When she had finished, he said nothing for a moment, but there was a knowing look in his gaze and sympathy trembled at the corners of his mouth. ‘You have done right in your own eyes in leaving, but I’m not so sure you’ll have done right in the Kyrios’s, whatever your excuse.’
‘Can’t you see I had to leave? Helena wanted me out of there. And I couldn’t stay, not after Damian humiliated me in public.’
‘And so you decided to run away,’ Mattias said slowly.
‘I had little choice,’ Oriel replied simply.
‘You have not asked yourself why the Kyrios acted in such an ungentlemanly way. It is not like him at all.’
‘Perhaps he has never shown you that facet of his personality.’
‘No, Oriel. I know Kyrios Damian well, he is a sensitive man.’ He paused, stroking his beard a moment. ‘No, I have an idea that he has fallen in love with you. It’s the only explanation.’
Oriel inhaled sharply as if to speak, her heart leaping in the hope that it were true, but all she could manage was, ‘Oh.’
Mattias saw her stunned expression. ‘Seeing you in the arms of another man must have made his blood boil. Like Typhoeus over there, erupting out of his control.’ He cleared his throat and continued gently: ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, Oriel, from what you have told me, I think that you reciprocate his feelings, no?’
She blushed and let her eyes drift towards the blue water that stretched out towards the horizon, merging into the azure sky. Did she love Damian? Was that why she had been so upset to see him in Yolanda’s company, or was that just her pride?
Still, it was a relief to share her secret, to feel her taut nerves slackening under the comfort of being able to confide in someone whose views she respected, and who knew Damian and his family well. ‘I’m not proud of the way I’ve behaved but I’m really confused.’
‘Well, there’s one way to sort out this confusion. I will ask him to come down here now, he needs to know where you are.’
There was a catch in Oriel’s breath and a look of panic flashed across her eyes. ‘Ochi! No!’ she cried vehemently.
‘To paidi mou, my child, why ever not? You need to thrash this out. Don’t let misunderstandings settle between you. Tha ítan tóso kríma, it would be such a pity to let pride get in the way of your chance of happiness.’
‘Anyhow, he belongs to someone else.’
‘You are wrong to think there is still love left in the Kyrios’s heart for Yolanda Christodoulou. She killed that love a long time ago.’
‘How do you know? What are you saying?’
‘I don’t know all the facts but I do know Kyrios Damian as if he were my own son.’ The fisherman seemed to be pondering awhile and Oriel waited patiently as he picked his words.
‘As you already know, the Kyrios and Yolanda were childhood playmates. They were inseparable even before they became sweethearts but his family, among them his uncle Cyrus, the eldest brother of his father and the Kyrios’s guardian, who violently opposed this relationship, were never happy that they were so close. Yolanda doesn’t only come from a different background, you could say it wasn’t the best household to grow up in. Her mother was a drunk, her father was old and ignorant … doted on his daughter, giving her no guidance or discipline at all. So the child was left pretty much to her own devices. Besides, it has been a tradition in the Lekkas family to marry into one of the rich families on the island.
‘In some ways, I don’t blame the girl for wanting out,’ he continued. ‘It must have been unbearable for her in that squalid house, with her mother lying in a drunken stupor half the time. Yolanda’s ambition to become famous was just her way of clawing her way out of that life. And Yorgos, without any particular talents at all, rode on her coattails. He got taken on by the Kyrios to help run the Lekkas businesses.’ He snorted. ‘Heh! Évalan to lýko na fyláxei ta próvata, they got the wolf to guard the sheep with that one.’
‘Anyway, the Kyrios hadn’t been given his inheritance at that stage. He was in his mid-twenties but Cyrus was still the head of the family. Who knows what happened but Yolanda refused to wait. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t asked her to marry him, he had. Even though it had caused a huge fight with the family, including with his brother and cousin.’
‘So why didn’t they marry?’ Oriel asked faintly.
