by Sara Alexi
A whole fleet of cars leave the house around mid-morning, and Sarah is bundled into one them in the same dress she wore to the party. Sliding in next to her is Helena’s mother, Nicolaos, who looks amazing in his morning dress, and the man in the shiny but now crumpled suit. The smell of cigars accompanies his slamming the door closed.
As they drive around the village in convoy, more cars join them as they snake through the lanes. Sarah hears a light ringing and only after a minute does she recognise her phone. By the time she has pulled it out, it has gone to voicemail, but there are several text messages from Laurence and one from Liz. She reads Liz’s.
‘Where are you?’ is all it says, sent today, about an hour ago.
‘With Helena’s family, see u at the wedding.’ There, Liz can tell Laurence if she wants. And with that thought, she snaps her phone shut and looks out of the window at all the passers-by waving. Behind them, the convoy of cars seems to go on forever as they leave the village.
By comparison to the preparations, the service, in a very large and central church in Saros town, is a sedate affair. Conducted in Greek, Sarah finds herself looking around the church for a great deal of the time. Helena’s mum spends a lot of the time gazing up to the ceiling, too. Maybe she doesn’t understand Greek, either. Maybe Jim met her in Australia. Helena looks amazing. Her dress has a fitted lace bodice and, as Helena suggested, it is sensational. Maybe even slightly too sensational for a white dress. Finn and Joss also look amazing in their grey morning suits. Flowers cover every corner of the church, and hanging from the ceiling are brass chandeliers under an icon-covered ceiling. Everywhere glints with gold and brass, incense hangs in the air, and all corners glow with candles. The priest, in white robes embroidered in gold thread, begins to sing in monosyllabic tones. A thrill runs through Sarah and she shivers slightly. The priest sings on and on. After half an hour, it appears that nothing is really happening. No one has moved and the priest continues. Not wanting to look behind and meet an angry glare from Laurence, Sarah contents herself with imagining Finn’s life ahead of him. Surely Helena will want children? It is becoming apparent Pru will not be having any and Joss seems happy with that, but Finn will make such a good father.
A movement breaks her daydream. Joss steps behind the couple. It occurs to Sarah that there must have been rehearsals but instead of feeling left out, which is what she would have expected, she feels nothing but happiness: that her boys have each other, that Finn is marrying. Everything in the world seems perfect. The priest has taken a step back. A man with a microphone drones a religious script in a monotone that is halfway between a chant and a song. Outside, a dog barks, as if in accompaniment.
The priest steps forwards again and the chanting stops. The dog outside continues. The heavy, embellished robes of the priest rustle and swish across the tiled floor as he moves to face the couple, where he begins his own chant over two intertwined thin metal crowns that he uses to bless Finn and Helena before placing them upon their heads, a ribbon joining the two. He then steps away and Joss takes his place behind the couple, lifting the crowns. He crosses his arms and the crowns switch heads. He repeats this two more times and then the crowd stirs.
Children push to the front with baskets of rice. Modest handfuls are taken by the guests and then eager young men elbow forward, taking as big a handful as they can. Helena, Finn, and Joss—behind them and still holding the crowns—begin to circumnavigate the altar. The priest retreats and the guests throw handfuls of rice, the young men with as much force as they can. Helena and Finn duck, Joss dips his head below his arms. With their faces bent to the ground to withstand the stinging onslaught, they try to sedately walk the full circle. The young men in the crowd push for second handfuls and some receive halting hands on their wrists to curb the competitive play. The priest continues his drone and Sarah looks at the sun pouring in through the coloured glass windows. Suddenly it is all over and people are leaving the church. Moving with the throng, it occurs to Sarah that she could have been more involved, maybe studied up on Greek Orthodox weddings before she came, understood what was going on a bit more, and she is not sure why she didn’t. She almost falls into feeling guilty but decides the day is too perfect for such thoughts and as she leaves the church, she is given a silk bag of what looks like sugared almonds by Jenny, who is lined up with several other children, all handing out these gifts.
