by Leah Fleming
What would she do without her lists? The pages were getting full as her ideas flowed.
How this last year had flown by. Sheffield was a world away now and soon her parents were coming for two weeks so she must clear the spare bedroom she used as an office. Sara couldn’t wait to see them as now it looked as if she would be staying on this Christmas; what with the Bartlett wedding and the Abba party. She would have to let her parents down gently.
This was home now as long as this villa was free. She loved its cosy ambience, the bookshelves, the outlook and the quiet companionship of the ticking wall clock. The olive wood was stacked for when a fire was needed. There were rugs to roll out when the floors were chilly and the woolly wraps she knitted ages ago would warm her through. So far it was warm and sunny so her parents would be able to bathe in the heat and eat al fresco.
She could still feel the heat of Griff’s hand, the look of admiration in his blue eyes as they laughed together. Could she trust this growing closeness? Only time would tell if there could be anything more between them.
October
29
Sandra stood in the bedroom facing the mirror trying on her outfit, her hands shaking as she fingered her oyster-pink dress with three-quarter sleeves. It was two days since Julie and Colin’s unexpected arrival and she still couldn’t believe the miracle sitting beside her or that her silent prayers had been answered. ‘Am I mutton dressed as lamb?’ she asked Julie, who was smiling.
‘You look lovely, slim and neat… Jack will be very proud of you. I’m sorry for doubting him.’
‘I still can’t believe how you’ve changed your tune, love. What’s brought this on? I thought you disliked him.’ Sandra was thrilled to have her daughter here at long last but she didn’t want any misunderstandings.
‘Let’s just say I had a change of heart over a few things lately. I was cross when you came over here to stay. I thought you were deserting us.’ Julie took out her hanky.
‘Never? Why should I do that? You’re my girl and my reminder of Paul. We just had to get away for a while. The sun and warmth have given me such strength.’
‘I couldn’t bear any other man to take his place and I am so sorry. It was selfish, childish and hard on you. I didn’t understand how you must be feeling too,’ Julie continued.
Sandra sat by her side to comfort her. ‘You were only young, love, angry at the world for taking your daddy away. But life had to go on. You’re my family whatever happens, and now you are making my wedding perfect just by being by my side. I’m curious to know what really changed your mind. When I left you at Christmas, you were determined not to come.’
‘I did call after you, knowing I was spoiling your visit. It was childish and cruel but I couldn’t help myself. I talked to the counsellor at work, knowing I needed straightening out, and then one email did just that.’
‘What email?’ Sandra was puzzled.
‘It was from Jack, a lovely letter full of love for you. All I could think of was me, me, me. I wish I could turn back the clock and take back all the stuff I said to you over the years. Oh, and he asked me not to tell you. I know now he cares like Daddy cared. Time is precious and I nearly ruined everything.’ Julie sniffed back her tears. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘None of that now, we’ve just had a fancy makeover. I don’t want mascara ruining your dress. That dusky pink really suits you and tones in with mine.’ Julie had made a real effort to dress for the day with sparkling shoes.
‘It’s only M&S but so light and sunny. I went a bit mad on the sandals though,’ Julie confessed as she lifted her feet.
‘That’s more like it, my girl. All that matters is that you and the family are here now and whatever happens next is for another day.’
‘What do you mean?’ Julie stood up in alarm at her mother’s words.
‘Just a bit of a setback, that’s all. I’m going to need more chemo.’
‘Mum, I’d no idea.’
‘So…’ she paused. ‘Jack and I have decided to come home. I can go into the Christie hospital but there’s no immediate rush. I’m not going to spoil this day or our celebrations.’
‘How can you be so brave? You look so well and happy.’
‘I am and that’s how I’ll stay. You’ve met Sara Loveday, she’s done everything for us. The pool even has petals on it, the arch is perfect and the pot plants are gorgeous. Mel and Spiro have put on a spread like there’s no tomorrow. All we have to do now is go up to St Paul’s for the blessing. Will you give me away? Just take my arm as we go in. I hope Colin won’t mind,’ Sandra said, hoping Julie would understand how important this was to her.
