Those You Trust: compelling women's psychological fiction

by Bernie Steadman

  Tinos came back over the mountain with us, carrying a small bag of possessions he had rescued. There was nothing left for him in Paleochora.

  Leo dropped them both at Cassia’s flat in the old town, and then he drove up to my place. I hadn’t given the workmen a thought while we had been away. In fact, I felt like I’d been away for several days rather than one.

  As we drew up, my front door flew open and Mrs Pantelides, of all people, came out wearing a huge flowery apron and waving a duster at me.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked her, jumping from the car.

  ‘Ah, Anna, I have made sure those lazy boys finish the job, like I said I would. Come, come.’

  She gestured at me and led me into my own living room, like a visitor. I could hardly speak. The place was transformed. Vasilis was in there polishing the top of the old dresser, and all the old china I had kept was surrounding a bowl of hot water on the kitchen table, being washed, I presumed, by Mrs P.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘this is fantastic. Thank you so much.’ I kissed her on her cheek, and she took my hand and proudly led me into the kitchen, and that looked good too. It was as if nothing had happened to cause all the mess. Stupidly, I felt tears starting. To receive such kindness after witnessing the cruel end to a young man’s dreams was sobering. What a contradiction this island was.

  Leo followed us, his head almost scraping the ceiling. ‘Fabulous place, Anna,’ he said.

  I introduced Mrs P, who fawned over him until I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to go out into the back garden, where Mr Andreiou was shovelling plaster into sacks and piling them into a wheelbarrow.

  ‘Ah, you are back. Almost done. We were here at dawn today. Long day.’ He waggled bushy eyebrows. ‘Mrs Pantelides: she-devil.’ He laughed, making little pinching movements with his hands, like a crab. ‘Checking, checking…’

  I laughed with him. She was turning out to be quite a formidable ally in her own way.

  ‘Upstairs? Go upstairs and see the bathroom, please.’ He looked anxious. Mrs P really had sorted him out.

  I went upstairs and yes, there was a clean, well-prepared bathroom, ready for the shower to go in and the tiles to go on. There would be none of this trendy wet room nonsense for me, I wanted dry floors and well-tiled walls. I couldn’t wait for it to be ready. I tried the tap, and, just as he had promised, out came hot water. Water heated by a boiler. I wasn’t going to rely on solar in the winter months. It was going to be great.

  Leo squashed into the bathroom behind me. He’d relaxed a bit on the journey back and pushed both arms around my middle. ‘This is a great little place,’ he said into my neck, ‘and I assume the bedroom is through that door?’ He pulled me round so I was facing the bedroom door, but what I saw was Mrs Pantelides’ headscarf coming for us up the stairs. I opened the bedroom door and shuffled us into the space. There was not a great deal of room for three people to stand on the landing of my house.

  Mrs P stood panting, an expectant smile on her face.

  ‘It’s wonderful, Mrs Pantelides, you really got them working hard. It’s so nice to come back to a clean house, and the bathroom is going to be lovely.’

  The old lady smiled. ‘You are welcome. We all need help sometimes, especially when we are new and don’t understand how things are done here. I’m tired now, Anna. I’ll go home.’ She held tightly onto the banister and trod heavily on the stairs to go back down.

  I couldn’t help wondering how she got up and down the stairs in her own house. And then wondered if she lived entirely downstairs. I’d have to look out for her in future.

  By six o’clock they had all gone. I sat Leo on the sofa with a beer and curled up next to him, hugging a glass of red. What a day it had been. ‘Are you okay?’

  He put the beer on the side table and held me in both arms, burying his head in my neck. ‘No, and yes,’ he said.

  Only the cat had dinner that night. We had too much red wine, but Leo needed me, and I needed something too, and it was different this time. Not so frantic, more watching each other and trying to please, and we were both looking for release. Later, I slept like a child, probably for the first time since I’d arrived on Crete.

  8

  Delphine slammed open the door to her husband’s office and stood there, holding onto a newspaper, nostrils flaring, until Nikos sent his managers away to start their day and sat back in his chair.

