Icon of Gold

by Icon of Gold (retail) (epub)

  The small shop was empty. ‘Afternoon, Mrs Hamilton.’

  ‘A’ternoon.’

  ‘Coffee,’ Cathy said. ‘Do you have some coffee?’

  ‘Got some somewhere. Don’t get much call…’ Mrs Hamilton, a large lady with tightly crimped grey hair rummaged on a shelf, turned with a bottle in her hand. ‘This’d be fer the young man, would it?’

  ‘Er —’ Cathy eyed the bottle uncertainly. ‘Yes. That is — I’m not sure this is exactly —’

  ‘Tha’ss all there is,’ Mrs Hamilton said, stolidly. ‘Oh, an’ there’s a letter, come this mornin’.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cathy picked up the bottle. Coffee and chicory. Oh, dear. ‘Better than nothing I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘Pardon?’ Mrs Hamilton emerged from behind the Post Office counter carrying an envelope.

  ‘Nothing. Talking to myself. Terrible habit.’

  The woman’s eyes wrinkled into a small, sly smile. ‘You know what they say…?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cathy said, cheerfully, ‘I do.’ She took the envelope and looked at it. Not Leon’s writing, but Adam’s. She paid for the coffee, took it outside, put it in the basket and tore open the envelope. She read the single page in a glance, let out a small, explosively exasperated breath and read it again. ‘Oh, Lord.’ She opened her purse, rummaged in it for pennies and pulled open the heavy door of the telephone box that stood outside the shop.

  *

  ‘What do you mean he’s got my bedroom?’ This seemed to have been the first thing that she’d said actually to engage Adam’s interest. In the background she could hear a hubbub of activity, a buzz of voices, some laughter.

  ‘What I say. I’ve had to put him in your room. Oh, don’t be daft, Adam — where else could I have put him?’

  ‘But he’ll be gone by the weekend.’ The words were couched as a statement rather than a question.

  ‘How do I know? I’ve no idea where Leon is or when he’ll be back — he could be in Greece, or New York or Timbuktu for all I know! You don’t propose that I should throw poor Nikos out on the street, do you?’

  ‘There are hotels, aren’t there?’

  ‘Adam!’

  ‘Oh — I’m sorry, Ma. It’s just that I really did want to see you —’

  ‘Why the sudden rush?’ She did not realise quite how sharply she had said it until the silence at the other end of the line lasted just a little too long. ‘Adam?’

  ‘It just seems ages since I’ve seen you, that’s all. And I could do with a bit of a rest.’ The nonchalance was, possibly deliberately, overdone.

  ‘Why? What’s the matter?’ Motherly concern overcame irritation.

  ‘Nothing. Just a bit tired, that’s all. There’s a lot going on. I can’t often seem to get away.’ He let the words sink in before adding, ‘But don’t worry. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Couldn’t you make it the weekend after next?’

  ‘’Fraid not. I’m booked up. And the following one too.’

  She wavered. ‘We-ell —I suppose —’

  ‘Couldn’t this Nikos sleep in the sitting room?’

  Couldn’t you? She left the words unsaid. It was, after all, as Adam had already pointed out, his room. ‘I suppose he could.’

  ‘You do want me to come, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I do. It’s just that -— darling, it’s Thursday already! I just wish you’d given me a little more notice, that’s all.’

  This time the silence was noticeably hurt. ‘You’ve always told me,’ her son said quietly, ‘that Sandlings was my home.’

  ‘It is! Of course it is! Whenever you want it —’

  ‘— providing I give you notice.’

  ‘No!’ She had lived with Adam’s father for long enough to know that, not necessarily intentionally, she was being manipulated; but this was Adam, her Adam, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  In the background she heard someone call Adam’s name. ‘A minute,’ he called back, and then into the phone, ‘look, sorry, I’m going to have to go.’

  ‘So — are you coming at the weekend?’

  ‘If it’s OK.’

  ‘Of course it is. If Nikos hasn’t left by then I can make up a bed for him downstairs.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll see you sometime Saturday morning. Got to go — bye, Mum.’

  ‘Bye, Adam.’ The phone was already dead. She held it for a moment, looking sightlessly at the printed instructions as to what to do with Button ‘A’ and Button ‘B’.

