A Handful of Pebbles

by Sara Alexi

  ‘No Jim.’ Frona stands her ground. Now Jim looks at her. ‘Nicolaos has been excluded from this family for too long.’

  ‘He knows why.’ Jim does not seem to be an international businessman to Sarah at the moment; rather he is a small, angry boy. Nicolaos puts his hands in his front pockets and stands tall.

  ‘Perhaps you should ask him how his marriage is, Jim. Perhaps you should think about who you care about most: his wife or your brother.’

  ‘There is more to it than that.’ Jim scowls.

  ‘Yes, Nicolaos saved you from the life he led, which has not been a happy one.’

  ‘Karma,’ Jim snarls like a sulking teenager.

  ‘Oh grow up, Jim,’ Frona spits. ‘She has gone now anyway. Nicolaos has sent her the divorce papers to sign. You have no more excuses.’ Frona takes a step nearer him. She looks ready to slap the back of Jim’s legs.

  ‘Is that true?’ Jim asks Nicolaos. His face is hard to see. There is a pause in the fireworks and the floodlights on the lawn behind him are bright. The blaze makes his expression indiscernible, but his voice has lost its edge.

  ‘Haven’t seen her since I moved here two years ago. Sent her the divorce papers, just waiting for the Decree Nisi.’ Nicolaos shows no emotion. Sarah wonders if she should sidle away. It feels like an old family argument and it is hardly her place to be there.

  ‘I thought you guys would be for life.’ There is a softness to Jim’s voice now. He takes the cartridge out of the cocked gun over his arm and, closing it with a snap, he leans it against the dog pen, putting the cartridges in his pocket. He then cocks the armed gun and, pocketing the cartridge, he leans that next to the first. Once his hands are empty, he puts them in his front pockets. The two brothers, mirroring each other’s postures.

  ‘Thought wrong then, mate.’ Nicolaos lets his Autralian accent out. ‘Wouldn’t have a beer, would you?’ It is spoken to suggest there is more meaning than the simple words, a repeat of history perhaps, an old private joke maybe?

  Jim hesitates.

  ‘Oh for the love of God almighty.’ Frona crosses herself. ‘Enough. Hug and make up,’ she demands and pushes Jim by his elbow. Nicolaos takes his hands from his pocket and, opening his arms, takes a step and engulfs Jim, who looks neat and small inside his brother’s bear hug.

  ‘After all, we cannot have Helena married without me. I am her godfather.’ Nicolaos releases Jim and slaps him on the shoulder. ‘Now, where’s that beer?’ Jim gives Sarah one last quizzical look before taking his brother, who has an arm around his neck, toward the drinks. They cover no more than a few feet when Jim introduces him to a guest, first one and then another. At first, he sounds tentative but as his introductions begin to flow, he becomes sure and then proud. He introduces Nicolaos to one person after another and they make no ground at all.

  ‘Ridiculous,’ Frona says to Sarah. ‘They don’t talk for years, and then all it takes is the want of a beer.’ She huffs and takes Sarah’s arm. ‘Have you just arrived? Can I get you a drink? Oh and Jim says yes, by the way—to our plan. Told him I was not going to the wedding until he agreed.’ Frona thinks this is funny and cackles, her hand going to her mouth, her head lowering as if she has been caught doing something naughty but fun.

  They reach a long table covered with bottles before Jim and Nicolaos, who are side-tracked with introductions. The bartender asks Frona and Sarah what they would enjoy, first, presumably, in Greek, but in the same breath, also in English.

  ‘You look very nice all dressed up. We’ll have champagne.’ Frona makes the bartender blush. In doing so, he loses all traces of manhood and it shows him for the boy he is. He hands them a glass each and Frona smiles.

  ‘Known his mother since she was a baby.’ They turn to face the party.

  ‘So, to my united boys and to a united us.’ Frona lifts a glass. Sarah hesitates. ‘What is it?’ the old woman asks.

  ‘I have yet to tell the boys. And Laurence.’ Sarah can see Laurence with Neville inside the hall, looking at the lilies on the pool. Liz is still leaning heavily against the doorframe, drink in hand.

  ‘Ah yes.’ Frona sighs. ‘After the wedding, I think.’

  The bouzouki player has begun again, and Frona turns to watch.

