One Summer in Crete

by Nadia Marks

  Froso opened her eyes but her gaze was distant; she looked past Calli.

  ‘She’s probably gone to see Pavlis,’ she whispered, and closed her eyes again. ‘Leave her, she needs to be with him.’

  She took Froso’s advice and instead of searching for Eleni, Calli asked Nicos and Michalis to collect her and take her somewhere private, where the three of them could be alone to talk. At first she had been reluctant to leave her aunt, but Froso insisted.

  ‘Go, my girl, go with your friends,’ she told her. ‘Besides, your mother will be back soon and I need to have some time alone with her.’

  Calli wondered how much she should reveal to Michalis and Nicos, while feeling certain that the time had come to share with them some of her family’s hidden history.

  They drove out of the village towards the hills, where Michalis lived. It was the first time Calli had visited his house; when they met he had always chosen to take her to a restaurant or bar or explore the countryside. Only once had she asked about his home, and then he had brushed it off as being something of a building site.

  Some years earlier, the two brothers had inherited a small house from their grandfather: just two rooms with an outside lavatory in the middle of an olive orchard, which Michalis had recently set about turning into a home. He had lived there alone since he returned to the village and had virtually rebuilt it himself, adding an extension for more rooms, a modern bathroom, a fitted kitchen. He had made a terrace with a view of the sea in the distance, and had cultivated a fragrant garden. The plot was big enough to accommodate two such houses and Nicos had already started building a second for himself.

  ‘This is where I’m going to live when I come back to Crete,’ he said, taking Calli by the hand. She couldn’t hide her surprise and pleasure as he showed her around. ‘I suppose that’s partly what I’m waiting for – to finish the house and then return home for good.’ Nicos looked at his brother.

  ‘Not long now . . .’ Michalis smiled.

  ‘Looks practically done to me,’ Calli added, perching on the terrace wall while Nicos went inside to bring more chairs.

  Concerned how the brothers would react to Froso’s tragic story, Calli took some moments to summon the courage to start, but once launched, her account flowed. She told them about the young lovers’ affair, about Mitros’s obsession with Froso, she told them about the rape and the brutal murder of Kosmas, and finally she told them about Calliope’s plan to bring up Eleni as her own. The one thing she did not mention was the killing of Mitros: that, she decided, was not for her to divulge. She did not have the right to break the silence of an entire village that had lasted for generations.

  The two men sat silently, listening without interruptions, until she finished speaking. Only then did they respond.

  Michalis was the first to speak. He looked genuinely distressed at what he had been told. ‘Poor Kyria Froso, what a life!’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve always been very fond of her . . . so different from other women of her own age around here, always considerate and tolerant.’ His voice faded away. ‘I suppose that’s why I was drawn to her – she was a bit of an outsider, like me. Not surprising, after the life she’s had.’

  ‘I assume Mitros got what was coming to him.’ Nicos spoke up.

  ‘Yes . . . in these parts, at that time, a man would stand no chance of going unpunished after committing such crimes.’ Michalis nodded in agreement.

  Calli was taken aback by their matter-of-fact reaction and accurate conclusion. Intrigued, she sat quietly waiting for them to continue. These two were Cretan men, born and bred on this island: it was natural that they would know the ways of the people better than she did.

  ‘Passions run high here and the blood boils,’ Nicos continued. ‘I’m not saying it’s right to take the law into your hands, of course not . . . but those were different times. Our grandfather often talked of such goings-on and I’m certain Mitros got what they thought he deserved. They had their own set of rules in those days.’

  ‘It has changed a lot, I’m glad to say,’ Michalis added.

  ‘Yes. But even now, I wouldn’t like to be around to see what might happen to anyone who did such things . . .’

  By the time the brothers dropped Calli back to the house the first stars had started to flicker in the darkening sky. Froso and Eleni were sitting talking together in the garden, a pot of herbal mountain tea and two cups by their side. She pulled up a chair as they both looked up at her, their eyes red with emotion but otherwise more calm than when she had last seen them.

