by Sara Alexi
'Well, it was just – I spoke from the heart, but now I can see that it could look like I wanted to know what was not mine to know, and I really – oh gosh, I feel so embarrassed.'
'Please, Doctor, I hear your concerns and I appreciate your care. Pantelis has made his feelings known to me. But my position here is to take care of the children and provide meals and look after the house.'
'You are a good woman, Poppy, but I know how stress can affect a person. Let me just say that if you ever feel you need someone to talk to then you must find me. I feel I have a duty of care towards you.'
'You have no duty to me, Doctor, but I do appreciate your concern. If I need you, I will find you.'
With that, Poppy pushed the back door open and the doctor entered the house.
The doctor stayed for a brandy after the coffee, and Poppy was sent for a second bottle. Pantelis was drinking far more than he normally did and Monica eyed him with a narrow, hard stare. Poppy put the twins to bed and busied herself in the kitchen with the dishes.
'Well, I think I’d better be going,' she heard the doctor announce finally.
'One for the road, then,' Pantelis replied; from the kitchen Poppy heard the decanter crashing against the sideboard.
'You’ve had one for every road on this island, and then some!' Monica sneered.
'I think I won’t, but thank you for the offer. Goodnight, all,' the doctor called out, and she heard a hand tap gently on the kitchen door as he made his way past.
Pantelis stumbled after him, and then back to the sitting room, where he kicked off his boots onto the floor. Poppy heard them crash onto the floorboards one after the other, and she pictured him sprawled on the sofa.
'Well, I’m going to bed. Drink yourself blind if you want to,' Monica announced.
'I’ll come with you,' Pantelis slurred.
'No need,' came the reply.
'But we are a couple, man and wife, of course there is a need.' Pantelis’s words were so garbled that Poppy could only just make out what he was saying.
'No, there is not.' Monica was emphatic.
'I will come,’ he insisted, and Poppy could hear him crashing about in the sitting room, rolling off the sofa and onto the floor, and then struggling to get back on his feet. ‘I will just kiss the babies goodnight.'
'As you like,' Monica replied.
The sound of a glass breaking was followed by an expletive and then a heavy, unsteady tread coming in the direction of the kitchen.
'Oh, Poppy!' Pantelis exclaimed, leaning on the door frame. He seemed surprised to see her in the kitchen, although she couldn't think where else he would expect to see her at that time of night. The rest of the house was his and his wife’s. She didn't answer him, and he stood there, swaying in the doorway.
'Poppy.' He breathed out her name again as if naming a rare orchid. Poppy gathered up her sewing from the kitchen table and stabbed a needle into the bundle to hold it together. He stepped unsteadily towards her.
'Poppy.' He spoke quietly, and she turned to go the other way around the table, stopping to put her sewing in the drawer of the old dresser. Despite his condition, he was quick on his feet, and he headed the other way around the table, blocking her exit, one arm on the table and one on the dresser.
'I want to go to my room. Please leave me alone.' Poppy did not look him in the face as she spoke, but her heartbeat quickened as she now wondered with sudden panic whether the doctor had been trying to warn her, whether he had known of Pantelis’s intentions somehow.
'Poppy, remember how we were. Remember the warmth, the passion. Poppy, we were good together.'
She could smell the brandy on his breath.
'Anyone can take a wrong turn – surely it is a forgivable offence? Come, Poppy, let us see if the magic is still there.' He stepped towards her, pinning her in the corner, and tried to press his lips to her mouth. She turned her head this way and that, avoiding him, and he let go of the dresser, grabbed at the back of her head for a handful of hair and forced his kiss upon her.
With her eyes wide, Poppy saw Monica in the doorway, and she squirmed and twisted all the more. Pantelis let go finally, and as soon as her lips were free she spat out, 'Your wife!'
His head spun but he was too late – she was gone.
