Those You Trust: compelling women's psychological fiction

by Bernie Steadman

  ‘Yeah, chance would be a fine thing,’ I muttered, ‘but, you know, I’m happy to be single right now, Maria. Escaping the last one was bad enough.’

  Maria gave me a knowing smile and disappeared into the kitchen. I glanced round at the other people sheltering from the rain. There were many locals, all men, sitting and playing card games or dominoes, and a few early season tourists studying maps and eating pastries. In the corner was Cathy drinking coffee, buried in the local English language newspaper. I waved at her, but stayed where I was, drying out.

  Through the window I could just make out a flashy red sports car, parked up but with the engine running, disgorging exhaust fumes into the wet air. It didn’t stay long. Behind it rolled in a new-looking black SUV, and out of it climbed Leo Arakis, from my Greek class. Small world, I thought as he hustled through the door and shook his head to clear the rain off. Several of the older folk got up from their tables and shuffled past him, and he held the door open for them.

  ‘Anna,’ he said, spotting me, ‘nice to see you again, and not in class, so we can talk in English!’ He also waved at Cathy sitting in the corner. Turning back to face the bar, so that he came and stood next to me, I played with my almost empty mug of mountain tea.

  ‘Can’t say I’m into that local herbal stuff,’ he said, dropping a large bag onto the floor between his feet and leaning on the counter. ‘Do you actually like it?’

  ‘I do, it’s soothing.’ I twirled the dregs around in the bottom of the mug. ‘I was about to order some lunch,’ I said. ‘Would you like to join me?’

  ‘Our first date,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘That would be great, I’m starving.’

  I actually blushed as I led him to a vacant table. It was quite different meeting him here, rather than having a quick drink after class.

  When Maria appeared with the menus, her eyes were huge, as was her grin. She put the menus in front of us, then looked more closely at Leo’s face. ‘Forgive me, Leo,’ she said to him, ‘but what is your family name? You remind me of someone here on the island. Do you have family here?’

  Leo shrugged. ‘I’m Leonidas Arakis, so I guess there must be relatives here somewhere on Crete. I’m planning on looking them up when I get a minute. Fava bean stew for me please,’ he said.

  ‘And for me, it’s the best on the island,’ I added.

  Maria stood quietly for a moment and I could see her scrolling through her memory banks. ‘Okay, maybe I don’t know you then. But you do look familiar.’

  Leo laughed loudly. ‘I’m a dark-haired, dark-eyed man on an island full of them. I guess I look familiar to everyone.’

  But I watched his eyes, and he knew exactly what she was getting at. It would be interesting if we both had family on the island. I’d been expecting mine to pop up as soon as I opened up the house, but so far, no luck. It was possible that my grandmother didn’t have anybody here on the island left alive, I suppose. And I would get little information from my parents, that was for sure.

  Lunch took a while to arrive, so he had a coffee, which gave me time to quiz Leo about his restaurant-cum-casino plans. ‘Have you found a site yet?’ He’d been looking for weeks.

  ‘I think so. I went to look at it first thing. It’s on the far western end of the bay. An old run-down house on half an acre of land going right to the sea.’ He reached into the holdall at his side and brought out a much-folded map of the area.

  I love maps. There’s something about the lines and the way they tell the story of the landscape that I find fascinating, and this was one of the whole of the western side of the island. I smoothed out the creases and waited while Leo weighted down the corners with the salt and pepper pots. His hands were square-palmed, and long-fingered. They didn’t look anything like Will’s pale, slender hands. The hands of an artist, Will would always tell me, with a self-conscious smirk that said, ‘I think it’s silly, of course, but what can you do?’

  I dragged myself away from thinking about Will. I have a tendency to wallow, and there had been plenty of times recently where I’d wallowed way too much. Instead, I focused on Leo’s finger tracing the road round the bay and ending on the far side.

  ‘There’s not much there,’ he said, ‘a few houses and the beach. It’s the main route to the far west and down to Elafonisi and Paleochora, though, so I hope it gets lots of summer traffic.’ He paused and finished his coffee while I studied the map, wondering why there were areas ringed in red that were nowhere near the sea. Other possible sites, I guessed.

