Those You Trust: compelling women's psychological fiction

by Bernie Steadman

  The taverna was quiet except for the regulars, who now nodded and said ‘Kalimera’ as I entered, which was an improvement. Maria looked up from a newspaper she had spread out across the countertop.

  ‘Anna, how lovely. We haven’t seen you for days. Coffee?’

  ‘Are you okay, Maria?’

  She shook her head briefly, then gave me a look that said: not here, not now and pointed a finger at the stairway. So I hopped up onto a stool in front of her. ‘That would be great, and I’ll have a bougatsa, too,’ I said. I needed a cream pie to balance the effort I’d made in walking two whole miles. ‘I’m going to have to get fit, Maria,’ I said. ‘Gardening yesterday nearly killed me, and I’ve just walked…’ I stopped mid-sentence. Maria didn’t need to know what I was doing with Delphine, ‘… at least two miles, and I’m exhausted.’

  A hint of a smile lit her face. ‘And if I don’t make a mistake, I think I saw Mr Handsome running back to the hotel early this morning. That also makes you tired, eh?’

  I laughed. ‘You see far too much, Maria! But yes, there may be a little romance. But, you know, I don’t think it’s going to last.’

  Maria poured the coffee and placed a pie on a small plate and lowered her voice. ‘You think he isn’t all that you expect?’ Her eyes followed mine.

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly it. He disappeared off for a few days last week and arrived at my place on Sunday morning filthy and shattered, having been to Athens and back on the boat, or so he said.’

  Her expression was hard to read. ‘What do you think he is up to?’

  ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like normal behaviour when you’re buying a property, does it?’

  ‘It may be time to find out a little more about Mr Handsome,’ Maria said.

  ‘Ooh, do you have a plan?’

  ‘No. I’m just interested. A bit of excitement to take my mind off this mess.’ She picked up my coffee spoon and polished it vigorously.

  ‘Really? You always seem a little… guarded around Leo. Don’t you like him?’

  ‘No, it is nothing. He is your friend,’ she muttered, and went off to clear tables and stayed chatting to an elderly man about the latest political scandal.

  Frustrated, I ate my pie and drank my sweet coffee and wondered what she wasn’t telling me about Leo Arakis. I should have waited and questioned her further.

  I turned her newspaper around, and, as I had suspected saw that it was open on the job vacancies page. She’d been circling jobs for Spiros. The taverna could not make enough money to feed them during the winter, and they had relied on Spiros’ building job with Kokorakis. It was sad, but at least summer was coming and I hoped it was going to be a busy one for her.

  Quietly, I shrugged on my coat, slid a five euro note under the saucer and slipped out before she finished her animated conversation with the elderly customer about the state of the current government. Our topic for the next Greek conversation class was ‘How to talk politics with a Cretan’. I thought it might involve shouting and waving one’s arms about in a similar fashion. I’d not met a Greek yet who didn’t hold strong opinions about everything from the horrors of the EU to the Italians ‘stealing’ their best olive oil after a poor trade deal in about 1983. It would be good fun to have a chance to join in without needing a translation app. I was probably in a better position than the rest of the class, though, as I’d listened to my dad rattling on for years. He might not have wanted to ever return to Crete, but he still behaved as if he was living here and should have a say in the government.

  I strolled along the beach for a while, enjoying the growing warmth and the soft sound of waves breaking on the shingle, wondering just what Leo was up to, and why he was so secretive about it. I was having a battle between my desire for him and my instinct which was telling me to run.

  Yet again, there was not another soul on the beach for as far as I could see. It would be easy to be lonely here. I could see why people would come out here to live the dream and find it too hard to stay. You needed to be able to adjust to this very different way of life, and to know that Cretans aren’t like Brits, or Americans. The culture is so different from back home. The heart of a Cretan is low down, it’s fire in his belly, not a philosophical debate in his head like an Athenian would have. He would shoot you rather than surrender to you, and that was the essential difference. With Will, I’d been escaping from my roots into a highbrow world I found fascinating, but alien. I was never comfortable there, despite how he tried to mould me. It was the difference between the hardness of life in the mountains which bred people who were resilient and tough, and the softness of the tourists, who lay on the beach, wallowed in the warm water and toasted themselves brown. Their worlds could not meet.

