YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  On his return to the taverna Yannis slept for two hours and awoke thinking it was morning and wondering why he was already fully dressed. Feeling foolish he splashed his face with cold water and went downstairs. Louisa, as always at that time of day, was sitting at her embroidery. She looked at him guardedly as he entered.

  ‘I’ve had a lovely day,’ he announced. ‘I spent most of it at the museum. How about you?’

  ‘The same as usual,’ she answered. ‘Are you feeling better?’

  Yannis nodded. ‘Considerably. I’ve slept for a couple of hours. I shall go into school tomorrow. Can I help myself?’ She nodded and Yannis reached across her for a bottle of wine and a glass.

  ‘No doubt you needed the rest.’

  Once again Yannis felt she had dismissed him. He drank slowly, and was on the point of returning to his room when Yiorgo entered. Louisa folded her embroidery and stood leaning against the bar. A customer would often call in on their way home from work and it was as well to look prepared. Despite talking to Yannis and enquiring after his health, Yiorgo could not take his eyes from the girl. If only she would give him an answer.

  Yannis returned to the doctor the following week to have the stitches from his head removed, a process he found far more painful than when they had been inserted.

  ‘How are you feeling? You complained about your knee and ankle. Are they still giving you any trouble?’

  ‘None at all,’ Yannis assured him. ‘I really was very lucky.’

  ‘I’ll just check you over quickly. Take off your shirt.’

  Yannis did as he was asked and the doctor’s hard fingers probed his back and ribs for any sign of damage. ‘All seems well. Take a deep breath for me. Does that hurt?’

  Yannis shook his head.

  ‘Good. I was a bit concerned that you might have broken a rib. What’s that?’

  ‘A blocked gland. I had mumps,’ explained Yannis.

  The doctor pushed the boy’s head to one side. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all.’

  The doctor picked up a needle from his desk and began to prick the lump and surrounding area.

  ‘Ouch!’ Yannis started involuntarily as the doctor pricked the skin at a point below his chin.

  ‘Hmm.’ The doctor stood back. ‘How long ago did you have mumps?’

  Yannis shrugged. ‘It was when my brother was born,’ he wrinkled his forehead. ‘I must have been about nine.’

  ‘And you’ve had it ever since?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Has it grown any larger?’

  ‘Just a little – as I’ve grown.’

  ‘I’d like to take a little scrape of skin from it?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just as a precaution, to make sure there’s no infection there.’ He picked up a scalpel and without waiting for Yannis’s consent took a sliver of skin from the lump.

  ‘What kind of infection?’ Yannis’s hand went involuntarily to the charm he wore.

  ‘Any kind. You can put your shirt back on now.’ He placed the sample safely inside an envelope and wrote Yannis’s name in the left hand corner before putting it in his desk.

  ‘When will I know the result of the test?’

  ‘If there’s any problem the hospital will write to you. My fee is five drachma, please.’

  Yannis left the doctor and began to walk towards his school. Half way there he remembered what Costas had said about Louisa having three little moles. Did he dare go and ask her? He hesitated, standing in a doorway having a cigarette whilst he made up his mind. He rehearsed what he would say to her, and finally decided he would return to the taverna and see if she was alone.

  As he walked in Louisa looked round the kitchen door. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Who were you expecting?’

  Louisa shrugged. ‘I thought you were a customer.’

  ‘What kind of customer?’

  Louisa frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Some one has told me that you have three moles in the shape of a triangle just below your right shoulder blade.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’d like to see them.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. Shouldn’t you be in school?’

  ‘I’ve been to the doctor.’

  Louisa looked at him speculatively, then without a word she led the way up the stairs. Yannis followed her to her room and closed the door behind them. Once inside Louisa untied the ribbon at the neck and slipped her blouse over her head before sitting down on her bed. Yannis gasped as her small, perfectly shaped breasts were exposed. She turned her back to him and he could clearly see the three small moles. He could understand why Costas had tried to kiss them from her back as he had an overwhelming desire to do the same.

