know, you never rented me that pedalo. I call that bad customer service. I might have to sue,” he joked with a wink.

  “And I’ll suggest to the court that you should be happy with that canoe ride in Paxos instead,” she retorted, never leaving his eyes, trying hard to hold on to the humour as not to crumble emotionally.

  Danny forced a smile. “Take care of my hat, will you? I may want it back one day.”

  “And you take care of that pier till I get there to see it.”

  Tenderly, he took her face in his hands. “Don’t make me wait too long,” he said, and then their lips met for one last kiss.

  Breaking away first, she held his hands and put them on her lips to kiss them. He opened his mouth as if about to speak but then saw her pleading eyes and closed it again, understanding.

  She let go of his hands softly, caressing the tips of his fingers one last time as she did so, and then, blowing him another kiss, walked away hurriedly. She didn’t dare look behind her once, not even when she heard him say a feeble “see you…”

  It hung mid-air in the growing distance between them, a whispered promise that was made too late, as if not sincere enough to be spoken at eye contact. The very thought made doubt rise inside her. It made her feel like somehow, all hope had already been lost. She kept walking and now felt glad she hadn’t let him see the tears that had already started to flow.

  By the time she reached the main road, her eyes were red, as if tormented by the blinding headlights of that figurative truck that seemed to speed up towards her. She was already a wreck in the making. The pain inside had begun to outpour, the feeling of devastation was already starting to set in.

  ***

  The next morning, Sofia went to work with a heavy heart. She felt better once ten a.m. had come and gone. Danny had left the village by then; she didn’t have to torture herself with her indecisiveness any more. Her feet had been restless since early morning. She’d been striding up and down the pier at idle intervals, throwing anxious glances at the path that led to the village, willing herself not to give in and go. Jimmy had noticed she wasn’t herself but she’d laughed it off, making an excuse about a sleepless night because of a family party.

  During her break, Sofia rushed to Karavi to check on Loula. She found her wearing dark sunglasses behind the bar. Loula took them off only for a second to reveal a pair of swollen, red eyes.

  “I love him. What am I going to do?” came her pained confession, and Sofia went round to the back of the counter to give her a cuddle. She found a napkin, and offered it to her to blow her nose.

  “If it’s meant to be, it will be,” was Sofia’s trivial, but useful advice. Loula nodded.

  “Will you help me write him a letter?”

  “Of course, Loula! Need you ask?”

  “Are you writing to Danny first?”

  “No. We never exchanged addresses.”

  Loula’s eyes turned huge. “What?”

  “He didn’t offer.”

  “So why didn’t you? Oh Sofia, I can't believe you!”

  “I thought, if he wanted to write to me, he would have asked for my address.”

  “You’re incorrigible! You and your stupid pride!”

  “Look, if he cares, he’ll write. He’ll ask Steve and get my address through you, right?”

  “Right.” Loula shook her head. Partly, she understood Sofia’s reasoning but then, if she had been her, she would have asked. If anything, to try to guess from his willingness or his reluctance, how much he did care to keep in touch. Judging from the fact that neither of them had offered to give their address, Loula surmised they were both either equally unwilling to see each other again, or equally stupid.

  Loula sniffed and threw the napkin in the bin. “So how are you?”

  “Well, what can I tell you?” Sofia didn’t know where to start.

  “You’re in love with him, aren't you? It’s finally happened for you.”

  “Yes, your wish has finally come true, Loula. Except, it’s someone I can never have. You should have worked your voodoo on me this summer more thoroughly.” Sofia managed a feeble smile. “Perhaps someone pertaining to this country would have been more fortuitous.” Trying to make light of things, she said the last sentence in a pretend-formal voice. This was such a ‘Danny’ thing to do.

  Loula giggled. “You even sound like him now!”

  Sofia smiled bitterly. “At least, we got some laughs... that’s something.”

  “Hey, you sound like you’ve given up. What’s this? Chin up!” Loula placed a reassuring hand on Sofia’s shoulder. “I know it’s going to work out for you guys. You’ll see. What’s a year anyway? Nothing! You’ll be in England soon! And who knows? We might go together to see our boys,” Loula added cheerfully, smiling her first real smile of the day.

  She had said goodbye to Steve around four a.m. when he left her outside her house after a really long walk. Like Sofia, she didn’t have the courage to witness his departure at the roadside and had elected not to see him at all that morning either. Of course, missing him beyond words now, she was kicking herself for her choice.

  “You know, I had another dream last night about that pier in Brighton. Second night running.”

  “Yeah? What did you see this time?” asked Loula, intrigued. Sofia had already relayed the first dream to her.

  “I saw the same woman again. But this time, she wasn’t me. I was standing in front of her!”

  “And?” Loula was a big believer in dreams. They fascinated her, and she loved to analyse them. She didn’t have a clue about Sofia’s previous one but hoped this one would be easier to fathom. “Can you recall anything she said this time?”

