by Beryl Darby
‘Come and help me,’ he directed.
They crossed to the outhouses where, half hidden behind a pile of grass was a large crate. Straining their muscles they lifted a side each and staggered to the cart.
‘Gently. Gently with it,’ warned Yannis to his son.
‘What’s in there, Pappa?’
Yannis senior averted his eyes. ‘You don’t need to know.’
Yannis hung his head, feeling ashamed of his curiosity. He watched whilst his father turned the donkey and cart and followed them down the hill. As they arrived at the quay the small boat was nosing its way carefully amongst the other craft that were moored there. Yannis senior raised a hand to Spiriton who nodded and instructed three men to go ashore to help manhandle the crate aboard and into the hold.
‘How many more trips, Pappa?’ asked Yannis as they climbed back up the hill.
‘Eight, I should think.’
‘Eight! How many people are there on the island?’
Yannis senior shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Yannis shuddered. ‘I wish we were nowhere near the island.’
Yannis senior clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘You should be grateful that we are. The government contract has made a great deal of difference to me. Your sisters will have good dowries when they marry.’
‘What about Yiorgo and Stelios?’
‘Yiorgo will have the farm eventually. Stelios seems to be taking after you, so I’ll send him to Aghios Nikolaos in a couple of years.’
Yannis thought it could be a good time to ask his father if he and Stelios might search for pottery later and he asked the question tentatively.
‘When the packing and loading’s finished you can do as you please.’
Three more trips were made to the quay before Yannis senior called a halt, and they sat down with the cart behind them for shelter from the stiff breeze whilst they ate their lunch.
‘No point in lingering. We may as well finish as soon as we can.’ Yannis senior seemed more relaxed than he had earlier in the day. ‘You boys load the cart and get down to the quay ready for Spiriton. He should have some empty boxes for you to bring back this time.’
Yiorgo and Yannis did as their father bade them, Yiorgo whistling tunelessly. Yannis felt mildly irritated by his brother’s obvious pleasure in the manual labour. By the time they had completed the last trip to the boat, returning the donkey to her stable and the cart to the yard on their way back to the field, he was thoroughly bored. The girls were sent home to help their mother with the evening meal, whilst Yiorgo and his father collected tools and stacked the remaining boxes. Yannis took the opportunity of going to the other end of the field with Stelios. Together they scraped and scrabbled, oblivious to the rest of the world.
‘Enough,’ announced Yannis finally, and rose to his feet, flexing his knees. ‘We’ll do some more tomorrow.’
‘I’m hungry,’ announced Stelios.
‘I shouldn’t have let you stay so late. It was thoughtless of me.’
‘I’m only hungry now we’ve stopped,’ insisted Stelios.
They sauntered down the road as the darkness began to close around them. The island becoming a dark, crouched shape out on the navy blue sea, faintly menacing to Yannis in his imagination. The smell of cooking wafted out to them making them quicken their steps. Their mother clucked at them impatiently as they entered.
‘Your supper will be ruined. Go and wash, both of you. Your hands are filthy.’
They looked at their begrimed hands and went outside obediently. The pump clattered and splashed in the silent yard. ‘Hurry up,’ Stelios urged his brother.
Having eaten Yannis yawned hugely and his mother looked at him in surprise. ‘Why so tired, Yannis?’
‘I’m not used to walking up and down the hill. Come and play backgammon, Maria. Beating you will keep me awake.’ To his surprise Maria beat him easily time and again. At last he threw up his hands in despair. ‘You’re far too good for me.’
‘I play with Pappa.’
‘That explains it!’ Yannis senior was the acknowledged backgammon master of the village. ‘I’ll read for a while,’ said Yannis, realising he had not picked up a book for a number of days. ‘Shall I read aloud to you?’
‘What is it?’
‘Plato.’
‘No thank you. I wouldn’t understand a word. No, Yannis,’ she stopped her brother as he was about to speak. ‘I don’t want you to explain it to me, I still wouldn’t understand.’