  He ran his hand across them, as if to brush them away, then slipped it beneath her arm and cupped her breast in his hand. He felt quite dizzy with longing and turned her to face him, bending and kissing her breasts gently. He felt Louisa’s fingers undoing the buckle of his belt and the buttons on his trousers as he lifted her skirt to explore beneath. It seemed he had only tasted the delights her body had to offer for a few moments before the world exploded around him. He rolled his body off hers, damp with sweat from his efforts. She lay with her legs apart, looking up at him mockingly.

  ‘Better now?’

  Yannis nodded dumbly.

  ‘It doesn’t take much to satisfy some people,’ she observed sarcastically as she picked up her blouse.

  ‘No, let me look at you. You’re so beautiful, Louisa.’ Again he reached out his hand and began to fondle her breasts.

  ‘You look ridiculous.’

  Yannis looked down at himself and was forced to agree. His trousers were around his thighs; his shirt was damp and sticky around the tail. He stood up, removed his boots and allowed his trousers to fall to the floor, stepping out of them whilst he unbuttoned and discarded his shirt. Louisa gazed unashamedly at his nakedness.

  ‘That’s an improvement.’

  He lay beside her, stroking her body, revelling in the soft silkiness of her skin. His hand slipped between her thighs and he kissed her again. ‘Take your skirt right off. It gets in the way.’

  Louisa did as he bade her. ‘Satisfied?’

  Yannis pressed his body against hers. ‘No, but I intend to be.’ He kissed and stroked her until he could contain himself no longer. Desperately he tried to delay the final exquisite joy.

  ‘I must go,’ she said finally, ‘and you should be in school.’

  Yannis watched as she replaced her clothes. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Ten drachmas.’

  Yannis shook his head. ‘I’ve heard that you charge three drachmas an hour.’

  ‘You have to pay for experience.’

  Yannis flushed. ‘I’ll pay this time, but in future I expect the going rate.’

  Louisa raised her eyebrows, but all she said was ‘Get dressed.’

  ‘Why do you do it, Louisa?’

  ‘To make money, of course.’

  ‘You have the taverna.’

  ‘The takings from the taverna would never have paid our debts after Mamma and Pappa died.’

  ‘Don’t you mind?’

  Louisa shrugged. ‘Mind? What is there to mind about?’

  ‘What about Yiorgo? If you married him you wouldn’t have to worry about money any more. He has a good job and you could keep the taverna running.’

  ‘Yiorgo,’ Louisa spoke his name scornfully. ‘Why should I want to marry him?’

  ‘He loves you, Louisa.’

  ‘But I don’t love him. Are you dressed?’

  Yannis nodded. ‘I’ll just go and have a wash. I’ll bring your money down with me.’

  By the time Yannis reached school the bell had rung for lunch and he made his way to the taverna where he regularly met his friends. They examined his head, which clearly showed the marks of the stitch
es, but assured him they would soon fade.

  ‘I suggest we have a little celebration tonight,’ said Costas. ‘Let’s meet up and have a night on the town.’

  ‘Could I ask Vassilis to join us?’ asked Yannis. ‘He was so good to me when I fell. I’ve replaced his shirt, but I’d like to buy him a drink.’

  ‘Ask whoever you like. We’ll meet at your taverna and go from there. Now, what time shall we say?’

  On returning to his class Yannis asked Vassilis and Stavros to meet him that evening. Stavros was quite overcome to be asked and blushed and stammered his thanks.

  ‘Why did you ask him?’ asked Vassilis. ‘I find him so difficult to talk to. He never seems able to get his words out.’

  ‘I feel so sorry for him. I know he’s terrible to listen to in class, it takes him half an hour to say yes or no to a question, but if you talk to him on your own he’s fine. He just gets so embarrassed if he’s the centre of attention.’ Yannis defended the young man.

  ‘Are you off to the museum after school?’

  Yannis nodded. ‘Why?’

  ‘I thought you would probably need to stay behind and catch up on the work you missed this morning.’

  Yannis flushed, feeling guilty that he had not returned directly to school from the doctor. ‘I’ll ask Mr Angelakis what he wants me to do. Hopefully he’ll want to leave promptly.’