  This island was home for me, though, I could feel it. I needed friends, of course, and I needed a purpose, both of which were coming together. I’d already made friends in Alex and Cathy, Cassia and Tinos, and I think I could still count Maria as a friend. As for Leo, who knew? He was hiding something, and perhaps I wasn’t included in his plans.

  I’d reached the hotel where Leo was staying. There was no sign of his car, so I assumed he would be out on business somewhere. Then I did something way out of character. I gave in to my nosiness. I wondered if he might have left paperwork or something in his room that might tell me more about what he was up to. I wanted to take a peek. How to gain access to his room was the problem. After a moment’s thought, I removed one earring and slipped it into my jacket pocket, and, heart pounding, entered the hotel and approached the reception area.

  ‘Kalimera,’ I said to the young man behind the desk. ‘Err… would you check and see if my friend, Leo Arakis, is in his room, please?’

  The boy phoned the room. I could hear it ringing and there was no answer. So far so good. ‘Oh, what a shame.’ I pointed at my ear. ‘It’s just that I seem to have left my earring in his room, and I wondered if I could go up and look for it? It wouldn’t take more than a minute.’ I gave him my best smile.

  ‘I can’t leave the desk, madam,’ he said, and smiled back at me.

  ‘I understand. Do you remember me from the other night? We had dinner here in the restaurant?’ I didn’t add, and we were practically eating each other, never mind the food.

  The young man flushed. Yes, he’d remembered.

  I went pink as well. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me having a quick search, I’ll be very careful not to disturb anything, I promise.’

  He was wavering.

  ‘These earrings were a present from my mother, and I would hate to lose one. Please?’

  He passed the key over and hissed, ‘Be quick, please.’

  I didn’t need telling twice. I shot up the stairs and was inside the room within twenty seconds. It was a mess. I stood for a moment to adjust to the gloom as the blinds were still down, then scanned the room. On the table under the window was the bag he had had with him when he came into the taverna and showed me the plans. I stepped over dropped towels and discarded underwear. Inside was the folder containing all the plans and paperwork for the purchase of the land and house. I opened it and discovered that the ‘paperwork’ was in fact, just paper, there was nothing on the pages except for the top page which held the estate agents’ details and the folded map. I was stumped. If Leo was off sorting out official business to do with the purchase, why hadn’t he taken this stuff with him? Was that what he was doing? Of course, he could have had all that he needed with him, I supposed.

  I had a quick scan of the rest of the room, but there wasn’t much to see. Quickly, I retrieved the ‘lost’ earring and tripped down the stairs, thanked the boy behind the desk, and wandered down onto the beach where I sat on a rock and pondered. Was I being ridiculous to suspect that Leo was up to something? Possibly. Yet… there was something about him I didn’t trust.

  15

  As I had anticipated, as soon as Aunt Irini heard me digging another bed out in the garden, and cursing at the number of rocks buri
ed in the flinty soil, she was leaning over the wall to see what I was up to. I got off my knees and stretched my poor back. It wasn’t getting any easier. ‘Hello,’ I said, going over to stand closer to her. ‘I’m sorry I was rude the other day. I should not have run off like I did.’

  Irini gave me a sad smile. ‘I understand. It was a shock to you. Yes, your grandmother and I lived next door to each other for many years.’ She reached across the wall and placed her hand on my arm. ‘I know it is hard for you to understand why we are keeping information from you, but there are reasons for it.’ She shrugged. ‘I have a feeling that soon you will know everything, and then, who knows what might happen?’

  ‘What does that mean? Please, Aunt Irini, please tell me what this is all about.’

  ‘No, you must talk to your parents for the full story. This is up to your father, and he must tell you.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘He does know that you will be asking him, you know.’

