One day when she saw Maria alone Tasia begged her to show her how to do cross-stitch out of sight of anyone who might tell Maria's father. Then one day she used a piece of sackcloth and, using coloured pieces of left-over wool from her mother's weaving, worked a pattern of her own. But she wasn't satisfied. Her mother perhaps upset because she didn't have money to buy her the proper materials reprimanded her for wasting time on such frivolous things.
What was there for her to do then, beyond working the land and doing the housework?
One Wednesday morning just as he was going out the gate on his way to the market in Ptolemais, her father mentioned casually she had passed the exams. Feeling pleased with herself and excited, she waited anxiously for him to return, wanting to learn more about it. But when she saw how tired and worn-out he was, she said nothing, not wanting to burden him further. There was no point anyhow, she thought, because her success wasn't going to make any difference. There was no way she could attend high school. Where was she going to stay? Who was going to take care of her? She couldn't feel proud or brag about it; she couldn't even daydream. Despite this, a shy voice inside her was saying she was destined for different things, for things much higher than anything done by the women in the village. There was no doubt she was different; she didn't fit in. She didn't belong to this place.
Her father didn't again bring up the issue of her proceeding to high school. As the days and weeks passed he seemed more tired and concerned than usual, making her remorseful for having agreed to sit the entrance exams and answering all the exam questions. The best she could do now was to keep quiet about the results, not ask any questions, let the whole thing die.
She would liked to have talked to her mother, to open her heart to her, to tell her all her worries. But then Aunty Antigone, mother's only true friend, was taken to a sanatorium in Salonica, causing her mother to withdraw even more into herself and become gloomy and as silent as ever.
'That's the good those refugees brought us,' the women in the water tap gossiped about Antigone's fate. 'Misery and consumption. That's how we'll all end up: sick. We'll all die from consumption!'
Tasia's mother kept working non-stop, as if work would keep away the demons and ghosts tormenting her. But she was doing her work like a robot: without thinking, without heart.
As the days passed without the slightest reference to the burning issue of her entry into high school, Tasia was left feeling even more bewildered and ambivalent. Her desire to go equalled the desire not to go. Both probabilities were equally exciting and frightening.
In the end she thought about the whole affair as one of life's sinister games and accepted the idea she was destined to spend the rest of her life in the village like every other girl. Even walking to Ptolemais and back and sitting the exams was nothing more than a dream she had mistaken for reality.
Eventually, Tasia managed to forget the whole incident completely, or at least to put it out of her mind. Then, one afternoon as her father unloaded the mules after spending the day in Ptolemais, he gave her a black dress with a white collar and buttons asking her to put it on for her mother to see if it needed any fixing.
'But ' Tasia tried to protest.
'Go on! Put it on. That's what all the schoolgirls have to wear. It's compulsory. I got it a size bigger so it fits you for the following year as well.'
'But how can I go to school? How will I live? Where can I stay?' Tasia wanted to know.
'I've found you a room. It's not bad: big enough and not very expensive. I can pay for it with things we produce: wheat, corn, eggs and so on. Go on, then. Put the uniform on and go to your mother and see if it needs shortening.'
'When do I start?'
'On Monday. I've enrolled you already. I went to the school with a friend who knows about those things. When I come home from work tomorrow afternoon I want you to be ready. We'll load up the mules and be on our way.' Late on Sunday afternoon they took off. The sun had passed its highest point and was descending, its rays bleaching the eastern mountains and washing away the shadows. The valley appeared more defined and much larger, while the shape and size of the town was easier to see. Even the distance seemed shorter as they were there in no time at all. They entered the town, her father driving the mules, turning them the way he wanted them to go, until they stopped in front of a low, mud-brick house and her father knocked on the entrance door.
'Look! That's your window up there,' he just had time to say before a shrunken-up, humpback old lady dressed in black appeared at the doorway. She took no notice of Tasia's father but turned all her attention to the young girl, studying her from head to toe as if trying to assess her, not allowing any detail escape her.
'Well, let's see how we get along,' she said at last to Tasia who stood there, head downcast.
'I have your father as a witness. He knows what I'm expecting from you,' the old lady continued.
'She is a good girl. She is not going to give you any trouble.'
'I'm letting you a room and not the whole house,' the lady continued unperturbed. 'And I'm letting the room only to you and not to all your school or the neighbourhood. Only your father is allowed to enter your room.'
'Yes,' her father smiled sheepishly. 'We've spoken about all this and I agreed.'
'That's right. I've explained to your father I'm an old woman and don't want any trouble.'
'I can promise you she is not going to give you any trouble,' her father reassured her.
Tasia wasn't expecting such a welcome. She was close to tears as she stood there with bowed head. Without uttering a single word she rushed out to help her father unload the mules and carry her things inside. They made the bed underneath the window along the wall: boards on trestles and a mattress of sackcloth filled with corn leaves.
The sun had set already and the shadows inside the room increased.
'I have to go,' her father said. 'By the time I get home it'll be pitch-black. You can take care of the rest. I'll see you on Wednesday. Don't worry, you'll be alright,' he added.