  Mr Angelakis smiled at the eager boy. ‘We spent most of the morning drawing a map. You’ll need four copies of it by tomorrow morning; each one needs to be in a different colour to represent the different periods of history. I’d like you to be able to draw it from memory by the end of the week as we shall be using it most of the time this term.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Yannis’s hope of spending an hour in the museum faded. It would take all his time before his friends arrived to make four satisfactory copies of the map. He had also planned to write to Annita and tell her his stitches had been removed that day. He sighed, wishing he had not asked his tutor.

  The taverna was deserted when he arrived and he was deliberately noisy as he climbed the stairs to his room. Louisa’s door was closed, but he had an idea she was not alone behind it and he wished it were he who was with her. Mentally shaking himself, he set about the task of reproducing the map, determined to put all thoughts of Louisa from his mind. He was surprised to find that after drawing three maps the fourth one was considerably easier and he attempted a copy from memory. He compared each one and re-drew them to his satisfaction before starting a letter to Annita.

  Usually he found writing to Annita a pleasurable task, the words flowing smoothly onto the paper, but having told her he had been to the doctor and had his stitches removed he could think of nothing else to say. He wanted to tell her he loved her and missed her, but the words seemed false when they were written down. The vision of a slim, supple body, perfect in its proportions, three little moles and a cloud of black hair that smelt faintly of almonds, continually invaded his mind. He decided he would put the letter aside until the following day. Maybe he would have something more to tell her after his evening out.

  Yiorgo was engrossed in his newspaper when Yannis went down to the taverna for a meal before his friends arrived, continuing to read whilst he ate the liver and tomatoes that Louisa put before them. Pavlos flung open the door and marched into the kitchen where a low, but obviously heated exchange, took place between brother and sister. He emerged, a pleased smile on his face and raised his hand to Yannis.

  ‘Had a good day?’

  Yannis, his mouth full, could only nod.

  ‘Ah, Pavlos, I’ve just read something so interesting. Have a seat…’

  ‘Can’t stop at the moment, Yiorgo. Tell me tomorrow.’

  Yiorgo looked bemusedly at the closed door and shook his head. He folded his newspaper and placed it on his chair before taking his empty plate into the kitchen.

  ‘Louisa, I want to talk to you. Have you come to a decision yet?’

  ‘A decision?’ Louisa was deliberately evasive.

  ‘I asked you a question before I returned to Heraklion. I’m waiting for your answer,’ replied Yiorgo patiently.

  ‘Look at that!’ Louisa slammed a tomato down on the table. ‘How can I possibly put tomatoes like that in a salad? I’m taking them back.’

  Yiorgo Pavlakis put out a restraining hand. ‘Louisa.’

  ‘Not now, Yiorgo,’ she brushed him aside. ‘I must take these back and get some fresh ones. I haven’t time to stop and talk now.’

  The restraining hand dropped to his side and he moved to let her pass through the doorway. Disconsolately he made his way up to his room.

  Stavros and Vassilis arrived within minutes of each other and Yannis asked Louisa for a bottle of wine. ‘We may as well make a start whilst we wait for the others.’

  ‘Who else is coming?’

  ‘Dimitris, Nicolas and Costas. You’ve probably seen me around with them.’

  ‘Isn’t Costas the rich boy?’ asked Stavros.

  Yannis nodded. ‘His father had a big win on the lottery apparently.’

  ‘A useful friend to have,’ remarked Vassilis.

  ‘I think his father gives him an allowance, so he’s really no better off than us.’

  ‘Maybe not, but no doubt he can always ask for a little more if he overspends.’

  ‘Here he comes. You can ask him.’ Yannis grinned at Vassilis and called for another bottle of wine to be brought to the table as Costas slid into the seat next to him.

  Louisa frowned when she saw who was with Yannis. She hoped he would say nothing out of place to her. ‘I thought you were going out,’ she said to Yannis.

  ‘We are, but we thought it only right to start here. Where’s Yiorgo? You must meet him. I’ll give him a shout.’

  From the bottom of the stairs Yannis called to Yiorgo to join them. When he arrived he was obviously preoccupied, gazing around as though someone or something was missing.

  ‘What have you lost, Yiorgo?’