  She loved Adam dearly.

  And she knew him too well.

  She wished the suspicion were not strengthening by the moment that his desire to see her so suddenly and so urgently might have as much to do with money as with filial devotion. It had happened before.

  She sighed a little, pondering, then as she turned to leave, more in hope than expectation, pressed Button ‘B’. Nothing happened. ‘OK,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘It was worth a try.’

  *

  Sandy greeted her, as usual, with hysteria. Nikos came from the kitchen, opened his mouth to speak. Cathy forestalled him. ‘I know, I’m sorry I’ve been longer than I said — there was a letter from Adam and I had to ring him from the phone box. I’m sorry - l hope you don’t mind — he wants to come down for the weekend. It means you’ll have to sleep on the floor for a couple of nights — oh, here’s the coffee —’ she pulled a rueful face as she handed it to him ‘— it’s that awful stuff with chicory I’m afraid, but it was all they had. Thinking about it you’ll probably hate it even more than the tea. Oh, Sandy, do calm down! You’re enough to try the patience of a saint sometimes!’ She straightened. ‘Trust Adam to jump this on me with no notice! We’re going to be a bit of a houseful I’m afraid.’ She laughed a little, ‘All we need now is for Leon to turn up —’ She stopped.

  Nikos’ face was a picture. There was a small silence. Then he stepped back and pushed the kitchen door wide open. Cathy stared. The table was heaped untidily with boxes and bags, all of them inscribed with the famous name of Fortnum and Mason. There was a crate of wine, two bottles of whisky and a magnum of Champagne. Beside the Champagne rested two exquisitely wrapped small parcels.

  Cathy looked at Nikos.

  He nodded, half-apologetically. ‘He has,’ he said. He hefted the bottle of coffee in his hand and shrugged. ‘He arrived about ten minutes after you left.‘

  She looked around. ‘But — I didn’t see a car. Where is he?’

  Nikos’ grin was sudden and infectious. ‘He’s gone into Aldburgh,’ he said. ‘To buy some real coffee.’

  *

  Leon came back an hour or so later bringing not only coffee but a huge bouquet of flowers for Cathy, a bone for Sandy that was almost as big as the dog himself, a carton of Nikos’ favourite cigarettes and an enormous heavy knitted jumper of the kind the local fishermen wore. He swept into the house laughing, kissed Cathy fiercely, sent Nikos reeling with a friendly slap on the back and dumped the things he was carrying on to the already precarious pile on the kitchen table.

  Cathy stood at the door watching him, unable despite her best efforts to prevent laughter. ‘Leon! Where on earth have you been?’

  He took off the jacket of his suit, threw it carelessly on to Sandy’s dog-haired chair, reached for the pullover. ‘Later. I tell you later. first things first —’ he hauled the garment over his head and emerged, his strongly springing silvering hair tousled, grinning. ‘Always I forget how bloody cold this place is. Is a nightmare.’

  ‘It’s healthy,’ she said. ‘And tell us now. I know your “laters”.’

  He spread his hands innocently, looking beyond her to Nikos. ‘You see how she nags me?’

  ‘Leon —’

  ‘Later,’ he said firmly. ‘I told Nikos. It wasn’t my fault. I radioed a message to the ship. He did not receive it. I shall make enquiries. No harm is done — he is here. Now —’ His dark face lit again. He rummaged amongst the things on the table and pulled out the two wrap
ped presents. ‘Here.’ He tossed one over Cathy’s head to Nikos, who caught it one-handed, then reached for Cathy’s hand drawing her towards him. ‘For you, my Kati,’ he said, and kissed her cheek.

  She took the proffered package. ‘A Greek —’ she said, lightly ‘— bearing gifts.’

  He threw his huge head back and laughed expansively. ‘No need to beware of me, koukla mou. Open your present.’

  Nikos had come to the door behind them. In his hand he held a gold watch, the bracelet glittering even in the dull November light. ‘Pa. It’s just great. But - you really shouldn’t have -’

  ‘Why not? I can’t greet my son with a gift?’

  ‘But such a gift! It must have cost a bomb!’

  Leon shrugged.

