The Boy Who Hugs Trees

by Dougie McHale

  Adam is not the only teacher at the house, for Dylan has taught him about the letters of Mozart from the book Stephen gave him. Dylan has read it assiduously each day and, as timetabled, he lurches into a lengthy monologue.

  ‘On the 14th January 1775, Mozart wrote that on the previous day, the 13th January 1775, his opera La Finta Giardiniera, was received with tumultuous applause and shouts of ‘Viva Maestro.’ Mozart was not just a musician who performed and composed, he also taught others how to play the piano and violin.’ Mozart would often describe musical techniques by giving it a human quality so when he was improvising a certain piece he said that he was ‘taking it for a walk,’ It took me awhile to work that out, but I got there in the end. Actually I asked Mum, but I know what it means now.’

  When he reaches the terrace Dylan has removed his earphones. Beside him on his chair is the well-thumbed book ‘Mozart’s letters Mozart’s life.’ There is an inch rip on the front cover along the spine.

  ‘Stephen is not going to be back for the wedding.’ Georgia is telling Theresa. ‘He phoned this morning. He’s stopping off at Athens to finalise the contract for the new houses.’

  ‘He seems to be spending more time in Athens and Spain than he is with you and Dylan,’ Theresa says disapprovingly.

  ‘It’s only for the short term. Once it’s up and running he won’t have to visit as often.’

  Theresa spoons some Sofrito onto her plate and tuts.

  ‘That looks delicious Theresa,’ Adam remarks, as he sits beside her.

  ‘Thank you. Your mother loved it Georgia, it was her favourite meal,’ Theresa says wistfully.

  ‘I’m reading more of her diary now.’

  Adam notices Theresa’s face changes, a look that is quickly rubbed out.

  ‘You’re in it quite a lot, Theresa, did mum ever speak to you about it.’

  ‘Not really. I knew she was writing something but she never spoke about it.’

  ‘Whatever happened to the woman called Gabriella? She owned a shop; I think mum was quite fond of her.’

  Theresa took a deep breath and played with her fork. ‘Ah Gabriella, yes, she set up a clothes shop in Corfu Town and eventually moved to Athens.’ She speared a piece of meat.

  Adam looks at her, Theresa definitely seems uncomfortable; her expression is muted.

  ‘I find it fascinating, I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do when I started to read it, but now, I find myself looking forward to reading it. It’s a part of Mum I knew nothing about. She never really spoke about that time; she always glossed over it.’

  ‘It was such a long time ago; a lot has changed since then. Look at me, I’m old now.’

  ‘You’re still a beautiful woman Theresa. I hope I look half as good as you when I’m your age, and you still have your health.’

  ‘I do and I hope the good lord keeps it that way.’

  ‘Mm this is delicious; it’s fast becoming my favourite too.’ Georgia smiles. ‘Have you any plans for tomorrow Adam? Paying chess again?’

  Adam grins. ‘No, I’m actually going to Corfu Town. I’ve got a letter I need to deliver for a friend.’

  ‘Oh, to who?’ Georgia says intrigued.

  ‘To a professor in the Department of History at Ionian University. I know it’s odd, considering there are easier and quicker ways to get in touch with people, but it was given to me by a colleague who trained with him; she insisted I delivered the letter personally. I was wondering if there’s a car hire in the village. I’ve not seen one yet.’

  ‘You don’t need to, I’ll take you and I can do some shopping.’

  ‘I don’t want to put you out. Are you sure? I could hire a car, drive around and see some of the island.’

  ‘That’s a good idea, I’ll take you, honest, Dylan can come along and we can make a day of it. Would you like to go to Corfu Town Dylan?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’m buying lunch this time,’ Adam insists.

  Chapter 32

  A Letter, Augustus and the Beginning of Possibilities

  The department of History is a modern three storey building in Ioannou Theostoki str, a residential area of Corfu Town.

