by Jo Bunt
“I’ve already told you, I don’t want to get involved.”
“Fine. Then I’ll carry on thinking that you’re the shit that walked out on my mum thirty-nine years ago when she needed you the most. Suits me.”
“Y’know what? You need to work on your people skills.” Eddie frowned at me like he was trying to work me out. He didn’t look angry but it was very difficult to read his expression.
This evening wasn’t turning out quite as I’d expected. I thought I’d track down Eddie, we’d catch up, talk about old times and he would swear to make amends for his absence by helping me find out more about my birth family. I certainly hadn’t expected hostility or a bar brawl.
“I should have called the police, you know,” he said at last.
“Huh?”
“You assaulted one of my customers with a beer bottle.”
“You know it wasn’t like that! I think you’ll find that he sexually assaulted me first.”
“I don’t know anything. All I saw was you on the floor and some guy with blood running down his face.”
“So call the police then,” I dared him while trying to keep my face neutral from the panic growing in my chest.
He seemed to consider this possibility for a moment with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Nah. Don’t think so.”
“And why not?” I asked, keeping the obvious relief out of my voice.
“Because a) the bloke was a tosser and b) I am intrigued by why you’d come here. And c) and this is the tricky one… I’m not sure who to say you are. Are you Mrs Helen Jefferies from England or little Miss Kostas from Cyprus?”
I ignored the first two statements and latched onto the third.
“That’s a good memory you’ve got there.”
“Come again?” he puzzled.
“Remembering my name when I only told it to you once, in a noisy bar. Y’know, back when you pretended you didn’t know who I was.”
Eddie had the decency to be slightly abashed.
“Yeah, well, I’m a people person, I remember names. Either that or I’ve been checking up on Pru from time to time. But that sounds a little creepy so let’s just stick with the ‘people person’ theory, shall we?”
“Yeah. Let’s. WellPeople Person,thank you for your hospitality and fornot calling in the police. And thank you for spending time talking to me. If you do change your mind and remember anything you think would interest me, I am staying at The Pleiades on Troodos Mountain.”
I stood to make my dignified exit but the room span round and I found myself bent over at an awkward angle holding on to the back of the sofa for support.
Eddie chuckled. “Perhaps you should give it a minute.”
“No, I’m okay. Thanks.” I walked as steadily as I could to the door without looking behind me.
“I take it all back,” came Eddie’s voice behind me, saturated by amusement. “Youare Pru’s daughter – certainly as pig-headed as she is.”
I tried to make a “humph” sound and then flounce out of the room but it sounded more like a snort as I stumbled towards the door with my hand outstretched to steady me.
“Why now?” he whispered so softly I could barely hear him.
“Sorry?” I turned at the unexpected change in tone, still with one hand on the door.
“I don’t get why she’s told you after all these years. She’d got away with it. I was the only one who knew and I wasn’t going to tell anyone. So why now?”
I exhaled noisily. “You don’t ask easy questions.”
“Neither do you,” he shot back.
I studied his face. He would have been handsome once, so I could see why Mum fell for him. He was still attractive now but in a softer way. His blue eyes were clear and startling but they held a touch of sadness to them. He was still well built and strong looking but the washboard stomach had been replaced by something a bit gentler.
Eddie smiled then, genuinely, and gestured to the sofa once more. I was still too wobbly to consider riding Rita up the hill so I returned to the sage green seat in defeat.
“Okay,” I said, steeling myself. “I lost my baby.” I didn’t look at Eddie. I hated seeing sympathy or pain in other people’s eyes. I could only keep my own emotions under control if they kept theirs. “My husband and I had fertility treatment, we’d been trying for a while. When I fell pregnant it was a dream come true. When I found that the pregnancy was ectopic the dream turned into a nightmare that I still haven’t woken up from. They say I nearly died. Sometimes I wish I had.”
I glanced up at him. He was listening intently.
“Mum was my rock. She was there when I came round from theatre and never left my side. She brought me home, tucked me up in bed and slept in the rocking-chair in the corner of the room. The next day I woke up to find her rocking backwards and forwards sobbing her eyes out but I couldn’t get a word of sense out of her and she wouldn’t talk to anyone. It got to a point where I started getting angry with her and I ended up yelling at her to pull herself together and that it was me that had lost a baby, not her. That was when she told me that she had lost a baby. She’d lost her only child. Eventually she told me the whole story and how she didn’t have time to grieve for the baby she lost because she had to take care of me. What happened to me brought it all back to her. It was quite a blow, as you can imagine. I’d lost my baby and my mother in one week.
“I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m no one’s mother and I don’t seem to be anyone’s daughter either. I can’t explain it, but I need toknow. Just to knowsomething about who I am. Pathetic, huh?”
“No. Not at all.”
We sat and listened to the muted vibration of the music through the walls. This time it was Eddie’s turn to fill the silence.
“I did walk out on Pru, but not how you think. I went to join the fighting. I wanted revenge on the Turks for shooting her, for killing my child. Nowthat’s pathetic,” he scoffed. “I thought she was still sedated in the hospital. When I came back, she was gone. I saw in the evacuation logs that she had been evacuated with a baby girl – you. I had no idea who you were at first, I thought she’d stolen a baby from the hospital or something. Friends who saw her said she’d been in an agitated state so I thought anything was possible.
