The Flow

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  “Have you been to Greece at all?”

  “Me? No!” he laughed then, in a way that suggested he regarded the idea preposterous. “Actually, I’ve lived in Brighton all my life and hardly visited anywhere else. I’ve only been out of the country once, and that was in the war. I went to France to serve Old Blighty.”

  “Old what?”

  He chuckled and leaned towards her with an easy smile. “Old Blighty! That’s what we called England back in the day.”

  Oh . . .” said Sofia, lost for words. She felt impressed by this stranger. It wasn’t only the fact he was a local and had seen the Pier in its glory days, but also there was something about him that made him stand out. Something aristocratic, or maybe it was just his style. He spoke and acted like a proper gentleman, like those you only get to see in period films and TV series. Even his presence was fitting for such an image. His short, snow-white hair was perfectly trimmed and styled, and he wore a proper suit, tie and all, as if he’d dressed up to go out. It made Sofia very curious as to why that was, but of course, she didn’t ask.

  Far from her initial annoyance for the intrusion when he’d come to sit beside her, now she wanted to know more about him. After all, the sun hadn’t fully set yet, and she kept checking the Pier in case The Lady showed herself again. If anything happened, she promised herself she wasn’t going to get too distracted. “So, what can you tell me about the Pier? I bet it was incredible to be able to walk on it in the old days.”

  “Just to walk on it?” The old man rested both hands on top of his cane to gaze out to sea. Sofia followed his eyes and witnessed them sparkling, as they seemed to caress the Pier in all its length, all the way to the very end where the Pavilion stood proud still, despite its demise.

  “Ah! I remember the Pavilion . . .” he said then, as if he’d heard her thoughts. “What shows I’ve watched in there! And the Concert Hall . . . Back in the day we used to dance unstoppably, it seemed. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re young: have fun. I had my fair share too, although I was a serious lad. Life always seemed to be more work and less play for me, I’m afraid.” He gave a soft chuckle then, causing Sofia to think he’s just adorable.

  “Can you tell me any stories? You know, from the past.”

  “Stories?” He flicked his wrist and looked away. “I could tell you stories till your ears fall off . . . But why would a young girl like you want to listen to stories from a long lost world?”

  “Because I find them fascinating.”

  “Forgive me, but I think it’s odd that a young person, someone who isn’t even from around here, would take such interest in our Pier. What makes you so interested in it?”

  Sofia shrugged. “The same thing that intrigues you . . . Whatever makes you come here to see the Pier at sunset, as you say. Like you, I’m also fascinated by the past, the mystery of it all.”

  The old man leaned closer to her with a lopsided grin across his face. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong, young lady. We’re not the same. You’re fascinated by your own imagination, but I have the knowledge you do not have. My fascination stems not from my curiosity or my fantasy as in your case, but from the essence of my own feelings and memories.”

  Sofia tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you look at the Pier and you just see a derelict building, and maybe you know a few things about its past. Perhaps you’ve even seen a few photographs so you can easily imagine what it was like. But for me, the Pier is not just a fascinating relic. This is where I come every day to pay my dues to a series of people I’ve known and loved, but most of all, just to one person.”

  “Who would that be?” asked Sofia, hanging from his lips.

  The old man waved dismissively. “Bah! You’ll probably take me for a crazy old fool if I elaborate. So I’ll just say, I come here to remember my friends.”

  Sofia looked over at the Pier then, and out of the blue, there she was. The same, familiar shadow had just materialised by the Concert Hall, and now, impossibly, it was a full apparition, not just a stark black shadow. A face now stared eerily back at her from across the distance. Two hands crept out of the sleeves of her dark dress that billowed fiercely in a non-existent wind, then held on to the railing. Fiery red hair blew, whipping at her face, but she stood unaffected, as if her mind was miles away, as if nothing could disturb her peace. And all the while, she looked straight ahead, right at where Sofia sat with the old man. Sofia shuddered. She didn’t need to know the ghost’s eyes were green or that she looked just like her. She knew her from her dreams.

