by Emma Nichols
‘Loved him with all her heart,’ Manos said, sucking through his teeth, his head tilting. ‘The estate was his passion, and he never got to see it in its full glory, you know. It took old Sophia years to develop, but she did it, and for the most part she did it all on her own,’ he reminisced with fondness and esteem.
Ariana sighed, feeling a slight sense of deja-vu with the conversation.
‘The island depends on the estate,’ he said. ‘It’s not just the olives.’ He smiled. ‘Beyond the grove, there’s the fruit, vegetables, herbs, and the olive plant itself. Still uses the traditional pressing method,’ he added with a proud smile.
Ariana swallowed hard; her head was spinning with information, as she reconciled the impact of the sale on the livelihoods of the Islanders. Why did it suddenly matter to her? She had briefly seen the plans for the development. The hotel complex with its new marina and it’s suite of detached holiday homes, its array of swimming pools, tennis courts, and aqua sports facilities; all modern, all built to the highest specification, all increasing tourism to the island. Before she had returned to Sakros, the proposition had seemed perfect, for her and for the Islanders. It hadn’t mattered then. Her mother had insisted it would be the best thing all round too, and Ariana had had no problem believing her. She had signed the contract. I’ve already signed the agreement, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.
‘It’s going to look beautiful,’ Manos said, starting to apply the render to the wall, apparently oblivious to Ariana’s shift in attention.
Ariana felt her throat clench, the pressure at the back of her eyes, the tension in her neck, and she wanted to scream. Not the joyful shout as she had jumped from the ledge the previous evening, a sharp yell that comes from a wounded animal flailing helplessly. She turned away. The short walk back to the house under the weight of the burden she could no longer ignore, seemingly taking forever, making every pace more challenging than the previous. Even the sound of music and laughter coming from the kitchen-balcony didn’t penetrate the dark feeling that had taken root in the pit of her stomach.
Soph gazed at her mother, unsure whether she wanted to ask the question as to her welfare, on the basis that she didn’t want to hear the answer. Gianna frowned. ‘Is everything alright?’ Soph asked.
Ariana smiled weakly. ‘Sure. How’s breakfast?’ she asked, changing the subject.
Soph shrugged, scanning the yoghurt and fruit on the table. ‘Good. Head’s better too,’ she added, with a healthy smile.
‘Good,’ Ariana said, distracted by her concerns. Selling was one thing, destroying the island, which she now realised the proposed development would do, was something entirely different. Why had Teresa been so insistent on her selling, when to do so would be so devastating to everyone? It would quite literally destroy Sophia’s life’s work. ‘I left the paint at the top of the stairs if you want to do your room?’ she said, her flat voice mirroring her vacant gaze.
Soph slumped in the seat and crossed her arms, trying to ignore her mum’s sombre mood.
‘That’ll be fun,’ Gianna chirped over-excitedly, determined to keep Soph out of the sun for the best part of the day.
Soph glared at her but couldn’t hold the expression, which turned swiftly into a sensual grin.
‘I’m glad you’re feeling better,’ Ariana said with a sincere smile, her attention momentarily with her daughter. ‘I’ll be painting the shutters,’ she said, turning out of the kitchen and stepping out the front door.
Soph stared at Gianna and shrugged. ‘She doesn’t look happy,’ she said.
Gianna shrugged and smiled. She had no measure of Ariana’s moods, by which to judge her. ‘Have you painted before?’ she said, with a mischievous smile.
‘No,’ Soph replied. ‘How hard can it be,’ she stated, her arms still crossed.
‘You can do the roller bit, and I’ll do the edges,’ Gianna said.
Soph didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, so nodded and smiled.
*
Ariana worked her way cautiously down the ladder, paint pot wavering in one hand, the other supporting her as she descended. She wiped at the sweat on her brow as she studied her work from the ground.
‘It’s looking good,’ Nikos said, the tension in his voice spoiling the compliment.
Ariana turned towards him. He looked as tense as he sounded, and it was all her fault. She smiled, trying to soften the atmosphere between them, but even her jaw was too tight. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, her voice jittery.
