Adam nods his head. ‘Good, have you got time?’
‘Always for a friend.’
Rena puts a cup on the table. ‘Careful, it is hot.’
‘Thank you.’ Adam sips it cautiously.
‘And how are you?’
‘Oh, I’m fine; it’s Georgia I’m worried about.’
‘And you and Georgia? The last time we spoke, things were, shall I say, developing. I heard about her husband, the poor woman, she’s had a lot to contend with.’
‘It’s brought us closer.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘We feel the same about each other. She loves me.’
Nikolaos smiles. ‘Good, you both deserve some happiness. I couldn’t help notice, when you’re together, there’s a certain connection, it’s quite evident.’ Nikolaos rests his hand on Adam’s shoulder. ‘And endearing, I might add.’
‘I can’t imagine how she feels right now.’
Nikolaos squeezes his arm. ‘Come on, drink up, let’s see if we can find this name in the register and put a smile on her face.’
Chapter 52
Truth
He studies her hand on the pillow, her fingers are long and elegant, her nails neatly manicured, painted red. He considers the slight wrinkle of the skin at the knuckles and the raised veins; he can see the bone flex as a finger jerks slightly, like an involuntary pulse and he wonders if she is conscious of the slight movement.
The room is bathed in a subtle light; the shutters sedating the sun’s reach. Georgia is on her side, facing him, her ruffled hair covering a closed eye. Her lips are cherry red and, if he looks closely, he can see small lines that emphasise their fullness. Georgia’s breathing is deep and steady, with a faint rising of her shoulder; the skin there is taut, and he can clearly distinguish the shape of her clavicle. Her face has a sedating quality to it, an expression in stark contrast to her despondent disposition of late.
Adam drifts in and out of sleep, and then suddenly, a small jolt of alarm passes through him as he recalls the fruitless search of the church register. Despite his best intention, the news of this, forced a look of desperation on Georgia’s face that spiked his heart. Every small smile is like a treasure to him and he hopes today’s meeting with Theresa will bring them closer to one.
Last night, Theresa seemed flustered on the phone and Georgia had asked if she was feeling unwell, as Theresa apologised excessively, about what, she did not reveal, but it left Georgia sympathising for Theresa’s apparent unsettled state of mind. Theresa is determined to see Georgia, and they agreed to meet the following morning.
Georgia is stirring; she stretches her arms and lets out a low muffled sound. Her eyes blink several times before focusing on Adam.
‘How long have you been watching me?’ She smiles embarrassed.
‘Not long.’ He moves the hair from her face. ‘You looked so peaceful. I was scared to move in case I woke you. Now you’re awake, what would you like for breakfast?’
Her mouth forms a grin. ‘Preferably you, I feel ravenous.’
Emboldened by Georgia’s enthusiasm, he leans towards her and trails his finger along the curvature of her breast.
‘We need to be careful; Dylan could be up and about.’ Georgia says.
They have slept in Adam’s room.
She opens her mouth, and he kisses her, he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’ll just have to be content with breakfast then.’
At the end of the garden, there is a paved patio, where a small stonewall and two olive trees separate the order and neatness of the garden from a precipice of wild shrubs and bushes that descend towards the sea. From here, the views are uninterrupted and spectacular.
Georgia is sitting on a wicker sofa, looking out towards the sea and she can feel the beginnings of a headache. When she was younger, she suffered from migraines and spent hours in a darkened room, hoping for the pain to recede. She shut her eyes. It’s probably just a buildup of stress, she convinces herself. Has she the courage to carry on with this? And what does Theresa want to tell her? Theresa phoned again that morning. She was distraught, Georgia could sense the desperation in her voice, and it has unsettled her.
Georgia takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself as the possibilities push against her.
A diffuse sunlight filters the light so that the sky is emblazoned in a pastel tinge, against a glass aquamarine sea. From where she sits, Georgia can see a slice of the beach that then curves away from her view. A family has set towels and what she thinks looks like a picnic basket upon the sand. Two children are paddling in the shallow water observed by the protective gaze of their mother. Georgia is moved by such instinctive love. She wonders about the generations who have enjoyed this place, this geography. Georgia understands what it is to embrace precious moments. She has played on those sands with her mother and, as a mother herself, with Dylan. She is seized with an ache for the loss of such moments as time moves untouched.
‘She is just over there on the patio,’ Adam says, directing Theresa.
‘Georgia, I need to talk with you.’ Theresa hesitates and Georgia understands her reluctance refers to Adam.
‘It’s ok. Adam will be staying with us.’
Adam pulls out a chair and Theresa sits with a resigned sigh. She seems to sink into the chair, as if it is swallowing her.
Her eyes are heavy and shadowed and,
uncharacteristically, Theresa has no makeup on and it looks like age has suddenly caught up with her. It is the look of remorse Georgia decides.
Theresa is flustered and apprehensive, but finally she speaks. ‘I’ve sat here with your mother and on many of those occasions we spoke of what I am about to tell you. Emily loved this view. She said it was a joy to awake each morning so close to the sea.’
