Among the Lemon Trees

by Nadia Marks

  ‘She saw us, Ourania mou!’ he told her the minute they had a chance to be alone. ‘My mother saw us on the bed!’ and the thought made his face flush with fury and embarrassment.

  Ourania had been very anxious to learn why her Thia Aphrodite had been so uncharacteristically stern with them the previous day, and finally Alexis was explaining.

  ‘She says it’s a sin, and we’ll be doomed, and our children will be born monsters.’

  ‘Do you believe her?’ she asked with a gasp, covering her mouth with both hands.

  ‘Of course I don’t believe her! I love my mother but she talks like an old peasant woman sometimes. It’s all a lot of old wives’ tales,’ he said and shifted closer to her. The two of them had gone to their favourite hideout, the place where they first consummated their love, the cave on the beach. Darkness fell much earlier now, making it easier to steal away unnoticed, and although the autumn breeze blowing from the sea was biting, they didn’t care, they just held on to each other and tried to work out what they were going to do.

  ‘But I can see that we can’t stay here,’ he continued, ‘we might believe in each other, but no one else here will.’

  They hugged in desperation, but they both knew that they had been fooling themselves to imagine it could have ever worked out any other way.

  ‘By the time you finish school I will have made enough money to send for you,’ he said full of conviction, stroking her hair.

  ‘I’ll study hard to be a teacher so I can work too,’ she replied.

  ‘I will hurry,’ he promised. ‘I will find a place for us to settle down and get married, away from here and the disgrace they say we’ll bring them.’

  ‘If I can’t come with you, then I will be here waiting for you,’ she said, ‘for as long as it takes. Trust me!’

  ‘I will write to you every day,’ he promised. ‘I will tell you my adventures and always think you are with me.’

  ‘I will think of you every day and will wait for you to send for me,’ she told him and gave herself to him one last time.

  So it was, on a crisp winter’s day in 1936, that the whole family, and most of the village, gathered at the seafront to see Alexis board a boat destined for the Athenian port of Piraeus in search of his new life; a life in which he hoped to be with the girl he loved more than his family or the island he was born on. Everyone else, and that included his father, thought that young Alexis had decided to go and seek his fame and fortune in foreign parts, a common enough practice on the island, to return in a few years, older and wealthier, back to the fold of his family. The only people who knew the real reason he was leaving were Ourania, Calliope and Aphrodite, who, with a pain in her heart and a secret she took to her grave, had to bid farewell to her one and only son, the love of her life, the light and joy of her world.

  They all took their turn to kiss him and wish him a speedy return, and when the time came to kiss his mother Alexis held her tight in his arms, kissed her forehead three times, asked her to look after herself and his father, and promised her that he’d take good care of himself. His young heart was too keen and full of life’s anticipation to even contemplate that perhaps this could be the last time he would ever embrace her.

  Family and village stood at the dock waving their white handkerchiefs and cheering him on his way as they watched the boat slowly glide into the Aegean. United in their loss, Aphrodite and Ourania stood motionless side by side, each in their grief. But whereas the young girl’s heart was full of hope, Aphrodite’s was breaking into a million pieces with the knowledge that she might never see her beloved boy again.

  4

  Aphrodite was a kind, God-fearing woman, and even though her pain was unbearable, she still found it in her heart not to hate or blame Ourania. In fact, if anything, she felt that they were now linked by a common bond – their love for Alexis. Besides, she kept reminding herself, she was largely to blame for what had happened, so she tried to be strong and brave, and kept her tears for when she was alone.

  ‘Don’t cry, woman,’ Costandis would tell her if he ever caught her weeping, ‘the boy will be back before we know it.’ But Aphrodite knew different.

  Ourania, for her part, didn’t entirely blame her aunt for the separation either; she knew there had been no other option. But still she cried herself to sleep every night in her sister’s arms. Gentle Calliope would kiss her and stroke her hair and rock her to sleep.

