YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (63 page)

Louisa sipped at the wine. As she had been invited to join them it meant the party was ready to break up. She would leave the washing up until the morning. The overflowing ashtrays and litter of bottles could wait also. The conversation was desultory, obviously the men had talked themselves out, one by one they drained their glasses, stubbed out their cigarettes and left. With a sigh of relief Louisa called goodbye to the last one and made for the stairs.

‘Louisa.’

‘Yes, Yiorgo,’ her voice was flat and emotionless.

‘Come and finish the bottle with me and I’ll tell you about this evening.’

‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Louisa, I want to tell you.’

Louisa shook her head. ‘Yiorgo, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Tomorrow I’ll be delighted to listen to you, but not now.’

As she had predicted Yiorgo rose late, complaining of his head and remembering that his wife had refused to stay up any later listening to him. He began to complain vociferously. It was her duty. She had promised to honour and obey her husband, so when he asked her to sit and listen to him she should do so.

Louisa ignored him. Anna was fretful, having wet her bed and met with a sharp slap from her mother. Pavlos had risen late and left unshaven and unkempt, berating his sister for not calling him earlier. She washed the glasses, leaving them to drain whilst she stacked the empty bottles in the crate and wiped over the tables to remove the slops and cigarette ash. No sooner had she finished than Yiorgo sat at a table and lit a cigarette.

‘Bring me an ashtray.’

‘I’m washing them.’

‘I need an ashtray. There isn’t one out here.’

Louisa wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the wet ashtray that promptly slipped from her hands, shattering on the stone floor. ‘You’ll have to wait whilst I clear this up.’

Yiorgo sighed and let the ash fall to the floor. ‘I’m going out.’

‘Go – and good riddance,’ muttered Louisa beneath her breath. At least she should be able to finish cleaning before anyone arrived expecting a meal.

Yiorgo walked through the narrow streets until he reached the main road. He would buy Louisa a present, a present to celebrate his success. He paused and looked in the jeweller’s window. What should it be this time? She wore only her wedding ring, saying that any stone would be ruined in no time. She had her bracelet that he had given her as a betrothal present, her earrings for giving birth to Anna, and a pendant when he had first been elected to the local government. This time it should be something suitably ornate to fit the occasion. His reflection stared back at him, the lock of hair falling over his forehead and he pushed it back automatically. Behind him was reflected the face of a young man that seemed vaguely familiar.

‘It is Mr Pavlakis, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m Andreas, well, Father Andreas now.’

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t you remember me? I was at school in Aghios Nikolaos. My sister and cousin were in your class. I was younger.’

Yiorgo Pavlakis was struggling with his memory. He had taught so many young people and promptly forgotten them the moment they left. ‘And you have taken Holy Orders, I see.’

‘I always wanted to. I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve taken over Father Minos’s parish. He’s gone to the island.’

Memory suddenly clicked into place. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy fulfilling his duties.’ Yiorgo began to walk away.

‘I’m sure I shall.’ The young priest stepped in front of him. ‘Actually it’s fortunate for me meeting you like this. I had planned to call.’

‘You would be welcome.’ The familiar cliché fell from the politician’s lips.

‘I would like to think so. It concerns money and many people find that distasteful.’

‘You want a donation for the church?’ Yiorgo’s hand went to his pocket.

‘No, although, of course, anything given is always welcome. It’s the matter of the pension agreed upon for the islanders.’

Yiorgo shot him a quick look. ‘It will all be paid through the proper channels. The books will be open for inspection at any time.’

‘I’m quite sure they will. Father Minos had an idea regarding the distribution and administration which he asked me to discuss with you.’

‘There are a good many details to be worked out before the operation can commence.’

‘That is why I wish to speak with you. The idea is simplicity itself.’

Yiorgo pulled his precious timepiece from his pocket. It was already eleven. ‘I could be free at three thirty if you would care to come to my home.’

He turned back to look in the jeweller’s window, but the idea had palled. He would return to the taverna and admire his beautiful wife whilst she busied herself, maybe he would find time to play with little Anna. Having decided he strode out quickly.

Louisa scowled as he opened the door. ‘I thought you were going out?’