‘Something happened, which is not my place to tell. But I saw the Kyrios curl into himself, cut himself off from his feelings. It was a hurt as deep as if the diva had stabbed him in the heart. Then off she went to America without so much as a glance over her shoulder. She had a recording contract, apparently, and an offer to sing in Las Vegas. There was talk of a Hollywood film, too.’
‘But surely they could have maintained some sort of long-distance relationship?’ persisted Oriel.
‘If things had worked out differently, then perhaps. They were only young, after all. No harm in getting out there, seeing the world. Many young islanders do,’ answered Mattias. ‘No, that’s why I said something happened. That woman dealt him a blow, from which even Damian couldn’t recover. You see the scars on his face? They’re nothing to the wounds he bears inside.’
Oriel listened in sombre silence, wondering what had occurred with Yolanda to make Damian so hurt inside. Perhaps he loved her too deeply to recover, she thought, with a pang of anguish in her heart. Mattias drew a deep sigh and the lines were deeply etched in his face.
‘The Kyrios then took his caique and went far away from Helios, for a year or so, like some roaming gypsy, touring the waters of the world. I think that must have been when he met you. When he came back, he married Cassandra. And, of course, you know how that turned out. If only he had met a girl who had the sensitivity and kindness to salve his wounds. Cassandra may have been rich and beautiful but she never understood him. She was never the soul of kindness and she finally betrayed him.’
Oriel’s heart filled with pain for Damian, for whom she had such confused feelings. ‘Poor Damian,’ she said, whispering his name with such emotion that Mattias gave her a speculative look.
‘Listening to you talk to me about him, looking at you now that you know his whole story, there is no doubt in my heart at all that the Kyrios has met in you his saviour, with your bright hair like an angel, and that you reciprocate his feelings.’
Oriel swallowed a little lump in her throat. Such a sad story, but one upon which it hurt her so much to dwell. She didn’t want to imagine another woman in Damian’s arms. That oh-so-powerful love that had its roots in childhood. How could she possibly compete with that? She could imagine him and Yolanda as carefree young children, running right here on the beach, in and out of the waves, laughing and wrestling with each other, throwing seaweed, burying one another in sand, sharing secrets, feeling that intense closeness children sometimes share when they have suffered greatly in their short lives, as indeed both, in their different ways, had. It was undoubtedly a deep love Yolanda and Damian shared, and a deep hurt for Damian when it all went wrong. And now? Yolanda was certainly determined to rekindle their earlier passion. How could Damian possibly resist?
Mattias with his usual uncanny powers of perception seemed to intuit which way her thoughts were running. ‘Their time is past, believe me. She dealt him a blow, one that has taken him a long time to recover from. Do you honestly think he would want to reopen that wound? Anyway, time is like a strong runner, swift but sure. And though he is a cruel master, a thief that robs us of our years, trust me when I tell you that he is also a generous friend that heals our wounds.’
Oriel shook her head sadly. ‘You told me yourself that every time love shows up, Damian kills it in his heart and replaces it with short-lived passions. What he feels for me is pure lust and I’m afraid it’ll never be anything else.’
‘What I do know is that timing is everything. Many years have passed since Yolanda hurt him, and as for Cassandra’s slight, it affected his pride more than his heart. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. Maybe K
yrios Damian thought he would never love again, but it is often when one has plumbed the depths of despair and drained the cup of sorrow, when hope is dead in our soul, that the sun rises and shows us a bright new day.’
Oriel smiled at him. This simple man of the sea had such a beautiful way with words. ‘You speak like a poet philosopher, not a fisherman.’
The old man nodded slowly. ‘The wide horizons of the sea and the sky are the best teachers, I always think. Faced with the immensity and beauty of nature, you cannot but hope for a better future. Give the Kyrios and yourself a chance.’
‘Damian frightens me. He’s too extreme … too passionate. The way he reacted to seeing me with Vassilis wasn’t balanced, wasn’t fair.’
‘Love isn’t always fair. I would say it is more like a pleasant potion that whips the emotions into a sort of ékstasi. Sometimes it is an elusive fántasma that leads the feet of men into chill caverns of despair and across burning deserts of unsatisfied desire. In that state, how could a man’s reactions be balanced?’