He continued to stare at the paintwork, loitering as if he had something he wanted to say, but didn’t know where to start.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Ariana asked. ‘I’m just going to get one,’ she added before he could find a reason to refuse. He had stayed away from the house since she had arrived, and with good reason.
He nodded, held her gaze, sorrow weighing heavily on his eyelids and the dull look in his eyes suggesting he had other things on his mind.
‘Is everything okay?’ Ariana asked as he followed her through to the kitchen. She poured two glasses of water and handed him one.
He took the glass and sipped, his large hands shaking, his eyes darting around the room, reflecting his fractured thoughts. ‘I’m taking another job,’ he said, his voice broken. ‘We’ll be moving to Lefkada,’ he added.
Ariana struggled to swallow the water in her mouth and started to cough. It hadn’t been that long since she had given them the news of the sale and asked Maria to take paid leave. This was the last thing she had expected, but then, why wouldn’t Nikos look to find other work? But, this quickly! She rubbed at her temples, trying to process the consequences of him leaving but they were too enormous to conceive. She had no hold over him; he had no reason to offer her any loyalty. On the contrary, she had technically destroyed his life. She couldn’t even persuade him to stay on the basis that the new owner would continue with the estate because that would be a downright lie.
‘Maria’s brother has a place there,’ he continued.
Ariana nodded, unable to speak. What could she say?
‘I’m sorry,’ Nikos said.
He looked genuinely devastated by the news he was imparting, the decision that had been forced upon him, by her actions. The voice in Ariana’s head persisted. This was all her doing, all her fault. Gianna! Ariana gasped. Soph wasn’t going to take this news well either. ‘Does Gianna know?’ she asked.
Nikos shook his head, his eyes on the glass in his hand.
‘You know she and Soph are close?’ Ariana asked.
He nodded. When his eyes lifted and locked onto Ariana’s, his pain was even more apparent. ‘She’s going to get her heart broken,’ he said, his eyes welling up. ‘I never wanted that for her,’ he said, with deep sadness.
‘They like each other a lot,’ Ariana said. He didn’t speak again, just stared at her knowingly. Warmth filled her cheeks. ‘When will you leave?’ Ariana asked, quietly.
‘At the end of the month,’ Nikos replied.
Ariana nodded silently, a deep sense of grief filling her aching heart.
‘Thanks for the water,’ Nikos said, placing the glass on the drainer. His eyes acknowledged her briefly as he passed her and exited the front door.
Ariana stood silently for a few moments, trying to reconcile her thoughts. She couldn’t, so she walked out to the balcony and stared out over the west-cove, hoping the reassuring sight and the light breeze would settle her mind. Even the waves didn’t crash as loudly as the voice in her head, pounding, ricocheting, admonishing. She felt trapped, a failure, irritated and upset, all at the same time. The familiar feeling flowed through her veins, feeding her insecurities, reinforcing her mother’s words; her husband’s words, and her own deeply ingrained beliefs. Why would Nikki want anything to do with her? Tears threatened, but the sound of Manos clearing his throat blocked the flow.
‘Wall’s patched up,’ Manos said, squinting at the pained expression on Ariana’s face.
Manos approached Ariana and pulled her into his arms. He sighed deeply, Ariana’s head swaying with the movement of his chest. ‘It’ll all work out,’ he said, with confidence that Ariana couldn’t comprehend.
She pulled back, wanted to shout at him for thinking things would turn out fine. How could they? Her mouth moved, but his eyes stopped her from speaking. He was smiling warmly, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear, with tenderness.
‘It’ll all work out,’ he said again, softly, his eyes conveying the certainty in his tone, the hair on his cheeks curling with the smile on his lips.
Ariana released a long breath. He didn’t know the half of it, she mused.
‘That front shutter’s looking good,’ he said, shifting her attention.
Ariana nodded and wiped at her wet cheeks.
‘Only a dozen more to go,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle.
She sighed, and a smile formed.
15.