  “Yes, actually, I do. Although it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, she spoke in English—”

  “Translate it for me then!”

  “It sounded like a verse, like it was part of a song or a poem. I could hear faint music in the background again. It felt like she was singing along.”

  “What was it that she said?”

  “Errors will lead to toys and rocking horses rides.”

  “What? And what does that mean?”

  “I told you; it doesn’t make sense. Not in Greek, not in English either. But I can't get it out of my head. As soon as I woke up this morning, I wrote it in my diary so that I don’t forget it. If only! It haunts me! I just wish I knew what it means.”

  Loula shrugged. “I don’t think I can interpret this one for you.” She shook her head. “But do let me know if you see her again. It’s so intriguing!”

  “It’s disturbing, that’s what it is!” huffed Sofia. “Like I don’t have enough problems already. I must have my stupid mind too, playing tricks on me, having me think of Brighton and Danny every single waking hour…” Shaking her head with increasing frustration, Sofia turned around to gaze at Jimmy in the distance and checked on her watch.

  “I’ll see you later Loula,” she said, without expecting a reply and headed back to the pier.

  ***

  That same night, Sofia saw the woman in a dream again. In this one, they stood facing each other at the head of the West Pier, a soft melody echoing from the theatre. The woman spoke to Sofia, her words coming out in verses and rhymes. To her surprise, when Sofia awoke the next morning, she could remember it all verbatim.

  The woman’s words had been twisting inside Sofia’s mind all night, getting committ
ed to memory, while turning into a perfectly laid out poem at the same time. Sofia titled it ‘Loving You Forever’. It even included a reference to the ‘toys and rocking horses rides’ from the dream of the night before. Sofia still couldn’t make sense of these dreams, but felt compelled to record the words all the same, as if she was cast by a powerful spell. Much to her astonishment, she was able to write the whole poem down in her diary, as soon as she woke up.

  Writing poetry wasn’t new to Sofia. She had vivid memories of herself wandering in the garden of their home as a small child, admiring the flowers, watching the birds and even the armies of ants that marched single file on the copper brown soil. She’d carry a little notebook and a pen to make rhymes on the spot about all these sightings. As an adolescent, she’d written a few more poems but hadn’t written anything in years until that morning.

  Also, this had been her very first poem in English. It was all getting too strange, so she decided to keep it to herself, hiding it even from Loula. Although Sofia had been willing to relay to her the first two dreams, the third one felt strangely too private to share. Besides, how could she explain she got inspired to write poetry in a foreign language by a strange entity that existed only in her dreams? It was too crazy to even repeat it out loud to herself.

  Sofia was dumbfounded and didn’t know what was happening to her. Where had this bizarre inspiration come from? Was it her love for Danny? But who was that woman supposed to be? She felt like someone real, someone she was supposed to recognise; not a mere figment of her imagination. Although she had no answers at the time, she became enthralled, to the point where she was already anticipating her next night’s sleep.

  LOVING YOU FOREVER

  It took a million days

  To seize another chance

  And yet the day she found him

  She knew from just one glance

  Beyond the dreadful end

  She yearned some peace to find

  His look just scratched the surface

  Retrieval left him blind.

  Oh don’t you know that I’ve been loving you forever?

  This love grows strong and burns the eternal light

  Loving you forever; once here, now gone

  But never out of sight.

  She hides deep down inside

  For bitter errors cries

  She claims they’ll lead to toys

  And rocking horses rides

  Revenge they say is sweet

  But are you satisfied?

  When passion leaves us cold

  We fail the truth to find.

  Bereft of all my dreams

  I’m wretched; hard done by

  I’ll fly and chase the wind

  That’s blown and passed me by.

  Outrunning sad mistakes

  I’ll reach the cragged hill;

  Love yields when sorry tears

  Go burning through the mill.

  And when I feel the clouds

  It’ll rain a million toys

  The laugh of merry children

  Will bring what time destroys.

  Oh don’t you know that I’ve been loving you forever?

  This love grows strong and burns the eternal light

  Loving you forever; once here, now gone

  But never out of sight.

  Chapter 36

  1938

  It had been two weeks since her return from London, and Laura hadn’t visited the Pier at all. It was now mid-July. A new production of the musical comedy No No Nanette was attracting crowds of visitors at the Pavilion, and thanks to The Jan Ralfini Orchestra, the Concert Hall was busy also every night. Around the bandstand, locals and tourists danced the night away to the sound of their favourite jazz tunes.

  Charles asked Laura to a night out at the Concert Hall, but the memories of her evening there with Christian at New Year’s Eve were still very vivid, and she declined politely, making up an excuse. The singing and acting lessons at the Society had kept her busy since her return from London. Charles offered her a ride in his car every day to take her safely home, as opposed to taking the bus in the evenings. Laura declined at first, but Charles sent James on his own anyway, to wait for her outside on the first evening. It had been easy for Charles to find out her schedule from Mr Mills, and when Laura was presented with the opportunity to ride in the Rolls without Charles in it, she took it.

