by Jo Thomas
‘You promise to work with me? You’ll do what you’re told, no more climbing up rock faces and getting stuck?’
I nod vigorously. ‘I mean no! No more getting stuck!’
‘And you must deliver the dittany to those who need it without getting caught. No one must find out it’s me . . . us. That way they won’t follow us or ask questions and the location will stay secret.’
I nod again. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes,’ I say, and mean it. I’m doing this for Stelios, for his family – and, I realise, my daughter’s family too. A whole family I have shut out for all these years. A whole life she could have had. I need to start putting my mistakes right.
‘How do I know I can trust you?’ he asks.
I feel sick to my stomach. ‘You don’t. But if what the inspector has told you is true, and there are people who want to get rid of the dittany in order to build, you’re going to need help with keeping them off the mountain and keeping the valley hidden and secret. You can’t be everywhere. You can’t do this on your own, Georgios, and you don’t need to. I’m here.’
He sucks air through his teeth and looks as if he is agreeing to possibly the biggest mistake of his life. Eventually he speaks.
‘OK, get your things. I’ll move up to the cave in the secret valley; that way I’ll have a good view over the mountain, and the road to Vounoplagia too. I’ll be able to see if anyone is getting close. You can stay in my house, look after my sheep, and you’ll have to check the bees as well.’
‘The bees?’
‘Yes, you’ll have to make friends with them so they know you’re not threatening them.’ His face softens as he talks about the bees. ‘Soon we must collect the honey, if there is enough for us to take. But we must leave enough for them for the winter.’
‘OK,’ I agree. ‘I’ll check the bees. If you tell me what to do . . .’
‘You must open the lids and take out the frames where they make their hexagonal wax cells, the honeycomb where they keep their larvae and honey stores. As you lift them from the hive, you’ll see the bees doing the waggle dance, moving in circles, telling the other bees where the flowers are in relation to the sun. They don’t need words to communicate.’ He looks at me, and I feel like a whole swarm of bees is flying round and round my stomach, doing the waggle dance as they go.
‘Check and see if they are making honey, if there are capped stores in the hive. They are collecting from the dittany here. That honey will be very good. If the bees are thriving and they have enough dittany, they will want to start moving out of their overcrowded homes and look for new ones. Hopefully they will find Kostas’s farm. I’ll show you what to do. Introduce you.’ He smiles, and the bees waggle in my stomach again.
‘And what about Maria and Kostas; what do I tell them about you not being here and me looking after your place?’
‘Tell them I’ve been called away. Family business back in Athens,’ he says. ‘No more than that.’
Oh God, he’s actually going to let me do it.
‘I’ll let you know if I see anyone on the mountain, and you try and head them off before they start up the path. You’ll need to do whatever you can think of.’
I nod earnestly.
‘And if they still come, well, then I’ll let off the bird scarer and hope that they think it’s gunfire. It’s worked well enough in the past.’ He gives me a hard, dark stare. ‘Until someone decided to go snooping in my house.’
‘Sorry . . .’ I say, and swallow.
He leans towards me, staring at me all the time, green eyes flashing in the orange sunset, making my insides jolt again. Then he reaches up, takes off his hat and places it on my head.
‘Looks like you’ll need this, to keep that red hair covered,’ and he breaks into a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, making the dark skin around his cheeks crinkle, and the corners of his eyes too.
I feel more excited than I have in years, and at the same time absolutely terrified.
‘Georgios? Gone to Athens?’ Maria says the next morning as she prepares a tray of coffee for us to take outside after we’ve finished our morning chores. ‘We don’t see much of him but he’s always there if we need him. He’s a good neighbour.’
There’s nothing more I can do in the honey factory until the bees come, so instead I’ve been feeding the cows and helping Maria with the goats. Kostas has made bread and sweet rusks and raisin cake, and he has also decided to carry on with Mitera’s crocheting while she’s in bed. The dittany I delivered seemed to have lifted her spirits a little, but she still refuses to get up. It’s as if all the fight in her has gone.