“When I eventually tracked her down she wouldn’t talk about our son at all. I had to fill out his death certificate. I named him Edward and had him buried here in Cyprus. I thought she’d want to know but she wouldn’t listen. I just wanted to share my grief but she cut me out completely. In order to keep her secret for her, I never told anyone that I’d lost my son. She took away my right to grieve openly for my own child.”
Eddie’s eyes glistened deeply with the ache of loss. It hurt my eyes to look into his pain. I had only just met this man but he was telling me about something that had ripped his heart in two and I knew exactly how that felt. I wondered whether I should reach out and touch him but our connection didn’t need a physical touch. We were connected in that way that survivors often are. We both knew what it was like to lose a child. The difference between us was that I was allowed, and even expected, to grieve but he had had to keep his pain bottled up inside for years.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know. There’s so much I didn’t know.” I blinked away the tears blurring my vision.
“Your mother’s name was Helene Kostas. I expect you were named after her. Her husband was called Christos, but he never returned from the fighting and his body was never found. I presume he is dead but until his body is found no one will declare him deceased. As far as I know, there are no other living family members. I asked around a bit after Pru left mainly to satisfy myself that no one was looking for you. It seems that your birth was never registered here so there is no record of you being born to Helene Kostas. In the confusion of the evacuation nobody asked any questions and Pru claimed you as her own child. I can’t tell you anything else, I’m afraid. I didn’t really know Helene and I never me
t Christos.”
I nodded, it was a lot to take in. I knew I should write these names down, but I was numb and unable to move.
“Thank you. That’s... that’s... Well, it’s something. It’s nice to have their names at least. Helene and Christos Kostas.”
“You mentioned a husband?”
“Me? Yeah, Dom. He’s back home in England. He’s busy with work otherwise he would have...”
“Don’t shut him out. He lost this baby too. And as trite as it sounds, you do have the opportunity to have more children; there are all kinds of things they can do nowadays. Unless you’ve married a complete shit, he’s got to be hurting as much as you. He is the only other person who knows exactly what it felt like to losethat baby. You lose your husband and it’ll be like losing that baby all over again. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
“Have you always been this wise?” I smiled.
“Nah, ask Pru. This is from years of wisdom gained from hours polishing glasses behind the bar and hearing the woes of the world. If I’d known then half as much as I know now there might have been a chance for your mum and me, but I was drowning in a mixture of lager and self-pity. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“Thanks for talking about it Eddie. I appreciate it. I really do.”
“S’okay. It’s kinda nice to be able to talk about it. So she really is doing well then, Pru?”
“Yeah, good I think. Not spoken to her for a while. Things are a little bit awkward between us after the baby and her... news.”
“She did what she thought was best, you know? But don’t tell her I said that! If she hadn’t found you, you’d have a very different life now and so would she. You’ll never know for sure, but I think it’s worked out better for both of you. She gave you the chance of a better future. What would you have done in her situation?”
“Okay, okay! I get it. She saved my life, I know. Can we leave it for now? I have a bastard headache.”
“Let me drive you home. You need to rest. We can talk more tomorrow.”
“Can we?”
“Yeah, you’re not bad company. C’mon.”
Eddie reached out his hand to me and, without hesitation, I took it.
Chapter fourteen
Cyprus, 1974
“Don’t make any sudden movements or sounds. I’m going to let go now. Okay? Nod if you understand me.”
Eddie nodded cautiously.
“Okay then. Easy now, soldier.”
The strong hands released their iron grip tentatively at first and then completely disappeared as it became apparent that Eddie wasn’t going to make a scene and give their position away.
“Into the hut,” came the gruff voice.
Without turning, Eddie shuffled upright then walked steadily towards the rundown building, rubbing at his sore ribs. The pain was enough that he was aware of it with every hobbling step he took, but it was nothing compared to the agony that was the pointed end of humiliation at the hands of a man he knew to be almost twice his age.
The weathered planks of the shack door had never been painted or seen any colour but that of the tree they had been fashioned from. The overbite of sharp wooden teeth at the base of the door ground against the uneven stone floor as Eddie attempted to push at it. He turned sideways to inch into the damp and dark building, closely followed by the other man. The musty smell of years of abandonment by all except animal and insect was repellent in his nostrils.
“Ya idiot!”
Eddie turned towards the Geordie voice but couldn’t see the man’s face in impenetrable gloom.
“Bernie, what the f–”
“I could say the same to you, man!”
“Don’t start. I’m not having a great day.”
“So, coming oot here in a war zone is going to mek it better is it? What good is that gunna do yeh, eh?”
“I’ve got to dosomething.” Eddie ruffled his hands through his hair. He turned his back on the other man and looked out of a hole in the thick stone wall that served as a window but let in a scant amount of light.
“Tell me Einstein, what d’ya think yer gunna do now then? Take on the whole effing army?”
