A Handful of Pebbles

by Sara Alexi

  ‘What sort of rent would Jim want?’ It sounds too cold and business-like, but it must be considered. Also, it will give her an idea of local rents, how small she would have to go if anything ever did come from this idea. Best to know now rather than start daydreaming and be disappointed if it ever does become real.

  ‘Rent? From whom?’ Frona moves down the line of hives to the one at the end and lifts the lid. ‘Look!’ She steps back but still has the lid up. Sarah peeps in. She cannot stifle the shriek as she leaps back. Frona chuckles as Sarah steels herself to move forward and carefully look again.

  ‘Boyas.’ Frona looks again herself. The spider cowers. ‘I don’t know the name in English.’

  ‘It’s so big. Do they come in the houses?’ Sarah cannot bear to look and she backs away. Its body must be the size of a plum.

  ‘Only seen a dozen or so in my life. I was told that they bite and that they are poisonous when I was a child, but they seem so scared, I cannot imagine either. Never seen one in a house. Rocky places usually, really hidden. When buildings are pulled down, they come out from between the stone work. I think we’ll leave this hive. What were you saying?’

  This time, Sarah falters. She is not sure it is a good place to move to if the spiders are that size.

  ‘Oh yes, rent. Who would be paying rent?’ Frona pushes some of the remains of the frames that litter the floor with her toe, lining them up before she slowly bends to bag them. Sarah hurries to help. She doesn’t want to have an answer to her question now, it all feels a bit sudden. ‘You mean you? Why would you pay rent? Jim would pay you as housekeeper more like. He is always saying how we should get someone so he can stop worrying about the place when he is not here, get it ready before he arrives. He had a room which he built especially for that purpose, at the back, with its own bathroom and a door to outside.’ She stops what she is doing and straightens, looking at Sarah. ‘What about your husband?’

  Chapter 24

  And there it is, the question Sarah least wants to think about. She cannot meet Frona’s eye and she busies herself clearing more broken slats.

  ‘Have you had a quarrel?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Sarah draws the word out. If she says her thoughts out loud, they will become real, have power, demand action. ‘We, or rather I, well, I have been thinking, how do I put it? It hasn’t, well for some time really, been, not sort of working, for me anyway.’

  ‘`Ah, that’s sad. I did wonder when you came up to the house on your own. Do the boys know?’

  ‘No. Actually, I don’t think even Laurence knows. Fully.’

  ‘Oh. Difficult. So it would be a bit of a shock if you were to tell him you were staying here?’ Frona laughs, but Sarah can see that the tiny spark of hope she had in her eyes has extinguished. It makes her realise how desperate Frona must be to move back to Greece if she is hanging any hope on their conversation when these talks are in such a stage of infancy.

  ‘Did you grow up in this village?’ Sarah tries to lighten the conversation.

  ‘No, I was born in Asia Minor.’

  ‘Asia Minor?’ Geography at school never really held Sarah’s attention.

  ‘Part of Turkey now. At the time, they wanted us out. My baba, he disappeared in the fighting when I was young, then they came for my mother.’ She crosses herself three times. ‘Into the house.’ She puts the bag of wood down. ‘I hid with my brother in the wardrobe and we watched through the crack between the doors.’ She takes a sudden, short breath. ‘They killed her.’

  ‘Oh my God, how terrible. How old were you?’ Sarah looks at Frona with new eyes. The old woman shrugs. Either she doesn’t know how old she was or her age didn’t matter. Sarah is not sure what to add. She cannot imagine losing her mother as a young child, but to watch her being murdered ... It was bad enough as a teen watching the cancer eat Mum’s life away. She was seventeen when the disease won, and where was her father? Off in Waterford with that woman half his age, making excuses. He will be an old man now, if he is still alive. Sarah shakes her head slowly.

  ‘I lost my mum from cancer when I was seventeen,’ she shares. Frona crosses herself on Sarah’s behalf.

  ‘They put us in an orphanage and then we were shipped over to Greece in the population exchange. We knew no one. My brother, so young, had to find us shelter, work like a man to put food in our mouths, became a father to me.’

  Frona takes out a water bottle from the folds of her skirt and offers some to Sarah. It is like liquid gold on her throat in the heat. She has to stop herself from drinking it all. Frona takes only a sip and puts it away.