‘Georgios never goes anywhere,’ Maria says, deep in thought, preparing another, smaller tray of coffee and cake to take to Mitera, who probably won’t touch it.
I’m worried Maria doesn’t believe me. I’d like to say I’m not good at lying, but I have realised to my shame that I’m better than I think. I have been lying to Demi all these years, and it’s something I have to put right. I’m just not sure how. I’ve barely heard from her this week, but I remind myself that she’s getting on with her life and I have to let her. Just like I know she’ll want me to get on with mine.
‘He hasn’t left the mountain in . . .’ Maria is still puzzling over Georgios. She looks at Kostas.
‘Years!’ he finishes for her.
‘Since Stelios . . .’ She looks at me as if stepping on eggshells, not wanting to upset me again. Kostas looks at me softly too. These are such lovely, kind people, I think as we follow Maria outside to the table in the shade, looking down the valley to the sea in the distance.
‘Since Stelios died,’ Maria finishes. It’s as if no one has actually been able to say the words until now. But now that they know who I am, they seem to be talking about him more. It’s as if the floodgates have opened for everyone in the town.
‘Now we will have no one on the mountainside looking out for us,’ Maria tuts. ‘It must be very serious family business for him to leave.’
I hate myself for lying to her. But it’s for the best. I’ve learned my lesson. It’s my loose tongue that has made this problem a hundred times worse.
‘I’ve said I’ll stay in his house, look out for his sheep and his dog while he’s away. But I’ll still be able to help you out with anything that needs doing on the farm.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Up there, alone?’
I smile. ‘I won’t be alone; I’m taking this one with me,’ and I look down at Angel, sitting in my lap as I accept the steaming cup of coffee and one of Kostas’s rusks. ‘As long as you don’t mind, that is,’ I add quickly. ‘Me being up there and not here.’
Maria shrugs. ‘Until we have bees, there’s little for you to do in the honey factory. I’m glad you’re helping Georgios out.’ She smiles as she hands me a plate for my cake, then wipes her hands over her apron and sits as Kostas pours her steaming coffee from the battered pot. They are such a team. Even now, with the roles reversed after Kostas’s terrible encounter with the bees, they just fit in with what the other needs. I wish Stelios and I could have been like that, being there for each other, getting old together. But heck . . . I have Angel for now, and she is lovely company.
‘But if you aren’t happy, or you’re scared, or you see something that worries you, just come home,’ Maria adds, like an older sister stepping in when there’s no mum around. I want to hug her.
‘I promise.’
‘I feel so useless!’ Kostas wails, throwing up his hands. ‘What good is a honey farm without bees?’
‘Don’t worry, they will come soon,’ I say, not feeling as confident as I sound.
Maria smiles fondly and then, with a teasing look, she imitates Mitera, saying, ‘Only when love returns to the mountain.’ She takes hold of Kostas’s hand and we all laugh gently. Then we tuck into yoghurt
with figs and cakes, and as she always does now, Maria apologises for there being no honey.
I take a spoonful of yoghurt and follow it quickly with a bite of cake to chase away the sharpness. ‘Maria? Why does Mitera keep talking about love returning to the mountain?’
‘Well . . .’ Maria looks at Kostas, who nods as if giving permission. ‘Mitera had a love, the love of her life; they were at school together. But they were both young and foolish and one day she heard . . . well, that he had been seen with another girl. Mitera was stubborn and strong-willed. She finished with him and started to see another boy who had been asking her out. A much more sensible boy. Eventually they got married.’
‘Kostas’s father?’ I look at Kostas, and he nods.
‘He was a fine man, honest and hard-working, and they had a good life together,’ he says. ‘But he died when he was still young, rebuilding the villages that were destroyed after the war.’ I can see how proud Kostas is of his father as he looks towards his photograph, one of many hung skew-whiff around the fireplace. Here, it’s the people in the pictures that matter, not how straight they are on the uneven wall.
