Island of Secrets

by Patricia Wilson

  ‘It’s my right, an eye for an eye,’ Manoli said.

  ‘You’re talking rubbish. Mam wouldn’t hurt anybody. She’s a good woman.’

  ‘How would you know? Poppy destroyed our family.’

  ‘And you pretended to be my friend?’ She squinted at him, her anger rising. ‘Do you think we haven’t suffered enough, Manoli? I grew up without a father, and my mother lived all her life without the man she loved. It’s a good job these bars are between us!’

  ‘Why? Get your own back, would you? That’s the trouble with the Kondulakis family, they always have to go one better. I grew up without a father, too. Your mother killed him . . . and Matthia killed my mother! I told you, that debt has never been paid.’

  Angie reeled, a debt that has never been paid. The truth was, she really did want to hurt him and for a moment, her feelings scared her. ‘Manoli, you’re being ridiculous. I’m sorry your mother and father died – but it’s got nothing to do with my family.’

  ‘Ask them!’ Manoli shouted.

  Angie blinked, this was absurd. ‘You’re insane,’ she said.

  Two officers manhandled Manoli out of the room.

  ‘Ask your mother,’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘Murdering whore!’

  A policeman righted Angie’s chair. ‘Sit down, please.’

  He pushed several papers towards Nick. ‘The charge will be attempted murder. We want you to go over your statement, Mr Kondos.’

  ‘Of course. Tell me, how did you know about the attack? They said somebody phoned you? We’d like to thank them.’

  ‘He’s here now. You can thank him yourselves.’

  Nick turned to Angie. ‘What do you think?’

  She nodded, still shaken by Manoli’s accusations. ‘Perhaps he can throw light on all this.’

  When the officer returned with their Good Samaritan, an old man hobbled slowly into the room.

  Nick extended his arm.

  Angie stared. ‘You?’ she said, shocked for the second time.

  Never having seen him before, Nick shook his hand saying, ‘Thank you, sir. I owe you my life.’

  Chapter 37

  THE PENSIONER STRUGGLED INTO a chair. Angie recalled her first day in Crete. The old man had stood in the middle of the road, holding up traffic. He had come to her table under the tree and welcomed her. Manoli had served him coffee.

  ‘Who are you?’ Angie asked.

  The old gentleman reached over and took her hand in both of his. ‘I told you, Thanassi Lambrakis. I am your father’s brother.’

  Angie gasped. Now she remembered his name, but her father’s brother, her uncle? ‘Then you must be Agapi’s brother?’ Angie remembered Agapi’s agitation when she asked her to talk about her brother.

  He nodded. ‘Manoli’s my nephew. I own the petrol station you called at when you first arrived in Crete.’ Thanassi bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry for Manoli’s behaviour. He’s crazy . . . his father, Emmanouil, was too. Manoli wanted to make vendetta for Emmanouil’s death. It’s the custom.’ Thanassi stared at the table top. ‘I followed you into Viannos that day. I craved vengeance too. I loved Emmanouil.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘When I saw you close up, so beautiful, the double of your mother, I realised revenge was stupid, so I came and shook your hand. Do you remember?’

  Angie nodded.

  ‘Manoli has talked about his parents’ death, and vendetta, since that first day you came here.’

  Angie gulped. ‘Really? My God, he wanted me to rent one of his rooms.’ She thought back. ‘He was very friendly, but occasionally I did get a feeling it was all an act.’

  ‘It’s good that you didn’t stay over the kafenion. Manoli is obsessed.’

  Thanassi spoke to Nick. ‘Manoli comes to the garage to play a game of tavli with me each evening. When you and Poppy left the petrol station, he took his shotgun and followed you. I had no choice but to call the police.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Angie said. ‘All this talk of revenge – my mother didn’t really kill his father, your brother Emmanouil, did she?’

  ‘Poppy’s never denied it.’ Thanassi glanced at the window.

  The policeman brought a tray of frappés and then sat at the table with Nick’s statement.

  Thanassi took a glass and sucked noisily through the straw before adding, ‘Nobody knows what happened that afternoon, but if this feud is to stop, we should all forget the past, let it go.’