  ‘You need to speak to me?’ he asked mildly.

  ‘Look what your donkeys did,’ she spat, and unfolded the newspaper. She flattened it onto the desk and pointed at the elderly couple sitting forlornly on the bench. ‘Look. Look at them. I hope you are proud that you have left them with nothing.’

  Nikos went to interrupt.

  ‘No. And look at this boy, this angel of mercy. He was giving jobs to the unemployed, giving a community back its self-respect, but you, you had to make a point, didn’t you?’

  ‘Delphie…’

  ‘No. You have gone too far. You must fix this now. Now, Niko.’ Delphine glared at her husband until he shook his head in resignation, reached into the drawer and drew out his chequebook. ‘How much?’

  She stood very still and calculated. ‘They need a new house, clothes, furniture… Give me one hundred and fifty thousand euros.’

  Nikos sighed and wrote the cheque. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, Delphie. You know I would never…’

  ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘They work for you, and you know that Spiros is a drunken idiot. You are now responsible for this family and this boy. You almost killed them. An elderly couple who have never done wrong in their lives.’

  He passed over the cheque. ‘And the young man? You know he can’t be allowed to get away with not paying his rent on time; nobody can. If I let him get away with it, everybody will try.’

  Delphine growled. ‘You could have overlooked it this one time, for a boy trying to help our people. You have forgotten yourself, husband. You have lost your heart. And your head, you old fool.’ She pursed her lips, trying to work out what would be appropriate. The old couple would take the money without question but Constantinos Papadikis wouldn’t. His sister was a lawyer and so were his parents. She would have to think about the best way to smooth this over.

  ‘I’ll try to sort out Constantinos, but they are not fools, the Papadikises. They are a major family in Athens. There may be repercussions.’

  Nikos looked astounded. ‘They cannot hurt me. Who are they? Athens elite, so what? They are nothing here. Stop worrying, Delphie. You sort out the old couple and find something for the boy to do. Keep him occupied and out of our hair. It will be fine, you will see.’

  Delphine picked up the cheque and stalked from the room, slamming the door to finish her point.

  Nikos pushed back his chair and stretched. The view across the bay never failed to soothe him. It had seemed wise not to argue with Delphie. It usually was. She had such a soft heart under that chill exterior.

  It was all going to hell, wasn’t it? He had asked the boys to warn young Papadikis that he would have to pay up at last. He’d waited three months. He said maybe a few broken chairs, a punch or two. Normally they would follow orders, but Spiros was becoming a liability because of the drink, loyal servant that he was. And now it had cost Nikos all his profit for the last two months to help out an old couple who were simply collateral damage, and a boy who would certainly have learnt his lesson.

  Nikos pulled open a drawer and took out a folder. Inside were the deeds to Spiros’ and Maria’s taverna, and for as long as he had those, both Maria and Spiros were his. But perhaps the time had come to let them go. He could sell the taverna for fifty thousand, he was sure. He allowed himself a smirk as old memories of Maria as a young woman in his bed, grateful and pliant and so beautiful, surfaced. Good old days, when things worked as they should.

  He poured himself an early brandy and stood at the picture window that overlooked the town and the bay. His old family home stood at the end of
the drive, empty now. He had wanted to demolish it, but something had made him keep it, even after his father had died. Delphie had wanted a modern, light-filled house, and he had indulged her and built the grandest house in town. Nowadays, however, it just felt empty with no children and no grandchildren to fill it. His thoughts returned to his brothers, as they had over these last few weeks. He wondered what their lives were like in their new countries, and whether they had ever wanted to return. Whether he had many nieces and nephews who knew nothing about him.

  And then his thoughts jumped to Anna Georgiou. He hadn’t tried to find out anything about her yet, although he had Spiros keeping an eye on her movements, and he was almost sure she was Theo’s daughter despite the name change. Now she seemed to have a lover, another foreigner with a local name; Leonidas Arakis. Who was he?

  Whatever was happening, it was going to be bad for him; he knew that. He took another sip, but the brandy tasted sickly and he longed for the simple foods and drinks of his childhood and youth, when the raki was rough and potent. And so was he.