  ‘It sounds hard,’ is all Sarah can think to say.

  ‘It was. Nikiforos was just a bit older than Nikos, my brother. He had a family. We all grew close. His family took pity on us and we became their family, too. It was their wish I marry Nikiforos.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sarah’s exclamation is sounded without thinking. The way Frona talks of her husband is as if he is her soul mate. Sarah closes her mouth firmly. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything more. Guilt begins to raise its ugly head. If Frona stuck by her arranged marriage for all those years, it puts shame on her thinking of leaving Laurence.

  ‘But we were already in love long before they mentioned it.’ Frona giggles and Sarah can hear the girl she once was. It’s also a relief.

  ‘Would you think it terrible if I left my husband?’ Sarah asks. It suddenly feels important to get this woman’s view on her situation. She has been through so much and must have wisdom beyond anything Sarah could imagine.

  ‘Is he making you unhappy?’ Frona’s voice is quiet.

  ‘Yes, very.’ Tears from nowhere prick her eyes and the world begins to blur before she blinks and waits for the reply. The waiting is like watching a tossed coin in the air. Which side will fall? Heads she leaves him, tails she stays.

  ‘Life is very short, you know,’ is all Frona says.

  It’s enough. The decision becomes firm.

  ‘Frona?’ Sarah opens.

  ‘Yes?’ The old woman looks around the bee hives. They have cleared a lot of the debris. It looks tidy now, cared for.

  ‘Tell Jim I am willing to stay here with you.’

  Frona stops looking around her and focuses on Sarah’s face.

  ‘You want me to do that, really? I don’t want to put you off, but I want you to be sure. Don’t do anything in haste.’

  ‘It has been too long. It is time.’ This is the truth, and the opportunity presented is like a gift falling from the Greek gods. Now all she needs is the guts to tell Laurence.

  Frona takes both Sarah’s hands in hers and now there are tears in the old lady’s eyes. They look at each other for several seconds, checking, double-checking, reassuring themselves, each delighted in the escape they have found, the solution that has been presented.

  Their trance is unbroken even by the sounds of goats and it is only when one passes them on its way to the bushes that their eyes unlock.

  ‘Oh I must go.’ Sarah pulls her hands free. She is not ready to meet Nicolaos yet and surely where the goats are, he is not far away.

  ‘No, no, please don’t go.’ Frona’s grip tightens.

  ‘Really I must.’ Sarah’s back is to the hill but she can picture him striding down, crook in hand.

  ‘Just stay a minute.’

  ‘Really, I must go.’ Sarah tries to sound kind, but she is just a little desperate. Another goat passes her, towards the bushes. He must be sitting under the tree by now or even closer if he is coming their way.

  ‘Please?’ Frona begs and Sarah begins to wonder why.

  ‘Ti kaneis?’ The low voice can only be Nicolaos’. Frona releases her grip and opens her arms. Sarah turns and stands opened mouthed as Nicolaos bends into the old lady’s open arms and kisses her tenderly on the cheek.

  ‘Sarah, this is my younger son, Nicolaos.’

  Sarah can feel herself frowning and she consciously raises her brow as she looks from one to the other.
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  ‘The cast-out black sheep.’ Nicolaos extends his hand to shake hers as if they have never met. Sarah shakes, but he is not eager to let go and her fingers remain longer than necessary.

  ‘The estranged brother?’ Sarah asks and then it all falls into place: the caustic wife that Jim would have nothing to do with, the Australian link, so obvious now, she wonders why she didn’t put two and two together before.

  ‘Jim is such a jealous boy, we do not tell him of our meetings, or our letters. It is our secret.’ Frona’s hand reaches out for Nicolaos’ arm, her love evident in every look, every motion.

  ‘So you must not give away our secret.’ His eyes twinkle as he speaks and Sarah knows he is really promising to keep her own.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Sarah answers, and she is sure she can see his father’s face in Nicolaos’ own features, the boy who befriended Frona and her brother. The man who vowed to care for the old woman.

  Jim looks more like Frona, that’s for sure.

  ‘We have another secret,’ Frona tells Nicolaos, who finally lets go of Sarah’s hand and puts an arm around his mother. ‘I am going to stay here. No more New Jersey.’