Theresa said she had imagined this day ever since Georgia discovered the diary, and when Georgia came to her yesterday, she had gambled with her silence. She was shaken by their encounter and disturbed by the sudden notion she was hiding something that could be of immense value to Georgia. She has decided to put that right.
Theresa pauses, gathers her thoughts, and continues telling Georgia that Emily was not the only one who loved Stelios. Theresa had known him most of her life. They had grown up in the village, Stelios was eight years older than Theresa was. He would never stay and settle in the village and, when he was twenty, he moved to Corfu Town, and became successful in business, buying and selling property at first, and then his interests branched out, not all of it legal, but that gave him a certain aura. Stories were circulated around the island that increased his reputation and influence; some of them wildly exaggerated and off the mark, but most were true. The night of Theresa’s brother’s wedding was when it started. She was eighteen, Stelios was twenty-six. The whole village was invited. Stelios had grown up with her brother, and it was important for him to be seen at such local festivities it connected him to his roots and the community he grew up in. As the night progressed, before she knew it, they were dancing together, drinking, and talking. At first, she was infatuated by his reputation, but it became much more and as the drink increased, her initial infatuation gave way to a mutual attraction which culminated in both of them spending the night together.
After that, they met often. Theresa was immensely happy and Stelios told her he was too, but theirs was never a public relationship; it was built on a secrecy that his public persona demanded. Theresa was in love and even if she couldn’t express her love publicly, it was a price she was more than willing to take.
Stelios’ business interests took him to Athens and he would be absent for days on end, weeks even, but this did not matter to Theresa. When he returned, he showered her with gifts, and having him back was all that mattered.
As the months passed, Theresa began to realise she was never going to have a proper life with him, they never planned for the future, so gradually she constructed a course of action she was certain would force him to marry her. She was young, with no real experienc
e of what lay beyond her village and in her restricted world. If she became pregnant, Stelios would have no choice but to marry her.
Stelios was furious; it wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. He did not see her for two days, but then he summoned her to his house in Corfu Town, sending one of his men to escort her in his treasured Mercedes.
He spoke to her, and she listened in shocked disbelief. She would stay at his house in Athens until the baby was born. She would tell her parents she was working for him in a domestic role. Once the baby was born, she would leave and return to Corfu. Stelios would arrange that she would be given a generous amount of money in monthly instalments. Her family would want for nothing. She would travel to Athens to see the baby on the last weekend of every month. He would arrange and pay for the travel expenses. The child would be raised and schooled in Athens. Beyond that, he was unsure how to proceed; whatever he decided would depend on Theresa’s co-operation. Such an arrangement appalled and devastated her. She found it exceedingly difficult, and she was shocked into a mind-numbing paralysis that lasted for weeks whereupon, she contemplated the gravity of her position and reluctantly accepted Stelios’ conditions.
As the years progressed, so too did Theresa’s life. She married Kyriakos, the baker’s son. She was twenty-one but felt she had already encountered a lifetime of tribulations. He was patient, kind and he accepted her for the woman she was and the complications of her past.
‘When Emily started to see Stelios, well, it was a nightmare. He knew I was working for her; it put me in an impossible position. I could not tell her the truth; it would have broken her heart. She was so happy, the happiest I had ever seen her. I couldn’t do it. Then she told me she was pregnant, it was happening all over again. I couldn’t believe it, and then there was the accident and it changed everything, for both of us.
‘Months later I told her the truth, it was awful. Life imploded. Once Stelios died, obviously the money he gave me stopped, Emily left and did not return for years; she rented out the house as a holiday home. I did not hear from her for all those years. And then, one day, she returned, I met her in the village square and she embraced me like a sister. She forgave me and from that day until she died, it never came between us; in fact, it brought us closer. I worked at the house again. By then, I had a family, so I welcomed the extra money, but it was our friendship that was most important to me.’ Her voice wavers. ‘You have to understand. When I met Stelios it was a different world, those were very different times. I was young, and I was poor, he was powerful and rich, he was interested in me and back then, that made all the difference. I know this is hard for you Georgia.’
Georgia breathes in deeply. ‘I’m just trying to absorb what you’re saying.’ It’s an incredible story and one that Georgia has difficulty comprehending. She does not relate to the social intricacies of that time, it is an unknowable thing to her and inconceivable that Theresa would allow someone to dictate such drastic events. A part of her knows that Theresa’s choices were limited by the prevailing ignorance of that time.
She catches her breath. She is consumed by questions. Pavlina, your daughter is my sister. Your children, do they know? Does Pavlina remember Stelios? Does she know about me? About Mum’s photographs and the pages missing in the diary?
Theresa tries her best to answer all of Georgia’s questions. Pavlina and Theresa have met regularly over the years. She is the one who placed the flowers at the grave, Pavlina does so each time she visits. Theresa explained everything to both her children, Elpida and Aris, once they were old enough to understand. And, as adults, they have all met. This information causes Georgia to exhale deeply and bite her lip. Theresa knows the pain this truth has caused, and she can see the anguish on Georgia’s face.
‘Very few people knew who your real father was and, as I explained yesterday, your mother didn’t get the chance to tell Stelios she was pregnant.’
‘Pavlina doesn’t know about me.’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
A bubble of anguish surfaces and breaks her composure; Georgia turns her head and gazes out to sea.