  ‘Do you know all the Greek dances?’ Sarah asks as she watches one or two people form a line.

  ‘Vevea,’ Frona says. Sarah presumes by the way she has said this word it means sure or of course. ‘Come on, I teach you this one. It is easy.’ Frona gives her half-full glass back to the bartender. Sarah puts her empty glass on the table and Frona leads her to the area cleared for dancing. There is a line of people snaking around the space but Frona ignores them, puts an arm around Sarah’s waist and begins to shuffle, first two steps forward, then a half step back, then forward. It is not clear what she is doing, her feet move so little. Sarah looks to the younger, more energetic dancers to see where her feet should be and between Frona and watching the other dancers, she finds it is indeed very easy. Her movements gain a spring as she grows in confidence. After a couple of minutes, Frona pushes Sarah to the main line of people and goes to sit down. ‘I am too old for all this,’ she calls. ‘You dance for us both, Sarah.’

  The energy of the musicians propels her feet, her arms over the shoulders of the person before her and the person behind. Someone shouts ‘Opa!’ and the person at the head of the snake turns under the uplifted arm of the person behind him. With his lead hand, he waves a handkerchief. The lady in front of Sarah breaks away and the man in front of her beckons Sarah to rejoin the line. It is the man in the shiny suit, with no cigar. The steps are becoming known, anticipated, automatic, the lightness in Sarah’s step joyful. Frona claps to the rhythm as she passes her.

  Sarah looks out into the crowd. The shooting seems to have stopped. There is a crowd around the tables laden with food, and children are still running between everyone’s legs. Someone breaks into the line behind her, and she turns to find Nicolaos already lost in the music, his eyes glazed over as he looks skyward. Someone breaks into the line in front of her. It is Jim, who smiles and for a moment looks just like Frona. The next time around, the dance area, Frona shouts ‘Opa!’ as her two boys with Sarah in between pass her, and then the leader takes a turn off the dance floor and makes his way lacing through the crowds. The pulse seems to be quickening and Sarah is enlivened as she tries to keep up. Ahead, she can see Liz sitting at a linen-covered table, a plate in front of her, and Neville with a forkful of food poised before his mouth as he talks, and Laurence next to him, staring straight at her. The eye contact is penetrating. Jim shouts something to her, and breaking the gaze with Laurence, she turns to him.

  ‘Sorry, what?’ Sarah asks.

  He repeats it, but it is in Greek and he is speaking over her head to Nicolaos, who looks at her, laughing. She does not want to look back to see Laurence’s reaction. Between the two brothers, she feels appreciated, liked, part of something. She could dance on forever. But before the music stops, Jim pulls away to talk to some new guest, so when the bouzouki player finally stops for a drink and a cigarette, there is only Nicolaos to ask if she is hungry. She glances over all the tables. There is no sign of Laurence, Liz, or Neville.

  ‘I haven’t seen Finn and Helena yet, nor my other son Joss and his wife.’

  Nicolaos is loading his plate. ‘They are under the tree.’ He spits out the pit of an olive and helps himself to salad.

  ‘Tree?’ Sarah looks around. There are many that border the property.

  ‘You know.’ He inclines his head toward the side gate. It takes Sarah a moment, as in the same direction, beyond the barbeques, are cars, the bonfire, and, behind the garages, the dog cages.

  ‘Oh right. Our tree.’

  Nicolaos stops piling his plate and looks at her.

  ‘You know what I mean. It is where we have sat ... with Frona. The picnic,’ Sarah stutters. He purses his lips and nods, eyebrows raised.

  ‘So Jim has said yes to Mama s
taying here with you,’ he states, offering her a spoonful of, well she is not sure what it is, roast vegetables perhaps. Sarah’s stomach turns. The food looks delicious, so she is not sure if her response is fear or excitement.

  ‘Frona said she refused to go to the wedding unless he said yes.’ Sarah shakes her head. She is not sure if she wants to eat at all right now.

  ‘Sounds like Mama.’

  ‘Why has Jim got such a big say in everything, if you don’t mind me asking?’ She picks at an olive and takes a slice of feta.

  ‘No, I don’t mind. It is just his way. It is what got him his big business and it is how he runs his life.’

  ‘But Frona lets him and you have stayed away?’