  Above the entrance, the national flag hangs still and limp in the dry air. Adam takes a seat, while the receptionist phones Tzakis Konstantinos’ office. He is grateful for the air conditioning, as it is getting hotter by the day, and to his annoyance, he has left his bottled water in Georgia’s car. They have arranged to meet again in an hour’s time. While waiting, he holds the letter and is relieved that he is about to fulfil his promise to Sally.

  The foyer is a hub for students between classes, a meeting place before heading for lunch in the canteen. Adam observes a constant flow of bodies, coming and going, and wonders if it is ever quiet. He is aware of a man exchanging words with the woman at the reception, and then the man turns and strides towards Adam. As he draws near, the man extends his hand.

  ‘It’s Adam isn’t it? Pleased to meet you. Thanks for getting in touch. I’m Tzakis Konstantinos.’

  Adam stands and shakes his hand. ‘Nice to meet you. It’s a hive of activity.’

  ‘They keep us busy; they have a thirst for knowledge.’

  Tzakis is a tall man, with short grey silver-flecked hair. He has a long straight nose and deep-set eyes. He is wearing a well-fitted suit and white shirt, opened at the neck.

  ‘We’ll go to my office, it’s quieter there.’

  Adam follows Tzakis, who takes long purposeful strides. When they reach a set of stairs, he takes two at a time, as if it’s part of an exercise regime.

  Tzakis’ office is considerably spacious, not like Adam’s office at the university back home. There is a large window that allows a generous amount of light into the room. One wall is covered in books encased behind sliding mirrored doors. The desk is uncluttered and sparse, a framed picture of two teenagers, his children Adam assumes, on one side, on the other, a bust of the Roman emperor Augustus sits at an angle. Other than a computer screen and a writing pad on the desk, it is otherwise bare and uncluttered. Adam gets the feeling that Tzakis likes order with a minimalistic approach. There is an absence of the academic; it feels more like an executive’s office.

  ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Tzakis walks over to a coffee maker that Adam has not noticed. ‘I despise instant coffee, especially out of vending machines. How it gets called coffee I’ll never know. How do you like yours?’

  ‘Just black and no sugar, thanks.’

  Tzakis hands Adam a small cup and invites him to sit. He slips his jacket around his chair, sits down and sips his coffee.

  ‘Now Adam, I believe you’ve got a letter for me.’

  Adam hands him the envelope. Tzakis places it on his desk in front of him and taps it with a finger.

  ‘I’m afraid the letter is just a prop. In fact, it’s not a letter at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Adam shifts in his chair.

  ‘It has served its purpose.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Tzalis smiles. ‘Its purpose was to get you here, in front of me, so I could meet you.’

  ‘This is not making any sense.’

  ‘Let me explain. Our dear friend Sally, Dr Williams, asked if I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on you. She is worried, you see. She didn’t like the thought of you being in Corfu, on your own, just in case something happened to you, or you weren’t settling in as well as you thought you might. It’s one of her virtues; she acts like a mother to those she cares about.’

  Adam smiles.

  ‘The only way to get us to meet was to construct the story about the letter. She says you wouldn’t have got in touch with me otherwise. Was she right?’ Tzakis asks casually.

  Adam nods, still coming to terms with Sally’s ingenuity.

  ‘She was worried when you hadn’t contacted me, but relieved when I phoned to say you eventually got in touch.’ As he is speaking, Tzakis opens the envelope and takes out a piece of folded
A4 paper. He smiles and shows it to Adam, who immediately recognises Sally’s handwriting, ‘Thank you. xx’

  ‘I should have known. What a woman. She’s right of course; I wouldn’t have got in touch with you.’

  ‘Then it was her insurance policy.’

  Adam nods towards the bust. ‘Augustus?’

  ‘It is. Are you interested in history?’

  ‘I am. I’ve always had a fascination for the Roman period.’

  ‘We’re a match made in heaven; I’m a professor of Greek and Roman history. Sally knew what she was doing. How’s the coffee?’

  ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘We’re the only university in Greece that is solely dedicated to history, now that makes us special. Personally, I’ve got a soft spot for Augustus. He was Rome’s first emperor and under him, Rome really prospered, he’s a fascinating character. I’m writing a book about his life and Rome, during that period; it’s going to be published early next year. We’re expected to publish our work, but I don’t find it to be a task. I wish I could dedicate more of my time to it.’

  ‘It must be satisfying.’

  ‘It is. I’d be interested to know about your interest in ancient Rome.’

  ‘It’s not the great personalities of that time that interest me. What does, though, is the ordinary man and woman, and what would life have been like for them in the Roman world, living in towns and cities.’

  ‘You should come to a lecture. I’m sure it would interest you.’

  ‘Would that be possible?’

  ‘Sure, why not? After all, I’m the Dean of the department.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘Whenever you’re free, let me know and I’ll arrange it.’

  ***

  ‘How did it go?’ Georgia asks brightly, as Adam gets into the car.

  ‘Actually, it was not too bad, but not what I expected.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Adam explains about Sally’s motivation behind the letter, Tzakis, and their shared passion for everything Roman.

  Georgia smiles. ‘I like Sally. She’s obviously a woman who knows how to get things done.’

  ‘It’s made me realise just how much she cares about me, but I had to go to the other side of Europe to find out.’

  ‘Sometimes we don’t see what is in front of us.’

  ‘And sometimes we do.’

  She turns her gaze from the road and looks at him

  quizzically, studying him with liquid green eyes.

  He takes a deep breath and feels he is crossing a kind of boundary, but then he retreats.

  ‘I mean,’ he says, trying to retrieve the situation. ‘I feel we’ve become good friends. I see it that way and I know that’s not what you initially intended. Obviously you were just looking for someone to teach Dylan, but, as time has passed, I think we’ve become quite compatible.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we have and I’m glad.’

  They travel in silence. Adam feels they have connected on some level and when he looks at Georgia, she seems preoccupied. He wants to know what she is thinking.

  ‘I’m hungry and my stomach’s getting sore,’ Dylan complains.

  ‘Lucky for you then, we’re just about there.’ Georgia glances at Dylan in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Where is just about there?’ Adam realises he hasn’t asked where they are going.

  ‘To my favourite restaurant and remember it’s your treat.’

  Georgia smiles brightly, and an uplifting feeling passes through him to see her look so happy.

  At breakfast the following morning, it occurs to Georgia that Theresa has not enquired about the diary, nor shown any interest in it. She is puzzled by this and, as she clears her plate and cup, and deposits them in the sink, she frowns. She decides to tackle Theresa, later in the day. The

  thought she might be avoiding the subject stings Georgia, as they have always been close. Georgia has known her practically all her life and Theresa has always been part of the family, even though they are not related;

  Theresa has always been regarded as a special aunt.

  Georgia takes an orange from the fruit bowl on the granite counter and peels it. She picks up the diary and leaves the kitchen, enjoying the explosion of citrus juice in her mouth. As she walks through the house, she delicately wipes her mouth and steps out onto the terrace, sinking into a cushioned seat.

  The diary opens with a creek. Images of her mother sitting in this very place and writing the words Georgia is reading, entangle themselves with thoughts of Theresa’s lack of interest, or even curiosity in the diary, or its content. Georgia cannot image why this is so, but she is determined to find out and dissolve her personal bafflement.

  Chapter 33

  1972

  An Encounter that Involves 356 Steps

  Saturday 10TH June 1972

  It has now been a week since Paul left. He has called several times from New York, but each time, the connection was so bad we had to abandon the call. I’m going to Gabriella’s exhibition this evening...

  The clothes exhibition is set in an upper floor room above the main square. During daytime, it is bright and spacious. A soft evening light defuses through the large windows, insulating the room in a warm glow. Emily is standing beside Theresa, sipping a glass of wine, its taste encouraging her with a light enthusiasm for the night ahead. This is the first night she has been out without Paul since arriving on the island. She is wearing the dress she bought from Gabriella. Theresa smiles at her encouragingly.