  ‘Have either of you eaten this evening?’ Calli asked. ‘I know I haven’t . . .’ She got up and made for the kitchen; as before, she was right in assuming that neither Eleni nor Froso had thought of food since she last provided nourishment for them all. Once again, bread, olives, cheese and tomatoes were as much as she could put together, but it was enough to revive them a little. Her head was heavy with thoughts and emotions but her heart felt lighter. Speaking with Nicos and Michalis earlier had done her good; they had brought a clarity and an element of pragmatism to the family’s fraught emotional predicament. She had been wanting to confide in Michalis ever since her aunt had begun telling her story, but then she had never imagined how events would develop, and what an impact they would have on her own life.

  If Eleni had tormented herself with the thought that she might be the offspring of a rapist, Calli too wondered whose blood was running in her own veins.

  Can a person change the perception of themselves halfway through their life and beyond? she wondered as she busied herself laying food and crockery on a wooden tray to take outside. Would her mother, having reached the age she was now, ever be able to refer to the woman she thought was her sister as Mama? And could Calli herself now start calling Froso Yiayia? Did it even matter what label a person is given, and does the love we have for them change according to that label? A host of questions competed in her mind, none of which she could answer. Is ignorance bliss, she continued to muse, when knowledge brings doubt and expectations? She thought not.

  She picked up the tray and carried it out to the garden, well aware that these were questions without easy answers, needing consideration and discussion. She looked at Froso and her mother, two women with years of life experience behind them, yet they were all still learning. The learning process, she concluded as she stepped out into the garden, never stops; this summer alone was proof of that. Calli set the tray of food on the table and pulled up a chair next to her mother.

  ‘I went to see Thios Pavlis today,’ Eleni said, turning to her daughter. ‘We talked for a long time. He told me he has no doubt that I am his niece.’

  ‘Oh, Mama,’ Calli said tenderly and shifted a little closer to hug her mother, ‘it must be comforting, he is such a lovely man.’

  ‘I have never doubted that, not for one moment,’ Froso suddenly burst out, ‘but I wish with all my heart that I could wave a magic wand and change what has happened!’ She stopped as abruptly as she had begun, unable to fight back her tears. ‘If only Kosmas and I had waited until we were married, and never gone to that cave, things would be so different now. But we didn’t, and there is nothing I can do to change that.’

  She reached for her cup of tea, took a sip and looked over its rim. ‘I loved you with all my heart, Eleni mou. You have been the joy of my life, and so have your children. You cannot imagine how I longed for Calli to love me as much as she did my mother, but it didn’t matter.’ Froso turned, her eyes tenderly on Calli. ‘These few weeks, this summer, while you have been here with me, my girl, have made up for a lifetime of longing.’

  The three women sat together under the night sky, sometimes talking, sometimes lost in thought, until fatigue claimed them and once again they reluctantly went their separate ways upstairs to bed.

  Calli fell asleep just as a dream took hold. She dreamed that the three of them, Eleni, Froso and herself, were in a small boat in the middle of a storm; the boat was in danger of capsizing,
until a flock of seagulls gathered around them and, shielding them from the wind, guided them to safety.

  18

  Calli woke to the insistent buzzing of her mobile. The call was from Nicos. She had switched the phone to silent without turning it off, as she had planned to call him before she fell asleep. It was early – the clock on the bedside table showed 5.15 a.m. The sun must only just be thinking of rising, she thought.

  ‘Calli, are you awake? Can you hear me?’ he said, his voice fast and urgent. Without waiting for her answer he carried on. ‘I wanted to tell you that I love you, Calli, and I’m not going back. I’m staying here if you will stay with me . . . I want to finish the house for us, for you and me. I’ll even build you a little darkroom if you want . . .’ He seemed to be running out of breath but continued, ‘. . . and we can make a life together, you and me, if you will agree?’

  Then he paused to take a breath and waited for her to respond.