Then, he took his coat and without saying another word he turned around and left in a hurry.
She stood motionless in the middle of the room where he had left her, not knowing what to do next or how to cope with the enormous void inside that threatened to engulf her. She was still standing there when the landlady came in carrying a water pitcher she placed on the table.
'Here is some water for the night. From tomorrow you'll have to fetch your own from the communal water tap down the street. Now come with me and I'll show you where the toilet is before it gets dark. There is no electricity and I hope you brought a kerosene lamp with you.'
Without speaking, Tasia took a step towards her things that lay on the floor, picked up the kerosene lamp and placed it on the table.
'I see you brought one. Good.' The lady was rather relieved.
'I'm not sure how you'll keep warm in winter, but that's another matter.'
She turned to leave with Tasia following her. At the door she stopped and turned to face Tasia.
'And something else,' she said as an afterthought. 'You'll do everything inside your room, washing, cooking. I have no desire to run after you. And don't come knocking on my door. Did you hear me? Never.'
In the darkness of the falling night the things left lying on the floor seemed like a heap of rubbish. The corners of the room gaped at her, black and indefinable. It took an enormous effort to start moving, to pick up and arrange her few possessions. She started by pushing the small table next to the wall close to the bedhead. Fumbling around in the dark she found the matches and lit the kerosene lamp. Then she picked up the rest of her belongings. In the slightly chipped enamel basin her mother had given her for washing the vegetables and dishes she placed the few eating utensils together with a small frypan. The large tin basin was for washing herself and rinsing her clothes. She placed her towels, pillowcases, a few pairs of knitted socks, her cardigans and some underwear into it and pushed it under the bed. Sh
e put the basket with the bread, olives and cheese on the table, and arranged the apples, tomatoes and peppers in the small saucepan.
Feeling utterly exhausted she sat on the bed next to the table and, in an attempt to relieve the empty feeling inside her, she broke a crust of bread and ate it with a handful of olives. Her feet felt numb and heavy as if made from lead. Her body was numb and her brain seemed empty and unable to think. Dressed as she was, she curled up in bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The crowing of a cockerel woke her well before dawn. For a while she thought she was still in her room at home. She drifted off to sleep again until a sound like a gushing stream woke her completely and made her look out the window. A running flock of sheep was passing, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.
It was early but she got up to get ready for school. She tiptoed around trying not to make the slightest sound, not to wake the landlady. She was full of apprehension because she didn't know anything about this new environment.
She had some idea as to what direction to take to school but was worried about finding her way home. She took her time familiarising herself with the neighbourhood streets imprinting on her mind important landmarks that would allow her to find her way back home.
Down the street right on the corner, she could see the water tap with a thin, thread-like stream of water dripping like oil from an oilcan. A long line of water vessels stood, one next to the other, waiting their turn to be filled up. Their owners, a group of chattering women, stared at Tasia when they saw her passing with downcast eyes, lowering their voices at the same time.
A buffalo-drawn cart forced her to step back to let it pass. A goat tied up by a long rope to a stake was bleating pleadingly, compelling her to stop. She put her hand through the barbed wire of the broken-down fence and patted her on the head between her small horns. A donkey, tied to a nearby tree turned and looked at her with his big, stoic eyes and began to bray, as if welcoming her to the neighbourhood.
Some distance down the lane, she stood full of curiosity to watch a whole family, from grandparents to a three-year-old child, trample barefoot on a heap of mud mixed up with straw. A pile of dry mud-bricks and a frame nearby made her realise what they were doing. She had never seen anything like that before, because the houses in her village were built with stones.
She arrived at the big central road and stopped for a minute looking around so as to remember the corner street from which she had come out. To her left she could see a big open space lined by shops and houses. Turning right, she started walking in the middle of the wide road where deep trenches on either side separated the broad pavement which was lined with acacia trees. Small wooden bridges connected the road with the shops and pavement. In front of a cafenion she noticed a young man sweeping the ground that had been first sprayed with water to settle the dust. Another man was arranging small tables and chairs on the swept part.
Suddenly, she heard a roaring noise and the loud sound of a horn behind her and, turning, she saw a truck speeding towards her. Alarmed, she jumped on a wooden platform to the side in front of a kiosk bedecked entirely by newspapers and colourful periodicals hanging by pegs on strings. The chairs and tables of another cafenion were arranged under tall acacias behind the kiosk. There were some male customers already sitting there sipping their morning coffee while reading the paper.
She remained for a while on the wooden platform reading the headlines with great curiosity, trying to make sense of them. To this day, she had never read a whole newspaper, only some scrunched-up and greasy pieces of paper with which the grocer happened to have wrapped up something they had bought. The only way they learnt what was happening around the world was by word of mouth.
'Good morning,' a female voice close by greeted her. Tasia, after looking around saw the face of a mature woman smiling at her from inside a small opening in the front of the kiosk hidden behind a plethora of papers, magazines and many other small items.
'Good morning,' she replied and left in a hurry, afraid she may be asked to pay for reading the papers.