  ‘You know, I will need a designer for the casino and restaurant, if I ever get the permission to build,’ Leo said. ‘Do you have a portfolio I could look at sometime?’

  Did I? Wow. ‘I certainly do. Have a look on my website, and get back to me. I’d be delighted to help if I can.’ That was a pleasant surprise. It would be my first job on the island if I got it. I jotted my website address onto the corner of the map for him.

  ‘That’s great, I’ll let you know. I’m sure we can work together.’ He grinned and went back to studying the map, tapping his fingers against his chin as he did so.

  I saw that under that vast smile his confidence was all bluster. He was nervous about this venture, but trying to hide it. And so he should be nervous, had he any idea about how things work on these island communities? He wouldn’t be able to just blather his way in and step on local toes and it would all be fine. I didn’t envy him. ‘It’s a brave move, setting up over here. Did you have a restaurant in America?’

  He turned caramel eyes towards me. ‘I didn’t own one, but I worked for my father after leaving college, and he has a chain of Greek restaurants along the East Coast.’

  ‘God, it’s such a small world! That’s what my parents do in Manchester. Although they only have the one restaurant. Not an ambitious bone in his body, my dad. So, you decided to set up on your own over here, then? Back to the family roots.’

  ‘I guess you could say that, in one way.’

  I was wondering what exactly that meant when two shallow bowls of steaming fava bean stew arrived, accompanied by soft bread. Maria waited until the map had been cleared away and placed the bowls on the table. ‘Enjoy,’ she said, and winked at me, again.

  It was, of course, hot and delicious, and I was pleased that Leo stopped talking and gave the food his full attention. It meant I could too. After years of constantly being told I was too fat, and counting every calorie, it was a delight to tuck in and enjoy good food without the nagging.

  I wiped up the last of the stew with a crust of bread and grinned sideways at him. ‘Said she could cook. Was I wrong?’

  Leo patted his mouth and grinned back. ‘Your assessment was spot on, Miss Georgiou. Coffee?’

  Maria swooped in and collected the bowls. ‘Two Greek coffees coming up,’ she said. ‘Everything okay with the food?’

  I let Leo praise her extravagantly while she poured coffee. It gave me a moment to take stock. So far, over the past few weeks, Leo appeared to be a friendly man who had practically offered me a job. Could he be more? I didn’t know. He didn’t give a lot away about himself. I was terrified of getting involved with another man after Will, and Leo gave off the same superficially confident charm vibe. It was just his type I was attracted to, and look where that had got me. Divorce court and living back with my parents for months.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Leo said.

  I hadn’t realised that I’d been looking through the window onto a slowly brightening sky. I’ve been doing that a lot recently, drifting away into my own world. It used to be my self-defence, but now it was because I had the time to do it. ‘Oh, nothing special, just dreaming.’ I sipped the coffee. It was too strong and sweet for me, really, but it gave me a sudden pang for home and Mum and Dad and normality. ‘Thinking about home.’

  Leo gave a little chuckle. ‘Well, you won’t get me feeling homesick. This is where I want to be, doing what I want to do.’

  ‘So you’ve left your past behind as well.’


  ‘I guess. But I’m bringing everything I’ve learned with me, so it’s all kind of coming with me, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Are you married, Leo? Kids?’

  ‘Straight to the point, eh?’ He lost the smile and began to tap at his chin with his fingers. ‘Yes, Anna, I am married, but we haven’t lived together for two years, and she is filing for divorce. I hope. I have two kids at high school, and I video message them every day. I have a clean driving licence and no known communicable diseases and I love my mother. Is that a satisfactory résumé for you?’ He took a sip of coffee, jaw working.

  I could feel the blush starting in my chest. Could have started in my toes. There you go, Georgiou, open your big mouth, put your foot in it, just like Will is always telling you. Better get out. ‘Please,’ I stammered, ‘as you bought food for the language group again last week, let me pay for lunch. Then I have to go and check on my builders. They’re demolishing my bathroom, and I’m hoping it’s not the whole house.’ Babbling? Oh, yes.

