by Beryl Darby
At the end of the service he found Yannis just stirring. Taking his place in the chair opposite he smiled at the boy. ‘Feel better now?’
Yannis nodded. ‘I’ve been asleep.’
‘For a while; It’s nearly lunchtime. I hope you’ll join me. I’ve told my housekeeper there will be one extra.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Oh.’ The priest seemed genuinely surprised and disappointed. ‘I’m sorry. It will be wasted. My housekeeper will be upset.’
Yannis wavered. He had not eaten since the previous evening and his stomach felt empty. ‘Maybe I could have a little, here in your room.’
‘Of course,’ the priest smiled broadly. ‘I’ll go and fetch it in about half an hour.’
Yannis rose from the floor and sat in the chair. ‘Don’t you mind me being here?’
‘Why should I? I’m glad of your company. Being a priest can be very lonely.’
‘My cousin wants to be a priest.’
‘Really? That’s good to hear. Does he live locally?’
‘No.’
‘Then I wouldn’t know him. I know most of the novices who live here.’
‘He’s still at school.’
‘He’s very young to recognise his calling,’ observed the priest.
‘We should have guessed long ago. He said a lovely prayer for Aga.’ Yannis’s voice was wistful. ‘She was our donkey. She died in the summer. Andreas insisted on saying a prayer for her.’
‘He was very fond of her?’
Yannis shrugged. ‘He hadn’t known her long, but we were all fond of her. She was so good-natured, not like the one we have now who’ll only walk for Yiorgo or Pappa.’
The priest nodded. The boy had a father, probably a brother and a cousin. At least he was not alone in the world, whatever his trouble was. ‘You live in the country, then?’
‘I used to. I live here now.’
‘Do you like the town?’
‘Very much.’
‘Do you have some work?’
For the first time Yannis smiled. ‘More than enough.’
The priest rose. ‘I’ll get our lunch.’
He had at least started the boy talking; maybe a meal and some wine would loosen the boy’s tongue a little more. They ate their lunch in silence, the priest wondering how best to get Yannis to talk again.
‘Did you go back to the country for Christmas?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Your people were pleased to see you, no doubt.’
Yannis nodded, his eyes suddenly filling with tears.
‘How is your mother keeping?’
‘Fine.’
That was not the problem then. ‘And your father?’
‘He’s a lot better now.’
‘Was he ill?’
‘He broke his leg.’
Again a blank. ‘How about your brothers and sisters?’
‘They’re fine.’
‘What do you do with yourself here that you’re so busy?’
‘I’m studying.’
‘What for?’
‘I hoped to go to University.’
The past tense was not lost on the priest. ‘Did you fail your exams?’
‘No.’
‘Then why do you say “hoped”?’
Yannis buried his face in his hands. ‘It’s all gone wrong.’
The priest pushed his tray onto the table and leaned towards the distressed boy. ‘Tell me about it. I may be able to help you.’
‘You can’t. No one can.’
‘You don’t know that. Some things seem impossible to us, then when we tell someone else they see the solution immediately.’
‘No one can help me.’
‘How can you be so certain?’
Yannis pulled down the neck of his pullover to expose the ugly wound on his neck. To his surprise the priest did not recoil in horror, but came closer and examined it carefully.
‘What is it?’
‘What does it look like!’
‘I know what it looks like.’
Yannis turned his stricken face towards the priest. ‘I’m a leper, aren’t I? Now you’ll want me to leave.’ He began to rise from the chair.
‘Sit back down. You’ve no need to go. I’d like to talk to you some more. What makes you so sure it’s leprosy? Have you seen a doctor?’
‘I went before Christmas. I’d had a fall and needed some stitches in my head. When he took them out he saw my lump and took a sample. He said if there was anything wrong the hospital would contact me. The letter was at the post office waiting for me yesterday.’
‘Why hadn’t you checked before?’ The priest frowned.
‘I only arrived back in Heraklion on Friday. I had to stay home longer than I’d planned because of my father’s leg.’
‘I don’t think you should condemn yourself until you’ve been to the hospital. It could be a localised infection.’
‘I’ve got some more lumps coming up.’ Yannis lifted his hair.
‘Yes, you do have a few.’
‘What can I do?’
The priest sat back in his chair. ‘I think that depends upon you. You can sit and fret and worry until you see a doctor or you could use your time constructively. Have you written to your parents to say you have arrived safely?’
Yannis shook his head.
‘That could be your first task. You don’t have to mention your worries or fears. Then you could try to catch up on some of your schoolwork. You must be behind.’
‘I can’t concentrate.’
‘A letter does not take a lot of concentration. Do your letter; then set yourself some homework. What are you studying?’
‘History and Literature.’
‘Then you must have plenty of reading to do.’
‘I tried to read yesterday.’
‘That was yesterday. Today you can make a fresh start. Read one of my books if you want. I have another service fairly soon. When I’ve gone choose a book or there’s pen and paper on the table.’
‘You’re very good to me.’
