‘Gypsum,’ Angelo said. ‘You know gypsum? They take it from here.’
I didn’t know gypsum but pondered the damage as we rounded a low hill and entered the village of Mochlos. The contrast was uplifting. A picturesque hamlet of whitewashed houses, surrounded by sea on three sides. Colourful window boxes on low balconies overflowed with exotic flowers, and huge crimson hibiscus nodded their heads in welcome. Narrow streets exploded with red and orange geraniums, top-heavy lilies, and Michaelmas daisies, planted in a motley collection of household containers unworthy of such a magnificent display.
An enchantment lay over the village. The hamlet seemed to wait for us alone. Deserted roads ran onto a tiny quayside, where several fishing boats were having their annual lick of paint. I noticed most of the vessels had a blue and white almond-shaped eye, outlined in black, painted onto the prow.
‘They’re for good luck,’ Angelo said. ‘What do you do in Ireland for good luck?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Old Fergus says “White Rabbits” on the first of the month.’
‘Eh? You Irish are crazy. Does he catch many fish, your Fergus?’
‘I think it would be completely honest to say no, none at all, in fact.’ I laughed.
We sat alone at a small taverna on the edge of the sea, ate eggs on toast, and dropped bits of bread into the clear water. Small, silvery fish darted through undulating sea-grass, and I smiled to see them bump and jostle each other for a nibble at the crumbs. Angelo took my hand across the table.
‘How are you both this morning?’ he asked, his eyes flashing with pride.
‘I don’t think in my entire life I’ve ever been happier.’
Angelo seemed entranced. I caught my reflection in the taverna window. The sea breeze flirted with my hair. Long strands of curls lifted and swayed, dancing with the sunlight, the copper hue turning into a living flame.
He blinked and said, ‘I have a surprise. Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be a few minutes.’
Five minutes passed, then ten. I started to worry. What if fate dealt me another cruel blow and Angelo never reappeared? My happiness had been so intense moments ago. It seemed indecent to feel so much pleasure. Now I realised that such joy came with the fear it could be lost at any moment.
I looked towards the car but saw no sign of him. A woman was busy laying tables and I was about to ask her if she knew where Angelo could have gone, when the sound of a chugging engine drew my attention. A red and blue caïque rounded the rocks and came bobbing towards the taverna. Angelo stood at the bow, waving. Trepidation forgotten, I returned his wave and suddenly wished my mother and father were sitting beside me.
He called, ‘Catch the rope and loop it over a post, Irini.’
The wiry old skipper jumped ashore, tied up, and both men helped me aboard.
‘This is Niko,’ Angelo said. ‘He’ll take us to my special place.’
‘Kalimera, Niko,’ I said.
‘Very good.’ Angelo laughed.
Niko indicated for me to sit next to him at the stern. He untied the boat and we pulled away. The small craft hugged the rocky coastline. My old fear of water rose alarmingly. The wooden boat seemed small and flimsy in comparison to the vast sea. Niko placed my hands on the tiller and showed me how to steer.
‘You put this right, the boat go left; you put this left, the boat go right. Okay, you capitanos now.’ He got up and joined Angelo at the prow.
‘Don’t leave me,’ I cried, terrified. They laughed and called, ‘Left!’ or, ‘Right! Right!’ The boat zigzagged wildly, much to the sailors’ amusement. Eventually, I got the hang of it.
We pulled into a small cove surrounded by cliffs and bumped onto the shore. Angelo helped me out of the boat, and I was relieved to stand on the beach. He returned to the caïque for the picnic hamper and beach towels, and then pushed the boat into deeper water. With much shouting and waving, Niko turned the small craft and left. The water settled, glass-like, reflecting tall, dark cliffs and the blue sky.
Angelo laid out the towels. I lifted my skirt and wiggled my toes in the water. When I turned, he was absolutely naked.
‘Angelo!’
‘What? Take off your clothes. No one can see us. There are no roads near here.’
It seemed silly to feel shy but, although we were lovers and I was having his baby, I had only actually been with him for a few days in total.
