T
onight we’re going to have fun! We’ll go to the ball!’ said Olga as a matter of fact, as they did their daily English homework.
They were now studying by themselves as the volunteer teacher had lost interest and had withdrawn.
‘What ball? Where?’ asked Tasia, and looked sideways at Tomas hoping to read his response.
‘I was going to suggest that the moment I read about it on the notice board,’ Tomas said.
‘That’s all settled then! Let’s begin our lesson.’
‘Tonight we’re going to the dance,’ John said.
The other three joined in the chorus.
‘Tonight I’m going to the dance … tonight I’m going to the dance … with Tasia … tonight I’m going to the dance with … with Olga … tonight we’re going to drink and dance …Tonight we’re going to drink …’
Tasia was getting ready for the dance under the watchful eye of Yiayia Despo who shook her head disapprovingly, trying to talk sense into her.
‘Don’t do it, my girl! Don’t go to the dance. Think what people are going to say. You are engaged. Think what will happen if your fiance finds out about it. Don’t follow that woman, Olga. She is wicked and shameless. Listen to me. I know what I am talking about.’
The more Yiayia Despo advised her, the more Tasia felt determined to go. Her irritation was obvious as she tried to copy the way Olga put her make-up on and arrange her hair. It was true that deep down she felt a bit disloyal to her mother who never wore make-up. In any case, by now she was used to people’s negative comments ever since she left home to go to high school. Besides, she knew she was the most decent and virtuous girl in the whole world so it was time to stop worrying about people’s opinions. What crime was she going to commit? She was going to a ball — not that she knew exactly what that meant. She was familiar with the dances in the village square following weddings, christenings and other religious celebrations, but she didn’t know about any other type of dancing.
Back in Ptolemais with her friend Helen she had fooled around when the radio played European dance music like the foxtrot, waltz and tango. Helen had learned the dance steps in Kozani and loved to do them. Tasia always took the role of the male dancing partner. Now, as she looked with satisfaction at her reflection in the mirror, she also saw Yiayia Despo shaking her head disapprovingly and letting a ‘tsk, tsk, tsk ‘ escape through her wrinkled lips hiding her bare gums.
The decorated dance hall was big and sparkling. It was lit by hundreds of fairy lights shimmering like distant stars on the dark firmament. The orchestra sat on a slightly elevated platform behind a fine net filled with crystals shining like stars, and a cardboard cut-out of a smiling half-moon. They entered the hall as the orchestra played a divine tune, the sweet sensation making Tasia’s skin goosepimply. Colourful balloons and streamers hung around the room, and the tables were set with white, starched tablecloths and a vase of fresh-cut flowers on each.
The beauty and elegance of the ballroom increased Tasia’s sense of self-worth, particularly when they were escorted with great courtesy to their designated table and helped sit by the waiters. At that point the music changed and the lights got dimmer. A long red, black and gold rowboat appeared from around the corner and glided over the floor. A fancy-dressed boatman standing inside the boat seemed to propel it forward by pressing the floor with a long stick. Another man in similar attire sat inside the boat and the two of them started singing the most enchanting melody.
‘It’s a Venetian gondola with its gondoliers,’ Tomas leaned over to explain to Tasia.
‘And they’re singing the most beautiful of all male duets from the opera the Pearl Fishers,’ John added.
Tasia felt overwhelmed by the elegance, the refinement, the beauty and the harmony of the whole scene. Until now she had lived totally unaware of the existence of such luxury and such sensual beauty. Without hesitation she let Tomas lead her to the dance floor, and tried to synchronise her steps with his. The slippery floor, the swaying of the ship and the high-heeled shoes she had borrowed from Olga made her hang on to Tomas a bit more tightly than she would have liked. The warmth of his body and his hands, together with his masculine smell made her dizzy.
