Aphrodite's Smile
Page 35
I had forgotten how startling her eyes were, and for a moment I didn’t know what to say.
‘My dad would have liked to see this,’ I said at last, making a gesture to encompass the crowd. Alex smiled.
‘Are you going to do the walk?’
The procession would follow the Panaghia all the way to the monastery at Kathara, which was a long, hot walk even in autumn, but I had decided that I would make the pilgrimage. ‘I think I’m up to it. And you?’
She nodded. ‘We could go together if you like.’
I glanced at Dimitri who was standing among a group of friends. I had learned a lot, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Alex saw where I was looking. ‘I meant just you and I.’
I was surprised. ‘I assumed …’
She shook her head. ‘He told me, you know.’
‘Told you what?’
‘Why he wasn’t sure about us any more. Because he was worried about his business.’
‘And that’s why you’re not together?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. She didn’t tell me what the reason was, but my heart was thudding in my chest.
‘About walking together. I’d like that.’ I held out my hand, but she hesitated.
‘There’s something you should know. That night, when I stayed with Dimitri …’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
She shook her head again. ‘No. It does matter. You can’t not talk about things. I want you to know. I went to see him to tell him about you. Maybe also because I wasn’t sure how I felt. When he told me he’d made a mistake, I was confused. I don’t know what happened. I slept with him.’ She looked at me searchingly. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I think so.’
The walk to Kathara was long and hot. At first people talked and laughed, and children ran about and played as the procession wound out of the town along the coast. When we passed the beach at Molos Bay many stopped to rest. Some had brought towels and swimming costumes. When we continued, some of the older people and younger children remained behind. Those who went on were more subdued, saving their energy for the mountain, though a genial mood of good spirits remained.
Now and then people would come alongside us and speak a few words to Irene, always smiling and nodding to Alex and me. A woman and her husband and two children resting by the roadside got to their feet as we approached and fell in with us.
‘Kalimera,’ the man said, and the woman murmured a greeting too. They spoke a little to Irene, asking polite questions. When they fell behind again they wished us all a good day.
When we finally reached the monastery, the Panaghia was restored to her rightful place and afterwards there was a service. When it was over, we went outside where Theonas was waiting with a car to drive us back to town. He took off his sunglasses as we approached, his expression, as ever, unreadable.
‘Kalimera, Alex,’ he said, and nodded coolly to me.
Instead of going straight to Vathy, we took a detour to the site which was being excavated near Platrithias. As we passed Polis Bay I half expected to see Kurt’s yacht, though it wasn’t there. He had returned to Germany but he was planning to come back when the museum which was being built was finished. It would house the artefacts which they had begun to uncover from the site of the temple.
The foundations had already been laid and a fenced enclosure kept people away from the excavation itself. There would be a plaque I was told, acknowledging my father’s part in the rediscovery of the temple. The remains of both Hauptmann Hassel and the guerrilla Metkas had been interred in the cemetery on a nearby hill.
While Theonas and Irene waited by the car, Alex and I walked hand in hand. Our feet stirred dust from the path. The sun was still hot, but it was pleasant in the shade of the olive trees. From the temple, we could see the sea to the east and west, shimmering blue and silver. The scent of wild mint laced the air. I told her that I had been to see the statue of Aphrodite in the museum at Argostoli where it was being kept for the time being.
‘I wish my father could have seen her.’
‘He knew she was there. Perhaps that was enough.’
I wondered whether that was true. He’d searched half his life for the temple and, right as he was on the verge of a discovery which would rock the archaeological world, he had been denied his moment of glory.
I remembered being struck by how lifelike Aphrodite’s face seemed. Her expression radiated a sense of benevolent humour and a certain sensual lasciviousness. She was beautifully carved and preserved, her naked form almost flawlessly perfect.
‘I couldn’t help comparing her with the Panaghia,’ I said.
‘And what did you think?’ Alex asked.
‘The Panaghia is depicted as chaste and virginal, but her expression is sorrowful, almost pitying. It’s like a comment on humankind.’
‘And what about Aphrodite?’
‘She seems amused,’ I said. ‘But in a compassionate way. You get the feeling she likes what she sees, warts and all, whereas the Panaghia is an expression of a religious desire for mankind to be perfect. She’s disappointed in us.’ I took Alex’s hand and we started back towards the car. ‘It’s about understanding that we all screw up, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think it is,’ Alex said.
We stopped and turned towards one another.
‘I want to say that I’ll never make the same mistakes again,’ I said. ‘But that’s probably not true, is it?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘Not for any of us.’
In that moment, I thought we would be OK despite that. I put my arms around her and we kissed.
And in the back of my mind I hoped my father was watching.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks as always to Susan Opie, my editor at HarperCollins, and to Stephanie and the team at William Morris.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stuart Harrison grew up in England and always wanted to be a novelist. He finally decided to have a go after forty or so other careers failed to work out. He now writes full time and currently lives in Auckland, New Zealand.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Many of the places described in this book are real, but almost nothing else is. The original idea for the story was inspired by a holiday on the island of Ithaca taken several years ago. In the village of Frikes there is a plaque set into the cliff beside the harbour commemorating an attack on the German ship, the Antounnetta, during the Second World War. Although I have used that event in this story, the characters and the event itself as described in this novel are completely fictional. In fact I would like to stress that the depiction of the occupation of the island in this story is entirely of my making.
Ithaca is reputed to have been the home of Homer’s hero Odysseus, but as far as I am aware, Homer does not mention a temple dedicated to Aphrodite.
Finally, the descriptions in this story of the island and its present-day character and beauty do not do the reality justice. Ithaca is truly an unspoilt gem. I would like to thank the people of Ithaca for the warm welcome I have enjoyed on both my visits there.
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
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COPYRIGHT
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2004
Copyright © Stuart Harrison 2004
Stuart Harrison asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library
This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual pe
rsons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007139484
Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780007388066
Version: 2013–12–18
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