Daughter of the Winds (11 page)

“
The hospital? We-drive-Helene-to-the-hospital?” Pru asked annunciating each word slower, clearer and louder in order to get the point across.

“
Phfft!” Mrs Kostas waved her hand in a show of dismissal and chuckled dryly.

Turning to the yo
unger woman, Pru continued, “Helene, I really do think it would be better if you were in a hospital. Do you have a car? Helene? Mrs Kostas? Is anyone listening to me? Oh bloody hell!”

Pru glanced at the open door.
It was so tempting just to leave. She briefly thought that no one here was in a fit state to stop her leaving if she chose to. She looked from the door to Mrs Kostas and Helene. Of course, she thought, it might make things unnecessarily difficult with her landlady if she were to leave now.

Resigning herself to staying, for a while at least, Pru decided that it couldn
’t be too difficult to deliver a baby. Women had been doing it for years. They would probably be so grateful for her intervention they would most likely end up naming the baby after her if it was a girl.

“
Okay then, I’ll stay. But don’t expect me to be down ‘that’ end. Okay?”

Time passed and the shadows lengthened.
Cicadas began their nightly serenade but the heat refused to abate. Pru was holding a cold cloth on the back of her neck to cool herself down. She was just wondering about a nice cool bath when Helene screamed. Her cries echoed around the tiled house but the baby resolutely refused to come. Mrs Kostas mimed pulling Helene onto her feet and Pru stood to walk her around the room. After a few minutes of hobbling and back rubbing the labouring woman’s legs failed her. She fell to all fours on the knotted rug, howling like a trapped animal.

Pru still thought that Helene would be better off in a hospital but had given up trying to push her point.
She was starting to worry about the wearying dark-skinned woman. She didn’t look she was going to have any energy left to push with. Pru was beginning to wonder if something was wrong. Did labour usually take this long? She had nothing to compare it to, but Mrs Kostas didn’t seem worried.

The smell of bitter sweat mingled with the aroma of the pungent warm bushes of oregano by the open door.
Somewhere nearby someone was cooking lamb and Pru thought of her own empty stomach. Would it be rude to excuse herself for five minutes to get a drink and something to eat? She had no idea how long she had been there. She wondered whether she could leave now but she could not tear herself away from the combined horror and beauty of what was occurring in front of her. Pru hadn’t really stopped to think about what was going to happen when it was time for her own baby to be born. This was partly due to fear and partly due to Pru’s habit of living entirely in the moment.

The woman who had sat beside her only hours earlier with serenity and grace was now on her knees with her face tear
- and sweat-stained. The usually smooth skeins of chestnut hair were plastered to her forehead and hanging lank over her cheeks. Part of Pru was fascinated to see a birth first hand, seeing as she would be experiencing it herself very soon. But there was the fearful voice inside her head telling her to run. She was scared of what she might see. The pain that Helene was in made her look inhuman at times and Pru had whispering doubts about whether the young woman would survive the ordeal.

Helene closed her eyes and started rocking back and forth.
She began to hum tunelessly as if oblivious to Pru’s presence. Mrs Kostas was back by her side urging her onto the cushions she had placed upon the floor. She propped her up against the sofa and covered her once more with the sheet. Turning to Pru with the measured confidence of a woman who has witnessed such things time and again, she beckoned to her.

“
Is time. Towels. Come.”

Pru grabbed for the towels and held them out towards Mrs Kostas but the older woman ignored her and examined Helene.
She said something in Greek to Helene but she shook her head.

Mrs Kostas took Helene
’s shoulders firmly and looked straight into her eyes “
Nay.
”

Helene shrugged and nodded with reluctance
, “
Nay.
”

Helene reached for Pru
’s hand again while Mrs Kostas took her place between Helene’s knees.

This time when the contraction seized her the atmosphere had changed.
This time it was not something to be fought but to be harnessed. Helene dropped her chin to her chest and strained.

“
That’s it Helene. That’s it. Not long now. Nearly there. You’re doing so well. Good girl. Great job.” Pru was aware of the fact that she was gabbling and that Helene probably wasn’t hearing a word she was saying but she had to talk to steady her own nerves. Moments later Mrs Kostas was beckoning her with a slight smile. “See?”

