by Defne Suman
When he lifted his head and saw Panagiota at the door, the young lieutenant almost fell over in surprise. Leaping from his chair, he stood to attention and from habit almost saluted her. Panagiota put her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter.
‘Welcome, Panagiota mou. What a great honour! Such a happy surprise! Kalos tin! Wait, tell me… No, don’t wait… I mean, don’t stand there, will you not sit down? Come, sit here. Yanni, look here, ela, bring the lady a coffee, and some lokum with it. Come on, grigora, quickly. Run!’
As Panagiota sat down on the worn brown leather armchair he indicated, its straw stuffing rustled beneath her. Pavlo was running around the little room like an ant carrying food to its nest.
‘Ah, signomi, Panagiota. My room is such a mess. If I had known you were coming… We can go out if you like. Shall we go down to the quay and drink some lemonade? Or what is the name of your fizzy drink – ginger beer?’
He looked with surprise and shame at the disorder of his desk – files piled on top of each other, overflowing ashtrays – as if seeing it for the first time.
‘That won’t be necessary. I came to speak to you about something.’
Pavlo had stacked the ashtrays one on top of the other and was carrying them out.
‘Pavlo, would you sit down, se parakalo.’
He took the ashtrays out to the corridor, came back in, pulled the chair that was next to the door in front of Panagiota’s armchair and sat down across from her, their knees almost touching. His milk-chocolate eyes with their puppy-dog expression widened in fear.
‘Did you enjoy the theatre last night?’
When she didn’t answer, the soldier’s anxiety increased. Because Grocer Akis had not given his daughter permission to go to the cinema, on Katina’s recommendation they had gone to a vaudeville performance by actors from Patra at the Phoenix Theatre. The actors did comic things, sang songs and danced. Pavlo had really wanted to laugh when Nilufer, the Egyptian dancer, sank the ship with her enormous hips, but seeing the serious set of Panagiota’s beautiful profile, he had restrained himself.
After the performance, he had taken her home and then gone down to Great Taverns Street, where he met Niko. Only exaggerating a little bit, he had described what had passed between himself and Panagiota. What else could he have done? The fisherman’s chubby son had described with such passion, giving unbelievable detail, his love scenes with his Turkish girl. Under the influence of raki, Pavlo might have slightly prolonged the kissing scene, added an episode in which he pinched Panagiota’s breasts, and put a few passionate words into her mouth.
What if that crazy Niko had gone and made a snide remark to his perfectly innocent sweetheart? In the stuffy police station that smelled of stale cigarettes he anxiously took Panagiota’s thin white hands into his thick bony ones. ‘I am listening, Panagiota mou. What has happened?’
Not knowing how to begin, and just to say something, Panagiota grumbled, ‘You’ve been telling everybody that you’re going to marry me and take me to Ioannina to live with your mother! How dare you, yia to Theo? Why do you make up these lies?’
The young lieutenant’s face darkened. It was as he had feared. Oh, that raki, it didn’t just stay in the bottle! Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? At the very first opportunity, he would shake down that idiot Niko. While these thoughts were passing through his mind, without realizing it, he’d been squeezing Panagiota’s hands like a giant.
‘Ouch, you’re hurting me!’
Panagiota pulled back her hands and crossed her arms over her chest. What a peasant he was! One who knew only how to tend the earth and handle a hoe and a rake but not how to touch a lady, how to caress her. She recalled Avinash Pillai’s plump purple lips. He had taken her wrist without her even realizing it, and how gently yet confidently his mouth had brushed her skin. His hands were as soft as if they’d come from a tin of butter. She turned her head and looked at the door behind her.
‘It is not a lie, it is a dream, agapi mou, my love. You will marry me, won’t you, etsi? Why do you look like that? After what passed between us last night, do not tell me that the possibility has not entered your head?’
To remind her of their kissing under the umbrella, he brought his face close to hers. Panagiota turned her eyes to the floor.
‘Ah, what is the matter, Giota mou? I beg your pardon. I did not want to hurt you. Won’t you just look at me? Are you crying?’
