‘No, I’m here with my husband.’
‘Ah, I see, your husband, he was not at the exhibition. Not his thing then?’
‘Oh no, Paul is away on business, for a few weeks at least.’ A quiver of uncertainty goes through Emily. She has revealed too much.
Stelios registers her reluctance. He bows his head courteously and the light from a nearby lamp catches his profile. His eyes are smiling at her, Emily thinks, almost beseeching her. Emily’s head races, how unsuspecting it is appreciating another’s attractive composition. Emily chastises herself for allowing such thoughts to float over the boundaries of acceptability. ‘You can look but not touch,’ a voice from the past whispers. She laughs at this childish thought, her rebuke dissolves, and she becomes more relaxed. There is an enchanting sophisticated quality about his presence, a graciousness that emanates from him in the gentle way he speaks.
‘As I said, there are three hundred and sixty-five steps all the way to the top. We can count them if you don’t believe me.’ Stelios smiles broadly.
‘I think just walking up them will be enough.’ She looks at him then, olive skin, three deep lines on his brow, deep-set eyes, high cheek bones and pencilled lips.
Pools of light from decorative lamps follow their progress.
‘Did you like the exhibition?’ His face turns towards her, he is smiling.
‘I did, Gabriella is a talented designer. I’ve already bought one of her dresses.’
‘Then you should visit her shop in Corfu Town, once it opens.’
‘I hear you are her benefactor.’
‘She has a wonderful talent. It pleases me to help her. I am giving her the medium to reach a wider audience, that is all. I admire creative people and it also helps she is my niece.’ Stelios smiles. He places his hand on the base of her back, guiding her past a woman, who has stumbled from a shop into their path.
‘Forgive me, my intention was honourable,’ he says with a dignified courtesy that leaves Emily momentarily embarrassed. She allows his hand to linger a moment longer.
‘There’s nothing to forgive. It was kind of you,’ she says, trying to put him at ease.
‘You are English?’
‘No, I’m Scottish.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry I just thought…’
‘It’s ok; I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between someone from Spain and South America, even though they share the language.’
‘Where do you live in Scotland? Glasgow?’
‘No, Edinburgh.’ She smiles courteously.
‘I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland, see your mountains and eat haggy.’
‘Haggis.’ She corrects with a grin.
‘Yes, haggis, what does it taste like? Is it true it comes from sheep’s stomach and blood?’
‘That’s what they say. It’s spicy and has a soft texture. I don’t like it much.’
‘I have a restaurant in Corfu Town maybe I should put it on the menu.’
‘Put it in the Moussaka.’
‘Yes, what a good idea.’ Stelios smiles broadly.
They walked for a minute without speaking and then Stelios asks, ‘How long have you been coming to Corfu?’
‘For several years now. It’s like a second home.’
‘I like that idea, a second home. One can have several houses but that doesn’t mean they all feel like home.’
‘It sounds as if you’re talking from experience.’
He shrugs. ‘If I had my way, I would never leave this island. Unfortunately, life dictates otherwise.’
‘Yes, it has a habit of doing that.’ She thinks of the house she will return to tonight and, even though she will be alone, a secure feeling stirs within her; the thought of leaving it, at some point, and returning to Edinburgh troubles her.
‘Has your husband returned to Edinburgh?’
‘No, he’s gone to New York.’
‘New York. It must be important business, to travel so far and leave you on your own.’
‘He’s an author.’
‘I see, what’s his name? I may have read his books.’
‘He has a pen name, Paul Hudson.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t heard of him. Is he famous?’
‘Amongst the people who read his books, I suppose he is.’
‘Has he sold a lot?’
‘He’s a best seller.’
‘Then he has sold a lot of books… but not in Greece,’ Stelios grins. ‘And you, what do you do when your husband writes?’
‘I use to own a chain of fashion shops, women’s clothes and accessories, that kind of thing, but I recently sold them.’