Nikki toyed with the teaspoon in her hand. The fruit and yoghurt sat untouched in the white china bowl in front of her, the coffee in her cup unfinished. She gazed around the breakfast room, the voices of other diners merging, the soup of noise surrounding her failing to drown out her anxiety. Her heart skipped a beat. What if the bank refused to give her the loan? She dipped the spoon into the yoghurt, swilled it mindlessly around the dish and the rested the handle carefully against the lipped edge. The waiter approached and filled her cup, and she smiled graciously. She released a long breath and lifted the cup to her lips. She didn’t want to think of failure, but her mind had focused on nothing else in the last few days. What if Ariana sold, and left the island again? The thought was too painful to consider, yet, it trickled unopposed through her body leaving a gluey residue that wouldn’t shift.
When she had left Sakros, the light in Ariana’s bedroom had been visible through the slats in the shuttered windows. Torn with the idea of going to her then and telling her she would buy the house, begging Ariana to stay, she had stalled. Only then had it occurred to her that until she had an agreement with the bank, she had no plan, just a dream. The truth had caused a tight ball of fire to lodge itself in her stomach. She had turned sharply and started back up the beach to her apartment, intending to detract from the idea, and accept that Ariana would leave the island. Then, her eyes drawn to the hazy light above the rose garden, she slowed her pace and stopped. The pounding in her chest, induced by the fear of losing Ariana again, had driven her back to the boat. She hadn’t looked back as she sped across the water, but with each day since, each day away from Ariana and an opportunity to reflect honestly, the doubts had crept in again. The thought of the proposal rejected by the bank was one thing, but it was nowhere near as painful as the broken heart she would be left with if Ariana deserted her again. She admonished her concerns and sipped at the coffee, and drifted.
Ariana, Ariana, Ariana! She smiled adoringly at the image. Ariana with her ash-blonde hair that carried a little curl under the right side of her chin, the dimple in her right cheek that came alive when she smiled, her dark-brown eyes sometimes like the darkest chocolate with the shine of a highly polished mirror, her full shapely lips and slightly curvaceous body. The way she marched that body across the sand when she was angry, throwing what little weight she possessed with even less conviction, and then melted with the exhaustion of the pretence.
She had noticed the shift in Ariana, even in the short time since her arrival on the island, and it had given her hope. Glimpses of the passion they had once shared for each other had filtered through the cracks in that charade, and in those brief moments, they were stronger than ever. The sense of completeness she had felt when they kissed had revealed something more profound, something intangible. They belonged together. Nikki had never doubted that fact. Sophia had never doubted either. Even Manos knew it. The question was, would Ariana wake up, or flee again? It was a question Nikki didn’t want to think about. Ariana had to come to her senses; she had to!
Nikki finished her coffee, stood swiftly from the table and exited the hotel. With every pace on the dusty city street, her heart raced, and as she approached the tall, soulless building the anxiety in her chest filtered down to her legs. She rubbed at her temples, trying to breathe deeply, calming her nerves, the intensely oppressive heat, pollution and constant assault of beeping horns and industrial clanging noises, doing nothing to help the low-grade headache that had accompanied her since disembarking the flight.
She released a long breath, rubbed at her sore eyes, stepped up to the bank, and into the air-conditioned building. Thankful for the colder air on her skin, her eyes searched the large foyer, seeking out the desk she needed. Forcing her legs to carry her, she approached a man in uniform who seemed to be guarding the door. He pointed in the direction of a glass-partitioned area in the far corner, away from the tellers and the queues. The fish-bowl room was empty, so she waited outside the door, her heart pounding in her chest, a queasy feeling turning her stomach. She tried to stand taller but looked very much like the fish out of the water that she was. Floundering, unsure, thrown by the alien environment in which she found herself. The city wasn’t her world, it never would be, and she couldn’t wait to get home. She rubbed her cool-clammy hands together and waited.
‘Ms Kefalas,’ the deeper voice said.
‘Yes,’ Nikki replied, smiling at the young, clean-shaven face, and dark-blue eyes. He was smiling kindly at her, his free hand held out, his other hand carrying a paper file. She took the offered hand; his skin was softer than her own; dry and warm, she noted.