'You’re lying,' he sneered, and that was the last insult she needed. Her knee rose and he crumpled, falling sideways onto the floor. Poppy stepped over him and left him writhing in agony. She locked the door of her bedroom and spent a sleepless night worrying that she would be dismissed in the morning and would see her beloved children no more.
When dawn came, Poppy was still hunched over the cribs looking from one child to the other, wishing them sweet blessings, telling them she would find them when they were older, telling them that they were precious and lovable no matter what Monmon said or did. She had cried herself dry and still she could not believe that her babies could be taken away from her, but she had done what she had done and she saw that it was impossible for Pantelis to allow her to remain. She had rejected him and she had struck him. But more than that, Monica had caught Pantelis trying to kiss her. Even if he let her stay, there was no way Monica would. It was certain that she would be asked to leave, probably at the very moment they rose from their beds. So, kissing the sleeping children once more, she packed, this time stuffing her belongings into the pillowcase from her bed and calling it her own. She saw it as her right to take the sheets, too, and the towels, and the blankets she had knitted for the twins. In fact, she felt she had the right to take whatever she liked; this dismissal was not her fault. But as she looked at the things, she found she wanted none of them. All she wanted was her children, and when they woke all they would want would be her.
Then it came to her; the solution was simple. She would rent a place on the island with the money she had saved from her wages and she would find out who Pantelis and Monica employed next – she was bound to be a woman from the island. Then, as soon as they went on their next trip, she would pay a visit, and the new woman would see how the children were with her, how much they loved her, and then she would tell the whole story, draw the new woman into seeing her side and then, maybe, the children would not lose her altogether. The new woman could take them on walks, they could meet up – surely life would allow her that? It was so little to ask.
‘Although I was certain they would tell me to leave,’ Poppy tells Juliet, ‘I just went down to the kitchen, and started making the breakfast, as I would any other day. I didn’t know what else to do! As it turned out, of course, it was a day that was quite unlike any other, but not at all in the way I expected.’
Poppy remembers that morning vividly – listening for any slight sound, nervous about how the uproar that was certain to come would show itself. It was Monica’s voice that finally broke the silence.
‘Poppy,’ she called icily, from out in the hall, ‘have the children dressed and ready for ten o’clock.’
Poppy did as she was told, all the while waiting for the explosion that was sure to follow.
Of Pantelis there was no sign, and at ten o’clock Monica called her again.
‘Bring them,’ she commanded, and Poppy, unquestioning, followed her out of the house and down the hill, half carrying and half leading the children, who were not steady enough on their feet yet to walk any distance unaided, certainly not at the pace that Monica was setting.
Monica only slowed down as they neared the port. Poppy’s breath came in great heaving lungfuls.
‘They were crying by the time we reached the port,’ Poppy recalls. ‘The change in routine, and being marched down there like that.’
Juliet nods, understanding.
'I tried to calm them, of course, and Monica paid them no attention, and then, from nowhere, he appeared, and he took them by the hand, one in each hand, and that was it.'
Chapter 29
The children took their father’s hands obediently, but they turned their heads to look back at Poppy, s
tartled eyes growing wider as they were led away. Beyond Pantelis and the children was a boat moored to the quay, with Monica inscribed on the bow, and in that instant Poppy knew that they were taking the children away with them. Her hand leapt to her throat at the horror of what was happening; her legs twitched, wanting to run to them, to wrench their hands free and hug them to her breast and challenge both Pantelis and Monica. Neither of them should have any command over her precious darlings. She wanted to snap her teeth at him and growl like an animal. That would have felt natural. But she couldn't, she had no rights, and she watched the shock on the children’s faces change to fear as they were led up the gangplank and onto the boat without her. They twisted to free their little hands, called out to her and then screamed and cried. She began to move then, to run and protect, to save them. But Monica took half a step across her path and stopped her in her tracks.
'Poppy, please,’ Pantelis implored, ‘do not make this harder than it already is for them.'