They had picked up the rhythm now. Their bodies swayed in time to the music and their feet were moving in unison. They danced like that for a long time. Then they sat down to rest, eat and drink, and then they danced again. How many dances? She lost count. Was it the two glasses of wine? Or perhaps the music? Or maybe Tomas’s warm hands holding her tight on his chest that made her feel all mixed up? When he held her a bit closer and a bit more tenderly, Tasia panicked. She pushed him aside and ran out of the room.
She took off her shoes and ran barefoot to the upper deck, wanting to hide from everything and everybody, particularly from herself. At this time of night the deck was empty. She found a remote, shaded corner and sat down to massage her aching feet, and tried to think logically. Obviously, Yiayia Despo was right. It wasn’t appropriate for a girl like her to go to dances or any other sort of entertainment and to expose herself to so many inadmissible temptations.
It was very late. The music had stopped and the only audible sound now was the rhythmic beat of the ship’s engine and the purling of the sea. She got up to stretch and let the cool breeze dry the sweat from the roots of her hair and caress her burning face and body. Her feet felt like lead. As she was coming down the steps to the lower deck her knees buckled, forcing her to sit on a step to rest for a while. The sky had become milky and the stars had lost their glitter as the new day approached.
Suddenly a slight noise, something like a wave against the ship’s side, caught her attention. It was coming from somewhere close and sounded like a sigh, like a controlled sob. A small lifeboat nearby appeared to sway slightly while the other lifeboats were still. For a moment she thought someone under the boat’s cover was in trouble and needed help. She thought of getting up to go and investigate, but then she stood there frozen. She thought she heard the whispering voices of Olga and John. Most likely she was mistaken. In any case, the whispers and the passionate kisses she could hear were not calls for help but moans of pleasure and desire. Feeling most embarrassed, like an intruder, she left on tiptoes with a sensation of excitement and disgust.
Could it be that last night’s happenings were only a dream or perhaps the creation of her imagination? Was it true she had danced in Tomas’s arms with her whole body on fire? Had she imagined she stayed on deck till daybreak and had heard Olga and John whispering inside the lifeboat?
Olga was now before her, smiling innocently and without any blemish or any sign of guilt to shadow her radiant face. But, if Olga was in love with John, how could anybody blame her? No girl could resist the charm of this handsome and dynamic young man who last night people were deifying with their applause, asking him to play more and more pieces on the piano.
The public address system interrupted their study.
We are approaching Port Said where the ship will berth for four hours. Passengers may disembark to visit Cairo or Port Said …
‘I doubt if we’ll ever pass this way again,’ John said with a melancholy tone in his voice.
‘What do you think? Shall we go? I personally would like to very much.’
‘Why not? Let’s go,’ they all agreed.
The heat was unbearable when they reached port. Many small boats full of all sorts of merchandise had besieged the ship.
Tasia was shocked to see a pitch-black man — whose bare chest was shining, sweaty in the hot sun — advertise his wares in perfect Greek.
‘Tablecloths, towels, slippers, kerchiefs and whatever else you wish, very cheap, very cheap …’
In the distance she could see the silhouette of tall buildings, and rows of palm trees along the shoreline. Tasia had never seen palm trees before and found the whole scene exotic and mysterious. But when they disembarked and began to cross the narrow and neglected side streets of the tow
n, the magic evaporated. On either side of the street were rows of identical tall houses, relics of a glorious past but presently in sad decline. The plaster was dirty and frayed, the delicate window shutters with their beautiful lace-like patterns, broken, stained and dusty. They had to watch where they were stepping to avoid the potholes full of slimy, dirty water.
A number of small children ran after them. They jumped, danced, did acrobatics and begged, making it obvious the horrid poverty was everywhere. Some figures covered in black from head-to-toe with only the eyes visible crossed the road.
‘They’re the Muslim ladies wearing the burka as is demanded by their religion,’ John informed them.