I remembered my new-found bravery, gleaned from the photo-shoot, pulled my clothes off and made a sprint for the shallows. Just as I reached the edge of the sea, he caught me and pulled me into the water. The gentle waves cooled my body. Angelo pulled me on, getting deeper and deeper, and suddenly I panicked.
‘Don’t! I can’t swim!’ I hit him, pushing him away, frightened, floundering, terrified I’d never make it back to the shore, images of the Liffey returning to cover my head and hold me under.
His fingers tightened on my wrist and he dragged me back, until we lost our balance and fell into water only inches deep.
‘Sorry, I forgot you don’t swim. But you mustn’t be afraid when you’re with me.’
He drew me on top of him and, in a sweet, exotic moment, the warm sun stroked my back as the sea lapped my shoulders and buttocks.
‘Trust me, Irini McGuire,’ he said. ‘Relax against me. Breathe. Look, we are floating together.’
We were floating! I pressed my lips against his and we went under. I came up, spluttering and laughing, my eyes screwed against the sun, my fear shrinking. The water hardly reached my knees.
‘I’ll make you sorry for that!’ Angelo hit the water with the side of his hand, sending great slices to shower over me.
I dashed for the dry sand and wrapped myself in a beach towel. ‘Can I open the hamper?’
‘When you’re with me, you can do anything.’ He lay beside me, played with my hair, his breath stroking my skin.
‘I think I’m in love with you,’ I whispered.
‘Good job,’ he said. ‘With a baby on the way.’ He paused, his face showing his pleasure. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am. I love you too.’
We made love while the sea caressed the shore and a skylark trilled its joyous flight above us.
Afterwards, we hardly spoke, communicating by looks and touch alone. Back in the sea, tender in mood, we washed the sand off each other.
‘I’m hungry,’ I called, heading for the hamper again.
We fed each other tiny vine-leaf parcels with succulent, herb-flavoured rice inside, and dipped plump asparagus into thick yoghurt; we sucked each other’s fingers and kissed the olive oil from each other’s lips. Once again, we became hungry for love.
After, I hugged my knees and watched Angelo sleep. I wished time could stand still.
The sun moved around and slid behind the cliff. We faced the sea, aware that the mountain’s shadow crept slowly towards us. It touched our sun-warmed shoulders with a cold awakening, like a nightclub bouncer insisting we’d had enough pleasure, now it was time to leave.
‘Don’t look so sad; we’ll return,’ Angelo said as we pulled on our clothes. ‘Look, here comes Niko.’
As the caïque approached, Angelo stood behind me, his arms about my waist.
We loaded the craft and shunted through boisterous waves towards the village. I clung to Angelo.
Niko shouted down the boat: ‘I catch a big fish today. You come to my house and eat now.’ He wore a wraparound grin that exposed a row of tobacco-stained teeth.
Angelo made excuses in Greek. I knew he wanted to be alone with me for as long as possible.
‘I told him we have an appointment,’ he explained.
‘And do we?’ I asked, feeling safer in the middle of the boat with his arms around me.
‘I think we can look at the new hotel my brother is building at Istron. We will drive past on our way back and nobody works on a Sunday. But only if you’re not tired.’
Istron?!
*
Angelo turned off the village roa
d through Istron. He drove towards the sea and parked under a tamarisk tree on the deserted shore. A short walk along the water’s edge led us to a tiny white church with a blue-domed roof, which marked the end of the beach.
Behind the chapel stood a stone well and beyond this, a rugged promontory of land poked out through the waves like a gnarled finger. On this peninsula, a narrow track zigzagged up between slanting, wind-worn vegetation. Low-growing juniper trees perfumed the air, and the only sound was the clatter of smooth pebbles rolled by gentle waves.
‘This is Rodakis land,’ Angelo said. ‘Sofia’s dowry.’
‘Dowry?’
‘Yes, when Damian married Sofia, her family gave it to our family. This is the way with Cretan families.’
I glanced across the bay, trying to orient myself with the Google map I had studied with Dad.
‘We’ll go this way, like the goats,’ Angelo said. ‘Walk behind me and be careful for the small trees.’ He pointed at the scrubby vegetation.
‘Bushes,’ I said.
‘They have spikes. Even goats don’t like them.’