  “Young lady?” said the old man, snapping Sofia out of her trance. She turned to look at him, to realise he had been talking to her. She hadn’t heard a word.

  “Forgive me,” she muttered, then turned to look at the Pier again. The Lady was gone.

  “What are you looking at? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, his eyes searching hers intently.

  Sofia shook her head. Was that it? Was this all she’d brought me here for? Or did I get distracted during this conversation and missed something? Damn it!

  “Young lady,” he insisted, looking from her to the Pier and back, his expression lively. Sofia was wearing a baseball hat, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. All this time, she’d been wearing dark sunglasses, but she’d just taken them off to peer at the apparition more closely. She turned to look at the man to find him staring at her aghast.

  “Those eyes . . . Oh, my God . . . This is most extraordinary!” he exclaimed, bringing both hands to his chest, his cane falling to the floor.

  Bewildered, Sofia meant to ask him what he was talking about, but first she bent over, picked up his cane, and handed it back to him. Moving slowly, the man took it from her hand, his fingers brushing over hers. At that moment, they both received a jolt of electricity.

  “Ouch!” she went, to find him shaking his own hand to relieve the same discomfort. What on earth?

  “Excuse me, you said you’re Greek? So, you don’t have family in town, young lady?” he asked, as soon as he recovered.

  “No, I don’t. I am a student here, at the Polytechnic.”

  The old man shook his head. “Blimey! Your eyes, your hair, and even your face. You’re the spitting image of someone I knew once.”

  “Who?” she asked, her eyes searching his, a vague idea that seemed too good to be true teasing her mind.

  “Someone very special . . . The reason why I come here every day to pay my respects,” he said forlornly, as he cast a glance over to the West Pier again. The sun had now set, and the horizon was filled with all the colours of the rainbow, mostly reds, violets and deep yellows. The man’s face became serene, his eyes glazed over as he marvelled at the sight.

  Right then, Sofia saw The Lady again and gasped, then darted her eyes at the man. He can’t see her! Or can he? Is this who he refers to? The Lady? There’s nothing for it. I just have to ask.

  “Can I ask you a question? Have you ever heard of The Lady of the Pier?”

  The man raised his brows and issued her with an enigmatic little smile. “How does a young Greek girl know about The Lady of the Pier? Especially as you seem to be her spitting image?” His eyes lit up then and he shifted his weight, then leaned closer to her. “Who are you? Are you an angel?” he asked, putting a single hand over his heart.

  “No, I am not an angel,” answered Sofia with an awkward smile, causing him to nod. “But trust me, I know more about her than you’d imagine. Did you know her? When she was alive, I mean? Please can you talk to me about her?”

  The man stared deeply into her eyes, his expression revealing that he was mesmerised by her face. “And yet, you look like an angel, just like her, just like Laura . . . I’ve loved her all my life, you know. An extraordinary woman.”

  Sofia couldn’t believe her ears. Her name was Laura? Is this why she called me here today? To find out all about her from this man? While she was still deep in thought, staring back at him incredu
lous, the old man moved closer to her and took her hand tenderly in his. “If you’re not Laura, you certainly look exactly like her. And no matter who you are, may God bless you! God bless you for being here today of all days. I needed to say goodbye to her tonight . . . and I feel she sent you to me today to make it easier. You don’t mind, do you, young lady, if I hold your hand? You look just like my darling Laura, you see . . .”

  Sofia continued to stare at him, her mind spinning. “No, I don’t mind,” she finally said, gazing into his eyes, amazed by his expression of sheer bliss. She thought perhaps The Lady had brought them both here for a purpose. “Sir, are you all right? Would you like me to escort you home? Do you live nearby?” she asked, having noticed he had started to shiver. She wasn’t sure if it was because the sun had set and the cool sea breeze made the chill of the evening more prominent, or if it was because he had got too excited for his old age.

  “No, thank you, I’m all right. I live close-by; at the Lanes. I’ve lived there for forty years now; I guess it’s the only real home I’ve ever had.”