  Cathy stood, turning the pretty package over in her hand.

  ‘Open it.’

  The watch was exquisite, with a tiny, beautifully marked face, the casing studded with small diamonds, and a narrow gold bracelet. The catch too was set with diamonds, a delicate masterpiece in itself. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ Leon beamed. ‘I think so. Like my Kati. Put it on.’ She unbuckled the worn leather strap of the plain and workmanlike watch she always wore and laid it on the table.

  Leon took the new watch and slipped it about her wrist, fastened the delicate catch, the large, spatulate fingers surprisingly deft. ‘It’s really beautiful,’ she repeated, quietly, and kissed him, softly.

  ‘You like it?’ The power of his personality was focused for a moment entirely upon her, his eyes bright with the pleasure of giving. ‘You like it, truly? There was another — if you prefer…?‘

  ‘No. No, I really do like it.’ She dropped another light kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  He turned, picked up one of the bottles of Champagne. ‘So! Now we celebrate! Being together at last. The three of us —’

  ‘Ah,’ Cathy said.

  Leon lifted bushy brows. ‘“Ah”? What’s this “ah”?’

  She laughed. ‘This “ah” is Adam. There was a letter at the Post Office this afternoon. I spoke to him on the phone. He wanted to come down for the weekend. I said yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise —’

  Leon let out a roar of laughter that Cathy thought just might have been audible in the village shop. ‘So we’re sardines in a can? So what? Good! It will perhaps keep us warm! And I was going to talk to Adam anyway. I have some ideas. We can do business, I think —’

  Cathy took breath to speak, but did not. ‘Ah,’ she said again, with dry and different emphasis.

  Leon tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘He has a brain, your Adam. And he has some contacts I might find useful. It will be good to talk.’

  ‘I’m sure it will.’ Cathy went to a cupboard and produced three glasses. ‘I’m sorry — they don’t match, and they aren’t exactly delicate. But I guess the Champagne will taste just as good.’

  ‘Christos!’ Leon was laughing again. ‘No Champagne glasses? I bring some from London next time I come.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Leon, don’t be so silly. What would I do here with Champagne glasses?’

  The cork popped. Leon carefully poured the foaming, sparkling liquid into the bizarre assortment of glasses, one a tumbler. His dark and intent eyes met Cathy’s. ‘Life is going well, koukla mou,’ he said, softly. ‘There will be more Champagne, I think.’

  ‘If there is we can drink it as well from these as anything,’ she said, equably, and raised her glass. ‘To you both. And to the future.’ She glanced at Nikos. ‘A new start,’ she said, with an impulsive, smiling warmth. ‘I do hope you’ll be happy with us.’

  There was a small, oddly awkward moment of silence. She cocked her head in a characteristic way, looking directly into his eyes. ‘Nikos?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and lifted his own glass to hers. ‘I’m sure I will be.’

  *

  Early on Saturday morning Leon picked Adam up from Ipswich, and by the time they got back to the house they were already talking business. Cathy had laid the big kitchen table for breakfast and bacon, eggs and sausages were cooked and waiting on the range. The mouthwatering smell of fresh bread filled the house.

  ‘Mmm. That smells good.’ Her son put an arm about her shoulders and kissed her.

  She smiled and put a hand on his, acknowledging the greeting. ‘Breakfast is ready.’ She turned to where Nikos stood, a little shyly, his back to the window. ‘Adam — this is Nikos, Leon’s son.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’ The two young men shook hands. Cathy watched them, smiling; they made a striking contrast, the one slim and dark, indefinably foreign-looking, the other broadshouldered and fair, the very image of the Anglo-Saxon. She pulled out a chair. ‘Right everyone — breakfast. Sit yourselves down — there’s coffee or tea —’

  ‘Kati?’ Leon’s voice was sharp.

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘Your watch. Where is it?’

  She lifted her arm. ‘My old one is on my wrist,’ she said collectedly, ‘and my beautiful new one is where it belongs, safe upstairs on the dressing table, away from cooking and washing-up water and the million and one accidents of everyday life.’

  ‘I wanted you to wear it,’ he said, still unsmiling.