Panagiota shook her head.
Pavlo glanced into the corridor through the open door. There was no one there. He stood up, closed the door, brought his chair very close to the brown leather armchair, and, reaching out, tried ineptly to embrace Panagiota’s slender body. Now they were practically sitting in each other’s laps. Panagiota had covered her face with her hands, but she still slid forward in her seat and let herself fall into his arms. Although Pavlo didn’t want to frighten her by squeezing her too hard, he was very aroused.
‘Agapi mou, you do love me, do you not? What other reason could there be for your tears? Come, do not be shy. Tell me, pes mou.’
She remained motionless in his embrace.
‘Panagiota, will you be my wife? Will you spend the rest of your life with me?’
The rigid body in Pavlo’s arms suddenly began to shake. Panagiota was sobbing. Pavlo loosened his hands around her as if he was carrying a bell jar. What was he supposed to do now? He stared anxiously at the worn brown leather of the chair.
‘Giota mou?’
Almost imperceptibly, she nodded her head.
‘Do you mean “yes”, Panagiota? Just raise your head and look at me. Come on.’
Reluctantly, Panagiota did so. Behind her thick wet lashes, violets were dancing in her tearful black eyes. Pavlo’s heart was filled with joy. This most beautiful of all beauties would be his wife, the mother of his children, his mother’s daughter-in-law!
‘Panagiota, pes mou, tell me. Is it yes? Ha, ne agapi? Is it yes, my love?’
Panagiota nodded compliantly. Pavlo felt himself swell with pride and power. With this energy he could conquer not only Asia Minor but Constantinople itself, even the whole world! He removed his arms from around Panagiota, sat up straight in his chair and reached once more for her thin, white, long-fingered hands. If they hadn’t been in the police station, he would have laughed out loud.
‘My love, you have made me the happiest man in the world. I promise I will give you the life you desire. Whatever you desire. I will hire servants so that you never have to work. You will do only the things that you want to do. You will live like a queen, like a sultana… Sultana mou, vasilisa mou, my queen. You are my queen. Tell me, when should I speak to your father? Or should I speak to your mother first? Whichever is proper. Anyway, that’s not the most important thing right now. Panagiota mou, you do love me, don’t you? Let me hear it from your beautiful lips just once. Se parakalo. Please.’
Panagiota managed to withdraw her hands from Pavlo’s bony palms and wipe away her tears. ‘I will marry you, Pavlo, but there is one condition.’ Her nose was blocked.
‘Of course, sultana mou. Ask whatever you wish.’
She sat upright and looked into Pavlo’s milky brown eyes; the young lieutenant was jumping around like a colt.
‘If the Holy Panagia, Mother Mary, protects us and we win the war – God willing – we will stay in Smyrna. We will live here. This is my country. I will give birth to my children and raise them here. Forget about Ioannina and buy me a house here.’
‘If that is what you wish, that is the way it shall be, my Panagiota. From now on, you are my country. Whatever you—’
‘I haven’t finished what I wish to say.’
‘Whatever.’
‘However, if… Theos filaksi, God forbid…’ She reached down and knocked her long fingers on the wooden desk behind Pavlo. ‘If Kemal should enter Smyrna…’
‘That cannot happen, my Panagiota. We are here for that very reason.’ Pavlo stood up, smiled, strode confidently to the
desk, selected a cigarette and walked over to the window. Lighting his cigarette, he turned to Panagiota. Under his white shirt, his chest was as strong and wide as that of a knight in armour.
‘There is no need to fear, my love. There is not the slightest possibility that we will lose this war. We have many aeroplanes and thousands of machine guns, cannons, rifles and rounds of ammunition.’
Panagiota waved her arm in the air impatiently. ‘I know, I know. Everybody, everywhere – in the coffeehouses, at the bakery, at school – talks about how many weapons we have. We have them, but what are we doing with them? Ever since last August we’ve been waiting to hear news that we’ve been victorious, but the only thing we’ve heard is that we’re in retreat.’
