‘What time is it?’ I asked, I hadn’t the slightest clue. He pointed to a large clock on the wall that I hadn’t even noticed.
‘Twenty to two,’ he smiled and I lightly pressed my palm into my forehead at not noticing the sizeable silver clock.
‘We still have the whole day ahead of us. What time will Gaia be home?’ I asked but I was quite sure I knew the answer.
‘She won’t. Well, not tonight anyway. When are you seeing your mother again? I assume you will want to?’ As he spoke, I was studying the contours of his face, his prominent straight nose, bone structure you could cut diamonds with and his fuzzy facial hair softening the masculine lines.
‘Tomorrow,’ I replied. ‘I don’t think I can stay, I don’t have anything with me.’
‘You’re kidding,’ he said, looking seriously disheartened.
‘I am kidding, I brought a little bag just in case. Not that it’s a big deal, it’s not like I’m staying far away.’ I smiled.
‘Well, well, teasing me huh?’ Raising a bushy eyebrow in my direction he put his plate down just to turn and pounce on me like a cat, making me scream with laughter.
‘Do you know what?’ he said while kissing my neck and pinning me to the bed.
‘WHAT?!’ I erupted between giggles. He was still intentionally tickling me but now with his tongue on my neck and his hair on my chin.
‘I feel you had your way with me, and now, it’s my turn.’ His hand travelled along the length of my leg tickling my abdomen on the way to my breast. He licked and nibbled his way across my body making me squirm and wriggle at his will. Eventually, his mouth settled between my thighs with one arm wrapped around my waist locking me to him, not that I wanted to be anywhere else. He knew what he was doing. I felt as though I broke under his touch, broke into grains of Greek sand and disappeared into the sheets. He gave me only seconds to pull myself back together before wrapping my legs about his waist while he held mine and lured me to him. He looked me in the eye the entire time, fingers entangled in the hair behind my ear while stroking my clavicle with his large thumb. He took his time. He built me up all over again and we watched each other surrender to the warmth of each other’s touch.
After spending the whole day exploring one another, we decided to go back to Taste Me for dinner. The name felt incredibly apt given the events of the day. I had a little giggle to myself but didn’t say anything to Anton. Clearly he was thinking the same thing as he indicated towards the signage and gave me an exaggerated wink and tap on the bottom. The childish comedy induced a sigh and a small laugh that I gave up unwillingly. We ordered cocktails on our way past the bar and sat down to watch another stunning Corfu sunset.
‘So, who taught you how to be so good?’ I quizzed with a grin and he burst into a booming laugh making people turn to look in our direction.
‘That’s not what I thought you were going to say!’ He kissed my hand over the table, ‘I’ve only been with three women, so you could say one of them, but I don’t think it works like that. Each experience is individual. None is the same. Sometimes you just connect with someone and your body responds to them.’ His green eyes looked at me like loaded guns with black eyelashes framing the barrels. How was this man so often right? ‘I agapi eine agapi, den exei exigisi.’ He spoke very slowly, but I still didn’t understand him. He was gently rubbing my hand and looking at my face.
‘What did you say?’ I asked with both a longing and a fear to know the answer. He just smiled, kissed my hand again and shook his head. We drank cocktails, ate delicious food and enjoyed each other’s company. It had been a perfect day.
Chapter 15
I woke up early. I wanted to know my mother more and desperately wanted to help her. It was time she was enabled to strive for a normal life. She hadn’t deserved what had happened to her. A mildly rebellious teen she may have been, but her life was dragged off the rails and I wanted to set it all straight, as straight as I could. I kissed Anton goodbye, got in my car and made my way to her home. I only stopped to pick up fresh flowers for her.
When I arrived outside the house, I thought I should remember to offer to repaint her door and window frames, the blue paint was peeling off all over. Everything was rundown; it didn’t matter, I’d help to sort it out. I knocked with confidence.