Pru, in spite of all her senses telling her not to, looked where she was pointing and could see the top of the baby
’s head protruding from the young Greek woman.

“
Oh my God! I can see it, Helene. I really can. I can see the baby’s head!” Pru shrieked.

The wonder at seeing a new life overcame her revulsion at the blood and mucus.
“Not long now, Helene. Really.”

But twenty minutes later and Helene
’s pushing was beginning to lose its power and she was visibly flagging. Mrs Kostas’ Greek had now taken on a more urgent tone but Helene was weakly shaking her head. The experienced Greek woman took out a pair of scissors from the pocket in the front of her apron and nodded at Pru. Pru instinctively knew what she had to do and eased her arm around Helene’s shoulders and gripped firmly. She looked away but squeezed tighter as Helene brayed and Mrs Kostas cut the skin that was impeding the child’s birth.

Helene sagged into Pru
’s shoulder with a groan. “Why does it not come?”

“
It will now. It will now. Come on, I know you can do this.” Pru poured the soothing words into her ear.

There was a focused intent etched on Mrs Kostas
’ face as she worked between Helene’s legs and then, with an almighty scream, Helene sat upright and squeezed with every last drop of strength in her body.

Leaning forward with her Pru was able to see as the baby emerged from its sheath and into its
grandmother’s capable hands. The baby was mottled grey with a dark plastering of hair on its head and although its mouth was open no sound emitted from it. Pru faltered. Was it alive? Had it been starved of oxygen for too long?

Helene held out her arms as the baby was deposited onto her stomach and
, as she did so, the baby started to bleat, shakily at first but then with more vigour. Pru laughed with relief and sank back onto her heels holding her own baby-bump.

Still tired but now radiant and glowing, Helene peered down at the wriggling bundle in her arms and soothed it in soft Greek words.
Tears of relief and joy trickled down her cheeks. That she loved this child was already evident in the way her eyes glittered and shone with maternal love.

Pru watched in amazement as the little hands opened and closed around Helene
’s finger. It kicked its slender legs trying out its new-found space. It was almost impossible to perceive that moments ago this child hadn’t been in this world. Mrs Kostas took the baby from the mother and wiped it down before wrapping it loosely in a pale lemon sheet.

“
Oh wait! I didn’t ask. What is it? Boy or a girl?”

“
Girl. Here,” replied Mrs Kostas and handed her the baby as she went back to checking on Helene. Pru couldn’t believe that she was holding a tiny person in her arms. She was so delicate and light.

“
A girl! Oh, wonderful! She is gorgeous, Helene. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. What will you call her?”

Helene looked up
, her colour having settled now and her serenity having returned. “I wait for my husband. He give name.”

“
Here,” said Pru reluctantly. “Hold your daughter.”

Pru didn
’t doubt for a minute that Helene’s husband would return safely. After what she had observed tonight she was sure that anything was possible. She stroked Helene’s head and laid her hand on the baby’s head before standing up. It took a moment for the blood to come back into her legs, and as she stood there looking down on the maternal scene before her and the three generations of females bonded by blood, she felt a sudden, uncharacteristic pang of sadness at her estrangement from her own mother.

“
Efcharisto
. Thank you,” breathed Helene with a hoarse voice from the screaming and exertion.

“
No. Not at all. I should be thanking you. It’s amazing. To have seen this... well, it is just breath-taking. She’s really beautiful. I’ll leave you now, but if there’s anything you need, you know where I am, okay?”

Helene was nodding but she was not taking he
r eyes off her baby. Mrs Kostas was already cleaning the floor and tidying up as Pru stepped outside into the warm night air. Reluctantly she started towards her own apartment wondering what time it was and whether Eddie would be home yet. She had been part of something amazing and soon she was going to be welcoming her own baby into the world. She couldn’t wait to tell Eddie what had happened tonight. She could scarcely believe it herself that she had helped deliver a baby.

The sound of her key in the lock clattered around the t
iled apartment. Pru strode into the living room in the half-light, kicking something solid that had been left on the floor. She had completely forgotten about the parcel Mrs Kostas had delivered earlier. She stooped to pick it up, intrigued to find out what it was, but found herself to be woozy with hunger.

“
Food first, then presents,” she told herself.