  I pushed back my chair and fished around in my jeans pocket, finding twenty euros to pass to a surprised Maria, and her warm shawl went over the counter too. ‘I really enjoyed lunch, Leo. Do let me know if you want me to go ahead with some designs for you, as soon as you have planning permission, of course.’ I gave him a bright smile, waved at Maria and practically ran out of the bar.

  4

  I scurried off up the road, head down. What had happened there? One minute we were enjoying lunch, the next he goes all tight-lipped and moody on me. It was ridiculous but I felt upset. Like I’d ruined the start of what could have been a romance, or at least a friendship. And boy, did I need more friends. I hadn’t been rude, had I? I replayed the scene, but I couldn’t get to the bottom of why he would be so angry at a question about his home. Unless, of course, he was going through a divorce even worse than mine had been. For once, the mountains, usually solid and protective, loomed hard above me.

  The sound of hammering echoing down the street cheered me up a bit. ‘Ah well, at least I’m getting a shower,’ I muttered. Who understands men, anyway? Not me. Ten years with a control freak had left me confused about practically everything to do with relationships.

  I had a sudden revelation as I reached the house. During ten years with Will, the only men I ever spoke to alone were either clients or the husbands of friends. The more I thought on my marriage, the more disappointed I became with myself. How could I not see what was happening?

  ‘Kalispera!’

  I jumped. I didn’t realise I’d been standing outside the house looking at the front door. Mrs Pantelides, the next-door neighbour, had returned from a visit to her daughter in Heraklion. We hadn’t really talked much as she’d been gone for two weeks.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said in Greek. ‘I was dreaming. Good evening to you.’

  Mrs Pantelides said, surprising me, ‘Do you need help? You were so far away,’ in very good English.

  ‘Sorry, I was thinking about something. My Greek is still a bit slow, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Your Greek is good,’ she said and smiled at me. She pointed at my front door. ‘So much noise.’

  ‘New bathroom,’ I said, ‘with a shower.’

  ‘Ah.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘You make sure they charge you fair. I will come in when they have finished and check the work.’ She gave me a look that went all the way up and down. ‘I can see your grandmother, and perhaps, your grandfather. Around the eyes and the chin.’

  ‘Did you know them, Mrs Pantelides?’ I didn’t remember her from my childhood visits, but she may have known them. I had some memories of the woman who lived next door, but nothing concrete like a name or a face. Kindness, I remembered. I felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps I could find out something about my family here on the island after all.

  ‘I knew Nyssa and Andreas when they were young, many years ago.’ Mrs Pantelides leaned hard against the low wall that fronted her house. ‘Excuse me, I am very tired now. After the journey on the bus.’ She chuckled and reverted to Greek. ‘Ah, what it is to be an old woman.’ She turned and struggled up the path to her door.

  ‘Can we talk again?’ I asked, desperate not to lose her before we’d had a chance to get to know each other.

  She waved and closed the door behind her.

  I sat on the little wall outside the front door and wondered exactly how old my neighbour was. Eighty if she was a day. My grandmother had been over ninety when she died. The only thing was, my grandmother and grandfather on Mum’s side were called Alexandros and Cybele Georgiou. I knew so little about my father’s parents, only that my grandmother, whose surname appeared to also be Georgiou, had left me the house. Why she had done that, I had no idea and nobody could tell me, especially not my parents. There was a mystery here I had to solve, not least the issue of whether my parents were both from a long line of people called the same name. Which, in a such a religious country, struck me as a bit peculiar.

  I’d temporarily forgotten about the builders and indeed Leo the Oversensitive, and it was the sudden ceasing of noise that brought me back into the present. Cautiously, I opened the front door and almost cried. I did cry, a bit. There was dust and dirt everywhere. The air hung thick with it. ‘Mr Andreiou! What’s happened?’

  A big head, mouth covered in a handkerchief, appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘Ah, Miss,’ he said. ‘Plaster is very old. It all came off in one go. Very messy.’ He spoke in pidgin, slow Greek, which suited me just fine.