‘Really, now that’s interesting. Why did you sell?’
‘I received an offer I couldn’t refuse. It was a good business deal, and came at the right time.’
‘So what do you do now?’ Stelios asks, intrigued.
‘At the moment, I’m in no rush to begin anything new. I’m enjoying the rest I suppose.’
‘Once you have had enough of resting, you should let me know. I might need some advice with my venture with Gabriella. I know nothing about the fashion industry. How fortuitous it is that we have met.’
They reach the top of the steps. She turns around, pleasingly disoriented for a moment. The view enthralls her.
‘We made it just in time; the darkness will soon steal our reward for climbing all these steps.’
She is sucked into the landscape; she feels like a grain of sand on a beach.
Later, Emily accepts Stelios’ offer of a nightcap at a bar with only a few customers. The sparse clientele eases Emily’s sense of guilt that has sat in her stomach since they met.
‘Why don’t we meet up tomorrow? I’ll take you for lunch, not to one of my places, of course, I know a lovely restaurant in Corfu Town. I have tried to steal their chef but they have just given him a pay rise. He says I will have to better it if he is going to come and work for me. I like that. Good business sense. Come tomorrow and try the food. Tell me if he is worth the extra drachmas. I’d value your opinion.’
Emily feels her face go hot. ‘I’m no food critic.’
‘Two heads are better than one.’ He tilts his head.
‘Ok, lunch it is.’
That night Emily sits outside on the terrace feeling the wine race through her. Her thoughts are splintered from clamorous pangs of guilt to bubbles of excitement. For a fleeting moment, she rebukes the idea, but then tells herself there is no harm in it; a bit of fun, that is all it will be. She takes a long deep breath and lets it out.
Chapter 34
The Keeper of a Secret
A heavy feeling seized Theresa, the day she learned about Georgia’s discovery in the attic. Her face had turned pale; she exhaled shakily and tried to maintain an air of nonchalance about her.
As the days pass it continues to burn in her, like indigestion and it lingers on. The past should remain in the past. Nothing good will come from digging it up and analysing the details decades later. She wrestles with such thoughts; they intrude upon every single day.
She is the keeper of a secret. The only one left alive, now that all the others have died and left her with the knowledge of a past that now permeates the present.
Each passing day brings Georgia closer to the discovery of the truth within those pages. Theresa feels fatigued. It wears her down and in a way, she will be relieved to share her burden and expel it from her. That day is coming; it gets ever closer. With each turn of a page and with every word read, the veils of the past diminish with time.
She is exhausted with the pangs of guilt. It frustrates her, she will have to confront the truth after all these years it lay submerged. It happened so long ago now, the secret that was the casualty of a loveless marriage. Theresa had always been reluctant to think badly of her friend. At that time, Emily said her life could truly begin, she had a purpose once again, her life meant something. It had worth and it filled her with the most incredible joy and it did, even if the ram
ifications were of volcanic proportions.
For years, Theresa thought she was safe, the burden of disclosure did not fall on her shoulders; it was not her responsibility, nor was it her place and she would never go against Emily’s wishes. As the years slid past, Emily seemed to refrain from the truth. When they reminisced, Emily often excused herself by referring to ‘When the time is right’ and she was serious, but the opportunity never seemed to arrive and in some strange way, Theresa felt, as time passed, Emily was content to let it lie. There was always sombreness around these discussions, and it became evident to Theresa that Emily’s perceptions of that time changed, as Georgia eventually matured into a young woman. Within their conversations, it became less prominent, almost terminated from thought.
How things changed when Emily learnt her illness was terminal. Telling Georgia then would have been the cruellest blow, she did not have the desire by then. Emily would take her secret to the grave and Theresa was happy to comply with her friend's wishes. Until now, that is, because the discovery of diary changes everything.