  ‘And I shall.’ She was coolly soothing. ‘On special occasions, as befits such a special thing. Don’t be silly, Leon, how can I wear something so delicate and precious every day?’

  ‘I want you to,’ he said again, with ominous emphasis.

  Nikos, a little alarmed, looked from one to the other. Adam, undisturbed, carved himself a doorstep of bread and spread it thickly with yellow butter.

  Cathy’s mouth set stubbornly. ‘It’s my watch. And I don’t want to damage it; and you know I would —’

  ‘I buy you another.’

  ‘Leon, no —’

  Leon grabbed Nikos’ hand, none too gently, and held it up. ‘Nikos wears his.’

  ‘Nikos doesn’t cook, clean, make beds, wash up, cart the coal, walk the dogs and chop the wood,‘ she snapped. ‘Now don’t be so ridiculous, Leon. I love the watch, I really do. But this one is much more sensible for everyday wear. Now do stop making such an issue of it. Sit down and eat your breakfast.’

  For a moment the air was charged. Then, suddenly, Leon shrugged and laughed in genuine amusement. ‘You’re stubborn as a mule, woman!’

  ‘So I’ve been told. I wouldn’t know.’ She grinned suddenly, the wide, subversive grin that Nikos was coming to realise was so characteristic of her. ‘I don’t know any mules. Adam — tea or coffee?’

  *

  She was at the sink washing up, the three men, plates scraped clean, and mounds of bread and marmalade demolished, sitting about the table with a fresh pot of coffee when the subject of the Greek house came up.

  ‘How’s it going?’ It was Adam who had brought up the subject. ‘Have you been out there lately?’

  Leon gestured enthusiastically, almost knocking his cup over. ‘Is going very well.’ He shrugged, using his big hands expressively to denote a certain reservation. ‘There are a few problems, here and there. How could there not be? Building materials are not easy to come by. The men, if I’m not there —’ again the expressive hands ‘— they are Greek. They would rather fish, or tend their olive trees. But I come and I go, they never know when. I praise the good work and the bad I tear down with my own hands and they do it again. I pay them well. And they know me, know how far to go. A good job, I want. A special job. It will be a beautiful house.’ Nikos, watching, saw his eyes flicker to Cathy’s back. The dishes clattered in the big, chipped butler sink. ‘The whole village thinks Leon Kotsikas has taken leave of his senses. A garden I’m making. A garden with flowers, and even with grass. For Kati.’ I-Ie chuckled. ‘No one in the village has such a garden. They ask me: “What is this garden? Can you keep goats in it? Do you grow beans? Can you eat flowers?” I say, ”My wife loves flowers. Flowers she s
hall have.”’

  Cathy neither turned nor spoke.

  ‘Where is the garden?’ Nikos asked. ‘Is it down the mountain, on the terraces below the house?’

  Leon took his eyes from Cathy’s back. ‘Yes. That’s right.’

  ‘I remember,’ Nikos said, softly. ‘The view’s wonderful. Out across the valley and with the sea in the distance —’ he hesitated. ‘Mother used to love that view.’

  Cathy’s hands stilled in the bowl. Then, resolutely, she scoured another dirty plate.

  ‘Just exactly what are you doing to the house?’ Adam reached to pour another cup of coffee.

  Leon rested his chin on a huge fist. ‘After Nikos’ mother — died — Nikos and I had to leave the village. The Germans were after us, the communists too. The house, and its neighbour, stood empty for years, and in any case the Germans had damaged both badly. In Greece a neglected house falls quickly to ruin. It —’ he hesitated, searching for the word, ‘— it decays. The weeds and the vines grow, the walls crumble, the roof falls. And so it was with my house when I returned. It was a simple house, you understand. A village house like all the others. I bought the house next door and I began to repair, and add, making the two into one.’ He grinned. ‘The village thinks I am rich.’ He shrugged a little, enjoying the joke, ‘Perhaps I am, a little. So — I add another storey, and a balcony, I turn the animal rooms downstairs into bedrooms — they are the coolest place in the house, for they are buried in the rock of the mountain — I make a kitchen — my Kati will not have to cook outside as the other women do, or take her meat to the oven of the village baker — and I bring the water from the spring into the house —’