Fig Jam and Foxtrot

by Lynn Bedford Hall

  ‘Daleen,’ he had asked her, ‘Doesn’t this say anything to you?’

  ‘In the deepest ocean of my heart

  there pounds a raging turbulence

  which ebbs and flows

  and swells and crashes

  onto the pain of secret rocks …’

  ‘AG, NO MAN STOP! Sorry Dries, but it says absolutely nothing. Rather try stocks and shares. I’ll take care of your cottage, don’t worry.’

  So Dries’s cottage would take care of Olympia’s accommodation needs and, as for Olympia’s other problem, Daleen knew this could not be as easily solved and she would have to enlist the help of the women. She’d tackle that one tomorrow. Right now her head was swimming, Olympia was nodding off, and they both needed to get some sleep. But before going to bed, she wrote to Dries that his little place had gone at last, but that she could get him very little rent for it and he should be grateful for anything, because who else would want a shoebox.

  Olympia put her suitcases down on the doorstep of Number Six, and for the first time Daleen saw her smile.

  ‘Will it do?’ Daleen asked anxiously. ‘I know it’s small, but it does have a nice big garden. Look! there are two enormous fig trees – purple and green figs, both – and a lemon and an orange and even a grapevine on the pergola over there. There’s lots of room to grow vegetables, and at least there are a few pieces of furniture inside – a couple of beds and a nice rocking chair and a lovely big table in the kitchen.’

  Olympia was speechless. Daleen thought she was going to cry again, and in fact she did, but it was from gratitude rather than disappointment, shaking her head in amazement and joy until the little hairs on her chin quivered. ‘Now you just stay here and settle down. I have to get to the office, but I’ll be back in a while with some groceries.’ And she left Olympia rocking herself gently in the old chair facing the garden.

  On the way back to the office Daleen wondered what to do next. If she told Lily and Amelia, Maria and Sophia, Nellie and Anna, she knew that they would rush to call on Olympia, and so many rowdy women – well-meaning, but rowdy – could frighten the wits out of her. On the other hand, if she did tell them, she could count on their arriving with dozens of gifts, which would help to cheer Olympia up a bit. In the end, she decided that, rather than spread the news, she would tell only Lily, quietly and in detail. Lily could then explain the situation to the others, and then the six of them would know exactly what to do. They always did, these women of Corriebush. They always made a plan – and somehow, hit and miss as it often was, they invariably succeeded in putting things right.

  So she asked Lily to come to her office, locked the door and unplugged the telephone. Then she seated her in the riempie armchair on the opposite side of her desk. ‘Lily,’ she began, ‘I want you to listen carefully to this story, without interrupting. Then I want you to think hard before taking any action, like spreading the news. And finally, I want you to open your heart even more than you usually do. She needs us. You, me, all of us.’

  ‘Certainly Daleen. If it’s help that’s needed, you know you can count on me. But how can I help if I don’t know who I am helping?’

  ‘Now there you go already. I said no questions.’

  And then Daleen began the story, the strange, distressing story of the night before.

  ‘There is a new lady in Corriebush. Old, but new. Just arrived.’

  ‘Just arrived you say? That’s funny. I was on my stoep most of yesterday with my jersey, and I didn’t see anyone arriving. Perhaps she came just when I’d popped down to Sophia’s to get some wool. I’d run out of the purple, you see. Did she come by taxi?’

  ‘LILY!’

  ‘Ag, sorry Daleen.’

  ‘Olympia comes from Crete.’ Lily opened her mouth but then quickly shut it again, and Daleen was able to carry on uninterrupted until the very end, until the church clock struck one. She waited for Lily to say ‘Well! Lunch time!’ But Lily simply sat there, dead still, saying nothing.

  ‘So?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘I think, I think …’ she mused. ‘I think I must tell Herman.’