Completely in the shadows now, the little kitchen was almost dark.
Without switching the kitchen light on she opened the fridge door and illuminated the small room. As she had never made it to the shop there was more space than food on the shelves. There were eggs, but she didn’t feel like cooking them. Apart from that, there was some cheese and a few of Betty’s tomatoes. That would have to do. She would cook Eddie an omelette when he got back from work. It wasn’t quite the romantic meal that she had planned but Eddie would understand when she told him about her afternoon.

Placing the
cheese on the kitchen side, Pru turned the cold water tap on and took a glass from the draining board. She put her other hand underneath the flowing water to test the temperature while her mind meandered around what had happened earlier. She was still marvelling at the memory of the sight of Helene’s baby making her way into the world when her heart lurched at the sound of the clean break of glass followed instantaneously by the thud of the plaster behind her as it fell from the wall in a neat circle. It wasn’t till she heard the gunshots, though, that she reacted.

She flung herself down to the floor as qui
ckly as she could and held her breath waiting for any further sounds. In the intensity of the afternoon and evening it had been easy for Pru to forget that the Greeks and the Turks had been at war with each other. It looked like the ceasefire hadn’t lasted long.

“
Oh God! Helene and the baby!” she thought and started to move towards the kitchen door on all fours. She felt something warm on her hand and looked down. Puzzled by the amount of thick liquid on her palm, she turned her hand one way and then the other and saw something dark and sticky on it. Bringing it up to her face in the dimness she realised, with a jolt, that it looked like blood. She held it in front of her face in the weak light wondering if she had she cut her hand on the glass without noticing. She didn’t know whether it was because of the sight of blood but she was starting to feel weak. She started on her way towards the door again but this time her legs didn’t want to move. Sitting back on her heels Pru looked down at inky crimson mark on her dress. The stain throbbed and seeped over her stomach as she tried to brush it away with her hand. It was growing with every beat of her heart.

The panic rose up on Pru like a tidal wave and she screamed out
, “Noooo! Help me! Someone help me. My baby! Oh God, please. No!”

Chapter
nine

The sun was in full dominance by the time I woke up. The crickets, already drunk on sunshine, were singing lazily as I emerged from my cocoon. It was beautifully warm as I let myself be drenched by the full light of the day. I felt the release of the previous night’s tension as if I had just sunk into a hot, deep bath. I pulled on yesterday’s clothes and headed up towards the main house. Antheia was waving to me as I crossed the courtyard.

“
Kalimera
, Leni. You sleep well?”

“
Yes, thank you, like a log.”

“
A log? A tree? You English are so funny,” she laughed. “Come, there is coffee.”

I tucked into the breakfast eagerly
thinking about where I needed to go today while Antheia bustled around the kitchen.

“
Today is Sunday,” announced Antheia. She said it like this was important and I looked up at her expecting more, “And you help me in the kitchen today.”

“
Of course,” I said, smiling, hoping that my face didn’t betray the fact that I had completely forgotten. “What can I do to help?”

“
We will be making kleftico for the whole family today. You start by peeling the potatoes there.”

“
Okay.” I stood up decisively. My island explorations would have to wait until tomorrow. “So, talk me through the kleftico.”

“
You have cooked it before?”

“
No, but I have eaten it in restaurants.”

“
Pah!” she scoffed “If you have not eaten it with a Cypriot family then you have not eaten kleftico.” She chuckled to herself. “Lamb. Here, this place.” She pointed to her shoulder. “Very important. You cook slowly for very long time. It go on the top of tomatoes, onions, many rosemary and salt. Turn every hour of the clock. Cook all day long if you can. When I was little girl, we cook in big pots in the ground on hot, hot coals. Potatoes around the meat and they cook in the lamb taste. It is favourite food for my children.”

“
Sounds lovely.”

“
There is one other dish that we shall be cooking: afelia. You know this one?”

“
I’ve heard of it, but never eaten it.” I puzzled over the word. My mind conjured up pork, but apart from that I fell short of a recipe.

“
Very special. It is made with coriander seeds. I will show you when the kleftico is in the oven.”

We peeled the potatoes in silence, Antheia listening out for the sounds of her children.

“You will meet my husband at dinner.”

“
Looking forward to it. You have a lovely family.”