  ‘Oh Mama, auto einai fantastiko.’ Nicolaos sounds excited. Maybe fantastiko means fantastic; he looks pleased. ‘Alla ti lei o Jim?’ Sarah picks out the word Jim. His face is serious now.

  ‘Aha! That is the secret. Jim’s argument is he does not want me here in the house on my own.’ She sighs. ‘He is still denying your existence.’ Her eyes search Nicoalos’ until she returns to the subject with energy. ‘So Sarah is going to stay and be my companion and the housekeeper.’ Frona sounds triumphant. Nicolaos turns from his mother to Sarah and stares.

  ‘Really?’ he asks.

  Sarah nods. His look is penetrating. His lips move as if to ask a question, but he shuts his mouth again and turns to his mother. ‘You have told Jim?’

  ‘Er no, not yet.’

  ‘And you have told your family?’ He turns to Sarah, who feels a heat raising in her neck, creeping up her cheeks. She cannot answer.

  ‘We have only just come up with the plan,’ Frona steps in. Nicolaos frowns slightly and says no more. Sarah can see Frona deflating.

  ‘Nicolaos, do not spoil this.’

  ‘Not for a million drachmas, Mama, but I know how stubborn and proud Jim can be. He will not want to back down.’

  ‘There is no backing down. It is a decision. He might like to think the house is his, but until I die, the land it is built on is mine and if I want to stay, I will stay. Besides, having Sarah by my side gives me courage, and now he has no reason to object.’

  ‘And your family?’ Nicolaos turns to Sarah.

  Sarah’s not sure what to say. Finn will stand by her. He and Laurence get on, but Finn is, and always will be, a mummy’s boy. And she will be staying with Helena’s grandmother. He might even like the idea. The gelling together of the two families.

  Joss will shrug, maybe sulk a bit, but he has always seen people as individuals even when they are in relationships. Like this argument with Pru and Helena. It never crossed his mind that anyone might connect Pru’s behaviour to him, or that either of their behaviour could be connected to Finn. In his eyes, that would be ridiculous. No, he will deal with it pragmatically, ask when will he see her, moan a little about the long journey from the US to Greece, and no doubt suggest a meeting point—London, maybe. She could stay with Liz.

  But Laurence. She has no idea how he will react. He seemed pretty adamant that she will continue to be there when he gets home after a stint of work. He seems to find the thought of anything changing unthinkable.

  When he asked her why she was making his life difficult that first time she suggested going with him on one of his trips, he was harsh. Hard, even. Back then, she had no idea what he was and was not capable of, and she has no greater idea now. He is a closed book.

  ‘The boys will be fine,’ Sarah finally answers.

  ‘And your husband?’ Nicolaos’ head is slightly tipped to one side, his eyes moist. He knows the pain of separation.

  ‘I think once the deed is done, he will be reasonable, fair. But honestly, I have no idea how he will take it.’ Sarah cannot miss the anguish of his own divorce in Nicolaos’ face. She must tread gently telling Laurence it is over. There is no reason to cause unnecessary pain.

  The shepherd does not look away from her. He is wanting her to say something more, but what more can she say? That it will be fine, that Laurence won’t care? She doesn’t know that. She has no idea what his reaction will be, but she suspects the main emotion will be anger.

  ‘Right.’ Nicolaos finally breaks his gaze. ‘Here Mama, or up by the tree?’

  ‘Oh, by the tree.’ Frona sounds sure. ‘Sarah, will you join us?’

  Nicolaos turns his back to show her a rucksack. ‘Picnic lunch.’ He smiles now and Frona takes her arm, and the three of them climb to the shade. Frona has the flat stone as her seat, Nicolaos and Sarah sit in the warm dust, and the food is spread. Foil is peeled away, tupperwares are unlidded, forks are passed. Feta, fresh bread, olives, a ceramic pot of yoghurt, tomatoes, a small bottle of olive oil and a jar that Frona tells her is fresh oregano as, after she pours a little oil on her bread, she sprinkles it on top before taking a big bite. Nicolaos is dipping his bread into the yoghurt.