  And off she went, slowly, thoughtfully, down the stairs, one by one, clipping and unclipping the catch on her handbag with each step. Not like Lily at all, thought Daleen, watching from above. She’s really moved, Lily is.

  Lily found Herman smoking his pipe on the stoep. ‘I want to tell you about Olympia,’ she said, ‘and I want no interruptions.’

  ‘I know all about Olympia,’ he replied. ‘Place in Greece. Pelopennese, to be exact. They used to worship there. One of their gods, I think it was Zeus.’

  ‘Well I never,’ said Lily. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Daniel and I discuss these things, sometimes. I can tell you more. It was the scene of the

  Olympic Games. And they built a wonderful temple there.’

  ‘Fancy that.’ Lily was secretly impressed but wasn’t going to show it, so she simply said, ‘I told you not to interrupt and there you go already. Anyway, she’s a woman, not a temple.’

  Herman was undeterred. ‘Not in my book, she isn’t. But if you say Olympia is a woman that’s fine with me, as long as you give her another name so that I know where I am. Why don’t you call her Ollie?’

  Lily did not reply, she simply gave an irritable flutter of her hand in Herman’s direction and slowly, carefully started relaying every word she had heard that morning, starting with the moment Daleen had found Olympia on the pavement looking into the sunset.

  ‘Olympia – Ollie to you – was born and bred in Crete. Crete is an island in the Mediterranean, south of the Greek mainland and …’

  ‘Yes I know,’ said Herman. Ignoring him, Lily continued.

  ‘She and her husband, Dimitri, were peasant farmers. They owned – and still own, for that matter – a small piece of land in rural Crete, up in the mountains somewhere in the region of the Levká Óri. It was a hard life; they had to grow their own food and their only income came from the sale of sheep and cheese, and the fennel and basil that grows wild on the hills; but they were strong and able to work hard.

  It took many years, however, before they decided that they could afford a family – Olympia was already well into her thirties. She gave birth to a daughter, and they called her Mali, short for Malia, where …’

  ‘An ancient Minoan palace once stood.’

  ‘That’s right, Herman. A glorious palace. Sadly, Olympia could not have more children, but their Mali grew up quite shiningly lovely, and they showered her with everything they could possibly afford.

  ‘In her turn, Mali rewarded them by growing into the prettiest girl in the village, her dark hair a tumble of curls, eyes that slanted up under black, arched brows, a smooth olive skin and a figure that grew as full and voluptuous as a ripe, dusky fruit. She was a loving daughter, who helped in the house and on the farm as much as she was able. And then, when she was seventeen, she told her parents that she was with babies.’

  ‘Ag, no,’ said Herman.

  ‘Ag, yes,’ said Lily.

  ‘And what did Ollie and Dimitri say?’ Herman was interrupting quite unashamedly now.

  ‘They said ‘Mali, and where did this foxtrot take place?’

  She told them that it was in the lambing field, in the spring, when the hills were covered with wild flowers. At first they had just walked hand in hand, she said, admiring the different colours, but then the warmth of the sun and the song of the birds had made them a little dizzy with happiness and they had started to skip and dance, and then … and then … Mali had hung her head and asked for their blessing in marriage.

  ‘Stefanos was a fine boy, they knew that. He and Mali had been friends ever since their school days. When his studies were completed, Stefanos had gone to work at a taverna in Paleochora, starting in the kitchen, but because of his startling good looks the owner had moved him up front, to entice and charm his customers. He was hard-working and had good prospects and so they were happy with Mali’s
choice, but when she told her parents of what he planned to do once they were married, they were horrified. Stefanos wanted to go to America. With a wife and family to support, he would need a good income, he said, and he believed he could earn really good money in a city, perhaps New York. He said they would leave the babies – Mali had a premonition they would be twins – with Olympia and Dimitri, their grandparents, and they would fetch them once they were settled in America and making a good living. Mali, however, did not think she could do it. ‘Leave my babies? My pethiá? And you, Mána? And Patéras? It will break my heart.’