  Angie stared at Thanassi. The old man met her eyes, blinked rapidly and turned away. His face seemed to warp as he shifted in his chair.

  ‘Is that why my mother left Crete?’ Angie said. ‘I don’t know anything about this. Please tell me.’

  Thanassi nodded, sighed and pulled a set of small jet worry beads from his pocket. ‘It all started with the massacre in ’43.’

  Impatient, and thinking she had learned everything about the war from Maria, Angie encouraged him. ‘Yiayá told me about the tragedy. But what made my mother leave Crete, and why did Manoli want to kill her?’

  Thanassi’s face hardened suddenly. He snapped the beads over the back of his hand with a hard clack.

  ‘I know my timing isn’t great,’ Angie said, worried he wasn’t going to open up. ‘But we’re getting married tomorrow, we have too much to do and so little time. Will you come to our wedding, please? There’s nobody from my father’s family, except Agapi. I’d be proud to have you there, Uncle Thanassi.’

  His face softened and he smiled at them both. ‘Yes, I’d like to attend your wedding, Angelika. Perhaps it would put an end to this feud, but see how Matthia feels. A long time ago . . . I nearly killed him, I fear he may still hold a grudge.’

  ‘Please tell me about it. I need to know,’ Angie pleaded.

  Thanassi scratched his grey moustache and frowned. They sat in silence while he gathered his thoughts and, after a minute, he cleared his throat.

  ‘My mother, Constantina, had a nervous breakdown because of the massacre. She lost more than anyone, on that day: her grandfather, father, two brothers, an uncle, and her pregnant daughter. The Nazis gutted her in the street. I’ll never forgive them. Poor girl. Everyone was affected but my mother never got over such a loss. Me and Emmanouil – Manoli’s father – were born after the war. Although my mother recovered to some extent, thanks to the miracle of finding Yeorgo alive, the horror of that day never left her.’

  Thanassi smiled at Angie but his eyes were dull with sadness then he stared at the small barred window of the interview room.

  ‘Yeorgo was always her favourite.’ His smile turned into a frown but again, she noticed the deadpan eyes. ‘Agapi was betrothed to Matthia but we stopped the wedding. I’m sorry for what we did to him.’

  ‘Why?’ Angie asked. ‘I believe Uncle Matthia loved Agapi very much.’

  ‘Politics, your mother’s family were Democrats but Matthia still backed the communists and broadcast the fact. The man’s a born rebel, a bloody anarchist.’ He scowled for a moment. ‘Secretly, many villagers were commies but, with the support of the British, the junta outlawed the party. Emmanouil and I became junta military police. Do you know about the politics, Angelika?’

  ‘Not a lot, I’m ashamed to say, but Manoli did explain some things.’

  ‘Just because he’s a hot-headed crackpot doesn’t mean he lied about the government’s secrets. I’m talking about the British government. I understand you’re a writer?’

  Angie smiled. ‘No, Uncle Thanassi, I work – worked for a publishing company.’

  Nick squeezed her hand.

  ‘That’s a pity. I was hoping you’d write about what happened here. Our history’s very colourful.’

  ‘I’m thinking about it,’ Angie said.

  Thanassi nodded and continued. ‘Emmanouil forbade our sister’s marriage to a communist and, in truth, we could have had Matthia thrown into prison and tortured. Emmanouil had bragged that he would marry Poppy, but she chose Yeorgo. She was hardly more than a child, but still t
he most beautiful woman around.’ Thanassi paused, rolling the beads between his fingers. ‘It made Emmanouil crazy because he loved both Yeorgo and Poppy, but at the same time he hated them both, so he vented his frustration on Matthia.’

  ‘I didn’t know any of this,’ Angie said.

  Thanassi continued, ‘My mother’s mind collapsed. And then, just after her second grandson died . . . Stavro came to see her. A great argument took place and, for my mother, something snapped. The final straw, they say. She swallowed all her antidepressants at once. In the end, whatever the cause of her torment, she only found peace in death, you see.’

  Angie didn’t see. She had lost the thread and it all seemed jumbled.

  Thanassi continued. ‘My brother needed someone to blame. Stavro was in Athens most of the time, so Emmanouil did his best to make Matthia’s life hell. Matthia was no angel. He started stupid pranks against us too. It escalated; each piece of revenge stronger than the last.’