Yannis grinned and settled himself nearer the oil lamp. Despite his intention to read he began to yawn again and his eyelids continually dropped, making the words swim before his eyes. He tried drinking another cup of coffee, but it was no use. He had to admit defeat and go to bed.
It was about an hour later that his mother shook him. ‘Yannis, come down. Your Pappa’s had an accident.’
‘What? What do you mean?’ Yannis sat up on the mattress blinking rapidly in the light of the candle his mother held. ‘Let me put my trousers on.’
Maria led the way back downstairs, Yiorgo following them. The back door stood open, making the candle flame flicker in the draught.
‘Light the lamp, Mamma, and tell me what’s happened.’
‘Your Pappa went out to the yard and slipped over. He can’t get up.’
Yannis took the candle from his mother and walked over to where his father lay, his leg bent beneath him. ‘Pappa.’
A groan answered him.
‘Mamma, bring the lamp. Yiorgo, you light some more. I’ll go for the Widow.’
‘It’s the middle of the night, Yannis.’
‘No matter; I’ll go and wake her. Pappa’s hurt.’
Yannis walked carefully down the village street. It was rutted from the carts and in some places there were loose stones. It would not help anyone if he fell. He reached the Widow’s house and hammered on her door. Before he had gained her attention he had woken most of the neighbours. Clothes were hurriedly donned, oil lamps lit, and the villagers made their way up to the yard where Yannis’s father lay. The Widow, leaning heavily on Yannis’s arm, was one of the last to arrive. The small group opened a way for her and held their lamps so she could see her patient. Yannis senior opened his eyes. He tried to speak, but only a groan of pain passed his lips. The Widow forgot her age and knelt down beside him. Experienced hands ran over his legs.
‘It’s broken. I have to straighten it. Hold him tight.’
Firm hands pinioned his shoulders to the ground, then the world spun before him in a burning, searing flash of pain that ended in darkness and oblivion. When Yannis senior regained consciousness he was lying on his bed, his leg hurting intolerably. Maria was beside him, sponging his face to remove sweat and mud.
‘What happened?’
‘You fell over in the yard.’
Yannis senior struggled to sit up, the movement bringing a return of the excruciating pain.
‘Lie still.’ Maria placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Your leg’s broken. The Widow has splinted and bandaged it, but you must lay still.’
Her husband sank back. ‘I have to work.’
‘Don’t be silly. You can’t work with a broken leg! Try to sleep now. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ Maria settled herself beside him. She felt drained and exhausted, but sleep would not come. Thank goodness Yannis was home. He would have to stay until his father recovered, despite his schooling.
The morning saw them all heavy eyed and lethargic. Yannis senior lay in bed, his leg throbbing, whilst Maria hovered over him, trying to make him comfortable. Yannis waited for his father’s instructions.
‘You must take the rest of the boxes up to the fields. Spiriton will bring more back from the island when he returns from the first trip. Yiorgo can handle the donkey and the unloading. The rest of you stay in the fields and do the packing. Try to do ten trips or I’ll be losing money and so will Spiriton.’ He shifted un
comfortably. ‘I’ll try and get up tomorrow and help.’
‘Pappa, you have to be sensible. A broken leg takes weeks before you can stand on it again. You have to lay still. Yiorgo is sensible and knows how to run the farm. You tell us what you want done and we’ll manage.’
Yannis senior nodded wearily. ‘You’re good boys. Off you go. Yiorgo will need as much help as possible.’
Yiorgo was already on his way down the hill with the first load when Yannis arrived. Spiriton’s small boat was moored in the harbour, the men filling the water barrels whilst they waited. Yiorgo had to walk up and down with the donkey on every trip as she would walk with no one else. Whilst he was gone the others worked as hard and fast as they could to fill the boxes and be ready for his return. By mid-day they were exhausted by their efforts and glad of a break in the shelter of the trees. By the time the sun began its descent behind the hill Yannis realised they could do no more. Maria and Anna were stumbling, whilst Stelios was yawning and rubbing his eyes.