‘I have been out. I have made an appointment for this afternoon to discuss business.’ Yiorgo sat down at the nearest table, taking his cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Where’s Anna?’

‘She’s asleep. Move your feet.’

‘Asleep? Why?’

‘She had a disturbed night.’ Louisa looked at him scathingly.

Yiorgo shrugged and sighed. ‘I have so little time to spend with her.’

‘Whose fault is that?’

‘Louisa, you must understand. I have to be at the beck and call of everyone. A man in my position has to snatch his family pleasures when he can. I would love to spend all day with my family, but what can I do? The moment I step outside the door someone wishes to speak to me.’

Louisa sniffed derisively. ‘And you love it.’

Pushing back his hair from his forehead Yiorgo gazed at his wife in concern. He had discovered her sharp tongue within a few weeks of their marriage and excused it as due to her pregnancy. Maybe that was her problem now. He looked at her again. There were no obvious outward signs, but there had not been before until she was just over a month. He had never ceased to marvel that a girl so slight had managed to carry such a large baby that she had been forced to give birth prematurely.

‘Louisa,’ his voice was soft. ‘Come here, my dear.’

Louisa obeyed. Usually when he spoke in that tone of voice he had a present for her. She propped the broom up against the counter and walked over to him smiling. Yiorgo reached out and took her hands, pulling her down onto his knee.

‘Is there anything you wish to tell me?’

‘Tell you?’ Louisa’s brain raced. What had he heard? Had someone mentioned her name to him? She tried to be discreet, going down to the port or meeting only long standing and trusted acquaintances when she was certain Yiorgo would not return unexpectedly.

Yiorgo nodded. ‘Do you have a little secret you should share with me?’

Louisa bit her lip. ‘What makes you think I might have?’ she fenced.

A broad smile crossed Yiorgo’s face. He ran his hand lightly across her stomach. ‘I remember how shy and hesitant you were to tell me about little Anna. For days you blamed the sea, the sun, the different food, then you realised and once you shared your secret with me you stopped feeling so ill, and I, Louisa, was the proudest man in all Greece.’ He raised her hand to his lips.

Louisa had an overwhelming desire to laugh. The relief made her feel quite light-headed. She had no reason to believe she might be pregnant, but it would not hurt Yiorgo to think she might be. ‘It’s possible.’

Yiorgo beamed with pleasure. ‘You see, you cannot keep secrets from me. I know you far too well.’

Louisa smiled also, this time with genuine amusement. ‘Let me go now. I must finish clearing up before anyone comes in.’

Reluctantly Yiorgo released her and watched as she finished sweeping the floor, pushing the chairs deftly back into place with her foot. After almost eight years of marriage he could still hardly believe the beautiful girl was his wife.

Andreas arrived promptly and Yiorgo poured him a glass of wine. ‘We have some business to discuss, my dear, and you should be resting.’

Louisa ignored him, moving to the doorway where she could watch Anna playing outside and overhear the conversation. Yiorgo raised his glass to Andreas.

‘Well, let’s hear this idea.’

Andreas sipped cautiously. The wine was cheap and tasted sharp to his palate. ‘The simplest way of keeping account would be to have all the names written in a ledger, entering each amount monthly and deducting the appropriate amount when necessary. The lepers could make a list of the purchases they want, the shop-keepers present their bills to the agent who draws the total sum from the bank and pays each one of them whatever they are owed.’

Yiorgo looked at the young man. The idea was incredibly simple. Why had he not thought of it? ‘It might be possible.’ Yiorgo emptied his glass. ‘There is one problem. Who would be willing to act for them on the mainland? It would mean dealing with the lepers.’

‘Father Minos suggested one of the boatmen, Manolis, should be asked. It doesn’t worry him to go over there and talk to them. He knows most of them anyway, as he takes the doctor as well as supplies.’

‘I’ll think about it. I’ll even put it before the council.’

‘I’ll let Father Minos know. I must go. I have a service to take. Thank you for your time.’ Andreas rose, leaving his glass half full on the table. ‘I hope the council will agree to the idea.’

Yiorgo nodded and held out his hand. ‘It might work.’ His attention was caught by his wife; she was shaking her head as she spoke to a thick set, fair young man. He pushed his way past the priest. ‘What is the problem, my dear?’