  ‘He’ll send for you soon,’ she soothed her.

  ‘I feel as if I’ve lost a limb,’ Ourania lamented. ‘Sometimes I honestly think I’m going to stop breathing.’ This was the first time that the cousins had ever been apart for any length of time, and their separation hit Ourania like an avalanche.

  ‘You’ll soon be together again, my sister,’ Calliope reminded her. ‘You must be patient; at least we have each other, can you imagine poor Alexis? He is all alone!’

  ‘I know, Calliope mou, I’m so frightened for him,’ she said through her tears. ‘I’m so lucky to have you, and I know Alexis will soon send for us both.’

  As much as Calliope wanted to believe in her sister’s dreams that they would all be together again, she had her doubts. She truly wished for Ourania to be happy and even if she couldn’t imagine life without her, deep down she felt that some day she might have to.

  Alexis had been gone for three intolerable months when at last the first letter from him arrived. The mail at that time was delivered only once a week and people in the village had to collect it personally from the post office. In fact on that day, there were two letters awaiting collection from Alexis – one was addressed to Ourania, and the other to Aphrodite. Their arrival caused great excitement and news travelled fast. Ourania collected her letter with a pounding heart and then rushed home to open it alone. The envelope looked as crumpled and as distressed as she’d imagined her beloved Alexis would be after his long months of travelling. She held it in her hands for a while, savouring the thrill of anticipation. She turned it this way and that, ran her fingers over the foreign stamp, the colour of wild violets, which looked to her as exotic and unfamiliar as a precious jewel, and finally, with trembling hands, started to open it.

  Gingerly she pulled out several sheets of pale blue paper, fine as butterfly wings, and with them, another, different piece of paper fell out onto her lap. This, she was to discover, was a separate letter, the official letter addressing all her family, something which Alexis was to continue doing for as long as he wrote to Ourania.

  Holding her breath, she started to read the long-awaited news from her beloved.

  6 March 1937

  My dearest love, Alexis began,

  I miss you more than words can say. In this envelope you will find two letters. This one is for your eyes only. Keep it next to your heart. The other one is for everyone else, my uncle and aunt and the girls, please give it to them too.

  My sweet love, without you I feel as if the sun has been eclipsed from my sky but the knowledge that we will be together again some day soon keeps me going. I want to see you, touch you, kiss you. I want to know how you are, and hear your voice, but I know I must wait. Every night since I left you, before going to bed, I write down something to you even if I know I won’t be able to post it. It’s the only thing that has kept me sane.

  I want you to know that I am well enough, so you must not worry about me. I’m trying to keep my body and spirit strong so I can work, make money and send for you as soon as possible.

  My journey has been eventful and hard and I have missed you all very much, but most of all I miss you, my love. So much has happened to me since I left the island, I don’t know where to start. I feel as if I have been gone for years, not months.

  The best thing that’s happened so far, is that soon after I left you, I met a young man, three years older than me, who boarded our boat at Chios. His name is Costandis, like my father, and in many ways, especially his love of the sea, I am reminded of him. He is fun to be around, and like my fa
ther he is very kind. We’ve become very good friends. I know you’d really like him . . .

  As Ourania read on she was lost in Alexis’s words; she could hear his voice and feel his presence in the room with her. She imagined it was Alexis himself speaking to her, as if they were sitting together in their hideout at the beach, telling her about his new life, his new friend, his plans.

  . . . Costandis was planning to look for work on a merchant ship and head for the United Kingdom, Alexis went on. He has an uncle living there, in Wales, in Cardiff, one of the largest ports in the country and where many Greek ships go to dock. He asked me if I wanted to come along with him, and said he was sure his uncle would help us both. So we started looking for a job together and soon found work on the same merchant ship, which is where we are now, heading for Cardiff. I’ve been hired as an apprentice carpenter and Costandis is working in the kitchens, which is good for extra food.