  ‘Mama and I are two of a kind: anything for a quiet life. No fight is worth the stress. Have you tired the kolokithia? They are so good.’ He lifts something from his plate and puts it on Sarah’s. For some reason, it seems like an intimate act and Sarah becomes aware that there are just the two of them helping themselves at the buffet. She hasn’t even spoken to her husband tonight and she has yet to meet Helena’s mother. Inside her head, the sound of Laurence saying she is irresponsible rings true. What would her boys say?

  ‘You know, I think I will go and find the boys.’

  Nicolaos looks at his full plate.

  ‘No, you’re alright. You finish your food.’ With which she puts her plate down, picks the feta off with her fingers, and nibbles away at it as she heads towards the side gate.

  Chapter 29

  It is hard to see if anyone is under the tree, even though the moon whitens the ground around it and the fireworks cast colour every now and again. Then she hears Pru’s voice murmuring.

  Sarah counsels herself to not be so selfish, but the voice inside her head repeats: Tell them. Get it done with. Just tell them and be free. She must put her own thoughts and troubles to one side until after the wedding. It is very tempting to spill it all out, lift the weight of it all from her chest. But that is not what is best for Finn.

  ‘Hey Mum!’ Finn stands.

  ‘Hi guys. I wondered where you lot had got to.’ Apart from her boys and Pru and Helena, there is one other person there, sitting on the stone, her knees neatly together, her hands in her lap. No one introduces her. Sarah smiles an introduction, which is reciprocated, but there is a cautiousness in the woman’s eye contact, a nervousness. Sarah recognises a reflection of part of herself in the woman’s demeanour, the part of her whose sole purpose was the washing machine filler and dinner maker. This immediately warms her to the woman, an understanding. It is the part of her that is quickly shrinking away but until she stands up to Laurence, nothing has really changed, certainly not in his mind, and that matters!

  ‘Joss is going to make the world’s worst best man speech.’ Finn laughs as Helena hugs onto his arm.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I rescind my position as best man.’ Joss keeps a straight face but Sarah recognises his humour. Pru is only visible by the glowing end of her cigarette, her face in the dark as she leans her back against the tree.

  ‘So why are you all out here?’ Sarah asks.

  ‘No reason,’ Helena replies. ‘Just came to look at the stars.’

  ‘They give such hope,’ the un-introduced woman says.

  ‘Greece is such a beautiful place,’ Sarah confesses.

  ‘I just love it. You know, Mum, Helena and I have been trying to figure out ways we could work from here,’ Finn says.

  ‘Really? I would love to live here, too.’ There, it’s out. Sarah keeps her eyes fixed on the stars. She cannot meet anyone’s gaze having just said that. Why can she not keep her mouth shut?

  ‘The problem is work,’ Finn says.

  Tell them the plan. Let it all out. Have a clear conscience for the wedding. No, that’s not fair. It is the kids’ day tomorrow. There should be no worries in the back of their minds.

  ‘It would be amazing, though, to come out here, live the dream, or at least to spend some time out here.’ Sarah tries to sound light, dismissive, not really telling them anything.

  ‘You should, Mum,’ Finn says emphatically.

  It feels like such an opening, it would be so easy, just let it all tumble out.

  ‘Ha, what about your Dad?’ Sarah feels like a traitor to herself as she hears her own words.

  ‘Do him good, a spell on his own,’ Finn sniffs and puts his hands in his front pockets.

  No one says anything. They all continue to look at the stars.

  ‘So have you figured a way to stay out here, then?’ Sarah addresses Finn. Even just to talk about it feels exciting, satisfying.

  ‘No, we both need to be in London really, or maybe New York. Joss says there are loads of opportunities there.’ Finn squeezes Helena to him.

  The subject seems closed. The fireworks have stopped now and the field is darker without the occasional shock of coloured light. Pru leans forwards and stubs out her cigarette and then takes hold of Joss’s arm to pull herself up.

  ‘Why don’t you, Mrs Quayle?’ Pru brushes down her skirt.

  ‘Sorry.’ Sarah feels thrown by the question.

  ‘Do it. Stay here. Live a bit. See if you like it.’ Pru’s tone is flat, but Sarah can sense there is a little dig in there, the implication that she does not live by Pru’s standards.

  ‘Oh, I ...’