She hated him for it, but she knew he was right, and that if it had been decided that the children were to leave on the boat, the least she could do was to make it as easy for them as possible.
His words anchored her to the spot, and it took everything within her not to shout out the children’s names. But Pantelis was right – that would only add fuel to the fire of their distress. From deep within her came the knowledge that to acquiesce to what was happening, to keep silent the screams of her heart, to stay still and to smile – yes, actually force a smile – was the best thing for her babies. And so she did; she forced a smile that said, 'Don't worry, my precious ones, blood of my heart, don't worry, all is well, everything will be fine.'
And with that false smile plastered to her face, she watched them being led against their will up the gangplank, and with a final hysterical scream from each of them, they were bustled into the shadows of the boat’s interior. Monica followed, and Poppy stood on the quayside watching helplessly as the huge shiny vessel pulled away from the harbour wall.
'Oh God, Poppy!' Juliet interrupts the narrative. 'I have two boys of my own, and I remember just how precious they were at that age. The thought of anyone coming between me and them – I would have attacked them like a wildcat.'
She dabs at her eyes with a tissue and wipes her nose. Poppy’s eyes are dry, and a rather harsh look has come over her face. It is an expression that Juliet has seen on Poppy's face in the past, around the village. She thought that Poppy just had an unfortunate face in repose, but now it’s clear that it comes from an internal tension.
'Are you all right?' Juliet says.
'They took those children away and gave me no indication whether I would ever see them again.' Poppy does not blink. She has become unnaturally still, but there is nothing relaxed in her manner. The tension within her is holding her motionless – like a cat, poised while hunting, ready to strike. Her eyes have changed too; there is an unreachable quality in them, and for a moment Juliet feels a little scared of her.
'Things that happen in our lives shape us and in that moment, something inside me died and something inside me came to life. I think it was my innocence that died … Or perhaps not innocence. My trust in life, my belief that there is any meaning to our existence, that any external force cares in the least for any of us individually. I lost my faith in anything like that. But' – Poppy sighs and blinks – 'as I said, something was also born. If there was no reason for our existence, no plan, no care, no kindness, then I had a choice whether to carry on in such a cruel world or to throw myself head first into the harbour right then and there as the boat sped away. But, knowing that one day my little ones would be old enough to make their own decisions, that they might want to find me, my mind hardened and I became determined I would be there for them whenever it was they needed me. If it was ten years or twenty, I had to survive for that moment, and so there was born a side of me that no longer neglected my needs for the sake of other people. A side that was, or should I say is, a little cold and a little harsh.
'I was, of course, convinced that I no longer had a job at the house, but as no one had told me to leave I remained, and my mind ran in circles trying to work out what I should do and where I should go. Two weeks passed and I had made no decision. I was going about life in a bit of a dream, I think, just going through the motions. I remember I was down in the market buying fish or something, for my dinner, when a clerk came out of the bank saying the manager wanted to see me. My heart sank, of course. I felt it could only be bad news. Was it possible for Pantelis to take back the wages I had stored up? In my naivety, I didn’t know the extent of his power. I was nervous – terrified, even – but the bank manager greeted me with a smile and a handshake.
'You have quite a healthy sum growing,' he said, and then he congratulated me and asked if I wanted the same arrangement to continue, now that my wages had increased. I couldn’t believe it at first, and he had to explain to me, at least twice, that he had instructions to raise my pay. Well, you can imagine how shocked I was! This was the last thing I expected, and it spoke loudly to me of the guilt Pantelis must have been feeling. As for me, my job now felt secure at last, and I knew Pantelis and Monica would not be back. It was as if I had been given a home rent-free, as compensation for the loss of my little ones!