‘Don’t be daft, I’ll be proud to escort you in. This is your day and I’ve done enough moaning in the past. We’re family and Jack is now part of us too.’
Spiro brought his taxi with white ribbons fixed to the bonnet and a bouquet of roses waiting inside. Sandra felt like a queen, a little breathless, but that was to be expected. The sun was shining, the sky ink blue. It was going to be a wonderful day, a day to savour when they returned back home. With Jack and Julie on her side she knew she could face anything the months ahead threw at her. Now was the time to live in the moment and that was enough.
*
Sara was laughing, banging a tin pan behind the bridal car as it lurched over potholes, carrying bride and groom to their reception. They were giving them some rough music as cars tooted along the route. By nightfall Spiro’s mates would be letting off their guns in celebration. It was a beautiful service, simple and short, but Sally made it all full of meaning. How different from last month’s debacle. Here was a couple facing a worrying future together but surrounded by love and well-wishers.
‘It’s couples like these who show such courage,’ whispered Chloë sitting next to her. ‘We must pray for Sandra and Jack and their future happiness together. Couples like them bring us up short with their courage. How lucky we are to have no such worries and battles ahead. But have you heard? Daniel’s marriage is over. Dorrie and Norris have flown back to London to console him. Apparently Soraya, or her father, decided he was not the right man for her and she ditched him after their honeymoon. All that expense and fuss for nothing. Poor Dorrie is gutted. Her other son is also divorced and I’m not sure they can cope with this. Knowing their straitlaced views, they might not want to return here but selling houses right now, after the economic crash, won’t be easy.’
Sara grimaced at this sad news, knowing she had no room to talk on that score. ‘How’s your daughter’s plans?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘Still on about a winter wedding before Christmas. I am so glad you are organising most of it,’ Chloë whispered.
‘Of course.’ Sara smiled with relief. The invoice to Shelley Dorney was modest and her online business wasn’t going to pick up until after Christmas when couples got around to planning their summer weddings.
‘Don’t worry about any local expenses, that’s up to us. What Alexa and Felix do in London beforehand is up to them. I think the time of year will limit numbers but with our friends there’ll still be a crowd. Blink and it will be on us.’
‘Alexa and Felix are going to do all the formal stuff in a register office back home so Yannis and his dozy deputy will have to go without a fee. Talking of Yannis,’ Sara confided, ‘I gather they are no further in identifying the cat poisoner. Tests are inconclusive but some agricultural chemical is suspected and Griff is still hounding them for answers.’
*
It was Don’s last night before he flew back to flog his latest paperback with a round of launches and interviews. He invited Griff and Sara to dine with him in the taverna which was almost empty as the season was drawing to its natural close. The writing courses were finished, the charter planes about to cease and St Nick’s was reverting to the off season. They sat huddled by the open log fire, the only customers dining in the cool of the evening.
Sara ditched glamour for a long skirt and warm sweater. She was
sorry to see Don leave as she enjoyed his company and he made her laugh. Tonight, though, he was looking strained.
‘I might come back later, Griff, if there’s room in the inn,’ he said. ‘Not done as much writing as I hoped.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ came the reply.
‘No, this is serious. A bit stuck with this new novel,’ he sighed. ‘There’s no spark yet.’
‘Don’t tell me the great Don Ford has got writer’s block?’ Griff teased.
‘Not exactly… It’s just, oh hell. I looked in my ideas cupboard and it’s Mother Hubbard bare… Nothing left on the shelf that interests me. That’s not happened before.’
Sara could sense his tension and concern.
‘You give so much to your students on the courses, perhaps you’re tired. Time for a change of scene? You could always come back alone over Christmas and join us all. Have some fun and then knuckle down to it. There would be no distractions and no excuse not to work.’
Griff smiled at her offer. ‘You’ve had fun all summer, that’s your problem, but you’re more than welcome to keep me company. I’m staying on.’