‘It called a koufetta,’ Jenny states in her monosyllabic tone. ‘The bittersweet of the almonds represents life itself but we coat them with sugar in hopes that the married life will be sweet. So I guess they give them to guests to pass on some of that sweetness.’
‘Oh, do you think that is where the word confetti comes from?’ Sarah asks. Jenny shrugs and picks up another couple of bags to hand to the guests behind Sarah. She moves on so as not to be in the way.
A horse and carriage picks Finn and Helena up and the guests wander after the carriage along to one end of the waterfront, where waiters in cummerbunds eagerly greet them, and Sarah enters the shiny foyer of a large hotel. This could be anywhere in the world; all Greekness is lost.
The room is as lavish as a setting could be, with linen and flowers competing with the silverware and glass in abundance. A board in the entrance maps out the seating arrangements. As expected, she has been placed on the top table. It is also inevitable that she has been seated next to Laurence.
Chapter 30
Hanging back, Sarah waits for the tables to fill. She uses the time to find that Liz and Neville have been seated by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the sun’s brilliance on the sea is mesmerising. It seems a shame to be indoors; the lunch will go on all afternoon with a dance in the evening. At least Finn and Helena will spend some time in the sunshine. Jim has arranged for them to be flown by helicopter from the reception to a destination of his choosing. No one, not even Finn and Helena, know where they are headed for their honeymoon. Maybe the helicopter will take them to the airport, or maybe to a nearby island. Either way, it is very romantic but right now, Sarah just wants to go outside, sit by the water’s edge, and soak up the sun. Actually be in this country, not in some characterless hotel.
More guests are filling the room and discrete music is being channeled through unseen speakers. Finn enters with Helena on his arm. Sarah has never seen Finn so happy. Joss is right behind him; he, too, looks lost in the moment. Laurence is with them, and Joss turns and speaks to him, smiling. Maybe now would be a time to meet Laurence; with all the attention on the newlyweds, it will feel safer. Slipping between tables, she approaches the group to address Helena.
‘Congratulations, daughter-in-law, or should I call you Mrs Quayle?’ Sarah kisses Helena on both cheeks.
‘Oh my face hurts from smiling so much.’ Helena squashes her cheeks together with both hands, her bouquet getting in the way.
‘Oh very attractive,’ Finn teases and leans in and kisses her.
‘Hello.’ Laurence addresses Sarah, the muscles around his mouth tense.
‘Hi.’ Sarah replies briefly. ‘Congratulations Finn. No longer my little boy now.’ Helena lets out a chortle.
‘Always your son, Mum, but husband to Helena first now.’ He kisses Sarah on the cheek and then Helena on the mouth.
‘As it should be.’ Sarah reaches for Helena’s hand and puts it in Finn’s.
Joss steps forwards and puts his arms around Sarah and pulls her in to him. He is smiling at something Finn said that she missed. Taking the hand that dangles over her shoulder, she gives it a brief kiss, knowing he will not tolerate any more than that. They all glide to their places and it is only when they are sitting that Laurence hisses, ‘Where were you? I have been worried to death. You are so irresponsible.’
This is it, the moment she must make her stand.
With no lowering of her voice, she says as calmly as she can, ‘Not now, Laurence.’
To her relief, this one confrontation is enough to keep him silenced during the wedding lunch. He doe
s try to hold her hand as they all file out to see Finn and Helena off to the waiting helicopter. But Sarah shakes free, refusing to lose the last moments with her youngest son.
Then Finn is gone. Joss pats her on the shoulder and walks back inside with her and Pru. Laurence gets separated from them in the crowd. A live band has set up in one corner of the room and Jim, with his wife, is on the dance floor. He gently sways with her, arm in arm.
Sarah looks around for Liz. She had caught her eye over the dinner, when Liz had been grinning from ear to ear. They had raised a glass to each other from a distance but now, she must let her know she is going. With relief, she spots Liz being taken onto the dance floor by Neville. Nicolaos is dancing with Frona. The man in the shiny suit is dancing with a thin lady in a low-cut dress who looks pale and fragile. The floor is rapidly filling.
Liz and Neville glide towards her.
