YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (23 page)

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. Between 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.’

‘I’m not likely to forget,’ Yiorgo assured him and Yannis knew that was true.

The days merged into each other for Yannis. Every morning Yiorgo would shake him into consciousness as soon as it was light. He would trudge up the track to the fields, shivering in the early morning chill and toiled under Yiorgo’s instruction until the sun rose to give them a little warmth. Yiorgo hardly rested and Yannis struggled to keep pace with him. By the evening Yannis was exhausted and stumbled back home, longing for his comfortable mattress, hardly able to eat the food his mother placed before him.

Added to his fatigue was the continual worry about the amount of schooling he was missing. He had written to Yiorgo Pavlakis explaining that his father had met with an accident and that he would have to stay at Plaka to help until his father had recovered. He had also asked him to visit the High School and museum on his behalf. The letter he wrote to Annita he was able to send by a fisherman and she had answered him promptly, full of sympathy for his father.

It was four weeks after Yannis senior had fallen that the Widow appeared at the house with a pair of crutches tucked under her arm. Yannis and Yiorgo lifted their father to a chair and watched as he tried to stand.

‘Only one foot,’ screeched the Widow. ‘You mustn’t put the other to the ground. It won’t be ready yet.’

Yannis senior was obedient. He went in great awe of the Widow, whom he had known since he was a boy. He had faith in her as a healer, but was not entirely sure that she wouldn’t curse anyone who displeased her, and when she was in the house he watched her warily.

‘I’ll be able to get to the fields tomorrow,’ he was more cheerful than he had been for days. It was good to be able to move around again, albeit slowly.

‘Any more talk like that and I’ll take them back with me,’ the Widow warned. ‘It’s one thing walking across your living room; it’s another when you try to walk outside. If you tripped you’d be back in bed again, probably worse off than before.’

Despite her threats, once she had gone, Yannis struggled out to the yard. He leaned against the wall, drawing deep breaths of air and looked longingly towards his fields. By the time he had reached the yard gate he realised there was no way he would be able to negotiate the rough ground without an accident. Reluctantly he dragged himself back into the house where Maria was baking bread. Wiping her hands on her apron she decided this was a good time to approach her husband.

‘What’s happening about Yannis?’ she asked.

‘How do you mean?’

‘He should have been back in school three weeks ago. He’s worrying about it, that’s why he’s so tired.’

Yannis senior snorted. ‘I think town life has softened him. He gets more tired than Anna out in the fields. A few more weeks would toughen him up.’

‘A few more weeks could ruin his chance of going to University,’ observed Maria shrewdly.

Yannis was thoughtful. ‘Well, he can’t go yet,’ he decided. ‘Spiriton will be here in a few days for this month’s contract. Yiorgo couldn’t manage without him.’

‘I could help now you’re able to get about,’ suggested Maria.

Yannis shook his head. ‘You’re not going back to the fields. You did enough up there when we first started. Besides, you have enough work to do here.’

Secretly Maria was relieved. She had no wish to return to the fields during the winter months. She had a pang of guilt that her daughters were expected to help each day, but consoled herself that they would come to no more harm than she had as a child. Maria even seemed anxious to go each day, but her mother had an idea that Babbis was coming to visit her so they could snatch a few moments together. Now it was cold they were unable to stroll down the village street together and sit outside the taverna. Babbis had to spend the evening with them and he was obviously ill at ease when he visited.

When their father told them Spiriton would be calling again Yannis’s heart sank. He had hoped he might be able to leave at the end of the week. Yiorgo was worried. It had been all they could do to complete the work before.

The weather decided it had been kind to them for too long and changed dramatically. The sun stayed hidden behind the sullen black clouds that hung over the distant mountains, rumbles of thunder reaching their ears, which made them look up anxiously. The first drops of rain were felt when they were loading their third trip to the quay. They could see Spiriton waiting for them, impatiently scanning the hillside.

‘It seems pointless packing in this weather,’ remarked Yannis to his brother. ‘It will be spoilt by the time it gets there and they’ll have to throw most of it away.’

‘That’s their problem. Pappa said to pack as much as possible.’

‘What about the crate?’

‘This trip.’

Yannis shivered. That meant he would have to stop packing to help lift the crate onto the cart. ‘Why don’t we stay down and do the vegetables next? It would be quicker than this and we should be able to catch up a bit. The girls can stay up here and we’ll come back to help as soon as we can.’

Yiorgo turned the suggestion over in his mind. ‘We’ll try it.’

Munching a roll each they negotiated the track with the donkey. The rain had made it slippery and Yannis had to pull on the cart to stop it from rolling too far forward. Once in the yard they were faced with a further problem. The crate was too heavy for them to lift between them.

‘There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to ask Spiriton to send a couple of his men to help.’ Even Yiorgo knew his limitations.

‘I don’t want to do that,’ Yannis said stubbornly. ‘There must be a way.’ He looked at the miscellany of objects strewn around the yard. ‘I know, help me unload.’

Yiorgo stared at his brother crossly. ‘What for?’

‘We can tip the cart and push it on.’ Yannis had already set to work, stacking the boxes in a neat pile.

‘It would have been more sensible to take these down to Spiriton first,’ grumbled Yiorgo. ‘That way we’d only do the job once.’