‘I have something to show you Georgia. In amongst all of this devastation it might help to ease your pain.’ Theresa takes an envelope from her bag and hands it to Georgia.
‘What is this?’
‘Open it.’
The first photograph shows Emily reclining on a white leather seat that curves along the angle of a boat. She is wearing a shirt, a man’s white shirt, it is baggy on her. It covers her thighs, which are bare, and she has crossed her legs. Her elbows rest on the top edge of the seat; it could almost be described as a sofa. Emily has on a floppy sun hat, and she is looking at the camera in sheer delight.
Georgia is struck by how happy and content her younger mother looks. Georgia arranges the photographs on the table. In another one, Stelios is standing at the wheel of the boat. His posture is erect, his gaze steady as he looks out to sea. He has on the same shirt that is in the first photograph; his cuffs are rolled up along his arms, exposing dark hair and tanned forearms. His shorts are tight fitting, the fashion of the day, Georgia thinks to herself. She looks at his face and feels a slight anguish at first. His hair is swept back from his face, revealing a forehead with several prominent lines. She can see his eyes are dark and piercing, with shallow wrinkles at the edge. His chin is angled and strong and there is a masculine attractiveness that obviously drew her mother to him. He is smiling broadly.
A torrent of emotions burst to the surface. Her hands shake, she can feel tears hover on her eyelids and then tickle her cheek as the image of her father blurs. She wipes her eyes and focuses on the image once more. Theresa muffles a sob with her hand.
There are other photographs: evidence of another life - a picnic on a beach, Georgia reclining on a towel, Stelios diving into the sea from an outcrop of rocks, and one of them together in Corfu Town. He has his arm around her waist, Georgia’s head rests on his shoulder and they look like any normal couple, as they smile into the camera. Georgia can tell they are in love.
Georgia’s voice wavers. ‘How long have you had the photographs?’
Theresa looks away towards the sea and then back again where she gazes upon Georgia. ‘Emily gave them to me, well, to be truthful, she threw them at me. When I told her about my past with Stelios she flew into a rage; she screamed at me, we were right here, on this spot. Emily ran into the house and I was so distraught, I went home. The next day I came back, I wanted to put things right. I don’t know if Emily was in the house, but she didn’t answer and the house was locked. I went to the patio, and the photographs were still scattered on the ground. I took them, I had nothing of him. I thought it would ease the pain I had carried within me for all of those years.
‘Years later, when Emily returned and we made our peace, she told me to keep the photographs if I wanted; she still had the negatives. I don’t know if she ever developed them, she never spoke of it. But what I know is this, they belong here with you.’
Georgia moves her eyes from the photographs and looks at Theresa. She breathes in and lets it out slowly. She extends her hands across the table and cradles Theresa’s hands.
‘The missing pages are still a puzzle. I may never know what they contained.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you Georgia, I wish I could.’
Georgia thinks about what she now knows about the past, events that profoundly resonate in the present.
‘It’s harder for me; I know about Pavlina but she doesn’t know about me.’
Chapter 53
Her Need to Search and Find
‘Why do fish smell so bad when they spend all their time in water?’ Dylan asks as he walks passed a stall selling a variety of fish, octopus, and crab at the village market.
Adam smiles. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘I think about things like that all the time. I can’t help it, it’s the way my brain works. It’s worse at nighttime; I ca
n’t stop thinking about things. Anything really that happened during the day, usually things that didn’t make sense to me, I repeat it in my mind, over and over. I watched that film, “Groundhog Day,” and it was like that, the same thoughts over and over. I can lie awake for hours. It’s the same when I have to learn something that is new; it takes me a long time to understand what I need to do. It doesn’t always make sense to me. I spend a lot of my time being confused, trying to work out what people mean, because most of the time they don’t really say what they mean.’
They approached a stall selling cheese. ‘Oh, that stinks, it smells like dirty socks.’
‘It tastes better than it smells. Do you like cheese?’
‘I’m not a lover of cheese but brie is the chocolate of all cheese. It’s excellent when melted on beans and toast.’
‘I’ve never tried that. Let’s see if there’s some here.’
Adam scans the display and soon finds a slab. A cheerful woman wraps the cheese in cellophane and then cuts a small portion and offers it to Dylan. He hesitates before accepting it. The woman gestures for Dylan to eat, ‘It nice, you like.’
Dylan looks at the cheese as if he has just picked it off the ground and then turns towards the woman. ‘You didn’t wash your hands. That’s unhygienic. ’
Adam smiles politely and pays her. She looks at Dylan with a puzzled frown as he walks off, turning the cheese in his hand and examining it. ‘A fly could have landed on it.’ Dylan says, with a tone of disgust in his voice.
‘Give it to the cats, they won’t mind.’
‘You’ll have to wash the cheese when we get home.’
‘I will, don’t worry.’
The market is busy, it is almost lunchtime, and several tourist coaches have stopped, deploying an army of holidaying bargain hunters, who throng the stalls and narrow walkways. Adam can sense Dylan’s anxiety and decides it’s time to leave.
The Boy Who Hugs Trees Page 28