  The ship is called The Doric, and we’ve been on board for six weeks now. It’s the hardest work I have ever done in my life but I don’t mind because I know why I’m doing it – for us! Tomorrow we will reach our first port destination, in Italy, and we’ll be allowed to go on land so I’ll post this letter to you.

  Even though the work is hard I’m enjoying it and learning a lot . . .

  Alexis’s letter went on for several more pages; his voice echoed loud and clear in Ourania’s head. She continued to read and re-read it at least four times and then, when Calliope came home, they read it together all over again. She couldn’t get enough of it. She wanted to visualize everything. He sounded so far away in his exotic new worlds, new horizons, new skies and seas. The promise of a new life seemed closer than ever and she couldn’t wait to get a taste for it herself.

  The next day, after everyone had a turn to read their letter from Alexis, she put it back in the envelope, and carefully placed it between the pages of one of her school books and took it with her. The other one, the one addressed to her, she folded into a small square and placed inside her undergarment next to her left breast.

  She knew that everyone at school, including her teachers, had been waiting to hear news from Alexis.

  ‘It’s sent from Italy,’ Miss Eugenia her geography teacher said with delight after Ourania asked her to decipher the writing on the stamp. ‘It’s been stamped in Palermo, in Sicily,’ she said, putting on her reading glasses to examine it better. ‘Can you believe it! Our Alexis is seeing the world!’ Her voice was full of admiration.

  The months that followed after the first letter from Alexis and before his next one were unbearable. To alleviate the pain, Ourania decided to replace crying herself to sleep each night with sitting down and writing to him. It was something like a diary, a virtual conversation with her sweetheart, which lifted her spirits and gave her hope, although she had no idea if he would ever read it. She would read it out loud to Calliope and together they would dream about the time when they’d see him again.

  Once Alexis’s ship finally arrived in Cardiff and Costandis’s uncle turned out to be as kind and as helpful as his nephew had promised, Alexis was able to give Ourania an address where she could send her letters. He had been anxious and uncertain at what kind of reception he’d receive from his friend’s uncle but his worries were unfounded. Georgios Mendrinos could not have been kinder and more hospitable. Georgios had arrived in Cardiff some thirty years earlier in much the same way as the two boys and felt that giving them a helping hand was the least he could do. He too had benefited from the kindness of others when he first arrived fresh off the boat in a strange country, with no knowledge of the language or much money in his pocket. The Greek community, although small, was visible even then, and he gradually found his feet. In fact Georgios Mendrinos’s favourite anecdote was telling people, as often as he could, exactly how he found his feet in Cardiff.

  ‘I found a job in a cobbler’s shop!’ he would roar with laughter when recounting the story.

  Soon after he arrived in the city he was hired as an apprentice by a Greek shoemaker who taught him the trade, and after a few years helped him on his way to open his own shop. Now thirty years later he was considered one of the best cobblers in the city. His shop was proudly named Bespoke Footwear and was popular among both Greek and local people. He’d done well for himself, and helping his sister’s son and the boy who came with him was a duty he took seriously. He too had left his island as a young man and his biggest regret was that he’d never gone back, or seen his mother again before she died. He’d meant to, but he didn’t, and now it was too late.

  Georgios Mendrinos’s house was a small, two-up, two-down Victorian terrace, not far from the docks, and the boys had never seen the likes of it before, not even in a picture. Everything looked impossibly crowded. Their strapping physiques were in total contrast to the two narrow beds and cramped room they had to share, but they were both more than grateful for the kindness and hospitality they were given.

  Georgios, for his part, was delighted to have the boys stay with him for the short while they were in town. The last three years had been very sad for him. He’d been happily married for a quarter of a century to Marika, a bubbly, nurturing Greek woman, whose sudden death left him lonely and bereft. Georgios and Marika had been desperate to have children, but their union had been fruitless.

  ‘You would have liked your Thia Marika,’ he told his nephew when he first arrived, ‘and she would have loved you! She wanted a son more than anything.’

