The Housekeeper (The Greek Island Series)

by Sara Alexi

  Juliet recalls the feelings she had at the time but they are distant and no longer seem to matter.

  'I can remember looking at this sum, which seemed huge. I’d never had that much money in my account before, never imagined that I would ever have so much. But as I looked at the number printed on that piece of paper it shocked me to realise that in reality it was nowhere near enough to buy a house and, at my age, with no job, I would never qualify for a mortgage.'

  She sighs deeply before resuming with energy. 'But, I told myself as I looked over the brochures, there was enough to blow some of the money on a second holiday in Greece. Then the wine told me it was enough money to buy one of the little whitewashed cottages in the travel magazines, and so I spent the rest of the night on the Internet looking for Greek estate agents.'

  'So did you find this place on the Internet?'

  'Oh no, I came on holiday with the intention of finding an area I would like to live in. I still don't think I took the idea seriously, even at that point. I posted a couple of pictures online with captions about moving here and someone commented telling me that running away was not the answer. Someone else added that they hoped the holiday would help me come to terms with my lot in England, or something like that. More comments came in from friends, and then friends of friends. The more I read, the more furious I became at these people trying to run my life, not only telling me what I should do but telling me that it was the only option I had. Small, cheap flat, part-time job, no future.'

  'Were you staying here in the village at that point?'

  'I was in a tiny room in Saros, and I took a walk along the coast, ended up here, wandered about, came up this lane, saw this house and just knew my future. I agreed to buy it on the spot and I’ve never been lonely since!'

  'Without going back to England first to think it over?'

  'I didn't go back at all. Most of the furniture is what was left. I got my stuff sent over, what little I had. Those books.'

  Juliet points to a shelf crammed with textbooks and dictionaries, and a few novels.

  'And my clothes, and those pictures.'

  She indicates a framed picture of two boys. 'They were about three when that was taken. They are men now. Three, eh! So precious at that age … I don't know how you stood your twins being taken from you.'

  'Ah, it is a precious age,' Poppy agrees.

  'So was that it, then? Pantelis took them away and you have never seen them since?' There is sadness in her voice. 'Surely they came to find you once they became adults? It is human nature to seek out kin and those who raised us. It’s the way we try to explain life to ourselves.'

  Poppy starts to chuckle and this becomes a laugh, and her face creases around her eyes as her frame shakes with her giggles. Finally it is brought to a halt with an 'Aww, eee, oh, my tail bone.'

  'Now, why would you laugh at me asking if you saw them again?' The sadness Juliet felt has gone. Poppy has a way of making her feel empowered.

  'I think just a little medicinal wine would help ease this part of the story,' Poppy says.

  'But it isn't even lunchtime yet?' Juliet looks at the kitchen clock. She must get batteries for that; it’s been weeks since it worked.

  'At my age, I drink when I get the urge, which isn't often, so let’s make the most of it.' She is still chuckling and shifting her weight around in the chair, trying to find a place that is comfortable.

  Juliet forages in the kitchen for wine and considers that, seeing as Poppy drank only the night before, maybe the urge comes more often than the old woman realises.

  Chapter 32

  Juliet pours Poppy her wine and pours a virtuous glass of water for herself.

  'So, tell me why you laughed when I suggested that they would find you when they came of age? They came, didn't they, they found you!'

  'As I said, the next couple of years, whilst I adjusted, were harsh but enlightening. People still viewed me as the housekeeper, which technically I suppose I was, but really the situation had moved beyond that. As long as the house belonged to Pantelis, it was mine to live in and would stay mine – they would never come back. I also had no doubt that his guilt, which had set me up with such regular and generous wages, would not diminish over time, and so I felt I could depend on that money.'

  'Set for life! But you were still only young, weren’t you? Didn’t you want your own love, your own children?' Juliet takes a sip of her water, anticipating wine, and pulls a face with disappointment.

  'Get yourself a wine,' Poppy presses and so, even though the sun is not yet at its highest point, Juliet does. 'No, what happened next I did not foresee and it is as a result of what happened next that I did really want to talk to you. But now I am wondering why I thought you could help, if indeed help is possible at all at this late stage.'

  'They say it’s never too late, don't they?'

  'Drink those words in, Juliet – you may need them,' Poppy mutters.

  'What do you mean?' Juliet strokes Aaman the cat, who jumps onto her knee.

  'So, back to my story,' Poppy says in deflection. 'Two years later I had my routine, which was not much of a routine as so little needed to be done in the house on a daily basis. A few tavernas and cafes had opened down in the port by this time, for the tourists who were starting to visit, and the first foreigners were buying summer homes on the island. I remember there was a famous American singer … Or was he Canadian? Oh, and I remember they started making films on the island around that time. Have you seen any of the Finos films from the sixties? Well, the directors seemed to love Orino Island as a location, it being so lost in time, with no cars, no motorbikes, only donkeys. So the place that was so quiet when I arrived was now buzzing with interesting people. My English was getting better by the day as I sat in the cafes and met all sorts of interesting people. Not many of the locals could speak English then, and I felt like something of a celebrity myself, for a while, seeing faces from the screen, and all these glamorous foreigners around.'