Maria tops up our coffee. ‘Much later, just a few years ago, Mitera came across her old love by chance on the ancient mountain path that was once filled with wild thyme, oregano and marjoram. She knew him straight away by his big smile and the gap in his front teeth. His family had moved to a village on the other side of the mountain and he had brought up a family of his own there. But he was now a widower, and they began to meet up on the mountain and walk and talk.’ Maria’s fond smile drops. ‘But now . . . now the path is closed off to everyone, and she hasn’t seen him for a very long time.’ She shrugs. ‘She may never see him again.’
‘Mitera is sick.’ Kostas looks at me. ‘Lovesick.’
When love returns to the mountain; when the dittany flourishes again, I think to myself. I know I’m doing exactly the right thing.
Once we’ve finished eating, we clear away the plates and cups and Kostas insists on washing up, shooing me away to put my feet up after a hard morning’s work. I thank him and go to my room, where I pull my case from under the bed and start to look around at my belongings to pack and take up to Georgios’s cottage. I hear the Skype ringtone on my laptop. It’s Demi! Calling me!
‘Demi? Everything all right?’ I’m immediately panicking that she’s in trouble. I go hot and cold, heart thundering, like I’ve had a caffeine overdose.
‘I’m fine, Mum. Just thought I’d call and say hi,’ I hear her say, but I can’t see her face. The picture’s faint, then it disappears and comes back quite blurry. But I don’t care; it’s Demi, just wanting to say hi!
‘Oh bugger!’ I stare at the computer screen, wondering if I’ve done something wrong or if it’s just that the computer is old and slow.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, and I can hear the concern in her voice.
‘Nothing, love, just this computer.’ I pick it up and look at the underside, as if that’s going to help.
‘Mum?’
I set the computer back down and wave my hands about madly in front of the screen. ‘Don’t worry, I can hear you and that’s the main thing. Now, how are things?’
There’s a slight awkwardness in the air, and I hate it. I fan my face and blow upwards. A horrid cocktail of heat and nerves. Since when did I find it awkward to chat to my own daughter?
‘Fine,’ she says.
‘What have you been up to?’ we both say at the same time, and then laugh.
‘You first, Mum,’ she says, and I’m wondering how to tell her that her birth father is dead and that I should have told her the truth about him years ago, but that his family are wonderful and want to meet her. How on earth do I put all that into a Skype call?
‘I’ve finished the honey factory,’ I finally say. ‘It’s all ready to go. Now all we need is bees.’
‘I don’t believe it! A honey farm with no bees!’ Demi shrieks with laughter, making the mic crackle, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose the sound as well. ‘How did that happen?’
‘It’s complicated. But . . . well, there are bees living up the mountain, but they’re not doing very well. Their habitat is dying out so they’re very agitated. Kostas keeps trying to tempt them to new hives he’s built, attempting to catch them in a cardboard box and rehome them, but so far it’s just resulted in him getting badly stung.’
‘Oh no!’
‘And I’m riding a moped,’ I tell her.
‘Mum! You always said those things were death traps,’ she scolds. ‘You never let me have one. And what if anything happened to you? It’s not like I’ve got a big family to turn to.’
I bite my tongue. Should I tell her now?
‘Oh, and I’m learning to crochet.’ Damn! Missed my moment.
‘Much safer. You’ll be picking up your pension before you know it,’ she teases. I want to tell her it’s so much more than an old people’s hobby. There’s real skill involved in it, and the crocheting circle is a fantastic place where I meet with wonderful, strong, funny women and where everyone keeps in touch and looks out for each other. But I don’t. I just laugh with her.
‘Oh, and I’ve got a new friend.’ I pick up Angel and hold her to the screen.
‘A dog! You never let me have a dog! I’d have loved one!’ she practically wails, but she can’t help but add, ‘Ahhhh, she’s gorgeous!’ as Angel tries to nip my nose.
‘So how are things with you?’ I say, settling the little dog in my lap. ‘How’s the job? How’s the family?’