Men — in long white tunics like nightdresses wearing fezzes or white flowing kerchiefs secured on their head by a black band — mingled with the passengers. Others sat in armchairs or on thick cushions on the floor in coffee shops along broader avenues with footpaths. Some were squatting, their eyes staring in the distance and deep in thought, while others, lying on comfortable cushions were sucking on water pipes and daydreaming, most with worry beads in their hands. In a park full of large palm trees, men and boys were lying down, some asleep, with swarms of flies quenching their thirst in the corners of their lips and eyes.
The passengers visiting Port Said had all taken the same direction, walking purposefully as if they knew where to go. Like sheep following the ram, the locals guided them to the bazaar: a large, covered area, full of people and noise. It contained long narrow benches loaded with all sorts of things: trays, coffee pots, fabrics, carpets, cameras, paintings, buttons, scimitars, dishes, cutlery. ‘Whatever you desire and very cheap’ they heard them advertise in perfect Greek and many other languages. The atmosphere was festive, the hullabaloo beyond description.
A donkey loaded with two large baskets of overly ripe pears followed by a cloud of flies forced them to move aside as the owner heralded the juiciness of his fruit. Taxis honked, sellers screamed and everybody shouted as loudly as they could to make their voices heard above the pandemonium. Back at the pier on the small boat to the ship, Tasia’s head felt ready to explode.
John was a virtuoso pianist indeed. Foreigners, predominantly, rushed to the hall to hear him play a piece of classical piano music. They listened with reverence and respect, breaking into enthusiastic applause at the end of each piece, begging him to continue playing. Tasia also loved to hear him play, enchanted by the musical banquet that transported her to a place beyond comparison. It was obvious every single girl in the hall was ready to offer him her heart. He was talented and handsome but also very polite and courteous. However, there were times when all of a sudden he’d become moody and ill-tempered, or sit there sullen and silent in a way that made Tasia feel uncomfortable, even scared.
In any case, it was easy to see the strong attraction that had developed between John and Olga, such that each looked incomplete in the absence of the other. They made a very handsome couple and were well-matched in every respect.
In contrast to John’s moodiness, Tomas seemed well-balanced, confident, positive and practical. He didn’t display any mood swings but was steady, reliable and predictable, making Tasia feel secure and comfortable, as if she were with an older brother. Their constant and close association created in her newfound feelings Tasia tried to keep under control.
In the past, when she was faced with something likely to subvert her inner balance, she would turn to her books and studies. That was a proven method and she intended to use it again. She was going to fill every single idle moment with the study of English. That way she wouldn’t get bored and also she would be freed from any likely temptation. Her target was to learn a minimum of ten English words each day and she even managed to inspire the other three to participate in this endeavour.
From early in life she had learned to live in solitude. That’s why now and then she had a need to be left alone, to have space around her and time to reflect upon her feelings, her thoughts, her experiences. She loved to sit quietly in some remote corner of the deck, taking in the immense blueness of the sea and search for something to break the unending sameness. Now and then she’d watch a massive sphere of small fish coming close to the surface rolling like a huge ball, each small fish speeding in unison with the rest and moving in the same direction. How does each one communicate with all the others in order to achieve such incredible synchrony? What natural laws were controlling the fish’s existence?
Totally indifferent to human concerns, the mighty ship continued to split the fathomless waters in its southerly journey. The days got longer, the nights got shorter and new clusters of stars appeared in the night sky. Progressively, the passengers became impatient, tired and irritable.
In few hours we will be crossing the equator. A celebration to mark the occasion will take place at two o’ clock this afternoon on the upper deck. All passengers are welcome …
announced the public address system
‘What’s the equator, my son?’ Yiayia Despo asked Tomas, seated between Tasia and the old lady.
‘It’s an imaginary line that divides the earth into the north and south hemispheres,’ he answered.
‘What will they think of next!’ the old lady muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.
