The Lace Tablecloth

by Anastasia Gessa-Liveriadis

  ‘That’s English for you! They write knife and pronounce it nife,’ she heard him say to himself in perfect Greek. She turned and smiled at him nodding her head in agreement.

  John and Olga sat side by side directly in front of her and were repeating loudly the English words with great enthusiasm. At the end of the lesson they got up and left the room arm in arm. Tasia lingered to allow them time to leave without her. The young blond man at the next table was still sitting there searching through his small dictionary for words and writing them down. She studied his profile for a while and then she got up, placing the pen he had given her on his table.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll keep the paper if you don’t mind.’

  He looked at her as if he had only just seen her for the first time and smiled pleasantly.

  ‘It’s my pleasure. How did you find the lesson?’ he asked.

  ‘Good. Fine. We’re going to an English-speaking country and every word we learn will help us.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed and got up.

  He went to the table with the objects of the lesson still lying there and, lifting them one by one, repeated their names. Tasia joined him, laughing.

  ‘Who is organising the lessons?’ she asked when he finally sat down.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing official. A German who knows some English decided to ‘play teacher’. I’m not sure how good he is and for how long he is going to do it.’

  He picked up his little dictionary again.

  ‘Let’s play a game,’ he suggested. ‘You point to something in the room, for example the window, and we’ll search the dictionary for the English word.’

  Tasia agreed and they remained busy that way until the public address system called them to lunch.

  After lunch Tasia went back to the library to search for a book to read. But most of the books on the library shelves were in Italian. Some were in other languages, too, but there was only one Greek one, an English-learning method book. She took it, sat down and began to study it in earnest. Some time later, the young blond Greek entered the library.

  ‘I can see you’re very serious about learning English,’ he joked. ‘Let’s see how many new words you’ve learnt.’

  ‘Many,’ Tasia answered. ‘And I know how to write them because I learnt the Latin alphabet at school. But I’m not sure about the pronunciation, and this book doesn’t help much.’

  ‘Let’s see,’ he said and sat on the opposite side of the table, taking the method book in his hands.

  They spent all afternoon there searching, writing, sharing views as to how each new word should be pronounced. By the time the public address system called them to supper, the only thing they had learnt about each other was their names. His was Tomas.

  ‘Let us do away with the formal way of speaking with ‘Miss’ and ‘Sir” he suggested, ‘and use our first names.’

  Tasia was to learn that Tomas was born and grew up in a beautiful mountain village on the island of Evia, the largest Greek island, close to the mainland. After the death of his mother about six months previously, he had become restless. Until then he had been the village’s secretary and had also worked on the family farm, work that no longer satisfied him. He had explained all this to his sister who lived in Melbourne, and she had invited him to come over and see for himself whether he would like to live in Australia.

  ‘And you? Where are you from?’ he asked.

  ‘From a village outside Ptolemais,’ she answered.

  ‘Oh, yes. I know the town. I passed through it on my way to Florina when I was in the army. I remember wondering then if the town took its name from the Alexandrian astronomer, Ptolemy, who saw the earth as the centre of the universe, or from the Pharaohs, the generals of Alexander the Great, who ruled Egypt for about three hundred years. Do you know?’

  ‘No, no. I have no idea,’ Tasia answered confused, but also extremely impressed by Tomas’s knowledge. ‘How do you know about all these things? I’ve finished high school but can’t remember learning anything about that.’

  ‘Oh, but I can see you’re a cultured and demure girl. As you know, schooling teaches you how to read and write. It sets the foundation for further learning. What you do after that depends entirely on you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ interrupted Tasia. ‘I wanted to study but I had no money.’

  ‘I don’t mean formal study. If you’re curious and interested you make learning a way of life. You’ll even learn about things you’ll never use.’

  Tasia looked as if in deep thought.

  ‘And what did you find out about Ptolemais?’ she asked.

  ‘About Ptolemais, nothing. But I found out about the geocen-tric theory of Ptolemy and the consequences it had on the course of human history.’

  Well?’ Tasia wanted to hear more.

  ‘The Catholic church based its edifice on Ptolemy’s theory. They said the centre of God’s love is man and that’s why He made earth the centre of the universe.’

  ‘But they think differently now,’ Tasia said.

  ‘Yes. But if you were living in the time of Copernicus or Galileo Galilee, you’d believe the earth was flat and in the centre of the universe, because that’s what people believed then.’

  ‘Then Galileo Galilei told them that wasn’t so,’ Tasia volunteered.

  ‘Not exactly. He knew if he admitted it, he would be burnt at the stake. Anyway, can you imagine how people must have felt when they found out the truth? Can you imagine how shocked you’d be?’

  Tasia was fascinated.

  ‘Are you a teacher?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no. I’m only giving you an example of some of the things you can learn if you want to, just for the fun of it, for no purpose at all.’

  ‘But there is purpose. Even if one only learns about the folly of humans who are ready to believe anything,’ Tasia said, satisfied she’d made the right comment.