  The next day, James waited outside again, and the day after that. Two weeks later, it was now a set pattern. Laura was grateful that Charles chose not to be in the car during those rides. Not that she hadn’t seen him at all, of course. True to his promise, he took her swimming during the weekends at Saltdean Lido. Even though she still felt put off by his contemptuous manner about all things working class, she couldn’t resist when asked to go. Of course, she loved it there and had to admit to Charles that the facilities were by far superior to those on the Pier.

  Other than that, Laura truly missed her long conversations with Maggie at the bathing station. Every day, she promised her she would soon visit the Pier to have a swim with her, but every day she put it off. The reason was Christian, of course. She’d come to miss him terribly even though she hadn’t forgiven him for the hurt he’d caused her. She dreaded a chance meeting, and even when she was in the street, she was always apprehensive, knowing it would only take one look at him to crumble emotionally again.

  Gladly, her involvement at the Society didn’t require attendance at the Pavilion just yet. She only hoped time would help her feel stronger before she had to go back there, in his place of work. It was bad enough to have to see Sarah at the Society, and to have to remember the way she had thrown herself at Christian shamelessly even in her presence. She had seen them more than once together before London, their arms all over each other, both in the theatre and around the Pier.

  These days, Sarah chatted endlessly with the other girls about boys, back at the Society. Laura noticed she had stopped mentioning Christian since London, but that didn’t say much. Perhaps she had broken up with him; she was fickle enough. But what about Christian? Had she broken his heart, or was it the other way round? She wondered what she would prefer if she had a choice and soon realised it really made no difference. She wished no harm would come to him or Sarah. All she wanted was for time to pass so that she could get over him.

  While she was in London, it had been easy to concentrate on the show and the fun and to forget about him. But since returning to Brighton, the pain and the yearning had returned. On most days, all Laura could do is try to hide her inner feelings from others; especially from her mother, who, after meeting Charles, had been urging Laura to go out with him and, of course, to arrange with haste their visit to Lakeview.

  And now, Meg’s hen night was upon her, and she dreaded it. She and Paul were getting married the following morning, Saturday, at the Catholic Church. Laura hadn’t been out at all in the evening since London. Feeling as downhearted as she did, she had no inclination to do it even now, but of course she had no choice.

  It was Paul’s stag night too, and at least Laura was safe from the fear that she would meet Christian at The Swan. He was going to be with Paul in another pub on the other side of town. That was her only consolation as she got prepared to go out. Her dread about meeting him at the wedding ceremony could wait for now.

  She put on a blue dress and braided her long hair in a single plait that she fastened with a matching blue ribbon. She stood before the mirror and tried to smile with confidence to herself but found it difficult to cheer up.

  As if she needed more heartache, she’d had a fight with her mother the day before. She’d insisted that Charles should escort Laura to the wedding. That was out of the question. Laura didn’t wish to encourage him further, and besides, since his smug remarks about the people swimming off the Pier, she was reluctant to introduce him to her friends. She wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to ever refer to them in a scornful manner.

  Therefore, she was going to t
he wedding without a male escort. She was even prepared for the possibility that Christian might make an appearance with a brand new girl on his arm. If it came to that, she would just have to endure it somehow.

  ***

  The hen night was low key, but turned out to be quite entertaining in the end; exactly what Laura needed for her spirits to be lifted somewhat. The following morning, she felt strangely calm, as she got ready to go to the wedding.

  She chose a silk dress with a low back, the colour of lavender blossom. Around the waist, she tied a wide ribbon of the same fabric in an elegant bow. She used discreet makeup to bring out her cat-like green eyes and put on a new, velvet-soft red lipstick, the way that the expert sales girl in London’s Oxford Street had shown her. Next, she pinned a pile of curls neatly upon her head, leaving some tiny ones free to frame her face, accentuating her high cheekbones.

  She picked up her shawl from the bed to drape it over her shoulders and returned to the mirror one last time. She smiled at her reflection, pleased with the result. She seemed carefree, almost happy. Satisfied, Laura picked up her purse and left the room, her jaw set.

  ***

  The altar was decorated with large bouquets of red roses tied with white bows and ribbons. On the front pews, the parents of the bride and groom watched with delight, as their children stood before the priest to receive his blessing.

  The arrival at the church with her mother proved uneventful for Laura, despite having dreaded bumping into Christian at close proximity on her way in. The moment she finally laid eyes on him again was hard of course, but at least she managed to enter the church hurriedly, avoiding even eye contact with him. Although she tried not to think of him during the service—as hard as it was, seeing that he was standing with the happy couple at the altar being the best man—she couldn’t help wondering if he had indeed come with a new girl.