“
Thank you. My boys born at same time. One, two. I do not know your word for this.”

“
Twins,” I say.

“
Yes, twins. They make me work hard but I am happy to be blessed twice. You children?”

“
No. I don’t.”

“
But you want,” she stated. I turned to face her, my surprise at her bluntness written across my bewildered face. “You are sad that you not have baby. It is not difficult to know this.” She answered the question in my eyes.

I looked at her silently
, not quite knowing what to say. She smiled gently at me and placed her hand on my arm. “You not look at the children. You not ask names.”

“
Oh, sorry. It’s just–” I began in embarrassment.

“
No. Not be sorry. English people, they talk about weather and children. You do not. You have bad things in your head. I can see through your eyes. You have mother’s eyes so you will have child. Now – potatoes,” she said, dropping my arm and returning to work.

Antheia didn
’t seem to need me to either confirm or deny her assertions. I admired her quiet confidence and got on with peeling the potatoes as instructed, leaving them in a bowl looking like newly shorn sheep.

The remainder
of the morning passed companionably as she taught me how to make afelia and other Greek Cypriot delicacies. I wrote everything down as she told me. I had struck gold. Clare, my editor, was going to love all of this. I took some photos of Antheia preparing the food for authenticity to accompany my article before she headed off to church. I, however, went back to my little cottage armed with home-made lemonade and a plate of sliced tomatoes scattered with small, pungent, purple-green leaves of Greek basil and the frosting of angular sea salt bergs.

I fell asleep for perhaps a couple of hours and was woken by the little girl, Anna, smiling at my door.

“Hello, Anna. Is it dinner time?”

I mimed eating and she nodded.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Anna stood there and carried on smiling.

“I need to get changed,” I said, pointing at my clothes.

Anna nodded and then came into the room and sat on the end of my bed.
It didn’t look like she was going anywhere without me.

Feeling self-conscious and somewhat hurried, I pulled on my favourite linen trousers and a plain white vest top.
I liberally sprayed on the Jo Malone perfume that Dom had bought me for Christmas and applied mascara and tinted lip-gloss. A long way from perfect but it would have to do.

The little girl took my hand and led me back up to the main house where an unexpected sight greeted me.
The courtyard was filled with tables laid end-to-end and covered with white and red checked tablecloths. There were about thirty mismatched seats around the tables. At one end of the long table, a group of six people sat in the shade talking loudly in English. I assumed, correctly as it turned out, that they were the holiday guests. With their backs to me sat five dark men of similar build with grey streaks in their hair, who could only be Greek. There were six children running around the table chasing a Tabby cat and there were voices raised in laughter coming from the kitchen. Anna slipped from my hand and ran to the other children leaving me standing in the middle of the courtyard wondering what I should do. Did I join the other English people or sit with the Greek men? Neither option seemed quite right so instead I headed to the kitchen to see if I could help Antheia with anything.

As I stepped into the relatively dark kitchen
, a figure collided with me.

“
I am so sorry,” I spluttered before looking up into the dark brown eyes of Stefanos. He looked amused.

“
No problem,” he said and he breezed past me into the glaring sun.

It hadn
’t occurred to me for one minute that he might be here today. I really didn’t want to have to talk to him again. I rubbed at my arm where we had touched skin on skin, trying to brush the intimate sensation away. Antheia appeared before me filling my empty hands with two bowls of salad.

“
I fell asleep. Sorry. I... er... wasn’t expecting so many people.”

She laughed good-naturedly.
“To the table.”

“
Okay.”

I turned back to the table and looked at the sight before me.
If I had my entire family around for dinner I still would only have to borrow one chair. And that’s not because I have lots of chairs. Including Dom’s parents, brother and sister-in-law we would still only number seven. But I wouldn’t be nipping round to the neighbours any time soon to borrow chairs as the only time my mum and Dom’s parents had been in the same room was at our wedding and it wasn’t likely to happen again any time soon.

I managed to put the bowls of salad far away from where
Stefanos sat so that I didn’t have to make small talk with him and then went back into the kitchen as lines of women came out with arms laden with food.

Antheia gave me a pile of plates to distribute.
“Come” she said.

I followed her out to the tables where the noise levels were almost deafening and placed the plates in front of each person in turn.
Antheia took my hand and led me to a strong-looking man at the head of the table.