  Thanassi dropped his head into his hands. ‘I need a moment,’ he said quietly.

  Angie sensed the dawn of a big revelation. The air in the room stilled although the window hung open. Nick’s hand covered hers but she found it impossible to look away from Thanassi. When he looked up, his eyes were full of tears.

  ‘Emmanouil’s son, Manoli, that fool who served you coffee every day and then tried to kill Poppy . . . he was three years old when he contracted the measles. We had an epidemic here, many children died. His mother, Yánna, was pregnant with her second child.’ He stopped speaking for a moment.

  ‘Yes?’ Angie said.

  ‘Yánna needed medicine from Viannos, for Manoli. Matthia offered her a lift into town on his motorbike.’ Thanassi swallowed hard. ‘They swerved off the road at the first bend. A tree saved Matthia, but Yánna and the bike crashed over the edge and fell to the bottom of the ravine. They found her dead with a broken neck. They tried to save the baby, but . . .’ Thanassi shook his head. ‘It died, a little girl.’

  ‘God, God! You mean Uncle Matthia killed Manoli’s mother? Oh . . . oh, I can’t believe it, that’s terrible, awful. So, that’s why Manoli wants to kill my mother?’

  Thanassi took a breath. ‘Everyone thought so, Angelika. When they brought Matthia to the police station, we used our truncheons and boots on him. We beat him almost to death. Even when he was unconscious, Emmanouil kept kicking him, screaming abuse, completely out of control because his wife and baby were dead. In the end, we had to pull my brother out of the cell and lock the door until the doctor came. Matthia nearly died before we sent him to prison. Then, Poppy went to see Emmanouil . . .’

  The old man placed both his hands flat over his face and Angie saw his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny neck.

  ‘Sorry,’ Thanassi said after a few moments. ‘I was very close to Emmanouil and Yeorgo. I miss them both.’

  ‘Please. Take your time,’ Nick said. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

  Thanassi declined. ‘The truth is, Emmanouil had caused Yánna’s death and, I’m ashamed to say, I’d helped. We’d doctored the front steering on Matthia’s bike, not expecting Yánna to go on it.’

  Angie’s jaw dropped. She stared at the old man for a moment while this latest revelation sank in. ‘Sorry, I’m really confused. Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,’ she said. ‘Emmanouil was your brother, Thanassi? He was also my father’s brother, and the brother of Agapi, as well as being my uncle, and Manoli’s father? Is that right?’

  Thanassi nodded.

  ‘And Manoli – who must be my cousin – knows that his father, Emmanouil, caused his mother’s death, and Matthia wasn’t responsible?’ Angie asked.

  Thanassi shook his head. ‘Manoli was too young to understand, and then the time never seemed right. Emmanouil couldn’t bear the consequences of his own actions. He wrote to Yánna’s family to explain but, I’m ashamed to say, I found the letter and I still have it.’

  ‘So for all these years, Manoli has believed that Matthia killed his mother, Yánna?’

  Thanassi nodded. ‘I’ll give you the letter. I can’t have it on my conscience any longer. After we had almost beaten Matthia to death, Poppy came looking for Emmanouil.’

  Angie chewed her lip, afraid of what Thanassi was about to tell her next.

  After a long pause, Thanassi continued. ‘Who can know what happened? Poppy was seen going into his house. A shotgun fired . . .’ Thanassi dropped his worry beads on the table and crossed himself. ‘It blew Emmanouil’s head clean off his shoulders. I was the first person there. I . . . well, there’s more but it doesn’t matter now. After Yianna’s death, there was an inquest. I confessed that I had helped Emmanouil to “fix” Matthia’s motorbike. I was sent to prison, and Matthia was released. By that time, Emmanouil was already dead. If this vendetta is to end, it must stop today. No more blame or reprisals.’

  Thanassi lowered his hands, silent for a moment. ‘Although several people, including me, saw her running from the house after the shotgun blast, there was nothing to prove Poppy had killed Emmanouil.’

  Angie shuddered. Nick squeezed her hand.

  Thanassi continued. ‘Poppy disappeared from Crete that day, never to be seen again.’ He turned his attention to Nick. ‘It seemed to confirm her guilt in the village. And now she’s returned for your wedding. She shouldn’t have. She must have realised the risk she was taking.’