Chapter 35
A Wedding in the Square
On their way to the village, Georgia, Adam and Dylan pass the small white church where earlier the bride and groom were married. Through the opened doors of the church, an old woman kisses an icon, and then makes the sign of the cross in front of incense candles, that flutter and burn a yellow light across a gallery of frescos. It is moments like this, that Adam feels privileged to witness such personal affirmations at faith, even though he has none himself; it will leave a lasting and genuine impression on him.
As they reach the square, Georgia comments that it looks like the whole village is invited. The square is refurbished and decorated for the occasion. A row of tables, strewn with food and drink, is decorated with a white tablecloth, running along each side of the square. Adam notices familiar faces, Midas and Thanos, already fuelled by substantial amounts of beer, raise their glasses in greeting. Giannis has a forlorn smile on his face, as he watches the young men and woman dance energetically, while Eva, his wife, stands amongst a huddle of old women, gossiping and brooding.
The large tree that stands in the centre of the square is lit with small white bulbs, twisting around its trunk and across its sprawling branches. A band, dressed in white shirts, black waistcoats and black caps, play violins and bouzoukis with an enthusiasm that is contagious. The music reverberates around the square, people are clapping and dancing; the music, quick in tempo, is building to a crescendo, a finality that the dancers anticipate with sweeping gestures and exuberance.
There’s Father Nikolaos,’ Georgia points out.
Nikolaos is sitting at the table reserved for the groom, the bride and their parents. He is dressed in his long black robe and deep in conversation with the groom who is a handsome looking young man, broad shouldered, with a fine complexion and neatly trimmed stubble.
Pandelios waves them over and hugs Georgia affectionately. ‘Georgia thank you for coming, please sit at this table. Let me get you a drink, what will it be?’
‘No, no, I’ll buy you one; after all, it’s not every day your daughter gets married.’
‘I insist. I’m so happy you could come, I’ve paid for all the drinks anyway.’
‘A red wine then.’
‘I’ll bring you a bottle and you, Adam?’
‘I’ll have a beer.’
Pandelios ruffles Dylan’s hair. ‘You’re getting taller by the day Dylan. What would you like to drink?’
‘Just a glass of water please.’
‘Good choice.’
Dylan shrugs; he always drinks water.
‘Stephen is not coming?’Pandelios asks.
‘No, he’s still in Athens; he’ll be back in a few days, though.’ Georgia says, aware that Pandelios has only seen Georgia with Adam.
‘He is working too hard, he needs to relax more and enjoy the company of his family.’
Adam is relaxed and contented, but the reference to Stephen stabs him; he shifts in his chair.
Georgia hands Pandelios an envelope. ‘For the happy couple, Christina won’t remember me. Could you give it to her?’
‘No problem. I’ll introduce you later; I’ll get those drinks.’
‘What was in the envelope?’ Adam asks.
‘Money. It’s a tradition; the guests at a wedding give the married couple a “fakelaki,” an envelope with money in it.’
‘Maybe I should’ve given them money.’
‘It's fine, one envelope is enough, but if you want to give them money, we’ve still to pin money to the bride and groom's clothes.’
‘What! Pin money to their clothes?’
‘Yes, the last dance of the night is reserved for the bride and groom, and guests pin money to their clothes!’
‘I find customs and traditions fascinating, it builds identity, makes us who we are. It’s really important, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to a Greek wedding?’
‘No.’
‘There’s lots of traditions and symbolism in the ceremony. That’s what I love about Greece; the people, their customs, the Orthodox Church, they’re so intertwined; it’s the fabric of life, especially on the islands.’
Adam has not heard such passion and enthusiasm in Georgia’s voice. She explains that there are certain times of the year that Greeks can’t get married in a church. This includes the first two weeks of August which is devoted to celebrating the Virgin Mary, the forty days preceding Christmas, the forty days leading up to Easter and several holy days.
She explains that before a wedding, money (for prosperity) and rice (for putting down roots) are thrown on the bride and groom’s bed and then a baby is rolled across the bed to guarantee fertility! And whether that is a boy or a girl, the sex of the baby used, will be the sex of the couple’s first child.