‘At first, I was furious that he put so low a price on how I felt and how the twins felt about me. It was small compensation. But as time passed, I felt that when I went down into the hub of Orino town I could do so with my head held high and look people in the eye. I suspect, from the way they began to treat me, they recognised the anger, the fear, the sense of loss that was now in me, the very edge of insanity, and they backed away a little, but they also showed me more respect than before. At first, of course, the children were on my mind all the time, and I wondered where they were and what they were doing – who was caring for them, feeding them, playing games with them. I tried to imagine how they could learn to love Monica, or she them, and I worried that their life lacked the warmth they so deserved. It made me deeply unhappy. But there was nothing I could do so I continued to concentrate on my survival, which really meant just getting through the days one at a time. After a while, the reality of my situation soaked in so deeply that I began to really understand that I could not change what had happened. I came to the conclusion that if I could not change the outside world then the only thing I could change was my inside world. I needed to alter my state of mind.'
Juliet sits a little more upright. Poppy's face has softened slightly and her brow is creased, her eyes looking left and right but not seeing the world around her.
'I think I had a kind of notion, like a blueprint, of how I had presumed my life would be, or maybe a blueprint of what I thought I deserved. I had expected a happy life, for sure. Why wouldn’t I? I had a happy childhood. I expected a few concessions in life – those born with a pretty face do, you know, even if they don't know it.' Her mouth twitches with the promise of a smile that does not come.
‘At the beginning of my relationship with Pantelis I expected a happy-ever-after. That changed, of course, when Monica arrived, but I expected, at the least, to be able to carve out a life of tolerable servitude for myself. But to be left alone, the children taken – for Pantelis to be so cruel! I felt thoroughly used, and this was even lower than my lowest expectation, and this was what was making me so deeply miserable. Also, I had an expectation of what the twins deserved. They deserved to be loved, and I loved them. But that was denied to both of us. So the realisation came that what I expected and what I got were very different, and I could not change what I had, so the only answer was to change what I expected.'
'That sounds very impressive, but it is one thing to have these thoughts and quite another to implement them,' Juliet says.
'There is a lot of talk these days about post-traumatic stress,’ says Poppy. ‘I expect you have heard of it? They call it a mental health condition these days. Everything seems to be a condition, or a disorder,
these days, with some set of initials to make it sound important. Anyway, you know what PTS is, right? When someone who has gone through something horrible and then they get nightmares and uncontrollable thoughts, all that sort of thing. Terrible for anyone who suffers from it, I imagine.'
'So you don't think you were suffering from it? I would be surprised if you weren’t.'
'I think there is something else that can come out of trauma. Maybe it takes a while to surface and grow but I firmly believe that there is something really positive that can come from such events.'
'Can you explain that?’
'Hm, I can try. Obviously, I was grappling with what had happened and I found myself sinking to some very low places, but something else seemed to emerge, the more I focused on myself and my survival. It felt like it was rising up. I thought of Pantelis and tried to guess what had happened to him in his life, with his super-rich parents who were away so much, who kept no photographs of him, and I tried to understand, on an emotional level, how this must have shaped his decisions and responses. And I guessed at what might have happened to Monica to make her so hard and cold. Feeling my own pain, I could imagine all too well how great their pain must have been for them both to be so defensive. There was a moment, like a “ping” in my head, when I knew that they did not mean to harm me, they were just doing the best they could, and I felt such compassion for their struggles that I forgave them.'
'Wow!' is all Juliet manages to say.
'Of course, there were the twins, and they were my number one concern, but I realised that they too would have their own life path and that I couldn't decide for them what that was, and that we are all shaped by our upbringing. An outwardly “good” upbringing can turn someone bad and what looks like a “bad” upbringing can turn someone good. There are no guarantees and maybe the way I was bringing them up might result in something I could never have foreseen, and so I let go. I gave up the illusion that I, or you, or anyone in this world, really has any control over life. We all like to think we do, and we all live day to day in this illusion. I think it would be too much for most of us if we did not, but the truth is that none of us has control. And so this letting go, and this sense of compassion, which was just for Pantelis and Monica at first, expanded to everyone I met, and I felt like I was living a totally different life.'