  The voyages back and forth across the Mediterranean were repetitious and tiring, and although The Doric briefly docked at various ports, which at first the two boys found interesting, they soon began to look forward to the few days’ breathing space that Cardiff offered. Georgios’s house became something of a bolt-hole for both of them and on arrival they always found a big pile of letters waiting for them with news from home.

  As time passed, life on the island also resumed its routine. Ourania and Aphrodite still ached from their loss and although they were never hostile towards each other they preferred to keep their distance. Even so, an unspoken truce seemed to keep the two women connected and when news from Alexis was being discussed at family gatherings, they both felt the sadness in each other’s hearts. Alexis wrote regularly not only to Ourania but also to his mother. Distance was now beginning to make him see the impossibility of the situation and he stopped blaming her. He just kept his head down and worked hard towards making it possible to send for his beloved.

  For Ourania too, schoolwork was beginning to be all absorbing and the volume of studying she had to do allowed little time for wallowing in sadness. With the entrance exams for the teachers’ training college she wanted to attend looming ahead, she had her work cut out. By the time she finished revising, did her share of house-chores, and wrote a letter to Alexis she was all too ready to collapse into bed with Calliope and promptly fall asleep.

  I’m determined to pass with good grades and win a scholarship to the college, she wrote to Alexis. I want to be able to work and earn my share whatever we do in the future. I’m having a hard time convincing my parents that this is truly what I want from my life. Obviously I have to go to Mytilini if I’m to attend college, which in itself is a big problem. Remember what it took for them to agree to let me go on a bus ride to school? And that’s only because you were there! Allowing me to go to another island might be too much to hope for. Still, they are getting used to me being difficult and as I keep telling my mother, if I’m old enough for marriage, I am old enough for college.

  Which reminds me . . . the proxenia are still coming in, but be absolutely certain, Lexi mou, I’m taking no notice of them. My mother thinks I’m crazy and she is constantly trying to get me to change my mind. I have a feeling she is beginning to give up on me. I told her she should move on to one of the other girls if she is that frantic about getting one of us married off. Asimina seems as desperate to find a husband as my mother is at finding one for me, so I’m hoping she’ll start foc
using on her soon and leave me alone. Of course Calliope is next in line but as you know she’s not that interested in marriage just yet either. She wants to go to college too, which is a good thing, because together they’d probably agree to let us go. Can you imagine if we both end up being teachers? We would be a great team!’

  Alexis would read Ourania’s letters with relish and amusement. He anticipated them with great pleasure and excitement, loved her sense of humour, and they cheered him up. He knew she longed to see him and missed him as much as he did her, yet she always managed to be upbeat and full of positive spirit.

  The closely knit Greek community in Cardiff was more than happy to welcome both young men into its fold. Their church of Agios Nicolaos, patron saint of seafarers, built in the Byzantine style some years earlier, was something of a meeting place, with a small community centre attached to it. This was soon to become a regular haunt for the two boys who when in town preferred it to the city’s many rowdy drinking establishments. Gradually, the Welsh capital and its Greek community was beginning to feel like a home to them both.

  Each time their ship docked, on the very first morning Alexis would habitually take himself off to Agios Nicolaos, where he would light a candle, give thanks to the saint for watching over them, and sit for a while in the sanctuary of the chapel absorbing the calming smell of incense, and pray. He prayed for a speedy reunion with Ourania, for his mother’s forgiveness, his father’s safe keeping, and for himself. He asked the saint to grant him patience, courage and wisdom, all of which he knew he desperately needed in order to cope with whatever was yet to follow in his life.

  5

  November on the island is the start of the olive harvest. At the beginning of this annual gathering the place would be gripped by what can only be described as olive fever and a festive atmosphere would dominate villages and countryside alike. Although the work was hard and laborious it was an activity that everyone, young and old, always wanted to take part in.