‘Thanks, there’s some magic on this island. I can’t put my finger on it but it inspires me. London won’t be restful doing publicity tours so I may well take you up on the offer.’
‘What offer?’ Mel and Spiro joined them bringing a tray of raki glasses and chunks of baklava.
‘We’re trying to think up some island crime scene for Don’s next book,’ Sara said.
‘I can think of one or two villains worth investigating round here,’ Mel said. ‘It’s all here on Santaniki, if you know where to look.’
‘Really?’ Don was all ears.
‘Take no notice of my wife. She knows nothing,’ Spiro cut in. ‘We are a crime-free island. Ask Aristides, the policeman—’
‘Huh!’ Mel snapped. ‘That’s what you think. Ask your mama, she doesn’t wear horse blinkers and knows a thing or two worth hearing.’
Spiro turned away, throwing his arms in the air. ‘Women, what do they know?’
Sara sensed Mel and Spiro had rowed again. There had been an atmosphere between them of late. She hoped all was well in the taverna family. ‘I must get back. Thanks for a great dinner as usual,’ she said, trying not to yawn.
Don rose. ‘We will walk you back.’
‘I’m quite safe.’
‘No, Don’s right,’ Griff offered. ‘There may be villains waiting…’ How could she refuse?
‘I’ll settle up with Mel and catch you up,’ Don said, winking at Sara. He was not going to play gooseberry. She and Griff walked down the hill in silence. The stars were out and the air was warm.
‘I’ve never seen Don so serious,’ Sara said with concern for her friend.
‘Underneath all that bonhomie and bravado, he’s a sensitive sort. The students adore him because he listens and gives time to them. I notice some tutors keep their writing students at a distance because they want privacy and time to work on their own project while staying here. Now tiredness has taken its toll.’
‘I guess we all put our best face forward in public to hide our insecurity,’ Sara added as they approached her gate.
‘What have you to hide then?’ Griff smiled. ‘Some deadly secret worthy of a Don Ford novel?’
Sara stiffened. ‘We all have stuff we’d rather not show to the light of day, perhaps even you… Good night and thank Don again for a lovely supper.’ With that she made a sharp exit.
Griff stood for a moment trying to work out what he had said that had upset her. Just as he felt her drawing close to him, she then pulled away. He had only made a joke remark but it had sent her scurrying off, taking flight from the suggestion she might have a secret herself. Blast the damn woman, what was wrong with her? Why did she seem to trust Don more than she trusted him?
30
‘I really don’t know why I bother!’ Mel yelled at Spiro. ‘You promised us a trip with the boys and now you’re off with the lads to Chania. It’s not fair!’ There was a dance festival there and the troupe had promised to compete.
‘You can come too,’ he replied.
‘And stand around watching all those doe-eyed girls giving you the glad eye? There’s no fun in that for me.’ She knew she was being unreasonable but who knew what they got up to behind their wives’ backs?
‘You can shop while we’re on, or take the boys to the beach. It was you who persuaded me to rejoin the troupe and now every time we go off, you sulk,’ Spiro snapped. ‘You were keen enough to catch my eye all those years back on Chania harbour.’
‘And look where it landed me… A skivvy tied to the kitchen sink while you swan off showing your moves.’
‘You go out to book club, sing in the band. I’ll stay, then, if it will shut you up. There’s no pleasing you lately.’
‘And have your friends think I wear the trousers? You go. I don’t care.’ Mel tossed her dark curls in a gesture of frustration.
‘Don’t care what?’ Irini came down the stairs. ‘What are you arguing about now? The whole square can hear your business.’
‘Nothing, Mama. Spiro is just going to catch the ferry.’
‘Then bring me the parcel of wool I ordered. You know the shop. It will be ready to collect. Don’t forget,’ Irini ordered as Spiro made for his taxi muttering curses into the air. ‘What is it with you two? I don’t like to hear you shouting.’
‘I’m tired. Sara’s parents came to visit and reminded me how long it is since I saw my family back in Sheffield.’
‘We are your family now. You have sons to consider and my health too.’