  ‘Does he? You and Mum been talking again, have you?’

  Aunt Irini lowered her gaze. ‘We all want the best for you, Anna. I can say that I’m hoping that you being here will bring an old and bitter feud to an end.’

  Aha! A feud was at the heart of this. As I suspected. I was in Crete, home of the feud, after all. And my father, with all his moods and coldness, had the ideal personality to hold a very long grudge. ‘So, that is why Dad left the island? Because of a feud?’

  Irini inclined her head. ‘It was many years ago, but it didn’t end in bloodshed as so many have done before.’

  ‘Did it end in exile?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘So now you know more than you did before, yes?’ Irini turned away from the adjoining wall and went back towards her house.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Thank you for telling me that much,’ I shouted to her retreating figure. I slumped onto my little wooden bench and drank some water. At last, answers were coming. A feud between families would explain why Dad never wanted to come back. Possibly he never could come back. That, of course, set me to wondering who exactly had been involved in the feud. And what my father had done to warrant exile from his homeland. Could he be wanted by the police? Unlikely. He’d stayed in exactly the same place for years. Easy to find. The sweat on my brow dripped into my eyes as I stretched out my legs. Whatever my father had done, it was going to have to be serious to have had such a long-standing consequence.

  Above me, the sky was darkening by the minute, and the tops of the mountains had disappeared behind low cloud, so I stopped worrying about Dad, and Leo and everything else and tried to finish the beds before I got soaked.

  I used the bigger rocks I’d dug out of the soil to make a border for the second bed, and added compost. The tiny salad seedlings didn’t look like they could survive, but the man at the garden centre said it was time to plant, so in they went. Finally, I dug a huge hole for the tiny peach tree, filled it with a good soil mix and watered it in. It was placed against the side wall, and would get afternoon sun. I was already salivating at the thought of fresh peaches, although I’d need a regular supply of water to make them juicy.

  As if awaiting their cue, the roiling black clouds that had been growing up and over the mountains began to unleash their power. Time for a long bath and some supper, I thought.

  Delphine, however, rang as soon as I got inside the house, and asked if I would like to look at two possible houses with her and the Andreanakises the following day. So the job was on! I was quite excited and said yes immediately.

  A quick dip substituted for the long soak, and I was down at my laptop within half an hour, putting together colour schemes and ideas for furniture. I had a feeling that Mrs Andreanakis would want traditional Greek furnishings, but I was starting from scratch in Crete and didn’t have my enormous stash of materials and textiles that I would normally offer on a mood board to help people make up their minds. Instead, I raided my house for Grandmother’s tablecloths, shawls, bowls, cushion covers. I took photos of the old dresser, kitchen stool and the wooden panel which decorated the wall of the spare bedroom. I opened the box I had brought with me from home and dug out paint colour panels and coloured swatches of materials. After an hour or so, I had a collection of images and objects which might help Mrs A start again. Judging by the walls of Aunt Irini’s home, the hardest things to replace would be the photographs of her family. But perhaps her children could help with that.

  And, to add to my good mood, Mr Andreiou rang and said he could do the tiling and electrics the following day if it suited me and the walls were dry. It did. Especially as I would be out all day. I had a feeling Irini would keep an eye on him for me.

  As I prepared for bed that night, I realised that I’d had another day without communication from Leo. Whatever he was doing, I didn’t think I figured much in his plans except as a way in to the Kokorakises. Happily, I realised I didn’t care.

  Next morning, I let the builders in and made them promise not to wreck the place. Then I shut the door on them and alerted Irini, my spy and slave driver.

  Delphine picked me up in a big silver Lexus and drove me over the mountains once again to Paleochora. Even just a week later the hillsides were covered in flowering purple and pink and white plants. It was beautiful. I needed to get out here and explore, walk the Agia Irini Gorge, stretch my legs on the mountainside. Actually, find my legs. There were muscles in there somewhere.