The needle-sharp spines on knee-high shrubs snatched at my skirt. Twice I was yanked back to untangle fabric from long thorns. In the process, my shoulder bag slipped and fell into the dust. Exasperated, I gathered my skirt around my thighs and threw the bag strap over my head.
Angelo turned to see what was slowing me and his face broke into a grin. I looked down. The bag strap divided my breasts in the thin white T-shirt.
‘Very nice!’ He walked backwards, his eyes glued to my chest.
‘Cheeky,’ I said.
‘You make me crazy.’
‘Angelo, be careful . . .’
‘Ouch!’ The vicious spikes drove into his calves and he leaped towards me in a wild dance of lunacy.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to smother the laughter.
He ran at me, mock anger on his face. ‘You laugh? I’ll teach you a lesson, Iris!’ He caught me in his arms.
My joy was so intense, I felt that if he kissed me at that moment I’d become a victim of spontaneous combustion.
‘Go!’ I pointed towards the brow of the promontory. ‘And mind the thorns.’
He called over his shoulder, ‘You’re a wicked woman, Irini McGuire. I can see you are going to give me great trouble.’
Minutes later, we stood on the crest of the rocky peninsula. Halfway down the slope, the ground levelled and a row of mechanical workhorses waited for Monday. Beyond the bulldozers, cranes and mixers, the skeleton of a concrete building loomed from a massive puddle of grey cement dust.
‘Come.’ He held out his hand. We stepped onto a wide, pleated track made by heavy machinery.
‘I can’t believe you’re so excited. It looks awful.’ I stared at the dull columns and twisted iron building-rods.
‘You don’t see it. Look, here are the best rooms; each suite has an infinity pool pointing out to sea. The next rooms are above and further back, with smaller pools on the roof of the first floor.’
I adored his child-like enthusiasm, and how proud he was to brag about the achievements of his father and brother.
Angelo gazed at the ugly, half-built hotel. ‘I’ve seen the plans – it will be one of the best hotels in Europe.’
Overcome by tiredness, I sat on the footplate of a cement mixer, while he strutted around the embryonic building. I closed my eyes. The sun warmed my face, blanked my mind, and I dozed.
I didn’t realise my head had slipped in relaxation until it fell forward and woke me with a jolt.
Angelo caught my startled expression. ‘Are you okay? Forgive me, you are tired. Come, I’ll make you some coffee in the workers’ place and show you the plans, then we’ll go home.’
Bless him; didn’t he look after me so well? I didn’t like coffee and wasn’t interested in the plans, but never mind.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea, do you think, Angelo?’
‘I’m sure there’ll be a can in the fridge.’
‘Tea in a can? You’re joking? You’re not right in the head, you Greeks.’ At the high mesh gates, I asked, ‘What is this place?’
‘I’m not sure, probably the engineer’s office.’ Angelo introduced himself to the security guard, who led us inside and unlocked the wooden building, which had trestle tables against all four walls.
‘I don’t understand,’ Angelo said, scratching his beard.
One table supported several containers of fine white powder and many brushes. The end of the worktop was spattered with white plaster and displayed a jigsaw of broken pots.
‘Antiquities,’ he murmured. ‘What the hell’s Damian up to?’
I glanced at the broken urns. ‘You mean there are antiquities here and Damian’s digging them out, like my parents? Isn’t that good?’
‘No, Irini, it’s not good. It’s against the law. You can’t build on an archaeological site. And what’s Damian doing with the artefacts? I know him; he doesn’t care for such things. He only cares about money. He will be selling them. Three people work here. Look – three chairs, three mugs on the nails.’
My pulse raced. My mother and the dragonfly necklace! If Damian was finding and dealing, then he would know other people in the business. I moved towards a dusty chair across the room but stumbled as I went over.
Angelo caught me. ‘Careful!’ We both looked to see what caused the trip and saw a loop of rope threaded through the floorboards. ‘What’s that? Looks like a door in the floor.’ He slid both hands into the rope handle and pulled. It lifted a few inches. ‘Too heavy; I’ll get help.’
He stuck his head outside and shouted. The guard appeared and they had a conversation in Greek.
‘What did he say?’ I asked.