  'How amazing.'

  'There was one man, so famous at the time, people still know his name today. He talked to me a lot and eventually asked me to have dinner with him, saying he could not stop thinking about me. I was flattered, of course, and he promised me houses in Hollywood, the jet-set lifestyle … He had a magnificent yacht moored outside the harbour, too big to come in.'

  'What happened?'

  'He was nice – I mean, really nice – but I was just a simple island girl and he knew it. I was a diversion for him, an escape, and if I allowed him to take me away from the island, and dress me in American clothes, I felt he would lose interest and be off looking for the next diversion.'

  'Really? Is that something you can judge? What did your heart say to you about him? Did you like him, romantically?'

  'Oh, who knows?’ Poppy sighs. ‘Maybe I was just scared of the unknown. Of course, I was tempted, but in the end I think I was happy enough where I was. And I felt like I could see through him.'

  Poppy looks up at the ceiling; the sagging skin on her neck pulls taut. 'Hm, that sounds so arrogant. But this man had been whisked into the limelight so quickly I reckoned that he still missed the simple life and I think that was what he saw in me – a chance to return to something familiar.’

  'I can see how that might be.' Juliet has drained her glass.

  'Anyway, I was at one of the harbour cafes one day when the morning ferry arrived as usual. I was sitting with an American singer, a French poet and a Greek actor. I had a fine figure back then – like Sophia Loren, they often said. And I had long dark hair, and my complexion was smooth and tanned. One of the actresses had taught me how to put eyeliner on, so I must have looked the part. I certainly felt as though I fitted in.'

  Juliet smiles, picturing the young Poppy.

  'But guess who got off the ferry, unannounced?'

  Juliet opens her mouth to speak but Poppy is too quick.

  'Yes, Pantelis, and with him my two babies. But of course, they weren't babies an
y more! They were five, not even toddlers – they were proper children. Now, I would have thought, if I could have thought at all, that my reaction would have been to jump up and run to them. But I didn't – I froze. The French poet saw the look on my face and he asked if I had seen a ghost, to which I replied I had, but I never took my eye off my twins. I waited for their mother to disembark but she wasn’t with them. They didn’t notice me, of course, and I didn’t say anything. I just watched them turn in the direction of the house.'

  Poppy exhales and looks up at the ceiling.

  The French poet laughed. 'So, this ghost you saw, is it still there?'

  The American singer laughed too.

  Poppy heard them but could not take her eyes off Angeliki and Vasillis. They had grown so tall, and Vasillis looked more like his baba than ever. Angeliki had her mama’s long neck. They seemed relaxed and confident. But Poppy did not stand and run to them. They had not seen her for two years, almost half their lifetime. What if she rushed up to them and hugged them and they did not recognise her? Why should they remember her? Worse still, what if Monica had fed them with negativity towards her? But Pantelis knew she was still looking after the house. Yes, he expected the children to meet her, but on what terms? And would they still call her Mama?

  'Oh my!’ The French poet was the first to notice her crying. ‘But why are there tears on your cheek, Poppy?'

  'The ghost has frightened her.' The American singer leaned forward and put his hand on her forearm for comfort. 'Poppy, our goddess, tell me, are you all right?'

  Pantelis’s path took him and the children right past their table, and as he went by he glanced at the famous faces, a smile on his lips. Then he faltered. He stopped. The children looked up at him and his head turned and he stared Poppy in the face.

  'There is the ghost,' the Frenchman whispered.

  'Lucky ghost,' the American replied.

  'I must go,' Poppy said, and she stood and walked stiffly over to Pantelis, stopping a couple of metres away and dropping to her knees, level with the children. Would they recognise her? The fear made her heart pound. She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest as she crouched. Vasillis looked at her with blank eyes and then his brow lowered. Angeliki’s eyes widened and she twisted her hand free and ran to Poppy, whose arms reached out in response. Vasillis quickly followed, and he too rushed to be embraced. With their heads either side of her face she could see nothing but hair, and she drank in their scent and wrapped her arms more tightly around them, and her tears flowed freely, but she made no noise. Her heart was still pounding, and it felt like it expanded until she could contain the whole world within her.

  'My loves,' she said, first to Angeliki and then Vasillis. 'Oh, my own heart’s desires.' And she kissed them on each cheek and then again and then on the nose and the forehead, on the chin. She took their hands and kissed their fingers. Angeliki threw her arms around Poppy's neck again and hugged her tightly, as if there was no way for her to get close enough. It took all Poppy’s strength to stay upright as Vasillis grabbed at her too, smothering her in his embrace.

  'Mama.' Angeliki was the first to say the word.

  'Mama,' Vasillis echoed, and this was more than her wrung-out heart could bear and she sobbed openly. The children looked briefly concerned at her tears but she smiled through them, her happiness mixed in with the release.

  'Oh my darlings,' she repeated, and she could have stayed there for hours, hugging them and drinking in the joy of their presence. But of course, the children began to fidget, and Pantelis was clearly starting to feel uncomfortable with the emotional scene.

  'Shall we go up to the house?’ he said. ‘There we will have all the time in the world.'