‘You knocked! You realise this is Greece. Even when Adam was alive we didn’t lock the door and he was the most paranoid person I know of. He was also the only person I knew much of, of course. So not a lot of competition.’ She smiled at me. I felt a little scandalised about her blasé joke, but I suppose it was her life, he was her normal for twenty-four years while he was alive, maybe not her choice but all she knew. I smiled back at her anyway.
‘I forgot myself and reverted to my English ways, sorry about that.’ I passed her the bunch of roses I’d managed to buy. My second gift for her. I wanted her to know she was wanted. ‘These are for you. I hope you like them. Sorry it’s not much, I don’t know what sort of thing you like.’ I felt myself go a little pink. Silly really, but I couldn’t help it.
‘That’s incredibly kind of you.’ I noticed the photo and frame had taken centre stage on the heavy sideboard. It was funny how even in this very new parent-child dynamic, being a child was exactly how I felt very quickly and easily.
She had made a real effort; if I were to guess, she was wearing her Sunday best. An ice blue round-neck linen dress. It made her look like a shapeless rectangle but it was still pretty on her slim frame. Based on the life she had lived, trying to be an androgynous rectangle may have made life easier perhaps. She was tiny, a little waif of a woman, pretty and endearing like a soft little bird. Her hair was neatly tied into a bun on her head, wrapped in a navy blue scrunchy. All the blues brought out her eyes, blue like Grandpapa’s. I followed her into the kitchen.
‘Would you help me with these please? I thought we could eat a brunch in the fresh air. If you’d like?’ she said, pointing at blue plates filled with pitta bread, tzatziki, honey feta and homemade fairy cakes.
‘Sounds perfect.’ Picking up a couple of plates I made my way to the table outside.
We sat down together ready to eat and share more information about our lives. But instead we sat quietly. Just trying desperately to get used to each other’s company after the tortuous conversations of our last meal together.
‘I thought you might like to see some photos of Grandmama and Grandpapa a few years ago in Corfu,’ I announced while scrolling through my Facebook page to find the right album. ‘Here!’ I passed her my phone with a gorgeous photo I’d taken of them both. Grandpapa with a beer in hand, thick chalk-grey hair swept to one side. Grandmama with a glass of white wine, with red-orange lipstick to match her floral top. They must have been late seventies in the photo. They both looked fabulous, vibrant, happy. They’d had my mother late, Grandmama had been thirty-seven and Grandpapa had been thirty-nine when they had her. I remember my mama telling me she had been cursed with miscarriages, but it wasn’t something she discussed with me much. She was only closed on the subject of all the children she had lost. That included my mother. She had been studying the photo intently for a while before she brought herself to say anything.
‘They look so happy. I have missed them terribly over the years. It’s strange to think this was in Corfu. So close and yet so far.’ My mother seemed so different to our first meeting. As though our time together was working to change her outlook on life or perhaps her attitude? She definitely seemed more relaxed than ever before. Maybe the weight had been lifted and there was nothing between us, nothing holding us back.
‘Do you have any photos of you when you were little?’ She passed back my phone with wide eyes.
‘Not many of me. I have posted a couple on socials in the past…’ I started to scroll frantically wanting to please her. ‘Here! It’s another holiday snap, we were in Crete, I had just found a crab shell and it qui
ckly became my pride and joy, no idea why, but that’s it there’ – I prodded at my phone – ‘there in my hand. I was a slightly odd child.’ I laughed but she didn’t. She was looking at the photo with a glazed-over smile, staring, eyes unmoving.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t get to see you grow up. What cute little girl, I’m so grateful to see this, to see you as a child. How old were you there?’
‘I think I’m about four or maybe five. I’m grateful to see you now! I’m not going to lie to you, I have found it hard, coming to terms with the reality of what happened. At least in my head you’d always been happy away from me. I’d never even considered the contrary to be true…’ My words trailed off as I took a sip of water. I needed to turn the conversation to something more positive again. ‘I was wondering if you would like to come with me to Corfu town this week?’ I didn’t want to look at her in case she said no. There was a long pause and I eventually had to look at her. Her face seemed different today, I think perhaps she was somehow as determined as me to make up for lost time.