  “Where did you live before that?” she asked, trying to make conversation. The way he continued to hold her hand, although very nicely, very tenderly, had made her feel uneasy. She tried to avoid the silence as much as possible.

  “Oh! I lived in estate houses; it was my job, you see, for many years. And I had the privilege to live under the same roof with Laura for a while. She was a viscountess, you know! A grand lady . . . But before that, she was a big star on the stage, right there at the Pavilion,” he said, pointing at the derelict theatre in the distance. In the mist that rose from the sea as the sky grew ever darker, it looked eerie. At least, the apparition on the Pier had gone again. Somehow Sofia felt better for that. The Lady had distracted her before. Now she knew it was the man, after all, that she’d come here for.

  “You worked for The Lady of the Pier when she was actually alive?” she asked, seeking confirmation, trying to understand as much as possible from this incredible chance encounter that clearly, The Lady herself had orchestrated.

  “That’s right. Except, back then, she was called Laura. Laura Mayfield. She had the voice of an angel, you know . . . And I loved her . . . I always have, although I never told her. But I think she knew in a way, bless her soul . . . I’ve never really got over her death, you know. Especially as it was so tragic.”

  “Please, can you tell me about it, sir?”

  He turned to look at her again, and this time his eyes were full of tears. “I’m sorry but I cannot. Over the years, I’ve found it impossible to think about her passing and not get terribly upset. Let alone now, now that I’m an old man, too weak . . . much too weak . . .”

  “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?” she asked, when he started to shiver again.

  “Bah, don’t mind me. There’s no cure for old age. Although I wish they could find a cure for dementia. That’s the only thing I mind. It is what is uprooting me from my home, and all that I know and love.” He shook his head wistfully, then wiped a tear away with the back of a gnarled hand.

  “Uprooting you? You have to leave?”

  “Yes. My children you see . . . They worry too much about me now that I have developed dementia. And who would blame them? I’ll probably set the house on fire if I carry on like this. So they’ve arranged it all and tomorrow I must leave my house forever. It’s breaking my heart. I came here tonight to say goodbye to Laura . . . and I found you. This is why I asked you if you’re an angel. The coincidence is just too good to be true, but you’re real, and I can only take it as a blessing from God.”

  Sofia knitted her brows. “A blessing?”

  “Yes, young lady. He knows my yoke is not easy for me to bear today. So, He brought you here to make it easier for me, and I’m thankful for that. It’s very kind of you to let me hold your hand, you know. It helps me to say goodbye to her. Did I tell you you’re Laura’s spitting image? I wish I had brought my glasses! I bet if I could look properly into your eyes, I’d see you have exactly the same colour that hers had . . . That evergreen of spring. That woman was extraordinary, did I tell you? Shame that life was so cruel to her, right until the bitter end.”

  “Why . . . Why do people call her The Lady of the Pier? Could you at least tell me that?”

  “Ah . . . People called her that because she walked up and down the Pier dressed in black all by herself . . . Weak, ashen and quiet, like a ghost with flesh and bones . . . The locals knew about her and pitied her. They avoided her, and others feared her, too. Only children sometimes spoke to her, especially when she fed the seabirds. She’d let the children feed the birds with her. It was them that gave her that name. The Lady of the Pier . . . A quaint name for a ghost, for an apparition. Of course, she was still alive at the time. But sadly, it was her fate to haunt the Pier even in the afterlife.”

  Sofia couldn’t believe her ears. She fed the seabirds off the Pier? Images of her little pier back at Vassilaki with her and Danny sitting there, laughing at the hopping sparrows, filled her mind, Danny’s laughter echoing like the chink of crystal. The sound reverberated heavily inside her, chasing the pain away to the darkest recesses of her heart. “Have you seen her? I mean, have you seen the apparition yourself?”