  ‘You look lovely Emily.’

  ‘I don’t feel it. I’m surrounded by young and glamorous woman.’

  ‘Nonsense. Half of them would die to have a figure like yours.’

  Small groups cluster around the room, sipping drinks and talking. Emily’s eyes are drawn to a man in a dark blue suit and opened neck white shirt. He moves from person to person, indulging in polite conversation as if holding court, she thinks. A woman laughs, throwing her head backwards, in an exaggerated gesture. The man in the blue suit smiles politely, turns towards the woman’s male companion, and bends his head to the man’s ear. For a few seconds, a pensive mask crosses the man’s face, and he nods in agreement.

  Emily wonders what words passed between them. She feels herself drawn to this man, with his shiny black hair combed back from his forehead, curling at the edges. He walks with a dignified and confident posture. Gentleness occupies his authoritative gestures, almost a contradiction she ponders, and, to her surprise, she finds this attractive.

  ‘That’s Stelios Karagounis,’ Theresa offers, noting Emily’s interest. ‘Gabriella's benefactor. He’s going to open a shop for Gabriella in Corfu Town.’

  The evening's highlight is a fashion show. Gabriella’s clothes are modelled by young women that have been hired from Corfu Town. The show is a resounding success and Gabriella smiles constantly as everyone vies for her attention.

  Waitresses light candles and move amongst the guests with trays of drink and food. As Theresa mingles with friends, Emily hugs the environs of the room in an unsettling flash of vulnerability.

  ‘I feel like some air. I think the wine has gone to my head.’

  ‘You’re an amateur Emily.’ Theresa smiles. ‘I’ll come with you. I need to go to the toilet first.’

  ‘It's fine. You stay and enjoy yourself. I’ve had a great time. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you sure.’

  ‘Of course.’ Emily leans towards Theresa and kisses her on the cheek. ‘I’ll be in bed and sleeping before it finishes.’

  She inhales the still quality of the air, as she steps outside. She loves this time of night. The evening light is stolen by a sudden darkness that engulfs the village. Soft lights from bars and restaurants blot out the night sky and Emily thinks of her house, where visible stars, like hundreds of pinpricks of light, will be at this very moment, suffusing the opaque sky. Emily looks around, and for the first time since Paul left she feels lonely, expo
sed even and the vulnerability she felt at the party returns, like an unwelcomed visitor, her concern surprises her.

  Emily notices intimate couples, families and groups milling around the square. She tries to settle her mind. She turns and heads towards a staircase of steps that rise into the night. Emily stands for a few seconds. Small lanterns protrude from stone buildings spreading shafts of light. In places, she is able to make out tall trees that stand like sentries.

  ‘There are three hundred and sixty-five steps, a step for each day of the year.’

  The voice startles her.

  ‘I saw you at Gabriella’s exhibition and noticed you had left. I was speaking to Gabriella and enquired about you. She told me your name was Emily. I, too, slid out, for five minutes.’

  Emily bows her head, avoiding his eyes.

  ‘Where are my manners. my name is Stelios Karagounis.’

  He offers his hand. Unexpectedly, his skin feels soft and smooth. His hand lingers in hers, for a moment. Nervously, she touches her earlobe. She observes that the taut angularities of his face convey a menacing look that becomes smoothed by his extravagant and friendly smile.

  ‘I was about to take a walk.’ He points with a finger to the top of steep stairs. ‘The view of the village is breathtaking. Would you like to join me?’

  ‘I was heading that way anyway.’ Emily says, trying not to sound too eager.

  They amble at a leisurely pace.

  ‘I hope you enjoyed our little show.’

  She notes the way he says ‘our.’

  ‘Gabriella tells me you have a house here,’ Stelios says.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Are you staying long?’

  ‘I’m not sure. For the summer anyway, that’s the plan.’

  ‘Are you on your own?’