Aphrodite's Smile

by Stuart Harrison

  ‘My father? Why was he interested?’

  ‘Do you remember we spoke of the Panaghia? Alkimos tried to help your father find the German ship that sank during the war.’

  ‘The Antounnetta?’

  ‘Yes. In fact the story of what happened involves your friend’s grandmother, Julia Zannas.’

  The coincidence surprised me. I had a sudden sense of events in time colliding gently, nudging one another like great shifting plates in some impenetrable machinery.

  That night after we had eaten dinner Irene excused herself, saying that she had some work to do.

  ‘Why don’t you go into the town? It would be good for you to be among people,’ she suggested.

  I decided that she was right, but as I negotiated the dark twisting bends of the Perahori road I found myself thinking about Alex. I drove past the house where she was staying, but I could see from the road that there were no lights in her room so I continued on into town. I had no particular idea about where I was going so I parked the Jeep near the square and strolled among the cafés and restaurants looking for a spare table. There weren’t any, so I explored some of the side-streets away from the waterfront that I knew wouldn’t be so busy. I found a small taverna with a scattering of tables outside. The place was filled with men, mostly locals, drinking and smoking cigarettes. The air was blue with smoke, so I sat outside and when somebody eventually appeared to take my order, I asked for a beer.

  For a while I watched the flow of people, a few making last-minute purchases before the shops closed for the night. Across the street there was a travel agent and next door to it a shop selling magazines and books. The owner was dragging a rack of magazines inside, the covers of which featured pictures of naked women. It always surprised me that in a country with such a strong religious tradition, soft porn was openly displayed on every street corner alongside icons of the Virgin Mary and the myriad saints that are revered in Greece.

  Further along the street a group of young men wearing the ubiquitous Greek uniform of tight jeans and T-shirts chatted among themselves and smoked cigarettes, openly staring at any woman who walked past. It was another paradox of daily life there that had any of them witnessed a stranger ogling their own sister or girlfriend the way they did other women the consequences would undoubtedly have been violent.

  A girl emerged from the travel agent across the road and called something in Greek to whoever was inside. The men on the corner whistled and called out to her as she passed, and she stopped to exchange a few words with them. A few moments later the lights were extinguished in the travel office and a man in his early-thirties appeared. As he locked up, one of the men on the corner shouted something to him and the others quickly joined in. I gathered they were trying to persuade him to join them, but he simply shook his head and replied good-naturedly and after a while they gave up. As he turned away, a young woman appeared in front of him and when he saw her he stopped dead. It took me a moment to realise that it was Alex.

  At first I thought she must be asking about travel arrangements but, as I was about to call out to her, I heard her voice rise in anger. The man glanced around nervously as if he were afraid they would be overheard and at that moment I saw a sign over the door which I hadn’t noticed before. Classic Tours. Prop. Dimitri Ramanda.

  The man who I assumed was Dimitri had the uncomfortable look of somebody who would rather he were somewhere else. He seemed to be trying to explain something, but Alex cut him off with an impatient gesture. She fired a question at him and fixed him with a withering look while she waited for his answer. He appeared to be caught in an agony of indecision, but eventually he shook his head. There was a moment of charged tension between them and then abruptly Alex turned and strode away. He called her name but she didn’t look back. Suddenly he ran after her and grabbed her arm, but she whirled around and shook him off furiously. For an instant she glared at him as if daring him to speak and then she turned again and moments later vanished around the corner, leaving him alone while onlookers stared curiously.

  The entire scene hadn’t taken more than a minute or two. Dimitri eventually turned and walked away in the opposite direction. When he had gone I left some money on the table and went after Alex. I had visions of her crossing the street without looking and being run down by a car, but when I emerged onto the square she was nowhere to be seen. Uncertain where to look for her I walked quickly to the wharf and looked first one way then the other. When I still couldn’t see her I broke into a trot as mild concern began to turn into slightly panicked worry. On a hunch, I began to run towards the far end of the waterfront where I had found her the night before, but before I had gone even a quarter of the distance I passed a set of steps that led down to the water. She was sitting on the bottom step with her back to me, though when she heard me she turned around, the flash of anger that lit across her features turning quickly to surprise.

  ‘Oh. It’s you. I thought …’ She broke off and made a gesture as if it didn’t matter.

  ‘I was having a drink across the road from the travel shop a few minutes ago,’ I said.

  Comprehension dawned in her eyes. ‘You saw then.’

  ‘Yes. That was Dimitri I take it?’

  She nodded grimly. ‘I suppose you thought that I was going to jump into the harbour again.’

  ‘Are you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  She picked up on something in my tone and her brow furrowed. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ I gestured to the step. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’ I sat beside her. There were tears in her eyes, which she brushed away with the back of her hand.

  ‘I’m all right.’ She turned her gaze across the harbour. ‘I went to tell him that I was leaving,’ she said eventually. ‘I suppose I thought it might make him change his mind. About us I mean.’

  ‘I gather it didn’t?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How long have you known each other?’