  ‘Yes!’ she said without hesitation, without even knowing if she meant yes, I love you, or yes, I want to stay, or yes, I want to make a life with you and stay in Crete for ever. It was only after she had said it that she realized her yes was to all of those things and more.

  ‘I’m coming now to fetch you. Are you up?’ he asked in the same urgent voice as before.

  ‘I am now!’ she laughed and leapt out of bed. She pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and with pounding heart ran to the garden gate. She found him already there by the roadside, leaning on his motorbike, evidently from where he had just made the call, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep all night thinking about you,’ he said, stubbing out the cigarette, and reached to pull her close. He held her tight and the goosebumps returned. They kissed and she could feel the bristles on his unshaven face.

  ‘I didn’t know you smoked!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I don’t,’ he replied and smiled. ‘I was nervous, I thought it might help. I had to see you.’ He helped her to climb up behind him on the saddle and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. She pressed her face hard against his back and breathed in his scent that smelled of the sea. They sped towards the beach where they had made love under the eucalyptus trees; the light was still dim and without colour as dawn was just breaking. He parked the bike and they made for the beach. The sun was rapidly rising now. Holding hands, they stood spellbound, watching the burning globe climb towards the heavens, setting the dawn sky on fire. Silently they stripped naked and hand in hand waded into the water. They stood in the beam of orange light and in turn cupped seawater in their palms and poured it over each other’s head as if in an ancient purifying bathing ritual. Once they were both wet, they immersed themselves in the sea and swam towards the sun: all without words, until at last they emerged from the water to nestle side by side under the trees.

  ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about what you told us last night, about your aunt Froso . . .’ He turned on his side to look at her. ‘I kept thinking how life is so strange . . . so brief, so fleeting . . . what are we all waiting for?’

  ‘I think I have been waiting for you,’ she said and reached out to touch his face.

  ‘I know this happens all the time to people, I know it happens the world over, but it has never happened to me.’ He turned and kissed her palm as it cupped his face. ‘I know that I have been waiting for you, too . . . all my life.’ She shifted closer and they held on to each other.

  ‘I want to have a child with you,’ he whispered. ‘A child that we can love and cherish together.’ He emphasized the last word, and kissed her.

  She felt her heart swell with love and soar to the sky to join those angels that spread their wings above the Aegean sea in the song. ‘Thank you, Raphael,’ she murmured and her eyes filled with tears.

  They stayed on the beach, limbs entwined, making love as the sun rose higher. Feeling its warm rays filtering through the leaves, Calli’s thoughts turned with a pang of sadness to Michalis. She felt so lucky and blessed at that moment – she and Nicos were making plans for a life together yet her dear friend had chosen to live without the joys of love.

  ‘Do you think Michalis will ever find someone?’ She turned to Nicos. ‘It’s so sad to think that he will go through life alone, he has so much to offer, so much love in him.’

  ‘Don’t imagine that I don’t think about that too,’ Nicos replied, turning on his back and folding his arms behind his head. ‘I discuss it with him from time to time, but in the end it is his choice, he has to do what feels right for him.’

  They lay on the beach a while longer, unable to tear themselves away from each other until Calli remembered her mother and aunt. She had to go to them: Eleni would be awake by now and would need her. Mother and daughter shared most things; there had never been secrets between them. If something of importance happened to Calli she would always hasten to tell Eleni, and the latter would drop everything in order to listen to what her daughter had to say. But however eager Calli was to tell her mother her news, she knew that this time she must wait. It was her turn to listen to Eleni. Her own moment would soon come; for now, she had to be there for her mother.

  Eleni was at the stove making coffee and Froso at the kitchen table cutting bread. The two women looked up at Calli and smiled. It was a serene scene, relieved of yesterday’s drama. The young woman was taken back, she hadn’t expected it.

  ‘Kalimera,’ Eleni said and smiled again. ‘Couldn’t sleep, or just an early bird today?’

  ‘Both,’ she replied as she sat down next to Froso, trying to appraise the situation.