  “Only in the old days. There were a lot of sightings back then and lots of people saw her. I did too . . . many times. Some people found the apparition disturbing . . . Women and children would scream and flee. But to me, it was a visit from an old friend. It was a blessing to see her standing at the railing by the Concert Hall, the only place she’d ever made herself seen, mostly at this hour, when the sun sets, when darkness settles upon the world . . . These sightings helped to ease my pain for her loss. They gave me comfort that she was somewhere she wanted to be, somewhere where she’d finally found peace. It was good while it lasted, but then the sightings stopped, just like that. Overnight, it seems.”

  “Do you remember when they stopped?”

  “Of course. It was April 1966.”

  Sofia’s eyes turned huge but she said nothing. That’s when I was born! This is solid proof she now lives through me!

  “And so . . . I continued to visit the Pier almost daily but never saw her again. We’ll never know what happened, maybe she found peace at last. I like to think so. I even toy with the idea that she’s somewhere happy right now with the man she loved. Those two deserved to be together, but life never let them. Or should I say that despicable man didn’t. That devil’s spawn . . . That . . .” he stopped short then, indignation causing his heart to palpitate. He put a fist in front of his mouth, then took purposely one deep breath. He wasn’t at an age where he could afford his anger to run wild.

  “Are you sure you couldn’t tell me more about her? It’s really important to me. Please?”

  The old man set his kindly eyes upon her, sadness deep inside them. He saw her own pain then, somehow. He didn’t understand what it was, but being in those eyes, those eyes that had this uncanny resemblance with Laura’s, it played at his heartstrings, and he knew it would be impossible not to help her. “Look, as I said I cannot talk about it . . . Forgive an old man for his terrible weakness. I am heart-broken as it is tonight, for having to leave my home, to leave Brighton, knowing I’ll die in an old people’s home somewhere, far away from here, never to set eyes on the West Pier again. But I can do something for you. I have an old friend, a dear old friend, who knew Laura even better than I ever did. Do you have a pen and paper? I can give you her address.”

  Sofia rummaged through her small backpack and found a pen, then a card from a curiosity shop in the Lanes. She turned it over and handed it to the man with the pen, but he put up a hand.

  “Can’t see a thing without my glasses. But I can tell you the address to write it down. The lady’s name is Maggie. Mention my name, and she’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “Maybe a phone number would be better?” she asked, knowing she’d hardly dare to turn up at a strang
er’s house uninvited to ask even stranger questions.

  “Sorry, I don’t remember any numbers by heart, not even my own. But I know this address well. God knows, I’ve driven back and forth to it a million times over the years, I could hardly forget it.”

  “She must be a close friend if you’ve visited her so many times,” said Sofia as she wrote down the local address he gave her.

  “I can’t say I visited lots, not really. But I drove Laura around and I often took her there . . . Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself,” he said, squeezing her hand in his. “My name is James Berkley. Back in the day, I used to be Laura’s chauffeur. Maggie was her best friend.”

  Epilogue

  “This is unbelievable,” said Annika, shaking her head. Sitting together on the edge of her bed with Sofia, she’d just heard everything that had transpired between her and the old man down at the seafront.

  Sofia ran a hand through her hair slowly, then gave a relaxed smile. “I know . . . I’m still incredulous myself. I’ve actually met someone who knew her!”

  “And you said he found your resemblance with her striking?”

  “Well, that’s what he said. But it’s probably just the colour of my hair. He admitted he couldn’t see much without his glasses.”

  “And her name was Laura Mayfield?”

  Sofia nodded. “Yes, but he claimed it hurts him too much to talk about her. That’s why he gave me their mutual friend’s address. He said she’ll happily tell me all I need to know. I’m just embarrassed to turn up on her doorstep like that . . .”

  “Don’t be silly, Sofia. If she can shed some light into the past, it’ll be worth it. Just think, you could find out something that can help you win Danny back.”

  “Yeah, like what? I don’t know, Annika. I think all hope has been lost somehow.”

  “You’re joking, right? You have a spirit living inside you, guiding you! She just brought you in contact with this man, and now you’re going to meet the woman who used to be her best friend too. Goodness knows where this is going to lead! Is it only me who sees The Lady as real? Don’t you believe in her?”