After the scare from the truck, Tasia was afraid to walk in the middle of the road again. She crossed over the left trench and went on the unmade pavement in front of some well-maintained private gardens. On the opposite pavement she read the title of a pharmacy shop ΦΑPMAKEIO ΠANAΓIΩTIΔ written with golden letters on the big windows. Next to the pharmacy was a house, then a long, grey fence that terminated in front of a two-storey building. The words EΛΛHNIKH BAΣIΛIKH XΩPOΦYΛAKH (Police Station) were written above the entrance door.
She continued along looking at the opposite bank and almost stepped in a puddle of mud created by an overflowing trough under a water tap where a small boy was watering his donkey. More carefully, she crossed the road and continued on the right-hand pavement, passing in front of the Church of the Holy Trinity, the Courthouse and an enormous yard fenced by barbed wire. She finally reached the gate leading into the high school grounds.
The sun was now quite high and the temperature was pleasant but Tasia shivered inside and felt like a fish out of water. She stood for a while outside the gate, looking at the large, single storey building and the big, empty yard. She felt weak at the knees, while a persistent question drilled her mind like a worm. Why was she here? What was she doing in this strange place, alone and away from home and family?
A boisterous group of boys appeared at the top of the street, their voices getting louder as they got closer. She felt faint, wishing the earth would open and swallow her up so she would vanish forever. What would she do if the boys started asking her questions? How was she supposed to respond? There was no need to worry though, as the boys bypassed her without even noticing her presence. She felt diminished, unseen, transparent and invisible. Soon the street was full of students: the girls in black poplin uniform with the white collar and buttons, the same as hers, and the boys in black school caps but no uniforms.
Through the gate, the girls went to the left of the building and the boys to the right. With her head bent down and her eyes downcast Tasia followed a group of girls till she reached the wall and stood there with her back to it as if protected by it. Out of the corner of her eye she kept watching the other girls, comparing them to herself, feeling embarrassed and jealous. They all looked confident, well-groomed and self-assured. The girls would call each other's name, kiss and embrace, an indication they knew each other well, making Tasia feel an outsider.
In her mind they were all smart city girls who knew how to dress, how to talk and how to behave. They were all beautiful, refined and sophisticated, it seemed. On the other hand, she was an ugly, crude and unrefined peasant who knew nothing about people and life. Just look how large and ill-fitting her school uniform was, how full of dry mud her rubber sandals were, and how chipped and black her nails were! What was she doing among all those polished and well-to-do girls? Why did she even have to exist? Why couldn't she disappear forever?
The school bell rang and the students assembled below a number of broad stairs leading up to a large platform where the teachers stood. The boys gathered on the right side, girls on the left, the senior class closest to the steps, followed successively by the other classes. Tasia's class being the most junior was the furthermost away, almost next to the fence, with Tasia at the back of the line, hiding and shrivelling as if trying to become invisible.
She was certain she was amongst these beautiful and intelligent girls by mistake. Maybe the exam papers had been mixed up or maybe her name had been mistakenly written on the list of those who passed instead of those who failed. It seemed pretty obvious to her she wasn't there by her own ability. She was convinced her deception would soon be discovered as her ignorance became exposed.
Absorbed in her own uncomfortable thoughts and, so far from the stairs where the headmaster and the teachers were standing, she couldn't see them well; neither could she hear clearly what was being said. A constantly changing direction in the breeze brought so
me isolated words to her ears, words like school principles and values, morality, duty and responsibility.
On entering the classroom she was relieved to see the desks where the girls sat were all taken, except for the last one at the back wall close to the door. She sat there feeling at ease so she could initially keep to herself. She could also hide behind the others if the teacher asked questions. She could conceal her ineptness and her ignorance at least for the time being. However, when the teacher read her name at rollcall she had to get up. Feeling weak at the knees, she answered in a voice so faint even she couldn't hear it.
The first day in the new school passed like a bad dream. Outside the school grounds she was so confused she didn't know which way to turn. Eventually, she found the house, went to her room as quiet as a mouse, silently shut the door and fell on her bed bursting into uncontrollable sobs.
She felt as though she were the last person on the planet, an outcast, unbearably lonely like a tiny sparrow out in the freezing wilderness. She couldn't believe her parents could abandon her in this hostile and inhospitable desert. Since she had been a small child and understood what a heavy load every girl was to her parents, she had tried to ease their burden by working as hard as she possibly could. But they hadn't appreciated her efforts, if they even noticed it at all.
Of course, she wasn't silly. She knew the way she felt about her parents right now was selfish and unfair. But she couldn't control the feeling of desperation, the shame and guilt, because she was such a selfish and ungrateful creature! There was no doubt her parents loved her and were doing the best they could for her. The only thing she could complain about was they never talked, they never held any discussions explaining their thoughts and their actions, and never asked her what she liked, what she wanted to do. Perhaps that was how every child was brought up, with the parents deciding what was best without asking the child or giving any explanations. In any case her parents were always very brief in their conversations, only talking about what was absolutely necessary for every day living. That's why she had never learnt how to be talkative, to express her opinions and to ask questions.
The Lace Tablecloth Page 8