  ‘Did you two sleep all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really,’ Eleni replied, ‘but it’s fine. Sleep will come in its own time.’

  Calli looked at Froso: her eyes were red, but she was smiling and nodding. ‘It will take time, my girl,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived with this knowledge all my life, but your mother needs time . . .’

  ‘We are going to go to see Pavlis later. We’ll take him lunch and eat together.’ Eleni turned to Calli. ‘Come with us?’

  Of course she would go, she thought, and nodded. Apart from being fond of the old man, she knew he was the only member of Kosmas’s family still alive, their link to the past.

  They sat in the kitchen with the doors and windows opened to the garden as they had done so many times in the past. This time it was Eleni who busied herself with the preparations, insisting that Froso took it easy.

  ‘Will you get the eggs, my girl?’ Froso asked Calli. She didn’t need to be asked twice. To her delight, she found that the hens had graced them once again with four large brown eggs, still warm, nestling in the pen. She picked up each one in turn and placed it in the basket, a task she had performed so lovingly during her childhood for her yiayia Calliope. On her way back she plucked a few ripe red tomatoes and a bell pepper which was hanging down ready for the picking. Returning to the kitchen she handed Froso the basket.

  ‘Here you are, Yiayia,’ she said and kissed the top of her head, ‘your hens have been busy this morning.’

  Froso lifted her head, her eyes brimming, and nodded, emotion stifling any words she wanted to say.

  They had a peaceful breakfast together, little being exchanged between them. Then it was time to prepare the lunch which they would take to old Pavlis: nothing complicated, something simple and tasty. Froso frequently cooked for him and they would often take lunch together in his house; he lived alone and largely relied on friends and relatives, but Froso had been his most regular provider and visitor. In the summer they would eat in his garden under the shade of the trees with a fresh breeze blowing from the shore, while in winter when the rains came, they would sit in the warmth of his kitchen with a blazing wood fire in the hearth. Froso couldn’t say which season she liked best; though life was easier in the summer months – no mudslides, falling trees or heavy downpours – she still enjoyed those winter days with Pavlis. She couldn’t explain it, but when she sat at the table in his cosy kitchen, th
e rain lashing against the windows and the sound of the sea roaring in the distance, she felt Kosmas’s presence most strongly. It was as if he were there with them.

  ‘Pavlis has always been fond of my briam,’ Froso told them. She had already prepared it and was putting it into a pot to take with them. ‘But sometimes I try to take him something different, like a joint of chicken or pasta, as well.’ Together, in unison, they peacefully busied themselves with the lunch: three women harmoniously putting their minds and skills into preparing this meal for someone dear, someone who they all knew played a pivotal part in their lives.

  Once everything was ready Froso neatly parcelled the food in cooking pots, wrapped them in crisp white tea towels, and they set off for their visit. They found the old man waiting for them under a leafy lemon tree in his garden, listening to music from the small transistor radio by his side on the table, a couple of cats lying at his feet in the shade.

  ‘In my youth I used to play the laouto and the lyra and you should have seen me dance the Pentozali,’ he told them with a chuckle as Froso started to serve the food.

  ‘I can vouch for that, he was almost as good as Kosmas – but not quite,’ she said with a smile as she spooned a helping of briam onto his plate.

  19

  Michalis received the news of Nicos’s homecoming with jubilation. Not only would his brother rejoin him, but with him would be a new addition to their family – Calli, who had become as dear to him as any close relative. The prospect of her coming to live in the adjoining house with Nicos was better than he could have ever imagined.

  ‘Time is precious. We need to seize the moment, and this is my moment,’ Nicos had said when he announced his intention to propose to Calli. ‘I’ve fallen in love before, as you well know,’ he told his brother, ‘but never like this . . . I have never before met a woman who made me feel as she does.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man and she’s very special,’ Michalis agreed. ‘I believe you will make each other happy. There are so many people in the world who never get the chance to meet their soulmate.’