  *

  ‘I don’t want to go back to Amiras right now, not after hearing all that,’ Angie said when the police had finished with Nick and his statement. ‘I wish I’d been told all this before. It’s terrible. I mean, the way Thanassi described Emmanouil’s death, it made me sick to my stomach.’ She contemplated her mother for a moment. ‘I can’t imagine how Mam feels. No wonder she blocked it from her memory.’ Angie thought about Poppy and the last couple of months. ‘I feel dreadful pushing Mam to reunite with her family. She must have been terrified of coming back. There must have been another way. I was so determined, but I had no idea of what I might instigate. It could have ended so differently.’

  ‘I think it was pretty brave of Poppy to come back. She must have known the danger she put herself in. Where’s your apartment?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Fifty metres up a narrow backstreet. It’s a bit steep, will you manage?’

  ‘Good practice.’

  *

  Inside her room, breathless from the climb, Angie locked the door. ‘Alone at last,’ she said. ‘Make it all go away, Nick. I want to forget, at least for a while.’

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about it?’ he said, dropping the crutches and taking her into his arms.

  ‘I’m so tired of words, of trying to work it all out. This week was supposed to be about us, and our love, and bringing people together.’ Everything seemed to well up inside her. The happiness of finding her family, seeing her mother and grandmother embrace, and relief that the accident hadn’t been worse. She realised she was trembling, and then sobbing.

  ‘Don’t ever leave me, Nick,’ she whispered. ‘Not like my father left my mother, all alone without the man she loves. Promise me? I don’t want to grow old looking at an empty chair.’ She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him as hard as possible.

  ‘Angie, of course I’ll never leave you. You’ve had a difficult time, sweetheart. I imagine you were frantic when they told you about the crash. Come on,’ he smiled, ‘let’s make some use of that bed, shall we?’ He shrugged out of his cream linen jacket and hung it on the doorknob. ‘I’ve missed you for every hour we’ve been apart.’

  ‘Nick, remember I said I can’t keep secrets from you?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll have another moment alone before the wedding, so I have to ask . . .’ She still struggled to say it. The words stuck in her throat: Did you sleep with Judy Peabody? More than anything, she was terrified of the answer. What if he said yes and then asked her to forgive him? She’d ra
ther not know, because if he had, she would have to leave him, and how could she possibly live on the outside of his life? Just the thought caused her to panic. More than that. To imagine life without Nick made her irrationally sad. Who else could be the father of her children? No one compared. She considered the letter she was not supposed to have opened yet.

  ‘I really was afraid you were having an affair with Judy Peabody,’ she blurted out.

  ‘Sweetheart, don’t doubt me now. Haven’t I proved that I’ll do anything for you, that you’re the only woman for me? You should know I’m not a man to compromise. You’re the best, Angie, simply the best.’ He took both her hands in his. ‘I confess I did spend some time with that woman outside of work, but not in that way. I showed her the flat twice, and met her a third time, at the flat, just before my stag do; on the day we exchanged contracts. That was to hand the keys over.’ He sat beside her on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Sorry I doubted you.’

  ‘I should tell you, I did keep some secrets from you though. Only because I thought you were stressed enough with Poppy and the wedding.’

  ‘If you’re going to tell me you’ve lost your job too, I already know. I don’t care, Nick. My priorities have changed drastically. That we’re happy together, for the rest of our lives, that’s what’s important.’

  ‘You’re right, I did lose my job. But yesterday, before we went to the airport, the MD called me in. He said he had heard why I had missed the board meeting, and why I couldn’t attend the next one. He said he liked a man with integrity, who knew what was important; and not only did he reinstate me, but he gave me a promotion!’ Nick grinned.

  ‘Wow! Congratulations. It’s only what you deserve after all the extra work you put in.’ Angie realised Judy must have gone straight to the MD after Angie had told her what had happened. Perhaps she wasn’t so bad after all.

  ‘After the meeting, Judy gave me something for you. Pass it over, will you? It’s in my jacket pocket.’

  Angie fetched the small bubble-lined envelope and sat beside him while he ripped it open.