‘Let’s just worry about enjoying today,’ she said and passed me a cake. Perhaps an outing was a bit of a push for someone who didn’t have a normal capacity for socialising.
‘These cakes are delicious, you know, you’re likely the strongest person I know. To put up with everything he put you through. I’m proud that you’re my mum,’ I said, looking down at my cake, holding the tiny casing, desperately trying to keep all the crumbs from falling away. It was the first time I’d called her “Mum”. I glanced across at her. She wasn’t smiling. Far from it. Her eyes had misted over and were facing towards the tiny grave of my tiny brother.
‘I’m ashamed of it all. That I couldn’t be there for you. I feel endlessly guilty that I didn’t tell my parents about your father when I had the chance. That I was too afraid to send a letter home. I was weak. I missed out on seeing my parents one last time because of my fear and shame even when he had passed. I’m, I’m weak. I’m so sorry for that.’ Her voice had become no more than a whisper, floating along like a butterfly tickling my mind with her despair. A chill ran along my spine. Her words, her tone, her expressions were chilling.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ I blurted with an awkward laugh. ‘They’d understand, I understand!’ I was doing my best to bring her back to me. She snapped out of her little trance and looked right at me.
‘I guess we’ll never know. We’ll never know a lot of things.’ She shrugged and took the plates back to the house. Perhaps I was pushing her a little too hard again. I stayed for an hour or two more, telling her stories of my childhood. Answering questions about how old I was when I took my first steps, had my first boyfriend, what I got in my GCSEs, where I studied my degree, my favourite food, childhood pets and friends.
‘Did Adam have any good points? It’s been hard finding out the type of man that fathered me.’ I looked off into the bottom of the garden, trying to avoid looking at my brother’s tiny grave. It was a very small garden, but I narrowed my eyes as though I were looking into a far-off hopeful land.
‘He was an intelligent man, relatively handsome. He could charm anyone he liked. He always had a good job because he had a good head for numbers and statistics. That’s a lot of good points I think.’
‘I do like maths and statistics, that’s pretty much half of my job.’
‘You definitely get that from him. I always liked reading and history at school. I have one photo of us if you’d like to see it?’ She had barely finished before I was interjecting with a please. I didn’t know what I was looking for or what I might find, but I needed to look either way. She got up and I was trotting by her heels like an obedient horse in dressage.
‘He asked someone to take it, it’s of both of us from before you were born. I think I would have been two or three months pregnant. He took me out for Italian food and actually, I think he asked the waiter to take it.’ She was scrabbling through the sideboard in the sitting room as she spoke. ‘Here, here it is. That’s us.’ I carefully took the photo as though it were a ticking bomb that might leave me scarred for life. I looked down at sixteen-year-old Lil and twenty-eight, or maybe twenty-nine-year-old Adam. Other than incredibly dated clothing and hair, they looked to be a normal couple out on a date. I don’t really know what I’d expected. They were sat with bowls of spaghetti and glasses of wine. Sixteen. Adam looked so normal, handsome to plain in looks. His face wasn’t memorable in any particular way. You wouldn’t suspect who he was under his smile. He was quite fair, almost angelic in appearance. Round blue eyes and shaggy, not-quite-curtains-not-quite-mullet hair with a round face to match his eyes. My mother looked happy, vibrant and beautiful, with a timid smile on pink lipstick. Completely different to the woman I had met, although today she looked as though she were trying to have more of a confident air, just like that hopeful, pregnant sixteen-year-old. I hoped so. She deserved to have the chance to move on. ‘You can keep it,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I didn’t really know if I wanted it. I wanted her, but not really him.
‘Everyone should have at least one photo of their parents. Whoever they were.’ She looked convinced in her decision. Perhaps she was right.
‘Okay, well, thank you. I suppose I had better go, but I’ll be back in a few days if that’s okay?’ We walked out to the car for our goodbye. She held my hands and looked me up and down, taking me all in. I stood still for my appraisal hoping I was measuring up accordingly. She then held me so tight to her bony frame, I was afraid she might break. As she released me from her hold, she stroked my cheek and softly kissed the other one.