  Sarah takes the water bottle and drinks her fill. Frona twists the cap off a plastic bottle of local wine. There are only two plastic mugs, but Frona gives one to Sarah.

  The goats munch their way towards them until Frona is the one to throw a pebble at their feet. The action is as thoughtless as breathing, and it is easy to see how ideal her life must have been with Nikiforos in those early days.

  ‘Where do you live then?’ Sarah asks Nicolaos.

  ‘He has a lovely house over the other side of the hill. The one with the stone arches,’ Frona interrupts. Sarah frowns.

  ‘It is rented out at the moment to friends of yours, I think?’ Nicolaos glances at her as he breaks off a lump of feta.

  ‘Oh, that place is yours?’ Sarah sounds more incredulous than she means to and tries to redeem herself by adding, ‘But if you rent it out, where do you live?’

  ‘The back field there with the really old house on it. Nice place, no stairs, everything simple, like the old one here used to be.’ Frona jerks a yogurt-covered thumb over her shoulder.

  Nicolaos smiles at his mother. ‘You’d still be living in that house if you had your way.’

  ‘I most certainly would. Some modern things save time, but so much just makes life more complicated. If you can’t fix it yourself, you have no business having whatever it is.’ Frona is emphatic.

  Nicolaos chuckles and Sarah grins. Frona is one of those women she just can’t help but like. Everything she does and says makes her smile.

  They slowly eat their way through the food, talk of the possibilities of Frona and Sarah’s plan, what to do with the beehives, and where to get more bees. Frona says Nicolaos should move into the new house and let her have the old cottage. Nicolaos laughs, telling her how dirty and basic it is, how her memory is not true to reality and that she would not like all the work of keeping the dust at bay and no air conditioning in the summer and the damp in the winter. Frona says she lived before air conditioning, that people have gone soft, and on they banter until the leftovers are either thrown to the goats or packed away again. Nicolaos stands and stretches.

  Sarah picks up a round, smooth pebble and tucks it in her pocket.

  ‘Mama,’ he groans with his hands above his head. He exhales and they drop to his sides. ‘I, too, have something to tell you. But you are not to be sad. It is for the best.’ He sounds nervous.

  ‘You have sent her the divorce papers?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Nicolaos’ motions freeze, his eyebrows arch.

  ‘For years, you have been carrying the weight of that woman. Today I can see a weight has lifted from you. It is a natural conclusion.’ Frona does not smile.


  ‘But, I ...’ Nicolaos stammers.

  ‘That, and you have a proof of postage receipt in the bottom of your rucksack.’ Now she grins, her eyes twinkling in the same way Nicolaos’ do.

  ‘You are cross?’ Nicolaos moves again, breaking into his own broad grin.

  ‘How can I be cross? You moved here two years ago, alone. I have had plenty of time to get used to the idea.’

  ‘Will you tell Jim for me?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell him yourself? It might help.’

  ‘Because he will think that he has won.’ Nicolaos sets his mouth in a hard line.

  ‘For the love of Christ, you are not children anymore. It is not a competition, and you are grown men. It is time you started acting like them.’ Frona takes his hand and pats it.

  ‘Tell him for me, Mama, and ask if I can call round? I would like to be there for Helena’s wedding,’ he looks at Sarah, ‘to this lady’s son.’

  ‘Ah, so you know who she is?’ Frona narrows her eyes.

  ‘Actually, we have met once or twice when I have been out walking and Nicolaos has been herding the goats,’ Sarah interrupts. She should have said this when she was first introduced. She doesn’t know why she didn’t.

  ‘You kept that quiet.’ Frona looks from Sarah to her son to Sarah and back again.

  ‘Come on, Mama.’ Nicolaos yawns and stretches again. ‘I need my mesimeriano sleep.’

  ‘Me too.’ Frona struggles to her feet.

  Nicolaos has turned to go up the hill; Frona has turned towards the side gate of her house. Sarah suddenly realises she must decide what she is doing next.

  ‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ she says, with no idea of where she is off to. A sleep would be good; it has felt like a long day so far.

  ‘So I will talk to Jim about the companion/housekeeping idea and let him know your news.’ She turns first to Sarah and then her son. ‘Life’s never dull, is it.’ She chirps and begins her slow shuffle to the gate.