  ‘A little over a year. He came back here three months ago to start his business. That was why he was in England. To make contacts. The idea was that I would come over and we would live together. I was going to resign from my job before I left. I didn’t actually.’ She thought about that and then turned to me. ‘I suppose that means I must have known all along something like this would happen doesn’t it?’

  I guessed it was a rhetorical question, so I didn’t offer an opinion.

  ‘I had the feeling things had changed before I left London. As soon as I saw him I knew that I was right. We had a fight and I found the room where I’m staying. The rest you know.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  She picked up a stone and threw it into the water and we watched the ripples spread outwards. ‘I just wish he’d told me before I left.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, he didn’t look very happy back there.’

  ‘No, that’s the funny part about it. I don’t think he is. He told me that part of him wants me to stay. He’s just not certain. At least he’s trying to be honest.’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps I should go home.’

  An idea occurred to me and as it did I knew I didn’t want Alex to leave yet. ‘What about your grandmother? Do you still want to find out about her?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I do, but I’m not sure this is the right time.’

  ‘Maybe it is. It might take your mind off things. And I might be able to help.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I found out today we’ve got something in common. I didn’t tell you this before, but when I told you I came here to visit my father, what I didn’t say was that I was too late. He died before I arrived. I just found out yesterday.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Alex said, looking stricken. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. He had a heart attack not so long ago, so it wasn’t a complete surprise. And to be honest
we were never close anyway. The thing is, I was talking to an old friend of his earlier and I mentioned that I’d been to Exoghi.’ I told her about my conversation with Irene and Kounidis and how they had recognised her grandmother’s name. ‘Irene has lived here all her life. I think she can probably tell you at least some of what you want to know.’

  ‘Really? Do you think she would mind?’

  ‘I’ll check first. Actually I’m interested myself anyway.’ I explained about my father’s search for the Antounnetta. ‘So we’re connected in a way. Albeit tenuously. Your grandmother is mixed up in the story behind the Antounnetta somehow.’

  ‘In what way?’ Alex asked.

  I told her that I didn’t know.

  She thought for a moment and then gave a small shake of her head. ‘It’s strange isn’t it? The way we met, and now this?’

  ‘Karma,’ I said jokingly, though not entirely. ‘Look, what are you doing tomorrow?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought.’

  ‘Do you like boats?’

  ‘I don’t know much about them.’

  ‘My dad owned one. I’m sure Irene wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it. We could take her for a sail along the coast and then afterwards you can come to dinner at the house and meet Irene.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Alex said uncertainly. ‘I mean it sounds wonderful, I just don’t know if I’m good company at the moment.’

  ‘What else are you going to do? Maybe it would be good for you.’

  She thought about it for a few moments. I could see her struggling with conflicting impulses, but in the end she gave in. ‘OK, I’d like that. Thanks.’

  ‘Good.’

  I arranged to pick her up in the morning but when I offered to walk her back to her room she said that she would prefer some time to think, so shortly afterwards I left her. As I walked away I looked back. She was hugging her knees gazing out across the harbour. I paused, struck by the feelings that she aroused in me. I felt some kind of connection between us. Maybe it was the island, the sense of time there. It was almost tangible, stretching back centuries into prehistory, to ancient civilisations and then leaping forward to more recent events. The Second World War. My father. Her grandmother. Love and passion, tragedy and death. The island was steeped in it. I felt as if we were bit players in a cast of characters endlessly trapped within the same human frailties.

  Much later when I was back at the house I thought of Alicia. For the first time since she’d left I didn’t experience a pang of loss. Neither did I feel resentment or bitterness towards her. I hoped things worked out for her, as I was sure they would. And then, unbidden, the thought flashed in my mind that perhaps they might for me too.

  SEVEN

  When Irene came down in the morning I was already dressed. She found me with a cup of coffee on the terrace where I’d watched the sun rise. As it gained height, the harbour changed colour from the deep reflected green of the pines growing on the surrounding hills to the endless blue of the sky.

  ‘Good morning,’ Irene said as she joined me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very. And you?’

  ‘Quite well, yes,’ she answered, though from the shadows beneath her eyes I thought that perhaps this was not entirely true.

  ‘Do you have any plans for today?’ she asked. ‘I am afraid I must go to Kephalonia this morning. Alkimos telephoned last night to say that he has arranged for me to meet a man who can help me with some business problems that I am having at the moment. I thought you might like to come with me. Perhaps there is something you would like to see in Argostoli, and after my meeting we could have lunch somewhere together?’

  ‘I appreciate the offer but actually I wanted to ask a favour.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You remember the English girl I met who I told you about?’

  ‘The granddaughter of Julia Zannas?’

  ‘Alex, yes. I ran into her again last night. I wondered if you’d mind if I took her out on the Swallow?’

  ‘Of course I would not mind,’ Irene said. ‘I will pack you some lunch to take with you. You can have a picnic. Do you know where you will go?’

  ‘Not far. Somewhere along the coast I expect.’

  I followed her to the kitchen, protesting that there was no need for her to go to any trouble, but she insisted, and so, while she produced cheese and salad and some cold meat, I helped pack it all into a cooler.

  ‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you,’ I said. ‘Alex would like to know more about her family. Especially her grandmother. I gathered from what you said yesterday that you know what happened to her during the war?’

  Irene stopped what she was doing. ‘I know a little of what happened. But it is only the things I heard as a child. I was not even born then.’

  ‘Would you tell Alex about it?’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Irene said reluctantly. ‘Sometimes it is better that these things are forgotten, I think.’

  ‘It was her grandmother. She wants to know. Is what happened really so bad?’

  ‘Perhaps it would not seem so to you. But it is different for people who have lived here all their lives. People were killed. Sons and brothers and fathers. You must remember that Ithaca is a small island, Robert.’

  ‘Then wouldn’t it be better if Alex hears about it from you?’ I reasoned. ‘Mr Kounidis said I should warn her about asking too many questions, but I don’t think that’s going to stop her.’

  Irene sighed. ‘I suppose that is true. Bring her here this evening then. I will tell her what I can.’

  I thanked her and as we finished packing the food I said, ‘Do you know somebody called Dimitri Ramanda? He runs a travel agency in town.’

  ‘Yes of course. Do you know him?’

  ‘No, but Alex does.’

  ‘Ah, I see. They are friends?’

  ‘In a way. They met in England. What’s he like?’

  ‘He is a very nice young man I think.’

  I’d asked because I was curious, but I almost wished that I hadn’t. I was aware of the speculative way in which Irene glanced at me when she thought I wouldn’t notice, and I could almost hear the whirring of cogs in her head.

  It was around ten by the time I drove into town to pick Alex up. She heard the Jeep pull up and came outside to meet me.

  ‘Good morning.’ I took the bag she’d brought with her containing a towel and a change of clothes and put it in the back. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Better,’ she said with a determined smile. ‘I’ve decided to enjoy today and forget about everything else.’

  ‘Good for you.’ I gestured towards the harbour where the sunlight skipped across the waves. The sky was clear, but there was a light breeze. ‘It’ll be perfect out there today. And I talked to Irene this morning. You’re invited to dinner tonight and she’s agreed to tell you what she knows about your grandmother.’

  ‘That’s great. You’re sure she doesn’t mind?’

  I decided not to tell her that I’d had to overcome Irene’s initial reluctance. I wondered if Alex was aware that she might discover things about her grandmother that she wouldn’t necessarily like, though now didn’t seem the time to prick her bubble. She’d obviously made a mental effort to look forward to the day and I didn’t want to spoil things for her.

  It was only a short drive to the marina, along a narrow road that wound along the side of the harbour for about a mile or so from the edge of town. A concrete wharf with half a dozen pontoons provided berths for perhaps fifteen or twenty boats, and a couple of buildings by the road housed an office and repair shed. Several boats had been hauled out for maintenance in the shade of a stand of tall gum trees. When we arrived, the place seemed deserted and, other than the ever-present sound of cicadas among the trees, was quiet and still.

  I recognised the Swallow though it was a long time since I’d last seen her. She was a forty-two foot motor ketch which my father had bought soon after he arrived on Ithaca. Her hull was painted dark blue
above the waterline, while her cabin-housing and decks were a mixture of teak and varnished timber. She was a classic boat, built for cruising and ease of handling.

  ‘She was a virtual wreck when my dad bought her,’ I told Alex when we reached her. ‘He did a lot of the restoration himself.’

  It was only then that it struck me that this was where my father’s body had been found. The water was clear and deep, but shadowed by the pontoon and the boat itself so I could understand how it had been possible for him to remain unseen for so long. It was less clear how he’d managed to end up in the water at the stern however, which is where I assumed he must have fallen in if his clothing had tangled with the propeller. The boat was moored lengthways against the pontoon so that climbing aboard was best done about midway along her length, which meant it couldn’t have happened then. Either he was already on board or else he’d been on the pontoon. If he’d been on board I couldn’t see anything that he could have hit his head on before he hit the water, so he must have been on the pontoon, but when I crouched down near the back of the boat to look for any sign of blood there was nothing there. It was puzzling. The wood was dry and solid.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Alex asked, watching me with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking about my dad. This is where they found him.’

  She looked down at the water in consternation as if she might see him still floating there.

  ‘He had a heart attack five weeks ago,’ I explained. ‘After he’d been home for about three weeks he disappeared one morning. He was supposed to be resting, but he left the house early, before Irene was awake. They found his car here later. It was three days before somebody spotted his body trapped under the boat. That was a couple of days ago, the same day I arrived. The police think he must have fallen in after he had another heart attack.’

  ‘That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. It must have been awful for you.’

  ‘It’s been harder on Irene.’ I got up and looked around, still trying to see how it must have happened. ‘The thing is, the autopsy report was inconclusive. The cause of death was drowning, that much the police know for certain, but there was a wound at the back of his head they’re not sure about. The theory is that it happened when he fell, but there’s no sign of blood here and the wood is dry. Look how far it is to the water.’