  Delphine drove over the mountain roads without seeing the scenery. She had unloosed a deep anger that kept threatening to overwhelm her. It had all gone too far, this ‘Mr K’ business. It was a different world now, and it was about time Nikos accepted that he couldn’t carry on the way he was. No policeman would come knocking, she knew that, not when Nikos would make reparation, but the idiot had allowed things to go too far. The authorities couldn’t ignore him, now he’d overstepped a boundary. ‘Look at Al Capone,’ she yelled at the mountains, ‘he wasn’t shot or stabbed, the tax people got him. The lawyers got him.’ Nikos was old too. In his sixties now, and with no heir the other major families would be lining up their eager sons ready for a takeover. Without a strong succession plan, it could get very messy indeed. It was time for her to act.

  She pulled in close to the burnt-out houses in Paleochora and got out of the car. What a mess. An unnecessary mess that yet again she had to clear up. You couldn’t, mustn’t, hurt the poor people. Nikos knew that, and so did that brute Spiros. Hadn’t he been one of them not so long ago? She clicked the lock on the car and noticed several people staring at her. More than once she wondered at her need to own a red sports car which marked her out more surely than any sign over her head.

  Delphine rapped on the door of the taverna on the square and asked to speak to the elderly couple who were staying there. The owner backed away respectfully and ushered her into the dining room.

  Delphine wasn’t long inside. She felt deep shame at the grateful tears of the couple as they pocketed enough euros to buy clothes and necessities. Now she had to choose them a house in the village. They would need everything, and they were overwhelmed that Delphine Kokorakis wanted to help even though it was her husband who had ruined their lives.

  Clambering back into her car for the hour-long journey home, Delphine thought hard about what had to be done, and decided she could kill two birds with one stone, and get the girl, Anna Georgiou, to help decorate and design the new house. She smiled and stepped on the accelerator. Excellent plan; the girl would not be able to resist helping, and Delphine would be able to find out more about her intentions.

  9

  Leo went back to the hotel early the following morning, saying he had to travel to Chania for business, and I was glad to have some time on my own. The cat was waiting, balanced on the narrow windowsill in the kitchen and miaowing to get in. I really did not want a cat, but she was hard to ignore. I gave her neck a good scrub with my nails and planned my day.

  I needed to shop, and do domestic stuff. I was quite looking forward to a normal day. I made herbal tea and sank onto the sofa in my lovely clean house and fell into a minor wallow in the past, thinking about how different life might have been had I never met Will Hunter.

  I was only eighteen and new at university, and there was Will, cool and handsome and distant in the pub with his friends around him. I smiled at him; he was very attractive. He’d glared at me, through me it felt like, and didn’t smile back, so I hid my embarrassment and turned back to the gang I was with. If he wanted to play it that way, then that was fair enough. He must have singled me out for further study at that point, although it was months before we actually had a date.

  Once we were together, that was it for both of us. We really were inseparable, and in that awful way that girls have, I gave up all my friends and fun nights out, and chats about makeup and clothes, and worries about getting assignments completed on time. I grew up overnight, and suddenly we were living together, much to my dad’s horror, and I was already behaving like a wife, learning to cook and keep a flat tidy, and pay the bills because Will never could remember to do it. And that is how we continued through our first degrees, and afterwards I worked as a designer, and supported Will through his master’s degree, and then we set up our business.

  I’d had exactly two boyfriends in my short life. Three, now. Until I ran away to Crete, I had never been free to do anything on my own. I couldn’t believe how ground down I had been. I know I was complicit in it. I know that. What an idiot.

  I could feel the tears starting so I scrubbed them away, and sent Will back to where he came from. He’d groomed me to be his mother and I’d let him. But I didn’t have to hang onto him anymore. And, a warning voice in my head said, you mustn’t just replace him with Leo. Be a bit choosy, Anna. And I was going to listen this time.