  ‘My child, a wife’s place is with her husband,’ Olympia had replied. ‘I will look after your babies until you come and fetch them. You must go with your man.’

  They left their twins – a boy and a girl – with Olympia. It was a terrible parting, but Stefanos promised they would be back as soon as the time was right, and a weeping Mali said she would send money and a thousand letters. And then, it seemed, they simply vanished.

  Five years passed. Five long years in which Olympia waited daily for news of Mali and Stefanos. She waited in vain. There was not a single letter. The endless anxiety during those years saw her visibly doubling in age, growing bent and wrinkled as she and Dimitri worked harder on the land than ever before in order to feed and clothe the twins. They were sturdy, happy children, but they needed plenty of milk and warm clothes in the winter. The seasons had been particularly bad, the market prices low, and they needed a new donkey; old Aesop could no longer manage the hills. What made everything worse was that Dimitri was not at all well. Previously so strong and energetic, he now looked exhausted and was losing weight, and finally Olympia persuaded him to see the village doctor. The prognosis was not good.

  ‘It’s his heart as well as his lungs, Olympia. He needs a dry climate and plenty of rest. You must get him away from rainy autumns, and off the land, or he won’t last much longer.’

  ‘But the children? What about the children? If we go away Mali will never find them! She hasn’t sent her address, and I cannot write to her!’

  ‘This is a small village, Olympia. Don’t worry. When she comes back, I will be sure to know she has arrived. And I will tell her where to find her family. Now listen to me,’ the doctor continued, ‘this is my plan. You will take a ferry to Athens and leave the children there with my friend Carmela Iatrides, a good woman who has fostered many children. When you are settled, you can send for them.’

  But where were they to go, Olympia had asked, trembling with fear and shock.

  ‘You will board a ship – be sure to take the East Coast route – through the Red Sea and south to a seaport called Port Elizabeth. I have an old friend there, a Dr Marchant, whom I met at medical school in London. I will write and ask him to meet you and send you to the right place, where Dimitri will recover his health and where the twins can join you. Carmela will take good care of them, I assure you.’

  When Olympia left the children, saw them waving to her from Carmela’s doorstep, she distinctly heard her heart break.

  ‘Olympia and Dimitri boarded the ship in the harbour at Piraeus. It was a long voyage, with bad food and violent storms. Dimitri did not make it beyond Mombasa, before collapsing completely. The ship’s doctor ordered him to be put into isolation, no visitors, and strong medication, and he told Olympia not to worry. He would do his best, but the man was weak and strained, and anything could happen.

  ‘It was then that Olympia’s world simply broke apart. For the rest of the voyage she hardly slept or ate, expecting bad news every morning. But slowly Dimitri started responding to the rest and the medicine, and he was slightly improved when Dr Marchant met them at the quayside in Port Elizabeth. Nevertheless the doctor immediately arranged for Dimitri to go to hospital. He was tempted, he said, to put Olympia in as well, but she pleaded with him to let her go to where she was destined to be, else Mali would never find her if she was looking for her … no, she insisted on going to this place he called Corriebush, just in case, and please to send Dimitri as soon as he was better. In the meantime, she would make a living by doing embroidery. Dr Marchant called the taxi.

  ‘And that,’ concluded Lily, ‘is the story I needed to tell you. Because I – and the other women – are going to have to put our heads together and work out a plan to get the twins here. And Mali, wherever she is. And Stefanos, hoping that he is where she is. And Dimitri too, if and when he makes it, poor chap. But where on earth do we start?’

  For possibly the first time in her life Lily seemed defeated. This was so unusual that Herman knew he had to say something, and say it fast.

  ‘You must call on her at once. Take food. Flowers. Anything. Ask her questions. Let her talk if she wants to. You talk if she doesn’t want to. Take your friends along if you like, but you must tell them the whole story first, and insist that they remain reasonably calm and quiet.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Lily gathered the others, told them about Olympia, warned them about her state, and not to be too loud or exuberant. ‘They say a woman is like a teabag – you never know how strong she is until she hits the hot water – but remember this one has been through a lot.’