  ‘I know it’s messy, I can see that.’ I coughed and held my hand across my mouth. ‘What are you doing about it?’ I shouted from the doorway. My lovely house, it was filthy. I couldn’t walk any further inside without protection – it was toxic.

  ‘Not to worry. All the old plaster has gone now. Tonight, we replaster. Next week, when the plaster is dry, we do electrics for the shower and everything will be good, yes?’ He rubbed his hand across his eyes, properly taking in the mess for the first time. ‘I didn’t know it would be so bad. Maybe you stay at hotel tonight?’

  Vasilis, the assistant builder, bustled into the living room from the back of the house lugging a huge empty straw basket, which he carried up the narrow stairs on his head, banging into the wall as he did so and squeezing past his boss.

  ‘Where has the old plaster gone, Mr Andreiou?’ I asked, dreading the response.

  ‘No worries, Miss. In the back garden, we will move it tomorrow also. Okay? Then we wait for plaster to dry, and we tile the wall, and put in shower. No worries. I will put some water on for you tonight. Okay?’ He grinned at me.

  Wasn’t much I could do except agree, was there?

  I closed the door behind me and sat back down on the wall outside. My laptop. My books. My beautiful old dresser with all my precious things on it. My drawings for the design job that I had almost finished for a UK client. Everything would have to come out, be cleaned down and put back again. It would set me back weeks. For a moment, I heard the voice of Will, calm and kind as he always was when he was directing my life. ‘Think about what you’re doing, Anna. You’re not cut out for all this. You should let me handle it.’ I bit down hard on my hand. No more of that. The one thing my marriage taught me more than anything else was helplessness. Of course I could manage, and I would. But I didn’t know if that was actually true then.

  Above my head, the sound of sweeping made me grateful that at least they had finished taking the plaster off. I hadn’t given a thought to the state of the plaster when I commissioned the new bathroom. It was an old house and probably hadn’t been touched since the original bathroom went in years ago. I should have known that. But there was no point sitting and berating myself. The builders were just getting on with it, so I would too.

  Plucking up courage, I walked around to the back gate and surveyed the garden over the wall. The corner that I’d imagined would become a small vegetable patch was heaped with pinky-white lumps of plaster. A thin layer of dust sat
all over the garden. A big tub of new plaster squatted in the middle of the path.

  I tramped through it all and went into the kitchen, where every surface was also covered, apart from some cat-size footprints that followed a path across the top of the furniture to a small space behind the sofa. I sighed. She’d been trying to get in for days. ‘Come out, puss,’ I said, and the thinnest cat – a young, grey female tabby – slunk out from where she was hiding.

  ‘What on earth are you doing in here?’ I asked her, and picked her up. She started to purr immediately, and I realised she was just what I needed. Something warm and alive, and let’s face it – grateful – to cuddle. ‘I’m having a helluva day, puss,’ I murmured into her fur, feeling some of the tension seeping away. She purred more and padded on my sleeve. She was very young. ‘Shall I see what’s in the fridge?’ I gave her yogurt and the piece of leftover fried fish I had been planning on having for dinner. They were gone in seconds. She looked up at me, miaowed, and sauntered back out the door. Cat, one; Anna, nil.

  I stood there feeling like there must be something I could do, but there was little point in hanging around. It was only just gone three so I expected the men to work for at least another few hours to get a coat of plaster on the walls. I rescued the laptop and filled a bag with essentials for a night away. At least I had closed the bedroom doors before they started work so those rooms were fine, and the bathroom had been emptied ready for the work to begin.

  I rang the local hotel and booked in. It was the only place open so early in the year, and that was mainly for business people. I could have asked Maria if I could stay at the taverna, but I didn’t want to answer her questions about Leo. I couldn’t work out what went wrong myself, and I wasn’t ready to share it with her anyway; she was way too interested in my lack of love life. I’d rather sort it out in my own head when I was settled into the hotel with a large gin and tonic and the promise of a good meal ahead.