‘There’s no problem. The gentleman was asking if I knew where he could rent some cheap accommodation for a few nights.’

Yiorgo frowned. The man looked more like a sailor than a tourist. ‘Try the waterfront. There’s usually accommodation to be had there. If you follow the road round…’

‘I know my way.’ The stranger cut him short and strode away.

Yiorgo took hold of Louisa’s arm. ‘You are not to stand in the doorway. It looks improper.’

Louisa did not answer. She would be able to find the man easily enough the following day.

Anna contemplated the young man as he sat with his head in his hands across the table from her. It was a month now since he had returned to his home to find his mother lying dead on the kitchen floor. It was time he took himself in hand and thought of the children.

‘Babbis,’ she spoke more sharply than she had intended and his head jerked up in surprise. ‘Babbis, I have to talk to you.’

‘Yes?’

‘What are you planning to do?’

‘Do?’ he repeated stupidly after her.

‘Babbis, you have two small children. You have to think of them. You have a farm that needs attention. You must pull yourself together. I know the death of your mother was a terrible shock, it was a shock to all of us, but you have to come to terms with it.’

For a moment Anna thought he was going to cry. ‘What can I do? I can’t look after the children, a house and a farm on my own. I need my mother.’ He turned anguished eyes to her.

‘You could get married again.’

Babbis shook his head. ‘No one could take Maria’s place.’

‘If you sold the farm and moved to the town, maybe you would meet someone.’

Again Babbis shook his head. ‘What would I do if I moved to the town? I’m a farmer.’

Anna tried again. ‘What about the children?’

‘I hoped you could look after them a little longer.’

‘Babbis, I’ve had Yannis since he was born. He looks upon me as his mother and he’s far more than a nephew to me. Looking after the children is no burden for me. It’s you I’m concerned about.’

Babbis shrugged. ‘I’ll manage. I may go up tomorrow.’

Anna brought her fist down on the table with a force that made her wince. ‘You will go up tomorrow. For days you’ve been saying maybe. If you don’t go up tomorrow you’ll find these doors barred against you.’

Babbis looked at his sister-in-law. ‘You really mean that?’

‘I mean it, Babbis. I’ll go up with you.’

Anna gazed after him as he left the room. Maybe she had been too hard on him. It was only a month after all.

Stelios gazed across the sea towards the island. His heart yearned for his older brother whom he had loved and admired. A slight movement caught his eye and he turned away. He hated lepers, even if his brother was one. It was through him that his mother was confined to a chair, that his sister was dead and his other sister no more than a slave. A surge of unreasonable hatred against all his family made him bite his lip and drained the colour from his face. He could hardly wait to return to Heraklion. One more year, provided he worked hard, and he would gain a scholarship to Athens University and then he would show everyone. He would not contract any incurable disease and end up exiled on an island. He would rather die.

Die! That was the answer. When he went to Athens and was asked about his family he would say they were dead. No one would question him, they would be sympathetic over his loss and he would say he did not wish to talk about it. No taint would ever spread to him, he would make sure of that. He looked towards the island again. There were people moving around on the quay. Someone was waving. It must be Yannis! Stelios turned his back on the sea. Anna was standing there, the two children by her side.

‘Wave to Uncle Yannis,’ she instructed them and they dutifully held up their hands and waved in the direction she indicated.

‘You’re sick,’ he commented bitterly as he walked past her.

‘I’m taking the children up to see Babbis. Do you want to come?’

‘I’ve better things to do with my time.’

‘Come along.’ She took the children’s hands firmly in her own and began to walk away. If Stelios was in one of his black moods she did not want to bandy words with him.

‘It’s about time Babbis faced up to his responsibilities,’ he called after her. ‘Let him look after his own brats.’

Father Minos found Yannis was correct in his forecast that people would offer their help when they had thought over all he had said to them upon his arrival. In ones and twos they sought the priest out, others went to Spiro offering their services. His surplice and cassock removed, dressed in an old pair of trousers and ragged shirt, Father Minos worked beside them, digging, moving blocks of stone that tore at his finger nails, hammering bent and rusty nails straight so they could be used again. Each night he lay on his mattress, his muscles aching from the unaccustomed exertion, and fell into a deep sleep.