‘I’ve always loved you and I always will. Appearing in my life has been a blessing I’ll always be grateful for, back then and here today.’ She spoke confidently, almost rehearsed, then went to stand in the doorway to wave me farewell. I would be back in a couple of days. There was no rush. I had found her now and I wasn’t about to let her go.
I drove straight back to Anton pleased with the success of my morning. He was waiting outside his door, leaning on the wall with his arms folded and one eyebrow raised. I opened my car door in line with him and shot an eyebrow right back at him.
‘How long have you been standing there like that?’ I said with a smirk. He pulled his phone from his shorts pocket to check.
‘About ten minutes, I took a guess from when I got your message.’ Grinning, he stepped forwards looking me up and down, hesitating his eyes on my feet. ‘Do you own any sensible shoes?’ I felt mildly offended by the enquiry. I joined his gaze and inspected my pretty pink flip-flops.
‘It depends on your definition of sensible…’ I shot him a little grimace.
‘Why am I not surprised?’ He huffed sarcastically thrusting his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
‘I can walk in these. Look they have an ankle strap.’ I wiggled an ankle in his direction.
‘Are you sure? I’d like to take you somewhere and it involves some walking.’ He was eyeing me dubiously, pressing his mouth tightly shut, in consideration.
‘I’ll be fine!’ I demanded.
‘Oh well,’ he shrugged, ‘you’re only small, I can always throw you over my shoulder.’ He started towards me as though he was going to lift me like a fireman.
Loudly, I objected to the whole thing. ‘I’m not small and you’re not to lift me!’ I was laughing again. Always able to make me smile, Anton seemingly could do no wrong. It’s not that I needed him to save me, only that his presence gave me the strength to feel free to live again.
‘Okay then Melodie-Mou, have it your way.’ He slipped his fingers between strands of my hair and kissed me.
We got into his car and I paid no attention to where we were. I just let him drive. We stopped near some bins in what looked like a lay-by.
‘Beautiful…’ I uttered sarcastically as I turned my nose up. The sun was roasting the contents into a vile mixture of rotten veg a
nd animal faeces.
‘You’re welcome.’ He bowed equally sarcastically. ‘This way my girl, between the bins and the bird carcass.’ He looked up from his bow and gave a little wink. Grabbing a picnic basket from the car he then led me in between the trees. He had been right; it was a little bit heavy going in my flip-flops. I was determined not to admit it.
‘Do you want a lift yet?’ he teased.
‘No! I’m fine thank you. Look, a little lizard!’ I pointed by way of distraction. I could tell he knew, from his sideways glance.
‘Come on’ – he stopped and crouched down – ‘hop on! Seriously! A piggy back will be easier than watching you wince every time you stand on anything.’ He indicated with his head as I hesitated. I went for it. I slightly hitched up my skirt and pounced on for the ride through the trees and the brush.
‘Don’t worry it’s not far now anyway.’ It was another sweaty afternoon in Corfu which was accentuated by having my body pressed against Anton’s. He was carrying me and a basket while traipsing up a slight incline. I was pleased I’d hitched a ride though. I had my arms around his neck and his hair in my face; it smelt faintly of exotic flowers. I was enjoying being so high up, bounding through the fruit trees occasionally dodging a branch. I always thought I was tall but he was exceptional. If we had children, they could be really tall too.
‘How tall was Katerina?’
‘Maybe five foot five, why?’
‘Just, Gaia doesn’t seem to be exceptionally tall like you, although I guess there is still time.’
‘I hope she doesn’t end up as tall as me.’ With that I was back to daydreaming as I was jostled along. It was nice to relax and take it all in, the crunching of Anton’s feet mixed with the buzz of insects, sounds that you could hide in, you could be audible and still not be heard amongst the busy mosaic of sound. I pressed my cheek into Anton’s hair, soft and prickly all once. At that moment I had an urge to say I love you. I had been denying my feelings but at that second, surrounded by natures noises, my mind quietly told me the truth. I didn’t say it of course. I pushed it to one side, I wasn’t ready to believe in love.
The Little Blue Door Page 16