  ‘Yes, folly. You’ve used the right word. Those concepts — the earth being at the centre of the universe, God creating man in one day and in His image — were very useful to the church authority. But then, Darwin came to spoil all that. He said we evolved from apes. That was another big shock to human understanding as to what it is to be human.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read something about Darwin’s theory of evolution,’ Tasia said with pride.

  ‘Kant was another significant figure,’ Tomas continued. ‘He urged people to free themselves from the stronghold of ignorance imposed by arbitrary authority. He incited them to learn, to acquire understanding themselves, to emancipate, to become personally responsible. The age of Renaissance had arrived.’

  ‘I wonder how far we’ve progressed since then?’ Tasia mused.

  ‘Enough talk. Let’s go for a walk to stretch our legs. What do you say?’

  Tasia was ready to say yes, when Olga and John entered the library.

  ‘So that’s where you’ve been hiding,’ Olga teased them. ‘We’ve been looking for you all over the place. Let’s go to the upper deck and enjoy the sunset from up there.’

  Time passed quickly as the four young people spent their days studying English in the library or playing cards in the dayroom. They also took long walks on deck discussing all sorts of things from everyday trivia to more broad and theoretical topics. John was a strong conversationalist with a broad, encyclopedic knowledge. Tomas was interesting just the same. Soon, the four of them had become inseparable.

  Tasia was relieved to see that Yiayia Despo had found her own company: another two elderly ladies, also dressed in black. The three of them had chosen an elevated section of the living room allowing them to observe from above the comings and goings of the rabble below. You could imagine their noticing everything, comparing notes, passing judgements. In Tasia’s imagination they figured as the three indomitable fates of the Greek mythology: Clotho, the spinner of each person’s life thread, Lahesi, the planner of each person’s fate, and the frightful Atropo, the severer of each p
erson’s thread of life.

  It was obvious the three ladies were talking about her, because she could feel her ears burning. Tasia could imagine what they were saying. She could see them shaking their heads in agreement or disbelief: look what the world has come to; young girls don’t know their place any more; instead of sitting quietly in a corner, they’re mixing and talking to boys; they’ve lost their modesty and their humility; they behave worse than boys; look at those two — in no time at all they have found boyfriends!

  From deep inside the reservoir of her memory the figure of her schoolmate Barbara floated to the surface. Their religious studies teacher had reprimanded her in front of the whole class. Barbara had been celebrating her name-day with her relatives in the back yard of her house ‘enjoying herself in the company of males’ the teacher had said, saying ‘males’ in a way that made you feel guilty.

  ‘But they’re my first cousins, Miss,’ Barbara protested.

  ‘So what?’ the teacher snapped. ‘We know the school’s regulations, don’t we?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  Tasia was wondering how her religious studies teacher would respond now, seeing her sitting between John and Tomas.

  ‘You’re not with us. You’re not concentrating on the game,’ Olga scolded her.

  ‘I think I’ve had enough. I’m tired. We’ve been playing for hours.’

  Tasia got up and stretched.

  ‘I agree with Tasia,’ John said.

  He lifted his hands over his head, stretched lazily and looked around as if searching for something. Then he got up and walked with a steady pace to the big piano at the back of the room. He sat down, lifted the lid and with great passion began to play a captivating and thrilling melody.

  ‘What was that?’ Tasia enthusiastically asked John the moment he returned to the table.

  ‘It was Chopin’s fifth Etude The Revolutionary,’ he answered as if she knew what he was talking about.

  ‘You really surprised us,’ Tomas added. ‘You’ve studied music?’

  ‘I wish I had. But no. No, I’m only an amateur: a charlatan — almost completely self- taught. But I must confess music is my passion. It satisfies me, it expresses me, it fulfils me.’

  ‘Well, after all you’ve been telling us, I wonder where you found time to learn to play the piano so well,’ Olga commented, genuinely mystified.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘there are some coincidences in life that position you in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. That’s what happened to me.’

  He then became silent, staring into the distance.

  ‘Are you going to tell us about it, then?’ Olga insisted.

  ‘What can I tell you? You’ll only get bored and disappointed. It’s not a very honourable story.’

  ‘That’s the sort of story we love. Isn’t that so, girls?’ said Tomas.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ they answered in unison.

  ‘Well, you asked for it,’ John muttered, surrendering to the pressure.

  ‘When I was a young boy I was a shepherd in the mountains of Thessali but one day I ran away. I went to Athens and for a while I was a petty thief and a peddler, keeping an eye out for the police. I slept on benches in parks and under bridges.’

  ‘John didn’t have a family and so was brought up in an orphanage,’ Olga explained.

  ‘But then, one day I got lucky. I found a permanent job in a warehouse-cum-general store. There was a room above the shop for me to stay in. I’d never had it so good. My employer was nice and generous and for the first time in my life I had money in my pocket.’

  ‘All this is interesting, but how did you learn to play the piano?’ asked Olga eagerly.

  ‘In my free time I started going to second-hand bookshops to buy books, and very occasionally I would go to the theatre. I was attracted to everything that had to do with the arts. Maybe I’ve inherited some artistic vein from one of my parents. But what I wanted most was to impress Eugena, my boss’s daughter.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tomas. ‘This is getting very interesting.’

  John’s three listeners moved on their seats and bent forward so as not to let anything escape them.