  Finn’s head turns from the sky, watching, and she meets his eye. He looks at her hard. The top of his cheeks are lit by the moonlight, his white shirt glows. He nods. It is such a small movement, it is almost imperceptible. Helena, who is still wrapped around his arm, looks up at him and then at Sarah before her mouth tightens into a sideways smile that looks decidedly wicked. She raises one eyebrow. It feels like a challenge, a dare, a collusion.

  ‘Dad couldn’t manage.’ Joss breaks the silence. It is a long time since she has heard Joss call Laurence Dad. Clenching her teeth, she is aware of why he has decided to use the term now.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Joss,’ Pru says. Her tone could not be more dismissive as she takes control of the group by leading the way back towards the house.

  The two couples go ahead. Sarah finds herself walking beside the woman.

  ‘Greece does that,’ the woman says.

  ‘Does what?’

  ‘Filters out the important things in our lives, shifts priorities.’

  Sarah chooses not to answer. As they reach the house, Helena waits for Sarah to catch up and, grabbing her hand, she pulls her towards the dance floor. The un-introduced woman goes with them and the three of them dance to the next two songs. Pru sits, smoking. Then Helena pulls Finn in. He struggles to be let free but her grip is insistent. Once dancing, he seems to know the steps.

  The warmth and the dancing, arm in arm with Finn, feels joyous to Sarah, and she forgets about everything but the moment. Finn pulls Joss into the line, who, surprisingly, does not resist. With their dark hair, they could be Greek; they certainly fit in. After the next dance, Sarah needs some water. Returning from the bar, she finds Nicolaos between Finn and Helena. Finn’s head is turned, talking to him. Joss is between Helena and the woman. By the way Helena and the woman move, the twist of their hips, the turn of their feet, it is apparent that this could be Helena’s mum.

  Sarah is only standing long enough to finish her water when Jim links her arm as he passes her and pulls her back into the line.

  They seem to dance on and on. The rhythm changes and the steps become more complicated. To her amazement, Finn seems to know these steps, too. Sarah watches with Joss and Pru until Pru suddenly stands and grabs Sarah’s arm, pulling her nearer to the house and demands that Sarah teach her the simple steps she knows. They laugh as their feet get tangled, but Pru’s tenacity makes the lesson short.

  Within the half hour, they are all dancing to shouts of ‘Opa!’ There seems to be no specific timing to these calls; it just seems an explosion of happiness, a release of euphoria.

  The songs merge one into another. When one m
usician tires, another takes over and, as they perform in rotation, the dancers strut on and on until, slowly, the lawn thins of people and the revellers lose their energy. Pru yawns and Joss uses this as his cue to bid them all farewell, scooping her into his arms. The horizon lightens and the top of the hills burn orange as a slither of intense light peeps over the hills. As the sun creeps from its rest, there is now a slight chill to the air and the cicadas are, just for this hour, silent. A bird song whistles across the relative quiet as the musicians put their instruments into cases and the stage lights are switched off.

  There is no sign of Laurence, and Neville’s car has gone, along with most of the other vehicles. Looking towards the dog cages, Sarah catches sight of Nicolaos leaving through the side gate.

  ‘I guess it is bedtime.’ Finn is grinning at Helena. ‘Where’s Dad?’ He looks over at the garages, searching for the hire car.

  ‘I think he’s gone,’ Sarah says. Her dress for the wedding is back at the holiday cottage, so she will need to go there to change, but she wants to avoid Laurence as much as she can.

  ‘Oh stay here.’ It is Helena’s turn to yawn. The waiters are beginning to tidy the drink tables. The food table has been cleared. ‘Maria,’ she addresses one of the people who has been serving. ‘Are any of the guest rooms free?’ The woman nods. ‘There, sorted.’ Helena leans on Finn as they all slowly make their way into the house.

  The next morning seems to pass seamlessly. Someone knocks on Sarah’s door to let her know breakfast is available. New caterers stand bright eyed and ready to serve them in the beautiful sunshine. It seems many of the guests stayed on. The man in the shiny suit is there, looking rather creased. Helena is full of life and shows no tiredness at all. The woman Sarah was not introduced to is by Helena’s side, and in the light of day, there can be no mistaking their relationship. That and Helena calls her Mama, but the time has passed for formal introductions.

  Finn is nowhere to be seen, nor is Jim. It seems they are maintaining tradition and the groom is not allowed to see the bride.