‘Please, do come through,’ he said politely, opening the door to the room. His voice echoed around the small space, disorienting her as she followed him. She stopped at the front of the desk as he made his way behind it. He urged her to sit, and she did. He gazed briefly at the computer screen in front of him, tapped on the keyboard, placed the file on the desk, rested his hands on top of it and looked up at her. ‘My name is Mr Loukas; I’m the assistant manager here at the bank,’ he started. He blinked several times before continuing, and she couldn’t help but notice his unusually long eyelashes. ‘I understand you are looking for a business loan,’ he said.
Nikki sat upright. Even though the man opposite her didn’t look much older than fifteen, which was a little disconcerting, he was currently the person that separated her from a future with Ariana, and on that basis alone, she needed him. ‘Yes,’ she replied, her smile tight with the anticipation.
‘I have looked at your application, Ms Kefalas.’
Nikki waited on his words. If he could hear her heart pounding, he didn’t let it show. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her muscles paralysed.
‘I’m pleased to say, from the information you have provided, we can offer you a loan of three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-Euros,’ he said, with a happy smile.
Nikki’s heart stopped, her ears silenced, and a rush of adrenaline drowned her in excitement. Mr Loukas’ mouth was still moving, but the words weren’t registering. Whatever the details were, she would sign the contract and take the money.
‘Do you understand?’ he asked. He smiled, closed the file in front of him and started tapping on the keyboard.
Nikki nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘The paperwork will be ready for you to sign in a couple of days unless you want me to get it sent out to you?’ he asked.
‘No, I’ll come back and sign it,’ Nikki said, unable to contain her enthusiasm. She would tolerate another two days in Athens for the sake of completion.
Mr Loukas stood, and she mirrored him, only then realising her legs had the consistency of jelly, but in a more positive way than when she had walked into the building. He held out his hand, a professional smile on his face, and she shoo
k it again. ‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling strangely delirious.
‘You are welcome. I will see you here on Thursday at three-thirty,’ he said, opening the door.
Nikki floated out of the room and out of the building. Even the intensely oppressive heat, the pollution, and the noise didn’t touch her. As if floating on air she made her way into the bustling city, her grin broadening with the bubble of excitement, holding back from shouting out with joy. She was feeling hungry, for the first time in almost a week, and wanted to enjoy the achievement, but that celebration would be far more fun with Ariana present. She would wait.
*
Ariana sat on the large double bed in her grandmother’s room, her feet out in front of her, her head resting against the simple wooden-headboard, enjoying the scent of rose that filled the room.
The shutters she had managed to finish were looking pristine, and the newly painted wall gleamed, reflecting even more light onto the rose-garden. The thought that Sophia would be aware of the changes to the property tickled her. Her body ached from the hard physical work, but there was also an unfamiliar feeling that felt good: satisfaction, from doing something productive. She smiled and raised the glass of wine in her hand.
‘Cheers,’ she said, to no one in particular.
She studied her fingers curiously as they traced the embossed lettering on the front of the photo album on the blue pillow, curiosity tempting her further. She sipped at the wine in her other hand. She’d consumed too much already, but she’d needed to, to build the courage to come up to the room and look through the albums. With nervous anticipation, she turned the cover, revealing four photographs underneath the inner plastic sleeve. Her eyes locked on to the curly, white-haired lady, with wrinkled, bronzed skin, and a big white smile. She looked radiant, content. Her sky-blue eyes shone through the page, connecting the observer with her vibrant, replete life. Ariana sighed. Sophia! The date had been handwritten underneath the photograph, five years earlier. Sophia looked healthy and a lot younger than her seventy-eight years. Ariana traced her index finger across the image, willing Sophia to come back to life. She sipped at her wine again, swallowing back the lump in her throat and turned the page. She continued to study the pictures and moved onto the second album, Teresa as a child. Ariana gazed, recognising her mother’s sharp features, bemused by the happiness that oozed from her laughing eyes and rosy cheeks.