  They understood perfectly. ‘Ja,’ said Sophia. ‘We must be careful. All our faces, suddenly at the door without warning. We must take it slowly.’

  ‘Six at one go could be too much for anybody,’ agreed Nellie.

  ‘Might just tip the scales.’

  Nevertheless, they banded together and paid their first visit the following afternoon.

  Lily put her head round the kitchen door. ‘Yoo-hoo, Ollie!’ she warbled. Olympia was sitting in the rocker embroidering, but stood up immediately and, smiling shyly, waved them in while shuffling to the stove to put on the kettle.

  ‘Herman says we must call you Ollie,’ Lily bumbled on. ‘It’s a friendly little nickname you see. Nicknames are often given to a person if a person likes them.’

  She knew she was messing it all up, but by this time Olympia was carrying a tray through to the table in the garden, and soon they had all gathered round with their baskets.

  ‘Just a few little surprises,’ Sophia said.

  This was the start of many afternoon teas with Ollie. The women would chatter, and Ollie would sew. One by one, her tiny hands magicked fantastic fringed kerchiefs with colourful drifts of flowers, plump fruit, blue, blue seas, even dolphins – all the things that reminded her of her island.

  ‘We must place orders,’ they decided. ‘It will keep her occupied, and we’ll pay her well.’ Amelia ordered a striped skirt; Anna wanted an apron; Sophia said Dawid would look lovely in a bright waistcoat; and Lily thought Herman would like a crocheted cap.

  Soon Ollie was making a good living and she enjoyed seeing her friends in her colourful creations but – although she never complained – she was far from settled or happy. Often, in the middle of one of their tea afternoons, her eyes would cloud over, and she would grow very quiet. It was almost as though she had left them for a while. At first they were disconcerted, not quite knowing how to handle her sadness. And then, on one such occasion, Nellie thought it might help if they allowed Ollie to reminisce.

  ‘Ollie,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘won’t you tell us about your island home? We know very little about those parts, you know.’

  And Ollie responded with such an eloquent rush, it quite astounded them.

  ‘It – our little farm – lies somewhere in the hills between Paleochora and Chania, and quite a long way from Knossos.’

  ‘Knossos?’ they chorused.

  ‘Knossos. You do not know about Knossos?’ Ollie clucked her tongue. ‘Knossos! King Minos, the palace, the gleaming palace with its grand stairways and priceless treasures! More than 5 000 years old and you haven’t heard of it?’

  They were mortified.

  ‘Ah, perhaps because of the fires and the earthquakes,’ Ollie continued. ‘Not too much to be seen there now,’ she added, wanting to comfort them. ‘But in the
ir day! Oh my goodness you won’t believe how cultured the Minoans were. And so talented! Such beautiful pottery and jewellery! And royal apartments glowing with frescoes!’ Ollie clapped her hands with excitement. ‘The ladies were so beautiful in their flowing white dresses, and their men so handsome and strong – they could do a double somersault over huge bulls, you know, from front to back, while the women held onto the horns! And this all happened on my island – where the earliest, truly great civilization was born. It said so in Mali’s book at school!’ Ollie began to cry.

  ‘Well, we did have our Voortrekkers,’ put in Sophia, not wanting to be altogether outdone.

  ‘Another time, another place Sophia.’

  When they left, Ollie was visibly upset. All the talk about her island had brought back the pain of her missing family more sharply than ever, and the women realized that it was time to act.

  ‘Something has to be done now. We can’t leave our Ollie just sitting there with a broken heart and her embroidery. Hopefully Dimitri will soon be sent here, and the problem of him will, at least, be out of our hands – but her heart is aching for her child and her grand-children, and somehow we have to find them.’