  I walked into the main town and strolled through the market, buying fresh food, wine and kitchen stuff. Both of the bags I’d taken with me were really heavy by the time I’d replaced the wine we’d drunk the night before, and I had to stop twice on the way back for a rest. I wasn’t quite sure why I hadn’t just got a taxi. Or, actually, why I hadn’t yet bought a car.

  I scuttled past the taverna door. I hadn’t been in since the incident with her and Spiros. I wasn’t sure how to approach Maria when she knew that I knew what Spiros had done.

  I stopped on the corner leading to my road and wiped my damp face with the back of my hand. A woman in a small red sports car drove slowly past. She turned and stared at me over her shoulder so I looked back. She wasn’t smiling, but I gave her a nod anyway. To my surprise, she pulled over and got out. She was slim and slight, unusual in the middle-aged Greek women I had seen so far. Most seemed to succumb to the wonderful food in their forties.

  ‘Kalimera,’ she said, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. She had black hair pulled back into a smart ponytail which hung low on the nape of her neck, and was wearing a red cotton sweater and black leather trousers. Très chic.

  ‘Kalimera,’ I answered and gave a proper smile as she came up to me with her hand extended.

  ‘I am Delphine Kokorakis,’ she said in Greek. ‘I live further up the road, past your house. Would you like a lift with your groceries?’

  Kokorakis? She must be the wife of Mr K. Mrs K! ‘Anna, Anna Georgiou. So pleased to meet you.’ I shook her hand, which was cool and dry, unlike mine. ‘It’s kind of you to offer, the bags are really heavy.’

  ‘No need for you to struggle.’ She searched me from top to bottom as I stood there like an idiot, wondering what to say. Then she flipped the boot lid, so I plonked the bags inside and slid into the leather passenger seat.

  ‘So, you have moved to the island from England, I hear?’ She slipped seamlessly into English, for which I was grateful.

  ‘Yes, I inherited my grandmother’s house.’

  ‘It’s many years since I have visited. I like London. I studied there, a long time ago.’

  ‘Me too. Unfortunately, I’m from Manchester where it rains all the time.’

  ‘So you have escaped to the sun?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And you are enjoying it here?’

  I paused. I wanted to say, I was until I learned a bit about your husband and his activities, but I’m not totally stupid. ‘I am. I love my house and the people I have met so far.’

  ‘Do you have a husband,
children?’

  ‘No, neither of those. I do seem to have attracted a cat though,’ I replied and she laughed gently.

  She was a bit direct for me, but exactly like my mother and all the Greek women I’d had to tolerate in the restaurant throughout my whole life – ‘Oh, you’re so thin, you’ll never get a man.’ ‘No children yet, Anna, you must pray harder.’ Bleurrgh. I just learned not to get upset.

  ‘Oh. You are alone. Then what will you do all day?’ She drove slowly, far too slowly for the short distance we had to cover.

  This was the question I’d been dreading. I wasn’t used to being illegal. Ah well, who said I had to tell her the truth? ‘My grandmother left me some money to live on while I decide what to do,’ I said. ‘By training I’m an interior designer. I hope to set up a small business here in the future.’

  She finally pulled up in front of the house and I saw Mrs Pantelides’ curtain waft.

  ‘I hope I can call you Anna,’ she said, ‘and you will call me Delphine. It is so nice to have somebody new in the town who has a more professional background, and in an area in which I also have some interest.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I spluttered, ‘how kind.’ I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to be friends with her though. I hopped out of the car and stood by the boot.

  Delphine, it appeared, was in no hurry. She stood in front of the semi-detached houses and looked at both. ‘I can see that you have worked hard. The house had become run-down over the years.’ She turned to me and pursed the corners of her mouth, which I think I was supposed to interpret as a smile.

  ‘Could I see what you have done so far? Would you mind? You may be able to help me with a project I am about to start.’

  I sent a silent thank you to Mrs Pantelides and her cleaning. Two days before, I would have choked rather than have anybody look round the house, especially this vision of sophistication. ‘Of course.’ I hefted both bags out of the boot, dropped them on the step and unlocked the door. I’d left the back door open and sunlight flooded through, illuminating the small rooms and framing the view of the White Mountains, glistening in the sun.