‘He was hurtful. How could he … how could he think I was …?’
‘Love is not always kind. Hurtful as a double-edged sword, it lacerates, it blinds the eyes. It is sometimes an intolerable emmon, an obsession which gives neither eiríni, peace, nor chará, joy …’
Oriel sighed. ‘I don’t know if I can bear it. My life was so orderly before, now it’s all topsy-turvy. It really scares me.’
He turned to her and patted her arm. ‘Let fate play its role, child … don’t fight it. Come, I’ll take you to my cottage. Everything will look better after a wash and some breakfast. Then you can decide what you’re going to do next.’
‘Are you sure? What will your wife say?’
‘Anna will be delighted. She’s been looking forward to seeing you again since the festival. Besides, with our boys married now and in their own homes, you will give her someone to fuss over.’
Óasi Cottage was, as its name indicated, a little oasis amid an arid expanse of land, its flat roof crowned with the tumbling red of bougainvillea. In its little garden, splashed with sunshine, were two olive trees and a lemon tree, to the trunk of which a goat was tethered.
‘After my accident, we had to move because our old cottage was on two floors. The Kyrios, very kindly, had this bungalow built for us. It is so much more comfortable than the other place, with running hot and cold water and electricity that never cuts out. He’s done much to modernize Helios, you know. Even though he faces many difficulties here, he never tires of trying to make things easier for the islanders,’ Mattias explained.
They arrived to find Anna setting the table for breakfast under one of the olive trees. She was humming a little tune to herself and her round, tanned faced broke into a wide smile when Mattias and Oriel appeared. As they came closer and the woman saw the sorry state Oriel was in, she frowned, turning enquiring eyes towards her husband. The fisherman shook his head and gave her a meaningful look, which didn’t escape Oriel’s observant eye.
‘Anna, you remember Despinis Anderson. She has had a small accident on the beach so I thought to bring her back here for a wash and a glass of fresh milk and one of your delicious milópita, apple turnovers.’
‘Of course. Kaliméra, Despinis, how good it is to see you again. Welcome to our home. Please, come in.’ She scurried forward and gripped Oriel’s shoulders, giving her an enthusiastic kiss on each cheek.
Oriel almost laughed out loud at the uninhibited warmth of Anna’s greeting and she smiled into the woman’s eyes, which were so keen and bright amid the wrinkles. ‘I ought to apologize for descending on you like this but Mattias very kindly insisted.’
‘Apologize?’ Anna waved her hand dismissively. ‘Amésos, I will bring you some clean towels. When you’ve had your wash, you must have some milk. It’s come straight from our goat this morning,’ she said and disappeared through a door into the back of the house.
Inside, the cottage felt warm and welcoming. The square entrance was flagged, its stone well polished. A flimsy voile panel was pulled across an archway leading into the living area. Oriel assumed it was there to preserve the intimacy of the household while letting the breeze in through the open front door during the hot summer months.
They walked through to find a sunny room, divided into two halves: the first contained a sofa and two armchairs covered in durable terracotta-coloured cotton; the other, a polished dining table, on which sat a salt-glazed jug of bleached-out dried seed heads and bright-hued flowers. The furniture was artisanal, old and well polished. Pewter wall-lights, cheap but in good taste, adorned the plastered walls, which were decorated in soft shades of peach and yellow.
The first thing that attracted Oriel’s attention was a small bookcase that contained a collection of beautifully bound books. Mattias had followed her eyes. ‘I have always been interested in the classics and our Greek myths, a passion I share with the Kyrios. He’s brought all these books back for me from antique dealers on the mainland.’
Oriel drew nearer to the shelf and looked at the spines more closely. ‘You’ve got quite a collection here.’
‘While we were both convalescing from our wounds, the Kyrios and I spent many happy days reading Homer and the tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides.’