‘Fine,’ she says brightly, but I can’t help but think something’s up.
‘Demi?’
‘It’s fine, Mum,’ she says crossly now, and I’m cross with myself for pushing it. ‘I just wanted to chat, that’s all.’
‘Yes, of course.’ I try and smooth things over, but it’s like a game of croquet with the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland, wondering when she’s going to yell, ‘Off with her head!’
‘I’m just tired.’
‘Make sure you get an early night,’ and I bite my lip as soon as I’ve said it.
‘So, you doing anything tonight?’ she asks.
‘I have to help out Maria and Kostas’s neighbour Georgios with something on his farm. Looks like I’m going to have to look after his sheep!’
Demi bursts into laughter again.
Good, I think. Job done. Steered out of the choppy waters and back into bluer, calmer ones.
‘You seem really different, Mum. Have you met someone? Are you and this Georgios having a thing?’
‘Good God, no!’ I shake my head emphatically and wave my hands again. ‘He’s . . . no . . . just no. He can’t stand me!’
She laughs. ‘Well, whatever it is, you’ve certainly got a sparkle in your eye!’
‘Demi, you’re the only one I need to love me. You and me, that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?’ I want to reassure her. ‘I’m here if ever you want me.’
‘Mum, I’m fine. Stop fussing. I can ring you for a chat without you fussing, can’t I?’
‘Of course!’ I make a mental note not to fuss. I mustn’t imagine there’s a problem every time she rings. I don’t want to put her off calling.
‘So, no big love affair then?’ She returns to light-hearted good humour and I breathe a sigh of relief, glad she hasn’t got all cross with me and ended the call. I look up at the mountain from my bedroom window and over towards Georgios’s house, suddenly finding myself wondering if he’s waiting for me, wondering where I’ve got to.
‘Definitely not.’ I turn back to the screen, nodding and shaking my head at the same time so that it becomes a circle like a nodding dog in the back of a car. I take a swig of water from my bottle.
‘Good, I’m not sure how I’d feel if
I suddenly discovered you’d met someone and I had a whole load of new uncles, aunts and cousins to contend with,’ Demi laughs, and I practically choke, water spilling out of the sides of my mouth and down my chin.
‘Um . . . about that . . .’ I try and say through the coughing fit. ‘The thing is . . .’ I take big gulps of air and then more water, and try and breathe again.
‘Really, Mum, I’m joking!’ she says brightly. ‘I know you wouldn’t do that to me!’ She laughs again and it tinkles around my head as I cringe inwardly.
‘Look, Mum, I’d better go.’ I can hear a woman calling her name sharply in the background, and again I want to ask if everything’s all right. But she’s saying goodbye, quickly.
‘Oh, OK. Be happy!’ I blow kisses. ‘I love you.’
‘Bye, Mum. Thank you. You’re the best.’ And she’s gone, the dull ache, the yearning to see her, returning.
I wish I was the best, but I’m feeling far from it. How can I drop this bombshell now? Will she stop calling me, missing me if I do? I couldn’t stand it. I can’t.
Standing on the stone step in front of Georgios’s door, I knock. When he doesn’t answer, I knock again, just to make sure, then push the door open tentatively.
‘Hello?’ I call. It all looks the same as last time. The little kitchen under the stairs, the fire in the corner with its blackened surround against the whitewashed wall. Just as before, my eyes are drawn to that big picture window looking out over the valley beyond. It’s a view you could never get tired of, but I must get on and work out where I’m going to sleep. Angel is sitting at my feet beside me. I bend and stroke her.
‘Looks like it’s just you and me,’ I say, thinking about Demi with her family in London, hoping they’re looking after her too.
Reluctantly dragging myself away from the view, I turn around slowly and catch my breath as Georgios dips his head through the low front door and steps in carrying an armful of chopped wood.
‘Oh, sorry, I thought you’d gone!’ I feel like I’m intruding again. ‘I did knock.’