  It was different this time with Delphine. I was more relaxed with her, and that helped the conversation. I told her a little of my training and background, but was relieved when we stopped at Topolia Gorge and picked up Mrs Andreanakis from her sister’s. Now I’d have my Greek tested.

  She was apologetic before she even got in the car, until Delphine told her she had to stop. ‘This is my husband’s money we are spending, so let’s enjoy it! We are going to look at two houses, and you must say if you like either of them. If not, there is no problem and I will look again. Understood?’

  ‘Understood,’ said Mrs Andreanakis, smiling shyly.

  ‘You haven’t brought your husband,’ I said.

  She smiled, fastening her seat belt. ‘He will only argue with me, and I decide what we will have. The house is my domain.’

  We laughed. ‘Good for you,’ I said. I’d put her in her late sixties, I thought, but it was hard to tell as all Greek women tend to look old once they adopt the black uniform. Aunt Irini, back in black since our tea party, had been transformed in a flowery frock.

  The first house we saw was modern, not more than two or three years old. Apart from moving furniture in, there was nothing to be done. Centrally-heated, solar panels on the roof, all done in white throughout. It had no soul whatsoever. We looked around its two downstairs rooms, two bedrooms and a bathroom. ‘It’s clean and easy to look after,’ I ventured.

  ‘And there is a little area to sit outside in the sun,’ added Delphine.

  But I watched Mrs Andreanakis’s shoulders slump, and knew it wasn’t for her.

  ‘Come,’ said Delphine, ‘let us see the other one.’

  We walked slowly past the wreckage of Mrs Andreanakis’s former home, and it was all I could do not to cry. Mrs A did, caring little about what anybody thought. The scene was devastating for her.

  Delphine set her jaw. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There is nothing for you here now,’ and she took Mrs A by the elbow and led her gently away.

  The second house was better. The estate agent, who was hovering in her heels on the doorstep as we arrived, told us a little about the house. Built before the Second World War, it was on a side street a short walk up the hill leading out of the town. It had views over the sea and a proper garden in which people could grow vegetables and sit out. The house needed redecorating, but had a working range in the kitchen and an open fireplace which had seen many winters. The owner had died recently, and much of the furniture would be sold with the house.

  I stood in the doorway with Delphine and smiled as Mrs Andreanakis nodded vigorously as the w
oman talked, saying, ‘I like this, it’s very good. Very good.’

  ‘I think she likes it,’ said Delphine, grinning at me.

  Mrs A wandered from room to room, touching tables and sofas, deciding what she wanted where. Her eyes were shining when she returned. ‘I’d like this house very much, please,’ she said. ‘If it is all right for me to say?’

  ‘Of course it is, that’s why we’re here. Now, let’s have a think about what you want to keep and get rid of.’

  Delphine beckoned the estate agent over and said, ‘We’ll take this.’ She wrote a figure on a slip of paper and handed it to the wide-eyed woman. ‘Offer this amount. If there is any difficulty’ – she passed over her card – ‘ring me straight away. There will be no difficulty.’ Then she told the estate agent we wouldn’t need her for the rest of the day. ‘We need time to decide on things. Make the offer, then ring me. I will return the key later,’ she said, and the woman did.

  Doesn’t matter where you live, money talks.

  ‘Anna is here to help you, Mrs Andreanakis,’ Delphine said, turning back to us as if she hadn’t just bought a house in fifteen minutes. ‘She has lots of things with her to help you decide what to have in your new home. Shall we make a list?’

  I got my suitcase out of the car, and took out the contents to spread around the living room. ‘See any colours or fabrics you like?’ I asked, and Mrs A’s eyes gleamed. ‘Pick them up, touch them. You could put one or two things in each room, so I can get an idea of what colours and materials you might like.’

  Delphine took me on one side and passed me an envelope stuffed with euros. ‘That should cover furniture and other things for the house. I expect you to spend it all,’ she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘Your husband is certainly paying for his mistake,’ I said, and zipped the money into my bag.