What had, at first, seemed a relationship that existed primarily because of their shared interest in diving – cemented further when one man saved the life of the other – now seemed to Oriel a bond that was even more multi-faceted and profound. No wonder Damian had confided in the fisherman: a strong friendship united the pair and she felt happy at that idea.
Now her eyes wandered to the wall beside the bookcase, on which hung a number of different-sized framed photographs of a younger Mattias, proudly holding the great sea monsters he had hunted over the years. Among them was a snapshot of him, Damian and Stavros: a beaming, happy Damian, before the accident. She thought back to the photo she’d spied in his study, showing him with his brother Pericles, and once again was struck by how much the young man had aged since their night in Aegina.
‘That photograph was taken on the last trip we made to the Red Sea, before the accident. As you can see, we all look like we’ve put on some years since then.’ Mattias sighed. ‘But it could have been worse and I am thankful to God that we came out of it alive.’
‘He looked so happy then. Life hasn’t been kind to Damian.’
Mattias came to stand beside her. ‘Yes, and that is why I think that you must talk with him and clear the air.’
She turned to look at him and gave a half smile. ‘Let me think about it.’
‘Very well, Oriel,’ he agreed, but there was a determined gleam in Mattias’s eyes as he fingered his beard pensively.
Anna was soon back, carrying a pile of fluffy towels. She handed a glass of water to Oriel, along with a fruit sweet in a crystal dish. ‘It’s our tradition in Greece to offer a visitor a glass of our delicious water and koutalyú.’
‘Thank you, how very welcoming,’ Oriel said as she popped a teaspoon of the gluey confectionery into her mouth. ‘Umm … lovely! What is it?’
‘Date and clove conserve.’
Grateful for the glass of cold water, she drank it in one go. She remembered how Damian had described the special taste of Greek water and it made her smile. ‘Yes, this does taste exactly like your Greek air and light. So fresh and, as you say, delicious. Efharisto.’
‘To theó.’ Anna beamed at the compliment. ‘Éla mazi mou, come with me, I’ll show you to the bathroom. Give me your dress. I will iron it for you and brush off the sand. It’s so fine, here in Helios, it clings to everything.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Né, né fysiká se, yes, yes, of course! It will only take a few minutes.’
Oriel thanked Anna, who bustled off with the dress on her arm, seeming to relish the task.
The bathroom at the back of the house was simple but functional and spotless. It smelt of the sweet, subtle fragrance of the ro
ses that grew outside the window. Oriel caught a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Her face seemed longer, as though a weight was drawing it down. There was a minute trembling at the corners of her mouth and her eyes had an unnatural brightness to them, as though she were running a fever.
She had a quick wash using the hand shower in the bath and rubbed herself down briskly with one of the thick towels that Anna had given her, leaving her skin tingling and fresh. The hot water had loosened her limbs and her mind was beginning to stir actively once more. She took a comb from her canvas bag and ran it through her hair so that it gleamed like a long, pale-gold river, massing into curling sweeps at the sides and back. She examined herself in the mirror. Her face without make-up was a little pink after the stimulation of the shower, which had brought much-needed colour to her pale cheeks. Her body, too, held a roseate glow from the hot water and the brisk towelling afterwards.
Suddenly she couldn’t help thinking of Damian’s nakedness. And as the memory swept through her, she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling in those pleasure centres of her body the glow that had not yet waned. Her heart beat fast and her senses swam just to think of the intimate secrets she had shared with him. Oriel was swept from head to toe by a longing to see him – to feel him … love him … and be loved by him – a torrent of strong, sensual feeling over which she had no control. Then she berated herself for her reckless wantonness.
How can I protect myself from getting hurt if I continue to follow the call of my body and my heart?
Oriel turned sharply away from the mirror and quickly put on her dress, which Anna had left just outside the door, refreshed and ironed. Now that she was presentable again there was no longer a trace of self-pity in her thinking. That was over, she had regained her outward poise.
‘You look like a different person,’ Mattias beamed when she joined them at the breakfast table in the garden.
Aphrodite's Tears Page 45