Pavlo drew on his cigarette, looked out the window, and spoke in a deep, authoritative voice.
‘Retreating is a tactical manoeuvre, yavri mou. When we retreat, we do not lower our flag. On the contrary, we are blowing up the railway lines and bridges, and burning the villages that supply the gangs with food. Furthermore, we have succeeded in drawing all the weapons to the west of Sakarya. We haven’t left the Turks so much as a sword.’
His sweaty forehead shone like brass in the light coming through the window. While he’d been speaking, Panagiota had come to his side. Not finding an ashtray, Pavlo extinguished his cigarette on the window sill and brought his lips close to her neck. Panagiota continued to look out the window.
‘But, Panagiota, please forget about such things. What a happy day this is for us! Today you have become my fiancée – mine! I cannot believe my good fortune. Thank you, God!’
He turned her face towards him to kiss her.
Panagiota clasped her hands behind her like a child. ‘Yes, we don’t need to talk about the war now. I just want to make one thing clear. If we should lose the war and if the Turks should enter Smyrna…’
Leaving her at the window, Pavlo passed behind his desk, sat in his chair and leaned back, smiling.
‘Why are you smiling like that? Am I telling you a fairy tale?’
‘No, God forbid. But the situation you mention is so impossible… Anyway, I’m not smiling at that. I’m smiling at your beauty and my happiness.’
Panagiota walked angrily to the desk, cleared a place for her hands amid the stacks of files and documents and leaned towards Pavlo, who was sprawled in his chair. She had rolled the sleeves of her blue cardigan up to her elbows. Her two thick plaits fell on the desktop like a pair of pendulums. With her eyes on the map on the wall behind him, she murmured, ‘If we hear that the Turks are near, let’s say…’ She continued looking at the map. ‘Let’s say they get as near as Usak…’
‘Yavri mou, how could they get to Usak? Usak is within our borders. We have borders that were sketched by a great international treaty. There are soldiers posted all the way along the Eskisehir–Afyonkarahisar line.’
There was no point in revealing to Panagiota that Usak was indeed within the Greek line of control, though in reality it had not been allocated to Greece by the Treaty of Sèvres.
She walked around the desk and came to stand in front of Pavlo. ‘Do not go on, please. If the Turks do get to Usak, I want you to immediately send me and my family, along with all our valuable possessions, to Greece. That is all. That is my condition. Do you accept it?’
When Pavlo heard those words, the chair that he’d been rocking back and forth stopped with a thud. Without the squeak of the springs, the room filled with the shouts of children playing ball nearby.
‘You want to go to Ioannina?’ A grin that made him look quite ridiculous spread across his face. ‘But a few minutes ago you said—’
Panagiota made clear her exasperation with a loud ‘Oof!’ How thick-headed this boy had turned out to be! Quite inappropriately, the image of Stavros’s long thin fingers untying the ribbons of her dress came into her head. If they fled from Smyrna, would she ever see him again?
Will we ever be able to return to our homes, Adriana? Will we ever live peaceful lives again, as we did before the war? Will I live to see the beautiful day when I can put a ring on your finger?
Ah, Minas’s letters… If only Adriana had never read them to her.
‘If the Turks get as far as Usak, is what I said. Did you not hear me?’
‘My dear child, I want to take you and your family to Ioannina more than anything. You know that. But you do not need to worry. Even if the Turks reach Usak, they will never enter Smyrna. You understand, right? Such a thing cannot happen.’
He had got up from the rocking chair and now stood directly in front of Panagiota. As they were about the same height, they were looking straight into each other’s eyes. Panagiota was the first to glance away.
‘Still, promise me, on your honour, that if the situation gets to that point, you will take us immediately to Greece.’
‘I swear on my honour and on my land. At the first sign of danger, I will put you and your family on the first ship leaving for Greece and get you away from here. Is that enough? Will you now allow me to embrace you, my love?’