‘Home you go. See if you can help Mamma. Yiorgo and I will finish here.’
Gratefully they made their way down the hill towards their home. Yannis wished he could go with them and wondered how Yiorgo could continue for so long without a rest. It was completely dark by the time the two boys took the loaded cart down the hill for the last time that day. Maria was waiting for them.
‘Spiriton’s gone. He said it was too late to do any more. He’ll be back tomorrow.’
Yannis sighed with relief. ‘We can leave the cart loaded. Was Spiriton annoyed because we were late?’
Maria shook her head. ‘He understood. He thought you’d done well. Come as soon as you can, supper’s ready.’
As they washed the day’s grime from their hands and arms Yannis felt closer to his brother than ever before. ‘You love the farm, don’t you?’
Yiorgo nodded as he scrubbed at his hands.
‘You’ve worked harder than any of us,’ said Yannis, admiringly, ‘Yet you don’t seem tired.’
‘I’m used to it,’ Yiorgo answered simply.
‘You know Pappa wants you to have the farm when he’s old?’
Yiorgo looked up, delight written all over his face. ‘Did Pappa tell you that?’
Yannis nodded in confirmation.
‘I hoped he might, but there’s you and the others.’
‘You don’t have to worry about me. I couldn’t be a farmer. The girls will probably marry and Pappa’s talking of sending Stelios to school in Aghios Nikolaos. I know Pappa wants you to have it.’
Yiorgo beamed contentedly at his brother’s words.
Yannis senior was propped up in his bed listening to Anna’s account of the day in the fields. He beckoned Yannis to join them.
‘Yiorgo knows better than I how we managed,’ said Yannis, shaking his head. ‘He’s the boss.’
Yiorgo and his father discussed the number of boxes that had been dispatched to the island and the number they still had to fill the following day. ‘Don’t forget the potatoes have to be lifted, then the beans and peas need to be cleared away and the soil turned ready for replanting. I had hoped to clear some of that marginal land so I could plant there.’
Yiorgo smiled at his father. ‘Don’t worry, Pappa. We’ll try and finish the island tomorrow. The girls can strip the beans and peas whilst Yannis and Stelios help me with the potatoes. When we’ve done that we’ll start on the marginal land. We’ll have to turn it, once we’ve cleared rubbish. If we do a strip at a time it will be easy.’ Yiorgo spoke more confidently than he felt. He knew what heavy work it was lifting and gathering potatoes. He shot a glance at his older brother. Weariness showed in his every movement as he sat, elbows on the table, slowly eating his supper.
As soon as he had finished eating Yannis excused himself. ‘I’m going to bed. Wake me when you get up, Yiorgo.’
Yiorgo nodded. He had every intention of waking his brother at first light. Yiorgo began to plan out the day in his head whilst he ate.
It seemed to Yannis that he had no sooner laid on his mattress than Yiorgo, already dressed, was shaking him into wakefulness. ‘Not yet,’ he groaned.
‘Come on,’ urged Yiorgo. ‘There’s more to do than you realise.’
Obediently Yannis put his feet on the rag rug and groped for his clothes. He knew his brother was right and being tired was no excuse. It was barely light, but everyone was up. Maria busy packing their lunch to take up to the fields, whilst her mother poured coffee and tended to her husband.
Christmas Day came and time was taken from the fields to go to church to offer prayers for their father’s speedy recovery and thanks that his injury had been no worse. Yannis prayed particularly fervently for a speedy recovery, as he knew he would be expected to stay and help on the farm until his father was able to move around again. He was too tired most of the time to be bored, but a feeling of frustration was building up inside him.
Maria had baked a magnificent meal for their return and Yannis had instructed her to produce his special brandy from the cupboard for a toast to his family who were working so hard. Yannis decided this was the time to give the presents he had kept carefully hidden and watched with delight as they were examined and exclaimed over. The girls tied their scarves around their heads and danced sedately in the small amount of floor space available to them. Stelios was pleased Yannis regarded him as old enough to possess a penknife the same as his brother’s, but secretly he wished it had been a book. Yannis senior tried his belt for size as best he could from a sitting position, but Yannis’s greatest pleasure came from seeing his mother put on the slippers.