‘Look.’ Liz breaks free of Neville’s hold. She needlessly lifts her chin to the ceiling; the necklace and earring are so dazzlingly ostentatious. Liz tosses her hair and looks back at Sarah. ‘And.’ She leans in as if to tell a secret. Sarah smells the whiskey. ‘He doesn’t want a divorce, so his ex is not moving in. Indonesia, here we come!’ She taps her nose to Sarah as Neville pulls her back to dance. He holds her tightly, and round and round they go.
‘Round and round,’ Sarah says to herself and, seeing Laurence marching her way, she heads off to the cloakroom. Bypassing the front doors, she hurriedly follows a maid pushing a linen truck down a corridor. Sarah leaves the hotel through a service door which comes out between rows and rows of refuse bins. The heat of the sun after the air conditioning is thrilling. Without a glance behind her, she walks slowly to the end of the bins where she can look around the building and see the sea.
With the jumble of thoughts demanding her attention, it is not easy to enjoy the view. Laurence will be expecting her to drive with him up to Athens tonight, as their flight home is first thing in the morning. Their cottage rental ends this evening, so it would be a good idea to get back and see if Juliet can let her stay on for a day or two whilst she makes arrangements with Jim. She cannot expect to move into the housekeeper’s rooms the day after the wedding. Besides, it would put her in a weak position. If she seems needy, she would have to take whatever terms were offered. If she stays independent, they are more likely to agree to something that was mutually beneficial. She quite likes all the independence. It gives her a feeling of power.
The taxi drops her at the end of the lane. There is no cat to greet her and the walk feels like a bit of a dream as the momentousness of what she is doing begins to become a reality.
Juliet is not on the patio, but the door is open. Sarah steps in and calls her name. There is no answer. Surely she wouldn’t leave it open and go out. A noise from the garden takes her around the side of the house to find Juliet lying on her back on the curved bench around the twisted old olive tree. It doesn’t look all that comfortable.
‘Are you off?’ Juliet pushes herself to sitting and puts a olive leaf in her book as a mark.
‘Actually, that’s what I wanted a word about.’ Sarah begins. ‘Do you have new people coming tomorrow?’ She intertwines her fingers in front of her.
‘No the day after. Everything okay?’ Juliet stands and stretches. ‘Was the wedding beautiful?’
‘Oh it was amazing.’ Her fingers unlock, her arms relax. ‘Helena looked stunning. Jim, that’s her father, has flown them off to a surprise honeymoon. The whole thing was so romantic.’
‘Oh lovely. So now it’s your turn to go.’ She looks Sarah up and down, frowns briefly before sitting down again and nodding to the seat next to her. For no reason whatsoever, Sarah feels on the edge of tears, but considering what she is about to do, maybe it is not surprising. It is bound to all feel stressful until she finds her feet.
‘I was just wondering, if it is not too much trouble, if I may keep the cottage on for the night.’ The cat slides round the corner of the house and approaches them purring, flopping onto its side before it reaches them.
‘Sure, why not. Everything okay? Your flight still running?’ Juliet asks.
‘No, yes, the flight’s fine.’ She straightens her back. ‘Well, I suppose you might as well be the first to know I am not going home.’ She stresses the I and looks Juliet straight in the eye as she does so.
Juliet does not move, nor does she say anything. They sit for what feels like minutes until Juliet says very quietly, ‘Are you sure?’
Sarah nods. The image of the green car with Laurence’s head turned away flashes through her mind. She is absolutely sure.
‘Well, of course you can stay tonight, but after that, I am afraid it is booked. Have you any plans? Where will you go?’ Juliet sounds cautious.
‘Just tonight is fine.’ Actually, just the one night should be enough, and there is always the hotel in Saros. ‘I have been offered a job. One night, should all work out just perfectly.’
‘A job, how exciting.’ Juliet’s moment of caution is gone. She springs into excitement.
‘Yes, just up the road.’
‘Is it permanent or just for the summer?’ Juliet leans her back against the twisted bark.
‘Permanent. You know, I think I might just go and take a shower and change. I kind of made a night of it last night and some clean clothes would be very welcome.’
