Daughter of the Winds (18 page)

“
Yes you can. But at least you know it,” he smiled at me. I couldn’t believe how nice this man was being to me. I had insulted him, churned up painful memories for him and turned his life upside-down and yet here he was sharing his favourite taverna with me.

“
For what it’s worth Eddie. I wish Mum had stayed with you. I don’t think she ever got over you.”

“
You never get over your first love,” he said wistfully.

We didn
’t talk about anything particularly deep for the rest of the evening, we just drank and chatted. It was nice. Comfortable.

When Eddie dropped me back home later that night he handed me a folded note.

“What’s this?”

“
You might need it at some point. It’s as much as I can do to help you, I’m afraid.”

I went to unfold it but his hand was upon mine.
“Wait until later.”

“
Sure.”

“
Come and see me again before you leave Cyprus?”

“
Of course! Of course I will. Thanks for this evening. It has been lovely. I’ve really enjoyed myself.” I leant in and gave him a peck on his cheek.

“
Goodnight.”

“
‘Night”

The main house was in darkness except for a small, low light coming from the kitchen. I stole slowly past the kitchen door as soundlessly as possible.

Clouds had covered the stars for the first time since my arrival in Cyprus and it gave the night a claustrophobic feel as if a heavy blanket was being draped over my head.
There was no breeze and barely any light as I stumbled my way down the uneven and precarious path, desperate to lay my head on the soft feather pillows of my borrowed bed.

As I neared the cottage on heavy feet I was aware of a golden glow of light.
I thought it was unlikely that I would have left the light on. My overfilled head couldn’t make any sense of it and I was too tired to be either intrigued or concerned. There before me on the table were lit tea-lights encircling a simple white vase with white and purple flowers in it. They were beautiful, bold blooms. Propped up against the vase was a modest card. In simple writing it said:
I am sorry
. It wasn’t Dom’s writing but I wondered if perhaps he had somehow got hold of Antheia to do it for him. I allowed myself to be carried along by this impossibility and I turned quickly, with barely concealed excitement, towards the footsteps that I could now hear crunching my way.

“You like the flowers?” The voice was heavily accented with Greek and my heart deflated. I peered into the darkness as Stefanos came into view.

“
Thank you. They’re very pretty.”

“
Pretty flowers for a pretty woman.”

Despite myself, I blushed and turned away looking at the flowers.
“What are they called?”

“
Anemones. In Greek the name means ‘Daughter of the winds’. They made me think of you. Bold, fearless flowers. They are important for my family and we buy them for special occasions. My mother’s niece was called Anemone, of course.”

“
Yes, of course. Daughter of the winds? That’s nice.” I stroked the blooms with ill-disguised fatigue. “I don’t mean to be rude but it’s been a long night, Stefanos. What do you want?”

He stepped closer and frowned.
It appeared that even in the velvet of the night my bruises could be seen clearly enough.

“
What happened to your face?” he asked reaching out a hand.

I instinctively ducked backwards out of his reach.
“Oh, I got into a fight last night in a bar. It looks worse than it is.”

“
Really?” He seemed to consider this for a moment with his hand hovering above my cheek. “Police?”

“
No. And I don’t want to involve them. It’s nothing really.”

“
Why did she hit you?”

“
He. It was
a
ma
n
that hit me.”

“
No! Who was it?”

“
I don’t know his name. And to be fair to him,
I
di
d
hit him first... With a bottle.”

Stefanos
let out a soft whistle from between his teeth as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline in surprise and, from the twitch in his cheek, he appeared to be choking on a smile.

“
This seems an odd thing for you to do?” he questioned, seeking reassurance and with it, more details.

“
He grabbed my... He grabbed me and I hit him instinctively. I happened to have a bottle in my hand at the time. Look, I’m embarrassed, to be honest. I goaded him into behaving badly, so I am as responsible as he is.”

“
No, no, no.” Stefanos shook his head and held up his hands to stop me in my tracks. “There is never an excuse for a man to hit a woman.”

“
Stefanos, please, I’ll discuss the morals with you another day but right now I would like to go to bed. Do you mind?”

“
Of course.” He stepped in closer to me so our bodies were almost touching, “But I don’t have to leave,” he said, suddenly very serious and looking at me with his head slightly bowed so that he had to look at me through his long, dark eyelashes.