‘He knows nothing about what’s down there. His job is making sure nobody comes inside the fence, that’s all.’
The men hauled up the wooden pallet. Angelo escorted the guard to the door and let the lock click into place when he had gone, then he kneeled and stuck his head inside the hole.
‘There’s a light switch and a ladder. I’m going down.’
‘Not without me, you’re not. This is exciting stuff!’
‘No, it’s too dangerous. Stay here.’
‘Bullshit! Wait for me.’
He disappeared down the hole and I followed.
We held hands and stood, speechless, at the bottom of the ladder. Again, I wished my mother was with me. The space, lit by a bare bulb, was as big as the building above. Walls of stone block bore the chisel marks of some ancient tool. In the dim light, Angelo said he thought we were inside a Minoan building, but he flicked another light switch, and all was revealed. We stood in shocked silence.
CHAPTER 41
IRINI
Crete, present day.
IN THE SUBTERRANEAN archaeology site, Angelo and I stared at a quadrangle surrounded by buildings with streets running off.
I gasped. The feeling of déjà vu had me reeling. I had been here before!
‘Unbelievable,’ Angelo murmured, his voice awed. ‘You know what this is? Damian is excavating! Those dolphins carved into the lintels are identical to the Santorini site.’
I gripped his arm. ‘Yes, Angelo, I do know what this is.’ I could hardly get the words out for excitement. ‘This is the Sacred City of Istron!’
He swung his attention back to me, shock clear on his face, then he shook his head. ‘No, Irini, that’s only a legend . . . What makes you think—’
‘You are wrong! Listen to me, Angelo. This is it; I have no doubt. I would stake my life on it! The Sacred City of Istron. Wow! My mother had visions of this place; she knew it was here. She saw the people led by the great Queen Thira. She was with them when the tsunami hit. Thira loved these people so much she sacrificed her own daughter to try and save them.’
I saw the shock on Angelo’s face. Shaking my head, I realised it would take too long to explain. At that moment, I understood everything. Rightly or wrongly, my
mother believed – feared – I was a reincarnation of Oia and I was bound to join Thira in the Elysian Fields after death. That was why she tried to keep me safe by sending me away.
I closed my eyes, my mind reaching out through the dark ether, heading for a prick of light that was my mother’s soul. As I approached, bathed in a kind of holy light, I was filled with love and I knew my mother was with me.
It’s here, Mam. We found the Sacred City of Istron! You were right all the time. Can you see it with my eyes? I’m rejoicing for you and I’m so completely honoured to be your daughter.
I felt my mother’s protective arms slide around my body and her presence engulf me with such intensity that I gladly submitted to her embrace.
‘Oh, Mam,’ I whispered. ‘I’m really, really proud of you . . . And I miss you so much.’ A sob jerked my chest, unlocking an emotional door and letting my imprisoned grief run free. Tears fell from my closed eyes and all the heartache trapped inside me for so long poured out.
As my tears abated, I felt lighter in body and mind. The relief of letting go had given me the freedom to move on, although I knew her memory and her love would always be in my heart.
‘Better?’ Angelo whispered as he released me from his arms.
I nodded and wiped my eyes. ‘Sorry, I’m a catastrophe.’
He inspected his shirtfront. ‘Mm, but you are getting better, I think. No mascara.’
‘Oh, Angelo, I do so wish Dad was here to see this. Please get your phone out; let’s take as many photographs as possible. My father will tell you the truth about this place, but he needs pictures. You’re looking at a Minoan city built by the people who came from Santorini not long before the island erupted.’ I lowered my voice. ‘They were the people of Atlantis.’
‘Atlantis?!’
‘Yes, but keep that to yourself or you’ll have every grave robber from here to the North Pole digging up the site. The tsunami that was caused by the volcano’s eruption wiped out most of the Minoan civilisation. I can’t believe this! What an enormous discovery. Let’s explore.’
We walked into the widest street, where Angelo flicked another light switch. The buildings had walls more than half a metre thick. New steel beams, like lengths of railway track, supported the earth above. Through the doorway of the first building we saw picks, shovels and jackhammers, and further along, a mini digger with ‘Bobcat’ painted on the side.
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