Searching for some light relief, the majority of passengers assembled around an area barricaded by a broad ribbon. From the ceiling of a tent within the cordonned-off area hung many colourful balloons and streamers; there were buckets, pipes, sponges and a number of chairs. Just as Tasia readied herself to sit on the floor close to the ribbon, two men dressed as Greek deities lifted her in their arms and before she could comprehend what was happening she found herself sitting in front of a tall man dressed as the god, Poseidon. From a bucket next to him he lifted an enormous brush and spread foam all over her head and face. While she kept screaming and kicking, they lifted her and presented her to the goddess, Ire, who broke an egg on her head, and then to Aphrodite who put something like soap in her mouth. Before she had time to breathe she was drenched with a bucketful of warm water. The pandemonium of shouting, howling, laughing, and screaming increased as many more passengers followed Tasia’s fate.
Later a steward came to her cabin bringing the captain’s invitation for her and her friends to attend the night’s dinner party and gala ball where the captain would present baptism certificates to all those who underwent the mock baptism. With an inner thrill mixed with trepidation Tasia looked at the gold trimmed paper still lying on the cushion.
‘We have to go!’ exclaimed Olga full of enthusiasm. ‘The captain’s invitation is a great honour. We just can’t refuse!’
Tasia cast her eyes over, to Yiayia Despo sitting on her bunk, hands folded over her apron, with an expression full of resignation as if saying ‘do whatever you like, stupid girl. I can’t be bothered with you any more’.
She looked stunning in Olga’s purple jersey dress, and make-up applied expertly by Olga.
‘It’s a grand occasion,’ Olga kept on stressing. ‘You’ll be introduced to the captain.’
Tasia looked at herself in the mirror and, with an increased sense of self-worth, she walked in to the middle of the big hall. When her name was called the captain presented her with a certificate naming her ‘Rea, Queen of the seas’.
She then found herself melting into Thomas’ arms as he led her around the dance floor. But suddenly she felt confused and full of shame about the way her body was responding to Thomas’ touch. She was a disciplined girl, normally proud of her ability to disregard the lowly and animalistic drives of the flesh. What had happened to her? Once upon a time she had felt attracted to George. How long ago that time seemed now! She was convinced then it was nothing more than a spiritual and intellectual attraction, the meeting of twin souls.
Feeling angry with herself she waved to Olga as she was going to the ladies, and left the dance hall. It was getting late and the musicians had started to pack up their instruments. As the deck was deserted, it w
asn’t hard to find a dark corner to crouch on a deck chair, and rest her feet on the rails. She could hear the ship’s engine struggling to push the enormous vessel to its destination. She could hear the sea’s answer, pained or joyful, who could say? A full moon threw generous specks of silver all across the sea in a spectacle of seductive light over the waves, calling dreamy mermaids to surface.
Inside, Tasia was at war, wounded and vulnerable. The thought of Tomas made her body burn with passion while her mind was tormented by guilt and shame. In an attempt to regain some reality the fingers of her right hand furiously turned the metal ring on her engagement finger. She was confronted, yet again, with the issue of moral responsibility. She had to remain available to the man who had paid her ticket. Yes, she was obligated to him and had to remain pure and pristine till she met him.
The cool air, the rhythmic sound of the engine and the playing with the fake ring calmed her down. She felt strong and in control, with the only annoying thing being the sound of quick steps getting closer. She curled up making herself even smaller in an attempt to avoid the unwelcome night wanderer.
She had no desire to talk to anyone, explain why she was up there, or deal with some unsavoury proposition. The steps got closer and it seemed that someone was looking for something along the deck chairs.
Finally they stopped above her. She had been discovered. She couldn’t hide or escape any longer. Curious and scared she lifted her eyes to look at the uninvited guest and let out a loud ‘Tomas’.
The moonlight had turned his hair to silver. Concern and surprise were evident on his face.
‘What are you doing alone up here? It’s late and anything could happen to you.’
‘What can happen?’ she retorted and got up, feeling angry with herself as she tried to overcome the urge to put her arms around him and drown him in kisses. She was also angry with him because the moment she had managed to regain her control and her serenity, he had come to rekindle her internal turmoil.
The Lace Tablecloth Page 25