‘Oh sure, sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you back. Besides, if you are just up the road, there will be loads of time to chat.’ With which Juliet stands, Sarah follows suit, and, after both of them pause to watch a swallow dive for water over the pool, Juliet picks up her book and heads to her house and Sarah heads to the cottage.
The cottage is, of course, locked.
‘Oh for goodness sake.’ Sarah flops onto one of the chairs around the patio table. She would rather have showered and maybe even have gone out when Laurence returns. She must face him today, but does she want to do it in the cottage? Maybe meeting somewhere else would be best, somewhere public. She could also do with more sleep. Leaning over the table, she puts her head on her arms. An upturned dish is in the way and, as she moves it to one side, it suddenly occurs to her why it is there.
The key for the cottage is under the dish. Just the sort of thing of which Laurence would think. She hadn’t come home, he didn’t know where she was, he went out to Neville’s maybe or straight to the wedding, so he left her a key in case she came back. ‘So responsible and predictable, Laurence,’ she tells her absent husband.
Lying in the bath, Sarah watches the afternoon light turn to early evening, a pinkish hue. The fig tree through the window looks beautiful. She can see the beauty and feel it; the world is a wonderful place. Dipping beneath the water and opening her eyes, the blue ceiling ripples. Her adventure is about to begin. If she stays calm with Laurence, it could just be a very adult conversation, reasonable.
Pulling herself out of the water and wrapping a towel around her, she pads to the bedroom. Whilst she dresses, she hears the car on the lane.
Without hesitation, she strides from the bedroom to the sitting room, pulling up zips and tucking in as she goes, and sits neatly on the sofa and waits.
The engine stops but the cooling fan of the car keeps humming. The gate clangs shut. The kitchen door opens.
He stands in the sitting room doorway, twisting the car keys between his fingers, looking at her. Waiting.
Sarah tries to slow her breathing, consciously relaxing her limbs. The prickling heat starts on her neck; she can feel it rising to her cheeks. She expected to feel nervous, to feel a little fearful even, but all she feels is anger. Raw anger.
‘Well?’ Laurence hisses.
‘Laurence, there is no easy way to say this, so I am just going to say it. I am not going back with you. I am staying here.’ The relief is enormous and her hands un-interlock and her elbows relax from digging into her sides.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Are you packed? I suggest we leave in about an hour.’
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‘If you don’t like what I have to say, fine. Don’t listen. But I won’t be coming with you.’ Sarah doesn’t move. Her fingers find each other again and her arms re-pin themselves to her sides. She remains silent.
Laurence is winding up his laptop charger. After gathering all his things from the sitting room, he disappears into the bathroom and comes back out minutes later with a bulging ablutions bag.
‘Come on,’ he snaps as he passes her on his way to the bedroom.
How much clearer can she be? She doesn’t move; she waits.
Laurence returns for the bedroom and stares at her. ‘Okay, we haven’t really got time, but what’s this all about.’ He sits on the chair opposite.
Stay calm.
‘I am staying. You are going. I cannot make it any clearer.’ Sarah realises that he probably won’t send on her mother’s wedding ring or her grandma’s Psalm book. Maybe she can phone Mrs McGee and ask her to send them.
‘Okay Sarah, look. Everyone feels like that at the end of a holiday; it’s just the way it is. No one wants to go home. If they did, what sort of holiday would that be? I see it all the time: they fly out laughing and fly back silently. It is the nature of the beast. Come on or we are going to have to navigate Athens in the dark.’ He stands. Sarah remains sitting. One of Laurence’s legs begins to jiggle, a muscle in his cheek begins to twitch, his hand in his pocket agitates the coins that are there. ‘Come on.’ This time, his words are firm. He is holding back.
Chapter 31
The shadows lengthen and the sun slips behind the fig tree. The garden is still but the cicadas maintain their incessant love song. A bat skims across the pool’s surface; another follows it. In the dark, one flies very close to her face but instead of flapping her hands and shrinking, Sarah doesn’t even flinch. She is spent she has nothing left.