  He spoke kindly and smiled at Poppy, and she understood his meaning – he was not leaving any time soon. With a tiny hand in each of hers, Poppy led the way back to the house.

  Once in the house, it was the children who led her around, reacquainting themselves with their earlier childhood. Even after two years, Poppy had not removed their cots from her room, and now they both tried to curl up in the little beds and complained that they were too small.

  'Ah, we must prepare rooms upstairs for you two, now you are all grown up,’ said Pantelis. ‘The guest room has two beds in it. Maybe you could find some sheets?'

  He turned to Poppy but she was absorbed in Vasillis’s recollection of the flight over from America, and how long it had seemed, and how nice one of the air hostesses was, and how they had had ice cream three times on the plane. Vasillis kept referring to Angeliki as Anna and Anna called him Vass, and they had both picked up an American twang.

  ‘Baba, how long do we get to stay here?’ Angeliki asked.

  'Oh, we’ll see. Maybe you’ll like it here,’ he replied.

  ‘I don't want to go back.’ Vass was adamant; he told Poppy about a group of boys at school who were being unkind to him.

  ‘Don’t worry about school and bullies now – we’ve got the whole summer ahead of us, Pantelis said, wiping the dust off the decanter and pouring himself a whisky.

  ‘What about my goldfish?’ Anna’s eyes were wide. ‘And my picture I never finished?'

  'I think you could do another one, probably a better one, here.’

  The children were silent for a while, absorbing the possibility that they might stay here for quite some time. Poppy distracted them by folding a piece of paper into a bird and the silence turned to laughter as they tried to copy her.

  The children helped Poppy prepare lunch, and Vass declared that he would eat at the kitchen table with Poppy, and not in the dining room, and Anna agreed, pulling on her father’s hand.

  'Do you mind?' Pantelis said to Poppy.

  She could have said, 'It’s not my house,' or 'Do as you please,' but she said nothing of the kind.

  'You may,' she replied, as if he were a guest in the house.

  The afternoon was spent playing hide-and-seek, during which the twins explored every last corner of the house. During this time, Pantelis made up the two beds in the guest room and unpacked the bags, which seemed to be stuffed full of the children’s toys and little else.

  'This is teddy,' Anna said, showing Poppy a love-worn saggy cloth bear.

  'And this is Poppy,' said Vass, showing her his own bear, before submitting to a hug.

  Evening found them all in the kitchen again, preparing dinner.

  'I think we will eat in the dining room,' Pantelis said. 'I wonder if you two know how to set the table?’

  The twins rushed off, eager to show how capable they were, leaving Poppy alert to Pantelis’s proximity in the kitchen.

  'I’m sorry I gave you no warning of our return,' he said, somewhat hesitantly.

  Poppy was silent.

  'I did try to write a letter but the words would not come.' It sounded like an apology.

  'No matter,' Poppy said, cutting away the excess filo pastry from the feta and spinach pie she was making.

  'I …' he began again, but the children rushed in and he turned away, pretending to examine a bottle of wine.

  When the food was ready the children took the salad and bread to the dining room, and Pantelis followed with the pie. Poppy hung back in the kitchen, realising that, having made food for them, she had failed to prepare anything for herself. She had gathered together a piece of bread and an apple, and some creamy local feta, when there was a tap at the door and Pantelis came back in.

  'The, erm, children have set four places,' he said.

  Poppy frowned at first and then raised her eyebrows.

  'They want to know why you are not coming in to eat?'

  Poppy stood staring at him, trying to gauge what he was really saying.

  'Please come,' he said, and stepped to one side, holding the door open for her to pass.

  So that night she ate with her children, and Pantelis waited on her as if she was his equal, and when they were finished the children took the plates back to the kitchen. Naturall
y, they were exhausted from their travels and, despite their protestations to the contrary, they were soon tucked up in bed, where Poppy delighted in reading them stories. Once their eyes were closed she went downstairs to find that Pantelis had poured her a whisky.

  'Please join me,' he said, and all she could hear were echoes of the first time he seduced her into his life.

  'I have no reason to join you, and I wish you a good night.'

  'No, wait, please – this is no idle invitation. There is something I wish to ask you.' He indicated a seat close to him. She sat on the chair nearest the door and ignored the crystal glass full of amber liquid that he put on the table beside her.

  'I don't think I need to tell you,’ he began, ‘that Monica is gone. We are divorced, and I have custody of the children. I think she has moved to Paris, or perhaps Milan. Anyway, we have lost touch, and the children never ask after her.'

  Poppy made a move to stand, but he held up his hand for her to stay.

  'But that is all background, and not what I wanted to say.' Poppy sat down again. 'I had to tell you all that so you knew the position. No, what I wanted to say was that I think I made the most ghastly mistake with that episode of my life.'

  'You have two wonderful children,' Poppy interjected.

  'Yes – yes, you are right. But for myself, it was a mistake. It was infatuation, I was impressed, and she also had a great deal of money. Of course, that should have made no difference but I think, at the time, it did.'

  Poppy frowned and studied the pattern in the rug, waiting for him to finish.

  'Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I am wiser, and one thing I do know – well, I suppose I always knew – is that it was not love.'