‘It’s like being bare-foot,’ she exclaimed time and again, putting them on and walking a few steps, then removing them to inspect the workmanship. Yannis watched with a smile on his face, which turned to amazement when his mother produced a gift for him from the cupboard. There were tears in Yannis’s eyes as he thanked her. Two soft, warm sweaters in lamb’s wool represented weeks of work, they were a real labour of love.
‘I couldn’t have asked for anything better,’ he said as he kissed her. ‘I shan’t have a cold the rest of the winter if I wear these.’
‘Try them on,’ insisted Maria. ‘I had to guess how much you’d grown.’
Yannis removed his jacket and pulled a sweater over his head.
‘What’s that?’ asked Anna, pointing to the lump on his neck.
‘Just my gland.’
‘Ugh,’ she shuddered. ‘It looks all horrid.’
‘Let me see.’ Maria was on her feet, examining her son’s neck. ‘What’s happened to it?’
‘The doctor took a sample from it when he took the stitches out of my head.’
‘What did the doctor say it was?’
‘He said he would send it to the hospital and if there was any problem they would write to me. I haven’t had a letter from them, so there’s nothing wrong.’
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Not a bit, in fact I’d forgotten about it,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Maybe if I grow a beard everyone will forget it’
Maria shuddered. ‘Not a beard, Yannis, only priests have beards.’
‘It would be nice not to have to worry about shaving. That reminds me,’ he ran a hand over his chin. ‘Yes, I did shave before going to church.’
‘I should hope you did! I hope you cleaned the mud off your shoes as well.’
Yannis senior clicked his worry beads impatiently. ‘Pour me some more brandy. It’s Christmas, even if I am laying here with a broken leg.’
‘Not for me, Pappa. I have enough trouble getting up. Any more to drink and I’ll stay in bed all day.’ The work in the fields was exhausting Yannis.
‘I have presents for you all,’ Maria spoke shyly. ‘They’re only little things. I did them during the summer when we had time to laze around. I’ll get them.’
She returned with two sheets of cardboard which she laid carefully on the table. Betw
een them was a collection of sketches she had made of each member of the family engaged in a task. At the bottom of the pile was a poor attempt at drawing her head and shoulders.
‘How did you do that?’ asked Yannis.
‘I kept looking in the mirror. It was very difficult and I haven’t done it very well.’ She seemed embarrassed and went to replace the cardboard.
‘I like it. Could I have it to take back with me?’ asked Yannis and was surprised to see a look of horror in his sister’s eyes.
‘No! Oh, no, Yannis. Not this one. I’ll do another for you. A better one, if you want me to.’
Yannis was amused. ‘Who’s this one for?’
Maria blushed as scarlet as the scarf Yannis had given her. ‘A friend.’
‘What’s his name?’ teased Yannis.
‘I’m not saying.’
‘It’s Babbis,’ said Anna, without looking up from the cat’s cradle she was playing. ‘You know he’s courting her.’
Yannis did know, in fact the whole village knew that Babbis visited Maria. ‘I like Babbis, I’m pleased for you, Maria.’
‘He’s a good worker.’ Yiorgo measured everyone’s merit by their ability to work. ‘He’s really built that place up since his father died. Worked all hours and weathers.’
Maria returned the cardboard container to her bedroom. It was embarrassing to have Babbis spoken of in such a way. Yannis senior pursed his lips. He considered his oldest daughter too young to marry yet. Besides, once she had married he would have Anna pestering him to let her do the same.
Stelios and Anna were sent to bed, whilst the other three played a game of cards. Yannis found it hard to concentrate and lost game after game until he finally pushed them away from him. ‘I can’t tell one card from another. I’m too tired.’ He picked up the two new sweaters. ‘Thank you, Mamma.’ he said as he kissed her. ‘I’m off to bed. Don’t forget to wake me, Yiorgo.’