“Jeez, I don’t bloody know.” Eddie sighed and all the breath he had been holding poured out and deflated him. In a low voice he continued, “I want them to pay, Bernie. Pru is in some sort of state that she might never wake up from and... Shit!”
Eddie suddenly and violently thrust the heel of his hand into the wall. Stone crumbled to the floor and dusted his feet.
Both men stood in silence for a moment while Eddie put his hands in his pocket and kicked his toes at the dirt and brick dust covering the dingy floor.
“How d’ya find me?”
“Well, you’re an idiot, and idiots are predictable. I had a hunch you were heading for those guns you told me about as soon as I saw you get on yer bike.”
The two men faced each other in the cramped, dark space. “I won’t let her down again,” muttered Eddie. “I’m gonna make the Turks pay. They can’t shoot my wife and walk away from it back to their families and their poxy fuckin’ homes. If the army aren’t going to get off their arses, I’ll have to do it myself.”
“Listen to yerself fer a minute. You’re just going to wade into the middle of a war that’s not yours? And what? Get yerself bloody killed? What good do you think that’ll do Pru?” Bernie threw his arms up in exasperation.
“And if she dies, Bernie? What then?” Eddie was shouting now. “I wasn’t there for her, Bern. Without Pru I really don’t care if I die and this way at least I’ll take a couple of Turks down with me when I go.”
Eddie bumped his back down the uneven wall and slumped to the floor in a shower of sand and flaking paint.
“I don’t know what to do Bern,” he whispered, “I just don’t know what the hell to do.”
Bernie looked down onto the shell of the man before him and went to crouch beside him, laying a large clumsy hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
“I know son. I know. But youwill get through it. You say you weren’t there when Pru needed you? Well, be there for her now. She needs younow. Together you’ll find a way through this. Come on. You should be there when she wakes up.”
“I don’t know Bern...”
“WellI do, so get your arse in gear, and let’s get you home.”
“And just chalk this down to another catastrophic Eddie fuck up? Can’t even shoot a Turk when he has a crate full of guns?”
“You would be failing yerself – and Pru – if you take revenge on some innocent man. You’ll never find the man who shot her, so you’ll be just taking a man away from his wife and children and then someone, his brother maybe, will want to take revenge on the British Army for the death of his brother and then the army will have to retaliate and we’ve got an out-and-out war on our hands. How many people need to die before you feel that it makes up for what you’ve lost? I know you, Eddie. Killing won’t sit easy on yer conscience.
“I was here when EOKA was in full swing, remember? I saw, first hand, the attacks on the British and their families. I saw the bodies of women and children lying in the street. I was here when they shot a man was in the back when he was walking down the road with his two-year-old son. I had to take the boy back to his mother and tell her what had happened. No one wants to reopen those wounds, Eddie.”
Both men fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.
Eddie was dragged back into the present by the sudden alertness of Bernie as he scampered into a crouched position by the door. Bernie held his hand up to halt Eddie, who sprung up in response.
Outside, a humming sound was getting louder. Peering through the crack in the door neither man could see anything but, judging by the increasing noise levels, whatever was making the sound was gaining in proximity. With growing unease, the men realised that the sound belonged to at least a dozen people murmuring to each other in low voices. There was something about the collective voice that was more unsettling than threatening. By th
e time the noise makers came into view it was too late for Eddie and Bernie to get out of the shack without being seen. The two men breathed slowly and waited as a column of men came into view about twenty yards away from them. All were in civilian clothes and unarmed. Their dejected eyes were downcast and they spoke to each other in voices that were soft but not suggesting any warmth or kindness. Then, coming into view, were at least a dozen soldiers, all of whom were heavily armed.
“Turkish soldiers,” mouthed Eddie and Bernie nodded once in response. The soldiers didn’t seem wary of any threat and, as such, were uninterested in scanning the horizon or investigating the rickety shepherd’s hut.
“Civilians?” whispered Bernie.
Eddie shrugged in response and mouthed, “Greek.” Eddie was keeping his eyes firmly on the narrow slit of the door which afforded him a glimpse of the unfolding scene. The caravan of people disappeared slowly from view with the last of the soldiers.
Eddie and Bernie looked quizzically at each other but stayed where they were, waiting for the threat to pass. Some sharp words were shouted in Turkish on the edge of earshot but neither man was familiar enough with the Turkish language to be able to understand what was being said. Silence followed for a couple of minutes, and just as Eddie was about to suggest they went out to investigate, a volley of machine gun fire was heard.
“Shit! What the–?” whispered Eddie.
“Sit tight,” Bernie urgently whispered back.
“We’re not armed! We’re sitting ducks. I can get to the guns.”
“Eddie, no!”
The two men hesitated as three more single shots were fired.
“Fuck this!” spat Eddie as he darted past Bernie and out through the fissure in the door.
Bernie was unable to stop the younger man from sprinting through the trees to where the crate was stashed in the shade. Cautiously, Bernie eased himself into the open and then slid from tree to tree until he was alongside Eddie who had retrieved his knife and was prising open the crate.
“You mad bastard. These guns probably won’t even fire. They’ve not been oiled in... how long? Fifty years?”