“
This is my husband, Andreas,” she said.

The man stood and kissed me warmly. It felt mildly inappropriate as I felt his warm wet lips on the corner of my mouth

“
We are pleased to have you,” he boomed. He turned to the assembled table and said something in fluid Greek. The family looked up, some waved and others smiled their greetings to me.

I murmured
“Yassas,” feeling redness tip-toe up my neck on course for my cheeks.

Andreas said something to the assembled family
, which must have meant something like “Tuck in” because a small cheer went up and everyone grabbed for the nearest food on overladen platters. I went for the empty chair closest to me and had already sat down before I realised that I was sitting next to Stefanos. He didn’t look at me, even though he must have felt my presence, and began talking animatedly to the elderly man on his left. On the other side of me was a smiling woman who kept putting food on my plate and nodding but obviously had as much knowledge of English as I did of Greek.

I was glad to able to concentrate on the food in front of me.
I had forgotten to bring my notebook but knew I wouldn’t forget any part of this banquet. The kleftico was melt-in-the-mouth tender and could have been carved with a spoon. The potatoes were a mouthful of gloriously smooth nuttiness that needed next to no chewing before they dissolved creamily in my mouth. The feta cheese in the salad added the salty sharpness to counteract the richness of the lamb but then the pork afelia sent taste buds into spasm at the sourness of the sauce. I savoured each mouthful to make sure I could memorise each dish when it came to writing it up later.

The fact that one of my table neighbours was ignoring me and the o
ther was simply unable to hold a conversation with me afforded me the luxury of being able to look around at my companions. I spotted George easily with his overblown hand gestures and hearty laugh. He waved when he saw me looking at him and I smiled back at him with genuine fondness. Antheia was sitting opposite him with one of the twins on her knee. The woman next to her had to be her sister. Though the other woman looked older, the profile was identical. How strange it must be to be able to look into someone else’s eyes and see how you will look in ten years’ time.

The old woman who usually sat o
ut front was now bent over the table with lamb grease on her bristled chin. There was still no hint of a smile on her face or a ghost of any warmth in her eyes, even though she was surrounded by her children, grandchildren and perhaps even great-grandchildren.

“
That’s Yaiyai.”

I turned a startled look at
Stefanos.

“
Sorry? Did you say something?”

“
Yaiyai. She is my mother’s grandmother. We all call her Yaiyai. It is Greek for grandmother.”

“
I see. Why doesn’t she look very happy?”

“
You like looking into other people’s business don’t you?”

I mentally kicked myself.
I’d only said a dozen words to him but I’d already managed to offend him.

“
Sorry. I didn’t mean to... I just wondered, that’s all. I thought it was me. She spits at the ground when she sees me coming.”

His upper body shook with the effort it took not to laugh out loud.
“It isn’t you,” he smiled and shook his head. “It is all English people.”

“
Really? Why? What have the English done to offend her?”

“
Not just her, many people of her generation feel the same. They hate the English.” Then, smugness clinging to his face like an overpowering aftershave, he added, “You don’t know as much about the history of Cyprus as you think you do, do you?”

“
Apparently not. It appears that there is a lot I don’t know as I’m sure you’ll be quick to point out.”

“
Obviously, I am happy to help.”

We both went back to the meals in front of us.
This time it was Stefanos’ turn to pour us the wine.

“
If you would like to know more about the history of Cyprus I would be glad to tell you about it.”

“
Thank you. How do you know so much about it? Is this something that is taught at the schools here?”

Stefanos
shrugged. “Some of what I know is taught in the schools, some of it I have learned from my family, but I also study history at a college in England. For now it is useful when I am a tour guide but I hope one day to be a teacher and teach others about their heritage before it is lost forever. But now let us eat. We will talk later.”

This was the closest I
’d come to a civilised conversation with Stefanos and I found myself looking at him appraisingly. Perhaps he wasn’t as objectionable as I’d first thought. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up above his elbows, which made me wonder why he didn’t wear a short-sleeved shirt if he never intended to wear the sleeves down to his wrists. He had remarkably fair hairs on his strong brown forearms as he ripped apart a loaf of bread and offered it to me with a lazy smile.