“
Yes. Yes, you do have to leave.” I was self-conscious as I said it, but even more ashamed by the fact that I was a little sorry that was the case.

He stroked my swollen cheek with a gentleness that didn
’t look possible with his big hands but this time I didn’t flinch away.

“
If you need anything, Antheia can get hold of me. Okay? And I’ll come back.”

“
Okay. That’s very kind of you. Now go.” I placed my hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. He was warm and steady under my palms and I let my hands linger for longer than was necessary. The temptation to give into him, to be held and comforted, was like a glowing coal only needing a little more oxygen to flame brightly.

Stefanos
put his hand under my chin and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me so I took a step backwards, scared that I might do something I was certain to regret.

“
Goodnight, Stefanos.” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“
Kalinichta
.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it, inhaling my scent.

I pulled my hand out of his, turned and walked into my room closing and locking the door behind me.
I pushed my back to the door and listened to my heart booming in the darkness. I thought about placing the chair under the door handle for added security but knew that I wasn’t so desirable that someone would break down a door to get to me.

I made my way over to the bed in complete darkness and slumped on it
after I found it with my shins. What on earth just happened there? Had a guy fifteen years younger than me really looked at me with brown eyes brimming with desire? I must have concussion. After I was sure that Stefanos had left, I turned on the little lamp by the side of the bed and retrieved the note Eddie had given me from my bag. What I saw made me smile and I clasped it to chest smiling.

“
Eddie,” I muttered to myself, “you are a star!”

Chapter
sixteen

Cyprus, 1974

There was no one to see Pru as she slumped with her forehead against the warm rough wall of her apartment building. No one was there to puzzle about her oversized housecoat or the visible blue hospital gown that hung limply below the hem of Betty’s coat. Not one person could see that she was barefoot and dishevelled.

“
Not long now,” she thought, and pushed herself upright.

The pain in her stomach was making her sweat now, but at least it was helping to focus her mind.
The painkillers were beginning to wear off, and Pru hoped that some clarity would return to her mind now that she was no longer under the influence of their prescription drugs, designed to keep her quiet and compliant. Even though she was dripping with perspiration, she shivered against the cold. Goosebumps sprung from her skin, catapulting her fair hair to attention along her arms. The backs of her hands ached where needles and tubes had been forced into her veins. She could still smell the disinfected air of the hospital clinging to her hair and it made her want to vomit.

She put her h
ands in the coat pockets to warm her bruised hands and found a set of house keys and some used tissues. Pru felt a pang of guilt. She was many things, but she’d never been a thief before. Would Betty have a spare set of keys somewhere? Would she be sitting outside her own home now unable to get in? Pru sighed and swallowed back her tears. Now was not the time to start worrying about other people. She had a job to do. She pulled herself upright and tried to smooth down her matted hair. She used her middle finger to wipe underneath her eyes, in the hopes that any melting makeup would be smoothed away. She steadied herself against the wall and looked around her. Everything looked different today; the yellow light made her surroundings look like a sepia tinted photograph. There was no breeze and little noise. She felt like she was in a bubble, a giant blister surrounding her anguished soul.

Pru was
battling the fog of confusion. They had given her so many drugs that she was barely able to string two words together. They said that the medication was for the pain but she didn’t believe them. They told her that she had been shot in the stomach and her baby had died. They told her she would never have children. They told her she was lucky to be alive. They lied.

Eddie was gone by the time
Pru woke up. Nobody knew where he was. It was obvious that the doctor had some bad news but he seemed to want Eddie there before he told her. In the end Betty had been the one holding her hand when they told her that her baby had gone. Pru had stayed in bed staring at the ceiling for hours trying to make sense of what had happened. She’d managed to piece together enough of it to know that there had been a baby and that she had held it in her arms. She also knew with absolute certainty that the last time she saw the baby, Mrs Kostas had it.

She sent Betty to get her some cheese on toast before slipping
unnoticed from behind the closed curtains of the ward and out into the blindingly bright street. They couldn’t keep her here. She knew what they were trying to do and it wasn’t going to work.

Outside the hospital Marjorie had picked her up and driven her home.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she kept asking, as if she didn’t quite believe Pru’s answers.

“
Oh yes, a false alarm that’s all. They’ve told me to go home and rest.”