‘And does it work?’
She smiles. ‘I’ve no idea, but the odds are short.’
Georgia continues to explain that on the day of the wedding, the best man, who is called the “koumbaro” will shave the groom and then the groom’s friends will help to dress him.
Likewise, the bride is similarly prepared by her koumbara, the maid of honour – and dressed by her friends. Then the bride writes on the bottom of her shoes the names of all her unmarried friends. The names that get worn away by the end of the night are supposed to be the women who will marry soon themselves. The bride will smash a glass, signifying the finality of leaving her parents to begin her new life and finally, when she leaves the house, she has to look back at the house to ensure her children take after her side of the family.
‘During the wedding ceremony, the couple hold candles and, I find this bit really touching; two gold crowns, called “Stefana” are connected by a strand of ribbon and swapped three times, back and forwards on the heads of the bride and groom, symbolising their union into a married couple and equal partners. The priest gives them a single wine glass – and the bride and groom each takes three sips from it. The wine symbolises life, and, by sharing the glass, the couple will share in life together. Isn’t that beautiful? Then, still wearing the crowns, they walk around a table that has the cup, the Bible, and the candles on it. They’re led by the priest in their first walk together as husband and wife; it’s also a symbol of their commitment to stay with each other, no matter what life throws at them.’
‘Now I know so much, I feel I’ve been to the wedding.’ Adam jokes.
‘Have you heard of the evil eye?’
‘That wouldn’t be Elena and her goats would it?’
Georgia laughs and explains this is the term used for bad wishes, jealousy, and unsavoury or evil thoughts.
She tells Adam that if he were to compliment the bride’s dress, he would then have to spit to ward off the evil eye, or the bride could be in danger of ruining her dress by spilling food or drink on it.
‘Have you seen the little blue eye symbols in the shops, on magne
ts and necklaces?’ she asks.
‘Yes, they’re everywhere.’
‘That’s to ward off the evil eye; I’ve got one in the house. Theresa brought it years ago.’
Pandelios has brought their drinks. ‘I hope you haven’t eaten, there’s a buffet over there.’
‘I’m fine Pandelios. Are you hungry Dylan?’ Georgia asks.
‘I could eat a little bit.’
‘Well, it’s my first time at a Greek wedding, so it would be rude not to try something,’ Adam says. ‘Come on Dylan let’s see what there is.’
Adam is amazed at the amount of food on display, split up into three courses on hot plates.
‘Look at this Dylan, there’s so much food I don’t know what to eat.’
‘I’m going to have one of those pies,’ Dylan says and
puts a feta pie on his plate.
There is a line of guests eagerly filling their plates. Next to Adam, a young man smiles at him and spoons some Keftedes (meatballs) onto his plate.
‘I see you’re having trouble choosing.’
‘It would help if I knew what everything was.’
‘Let me help you; these are stuffed vine leaves, falafels, those are butter beans and my favourite, chilli peppers stuffed with feta. You should know these: that’s pitta bread,
mixed olives, of course, the dips, tzatziki, hummus, Strofilia and olive pate. Over there are the main dishes: moussaka, chicken skewers, beef stifado, bekri meze, spetsofy and finally the sweets: baclava, kataife and karidopita.’
‘Thank you,’
‘No problem. Try the beef stifado, you won’t be disappointed.’
‘That’s a plate full,’ Georgia says, as they return their seats.
‘There was so much choice; I thought I’d have a bit of everything. Either the plates too small or I’m greedy,’ Adam says whilst setting down the plate.
‘Your eyes are bigger than your belly, you’ll never eat it all,’ Georgia added.
‘We’ll see.’ Adam grins.
‘I’m thinking I might stay longer. There’s no great need to return to Edinburgh. How would you feel if I asked you to stay? I could extend your contract.’ Georgia says eagerly.
The Boy Who Hugs Trees Page 19