He grasped Panagiota by her shoulders, drew her towards him and wrapped his arms around her waist. The smell of jasmine rising from the neck of his beloved – My fiancée! he thought joyfully – almost caused him to faint. With the confidence of a man who had done his duty, he took her pale face between his palms, pressed his lips to hers and kissed her for a long time. Panagiota closed her eyes and thought of Avinash Pillai’s breath, which smelled of the spices of distant lands and of something else also.
‘My darling love, my… I am going to make you so happy.’
While Pavlo’s tongue was roving around incompetently in her mouth, his bony hands were sliding down from her neck, searching under her cardigan for her breasts. Panagiota was ashamed of her small breasts. She did not have a full bosom like her mother. She’d expected them to have grown by now, but it seemed that God had not treated her as generously as he had her mother when it came to breasts. Anxiously, she pushed Pavlo and moved away.
‘What are you doing? We’re at the police station and there’s a gendarme standing guard at the door. Did you forget?’
As if Pavlo had truly just remembered where they were, he looked around in confusion. ‘I beg your pardon. I forgot myself in my happiness. You are so very beautiful.’
Panagiota went round to the front of the desk, buttoned up her cardigan and pressed the short curls that had escaped her plaits behind her ears.
‘All right, then. Since you have accepted my conditions, you may come tomorrow evening and ask my father for my hand. I hope you are not expecting much dowry. Around here it is the custom that the man’s family buys and furnishes the house.’
Pavlo was so happy that he didn’t register Panagiota’s cold and calculating comments. The thought of never returning to Ioannina had burned his heart for a moment; he found himself almost wishing that the Turks would enter Smyrna, that being the only way he’d be able to take Panagiota to Ioannina. God forbid! How could he even think that? The love of Greater Greece surpassed all other loves.
He recalled the cherry-sherbet taste of Panagiota’s lips. What difference would it make which corner of the world he lived in as long as he could kiss those lips whenever he desired? And he might even get rich in Smyrna. Just let this war end and he would have the most beautiful wedding celebration. Then he’d earn some money and buy a house. Not in this miserable neighbourhood overlooking the dusty, smoky square but down in Bella Vista. He’d build a two-storey villa with a balcony and huge magnolia trees in the garden. He’d bring his mother and they would all get along together.
He was so lost in his dreams that he didn’t even notice that Panagiota had left the police station.
The Last September
Even as the knocking at her door got louder, Midwife Meline remained asleep, immersed in that same familiar dream.
She was sitting on the back of a dun-coloured donkey, travelling along a village road with pomegranate trees a
nd melon fields to either side. An elderly village man was leading her, walking with difficulty, holding the donkey’s reins with one hand and leaning on his stick with the other. The stars, seen to their best advantage now that the moon had set, were scattered across the entire sky, from the mountain slopes to the dark sea. The baby in her arms was crying.
‘Daha mi lar bzdi. Don’t cry, little one. The darkness just before dawn is the darkest of the dark. Dawn will break soon and we will find a cart to take us to the city. Daha mi lar bzdi.’
From beneath her cloak she stuck her thumb into the tiny mouth. At first, thinking it had found a nipple, the baby was comforted, but when it realized that the skin in its mouth was dry, it again began fussing.
‘Lady, we can stop and feed the baby if you like. See how hungry it is. It never stops screaming.’
‘That won’t be necessary. Keep going.’
The old villager shook his head from side to side and turned to face forward again. It took at least two hours to get from Bournabat to Smyrna by donkey.
When Meline finally opened her eyes and heard the knocking at her door, one hand involuntarily went to her chest in search of the velvet money bag she had hidden there seventeen years ago. Downstairs, someone was pounding on the door in a frenzy. She jumped off the bed, threw a shawl around her shoulders and hurried down the stairs in the pitch black, not even lighting a lamp.
Someone in the neighbourhood must have been having a difficult birth. The young midwives only came knocking at her door if there was an emergency. She had worked for years as the head midwife at the French Hospital and had trained the city’s best midwives before retiring two years ago. The young ones were very respectful and would never wake her for a situation they could handle themselves, like a breech birth or the baby having the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck.