“
Can’t be long now. You’re riding, lower aren’t you? Always a sign that baby’s on its way.”

“
Yes, I suppose so.”

“
I can’t believe that Eddie was going to let you catch the bus home. What a dick! Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

Pru couldn
’t remember how she got to the hospital, or why for that matter. But she remembered the baby in her arms in the home of Kyria Kostas. She could remember the labour that had lasted most of the day and she remembered Helene being there. She didn’t know why they had stolen her baby but she was going to get him back. When she had woken up in hospital they told her that they had performed a hysterectomy. They said they were sorry, but that it couldn’t be helped. But Pru knew things like that didn’t happen to her.

She pushed herself away from the cool wall with a grunt, and headed to the Kostas
’ door. A quiet busyness emanated from within the dark, terracotta tiled home that stopped Pru mid-stride. She could hear the slow, rhythmic ‘swish, swish’ of someone working away, sweeping the floor. Pru tip-toed closer to the entrance, not wanting to be spotted just yet. Looking into the vaguely lit kitchen, Pru couldn’t make out much except blurry forms and deepening shadows. The only light came from a single lamp that did nothing to dispel the growing darkness in the angles of the room.

Taking a silent step backwards, Pru looked all around her and then up at the beautiful building that had been her home for the last five months.
Its cream walls and blue painted doors and windows used to please her, but now she was all but consumed with sadness when she imagined living there. She knew that whatever happened tonight there was no way that she was ever going to step foot in that apartment again. She was going to get her baby back and then head back to England where nobody could hurt her or her baby ever again.

If she had had her wits about her she would have realised that the roads were abnormally quiet and that she had barely seen a soul since she
’d left the hospital. She didn’t know how long she’d been in the hospital so couldn’t be sure what day it was. It could possibly be a Sunday but somehow it felt different. On a Sunday, while cafés and shops were shut, you still had the impression of a trembling life force behind the walls as people relaxed, chatted, ate or slept. But tonight she could feel nothing at all. Maybe, she pondered, that was because she wasn’t capable of feeling anything anymore. She felt like all her empathy had been swiped away. If anything, instead of feeling any curiosity, Pru merely nodded with relief at the realisation that there was no one around to witness what she was about to do. They couldn’t steal her baby and get away with it. She was tired and weak but she wouldn’t rest until she had her son back in her arms.

Looking back through the poorly lit doorway, Pru could see Mrs Kostas gently sweeping the floor while there, on the sturdy kitchen table, a wicker cradle stood.
There was no noise from the basket but she was certain that her son was asleep in that nest.

The pictures in her head were out of sequence but she clearly remembered being in this house.
There was blood, there were screams and then, after an interminable afternoon,there wa
s
hi
m
. She remembered clearly the dark-haired little baby, tongue darting in and out of his mouth, tasting the air around him, like a snake. She remembered him opening his eyes to reveal chestnut lagoons with ebony atolls.

Pru could still feel the ghost of his weight
in her arms and the warmth of the body beneath the yellow sheet and she ached to be able to hold him once more. Pru remembered holding him in her arms when he was first born and still covered in the fluid that had been his sustenance over the previous nine months. She could remember the smell of him, all milky and sweet. She could picture, with perfect clarity, his tiny domed finger-nails crowning long wrinkled fingers.

After that, it was all muddled in her mind.
She could remember Helene and Mrs Kostas being there. Perhaps they had helped deliver the baby. She grabbed handfuls of her own hair in frustration. Her fingers stuck in the tangled mess that evidently hadn’t seen a brush in some time. She wondered again, with increasing frustration, how long she’d been away. Her stomach ached, and where her stitches brushed against her hospital gown her skin burned and itched. She couldn’t get it clear in her head. Why had the doctor lied to her? And where was Eddie? Did he know what they’d done?

Pru
’s head began to spin and suddenly she was looking down upon herself from somewhere upon high. From her elevated position floating above her other self she could see everything in startling clarity but in deathly slow motion. She watched her other self rubbing her temples in distress. Images started to strobe through her mind, one after another, not making any sense to her. Water, glass, blood, Betty, Helene, baby, pain, Eddie. Water. Glass. Blood. As she rushed back into her own failing body she felt the ground careen beneath her and the last thing she saw as she fell through the curtains was the stunned expression on Mrs Kostas’ face.