  ‘My newspaper; I thought I’d taken it up with me. I must have left it down here, but I can’t see it.’

  Yannis raised himself from his chair and pulled the newspaper out from beneath him. ‘I’m sorry. I just sat down. Is there something important in there?’

  Yiorgo nodded. ‘There’s an article on Bulgaria that I wanted to read more thoroughly. When I’ve finished with it I’ll pass it on to you. You’ll find it interesting also.’

  Yannis raised his eyebrows at his friends. He doubted very much if he would find the politics of Bulgaria interesting. ‘Here’s Dimitris,’ he announced, distracting Yiorgo from the subject. ‘I wonder what kept him.’

  ‘Sorry. Am I late? I just had to finish my homework and then my father arrived and was asking me how I was getting on. I thought I’d never get away.’

  ‘Well you’re here now. Where shall we go? You all know the town far better than I do.’

  ‘You only know your way to school and the museum,’ laughed Dimitris. ‘How did you find your way to the doctor?’

  ‘I asked Louisa.’

  ‘Let’s do the rounds,’ suggested Nicolas.

  ‘Be careful where you go boys,’ warned Yiorgo Pavlakis. ‘There are some unsavoury areas here, worse than Aghios Nikolaos, Yannis.’

  ‘Would you like to come with us?’

  Yiorgo Pavlakis pushed back his hair and appeared quite startled at the idea. ‘No, I couldn’t. I’m expecting some acquaintances here later. That’s why I needed the paper.’

  The boys called out goodbye to Louisa and left the taverna. Once outside Dimitris turned to Yannis. ‘Is he always like that?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, concerned for your safety.’

  ‘Not usually; I think it’s just where I fell down the stairs. He promised my parents he’d look after me whilst I was here and I don’t know Heraklion very well, particularly at night.’

  ‘You’re safe
enough with us. The waterfront is the place to steer clear of. You get so many different nationalities at the harbour and they get drunk and brawls start. If you’re not careful you can get involved.’ Vassilis was leading the way to the centre of the town.

  ‘Another place is behind the market,’ added Nicolas. ‘It’s the prostitutes’ area,’ he explained to Yannis. ‘If you want to take a short cut it becomes embarrassing with them all calling out to you, and sometimes their pimps will push you into a doorway and take your money. If you complain to the police they say you shouldn’t have been in the area in the first place.’

  Dimitris dived down a side street and opened the door of a taverna. ‘Let’s start here.’ Two elderly men who were playing dominoes looked at the boys and sighed. Their peaceful game was about to be interrupted.

  It was past midnight when they finally bade each other farewell and Yannis stumbled back to the taverna. He was surprised to find the oil lamps still lit and a number of men sitting at a table with Mr Pavlakis. He hardly glanced at Yannis as he entered, so intent was he on the speech he was making. Louisa was leaning on the counter, obviously tired; yet knowing she would be called upon for further bottles of wine.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Yannis.

  ‘Yiorgo is talking to them about the article he read on Bulgaria. I don’t understand what he’s on about, but they appear to think he’s right. I just wish they’d all go to bed,’ she yawned openly.

  ‘I’ll call out goodnight to you and say how late it is. It might encourage them to move.’ He went to the bottom of the stairs and called loudly. ‘Goodnight, Louisa. It’s after midnight so I’m off to bed.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ called back Louisa. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’

  Yannis stood and watched. The group of men did not appear to have heard, but continued listening to Yiorgo as intently as before. He glanced at Louisa who shrugged her shoulders in resignation.

  Before going to sleep Yannis looked at the map he had to learn. He hoped he would remember it the following day, although at the moment he really felt too tired to care. He remembered his last evening in Heraklion and hoped he would not feel ill in the morning.

  The day dragged for Yannis. He disliked having to draw the map again and again, each time inserting different information at Mr Angelakis’s direction. The list of places that had sent ships to aid in the Trojan War was more interesting, but when Mr Angelakis explained they were now to make graphs from the information they had compiled that day Yannis groaned. He hated graphs. However hard he tried they never seemed to end up accurate. Making a tentative start he was pleased when the bell rang and he could hurry off to the museum.