Mel swallowed her reply. She was out of sorts and Spiro didn’t understand how she felt threatened at times by his good looks, his prowess as a dancer. There was no use trying to explain how jaded and homespun she was feeling these days. Sara was always so coolly dressed, slim and full of ideas and energy. I was once like her, she sighed, but now I feel like a dogsbody. It didn’t help seeing that awful Stavros smirking at her. Had he heard everything?
She nodded in his direction. ‘Does that man have a wife? I’ve never seen one,’ she asked.
Irini put down her cloth. ‘No wife, not now… she left him and went back to the big island. He’s a miserable bugger – his sons were at school with Spiro, such bullies.’
‘So why does he come here then, tearing Griff’s posters from walls and drinking? He looks so fierce and he puts the tourists off. I don’t understand him when there are plenty of other kafenions to choose from.’
‘Because I know who he is and his family. It’s a small world. Stavros is one of a tribe that ruled the roost in the Apokoronas mountains of Crete. He has his reasons to live out here as an outcast.’
‘From what?’ Mel was curious. ‘Tell me.’
‘Not here, he can read my lips. He thinks he is threatening me. Come upstairs, I have something to show you.’ Irini puffed up to the first floor to her living room with its walls full of sepia photographs and icons and her sofa covered in woven Cretan rugs. She pointed to one particular photograph. ‘That is my grandmother, Irini Doulaki, taken before the war, a rare beauty. I am named after her. She lived with her family in the hills in the White Mountains on the big island. They were proud mountain people, fierce, warlike men who fought amongst themselves over any slight to their honour. My grandmother told me that when she was a little girl she had a special friend called Anastasia, a beautiful girl and a great wool spinner. A man named Petro Metrakis, who lived in the next village, wanted her for his bride but she loved a local boy called Manolis.
‘One night, Metrakis came with his brothers and kidnapped her when she was out in the fields. Custom said she was now his bride. Manolis and his father with his brothers tracked them down to bring her home.’ Irini wiped a tear from her eye. ‘There was a fight with knives and guns, a terrible fight… In the morning Manolis and his family and my grandmother’s dear friend lay dead, her body defiled, left on the rocks for the s
cavenging eagles. Such was the silence when the police came, no one dared speak for fear of retribution but vengeance was in the air.’
‘That’s terrible.’ Mel was shocked at this story.
Irini continued, her voice choked with emotion as she wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Such was the fear of the Metrakis brood, my own grandmother was sent to Rethymno on the coast, to the safety of cousins. That’s where she met my grandfather, Spiro, who was a fisherman from Santaniki. They married and came here but my yiayia never forgot her friend and named her daughter, my mother, Anna, after her. At Anna’s baptism back in her old village she heard that Papa Metrakis was found one night with his throat cut and all his brothers disappeared. Then the war came with terrible slaughter but it was rumoured that the Metrakis brothers were traitors and hanged in Chania prison but not before they had fathered sons of their own.
‘Somehow, Stavros’s father appeared here, bought land and olive groves, but news travelled from Crete and the Metrakis family were shunned. My grandmother made sure people knew who they were and what they had done. Vendettas are passed from generation to generation. He knows I know his history. That is why he keeps his eye on us.’
‘Stavros wasn’t even born then,’ Mel interrupted.
‘The fruit does not fall far from the tree. He’s like all the others, a bad lot and a poor farmer, a bully and an outsider. Now you know, be careful. I don’t trust him.’
Mel looked out the window to see him staring up at her with a lascivious grin. Irini was right. He was not to be trusted. The darker side of Irini’s story was deep-seated. Mel hoped feuding and violence were things of the past but that look on Stavros’s face showed they were not. Surely in this day and age there was enough bloodshed, terrorism and threats to peace, without petty slights of honour?
*
Sara said farewell to her parents at Chania airport. They’d had a great holiday and met all her new friends. Mel and Spiro entertained them and Sara and Griff took them round the island in Sara’s old jeep. They were disappointed she would not be coming home for Christmas but understood this was her new life and business now. They were curious about Griff who she tried to explain was just a friend.