  ‘She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and I fell madly in love with her. She was a student at the Polytechnic and came to the shop two afternoons a week to help her father with the office work. Needless to say I counted the days waiting for her to arrive. When she was there, I always found an excuse to get into the office. She was nice to me: treated me as her younger brother. She advised me to go to evening school and later on, when she discovered I had some musical ability, she introduced me to her piano teacher. She paid him for some piano lessons for me and arranged for me to go and practise on her piano an hour every week when she wasn’t there.’

  He got up, restlessly, then dropped heavily back on his seat, three pairs of eyes pinned on him.

  ‘Go on, what happened next?’

  Tasia couldn’t contain her curiosity.

  ‘One day I did the unthinkable. She came home when I was practising on her piano and I completely lost control. I put my arms around her and tried to kiss her on the lips. Well, she got annoyed. She turned into a hyena. Immediately, she ordered me out of the house, telling me not to dare to appear in front of her again, ever. After two weeks I read in the society column of a newspaper that she had got engaged to an eminent Athens solicitor.’

  ‘That explains why you’re leaving Greece,’ said Tomas.

  ‘Absolutely not. What I’ve told you happened six years ago. In the meantime I had the time of my life: a prodigal one. I took advantage of the connections I’d made through her family and accepted some society ladies’ friendly invitations to visit them, meaning to get into their bedrooms. In my sick mind I believed that by humiliating these society ladies I was avenging the woman who betrayed my love. What can I say? I was a hot, brainless and very traumatised youth.’

  He sat motionless and silent for a while and then suddenly got up.

  ‘I’m going to get some fresh air,’ he said. ‘It’s hard to breath in here with all that smoke.’

  ‘I’m coming too!’

  Olga rushed and followed him.

  ‘An unusual person with a very interesting personal history,’ commented Tomas.

  ‘Yes,’ Tasia agreed pensively. ‘In history classes we learn about wars and the clashing of nations. But I think the personal history of individuals is just as fascinating. I mean, you can’t say you know all there is to know about a person because you studied the history of his country,’ she said, regretting it immediately, thinking her observation was stupid.

  To her relief, Tomas took it up.

  ‘That’s where most of us are wrong,’ he said. ‘We tend to speak in generalities. We talk about the Greeks, the Yugoslavs, the blacks, the whites, and so on. We usually stick a derogatory label on a group, and load every individual belonging to that group with the characteristics implied in that label.’

  ‘I wonder why we do that? I mean I wonder why humans are mean to people who are different? I noticed that in my own village. One group of people would mock or belittle another group, for example the refugees, the Pontians,’ Tasia reflected.

  ‘Let’s not forget our recent history,’ Tomas commented, ‘with Greek killing Greek, brother killing brother. With a label of communist or nationalist you’re no longer seen as a person. You’re robbed of your essential humanity. You’re dehumanised.’

  Tasia remained in deep thought for a while.

  ‘You’re so right,’ she said at last. ‘If you don’t see the other as a person you have no qualms about killing him. And of course you can’t speak to a non-person, even if he speaks the same language.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got the hang of what I was saying. But we’ve got too serious. Let’s get up and go for a walk,’ Tomas suggested.

  Oh, it was so comfortable to talk to Tomas, Tasia thought. He was so knowledgeable and so understanding. And he treated her not as a li
ttle girl but as his equal. She was very glad to have met him.

  The new experiences she was having during the three weeks aboard ship would have taken her a lifetime to accumu-late if she were living in her village. Life in the remote parts of Greece, even in the town of Ptolemais had stood still for centuries, adhering to centuries-old customs and traditions that were followed religiously, regardless of their current relevance or usefulness; every new idea likely to challenge the status quo such as the ideas of the refugees who settled in the area or, the sending away of girls from home to get an education was criticised severely and rejected.

  In her imagination Tasia likened the ship to the planet Earth carrying its millions of peoples from all nationalities, colours, customs and religions and floating through the immense empty space of the cosmos. She wondered what would have happened if all inhabitants of Earth had the opportunity to get to know each other, as was the case with the passengers on this boat. Would they try to approach each other, to get to know each other, to understand or even tolerate each other? Would they be willing to learn from each other? How many people would be willing to reflect on things they had accepted as indisputable truths and if necessary, be courageous enough to change them?

  Day after day the youngest in the cabin, Sofia, would sit in the same spot on deck with her friend Maria, their whole attention focused on their embroidery. They turned plain cloth into the most exquisite pieces of art full of colour, beauty and harmony. It was as if their whole world had contracted to what they worked on. In this way they avoided all other distractions, particularly new ways of looking at things likely to force them to think and disturb their inner security.

  In another corner, a group of about ten demure young women sat in a semi-circle around a young priest, looking at him with reverence and devotion as they sang Christ is our leader and we His soldiers. In His divine calling we’ll all be present … while in sitting-rooms, halls, swimming pools and on decks, young foreign men and women in revealing clothes and flimsy swimsuits promenaded, played volleyball, chess, cards or frolicked around freely. Some passengers of more advanced age read books. A few couples obviously in love embraced and kissed in broad daylight, unconcerned about the stares of others.