‘You’re very good for me. I feel it is part of my duty as a priest to help people. I don’t often have the chance. If I can help you through a bad twenty-four hours then I feel I’m fulfilling my calling. I’ll bring some coffee back with me when I return.’
Yannis smiled at him gratefully. ‘I’ll try a letter whilst you’re away.’
‘Good. I’ll be about an hour.’
Yannis did manage to write to his parents in the priest’s absence. At first it was difficult. He wanted to blurt out his fears, ask them if he could go home and work on the farm, tell them how frightened he was. Instead he described his journey to Aghios Nikolaos, said he had been unable to see Annita, told them about the bus journey and then added Mr Pavlakis’s news. He made no mention of his own doings, except to say that he was going to try to catch up on his reading. He had just finished when the priest returned.
‘You wrote your letter?’ His face lit up with a smile. ‘Good. Now, shall we talk or would you rather read?’
‘I’d like to talk,’ admitted Yannis. ‘I’d like to talk about you.’
‘Coffee first, then we’ll swap stories. I’m not very interesting, I’m afraid. The first thing you’re going to ask is why did I become a priest, yes?’
‘Oh, no; I know why you became a priest. It’s obvious, you’re so, so, oh, just so right. I was going to ask your name.’
‘I’m Father Minos, and your name?’
‘Yannis. Yannis Christoforakis.’
The priest held out his hand, for a moment Yannis looked at it doubtfully, then extended his own. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Yannis.’
Yannis looked at their clasped hands. ‘Aren’t you afraid to touch me?’
‘No. Why should I be?’
Yannis hesitated. ‘I might be contagious.’
Father Minos shrugged. ‘I go t
o people who are dying. Many of them have something contagious. I can’t refuse to give absolution to someone because I’m frightened that I might become ill. I have faith in my God. If it is his will that I catch a disease so be it. Until that time I’m immune, so why should I worry about touching you?’
‘Do you really believe that?’
‘I most certainly do,’ replied Father Minos firmly. ‘I believe that every obstacle that is put in our way during our lifetime is put there for a reason. We may not be able to see that when a misfortune occurs, but we have to have faith, faith in someone who is greater than all of us put together. If you are ill there must be a good reason. At the moment no one knows how you catch certain diseases, and it’s only through studying those who are sick that the doctors eventually find out. There are many diseases for which there is no known cure; again, doctors need to try various medicines until they find the right one. Nothing is in vain, Yannis. You could be the person who helps them find the cure.’
Yannis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I wish I had your kind of faith. There are hundreds of sick people in the world. I doubt if I’ll make any difference. It just seems so unfair, so pointless.’
Father Minos shook his head. ‘Always remember there is a purpose, even if we can’t understand it. We’re only a very small part of an immense pattern, but the tiny segment that is ours is essential to making the whole complete. But why are we talking like this? Tell me about your life on the farm.’
Yannis talked. He described his family and the years he had spent on the farm, followed by his schooling in Aghios Nikolaos. Father Minos led him on to talk of his hopes for University, watching the boy’s eyes light up with enthusiasm when he spoke of the pottery he had found and the work he was doing in the museum. When Yannis finally finished reminiscing Father Minos rose.
‘I have another service to take. Do you fancy joining me?’
Yannis hesitated, then agreed and followed the tall, dark figure into the dimly lit church, taking a place near the door. The service seemed interminable to him as he sat there; wishing he were back in the small, warm room. Try as he might to follow and join in, his thoughts drifted continually to his own worries and as soon as Father Minos returned to his house he hurried after him.
Once again Father Minos collected a tray from his housekeeper and they ate and drank together. The priest began to talk about his own life, how he, too, had lived in a village and wanted to be a bookkeeper. He had even taken his first examination at University before he decided that his real calling was in the church and plucked up enough courage to tell his father.
‘What did he say?’ Yannis was curious.
‘He cried. He was so happy for me that I felt guilty for not telling him before,’ smiled Father Minos.
‘What did your mother say?’
‘She was dead. She died when I was ten.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Yannis felt embarrassed.
‘You don’t have to be. I was terribly upset as a child, but now I see it for the best. Had she lived she would have been an invalid, confined to her bed for ever.’
The conversation began to flag and Yannis realised he had taken up most of the priest’s day.
‘I ought to go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.’
Father Minos smiled. ‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you. You’re welcome to visit me whenever you wish. Where are you going now?’
‘Back to the taverna. I have to go back. All my belongings are there.’
‘Have you told your friends?’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I’ve told no one, only you.’
Father Minos laid a hand on Yannis’s shoulder. ‘Keep it like that. No need to worry them unnecessarily. Come and talk to me again tomorrow when you’ve been to the hospital.’ Beneath his hand the priest could feel Yannis tremble. ‘Have faith, Yannis. I’m always here if you need me.’
‘Thank you, Father.’ Yannis choked on the lump in his throat and turned away up the street.
Father Minos watched him sadly. He wondered if Yannis would visit him again and wished he had asked the name of the taverna so he could have enquired for himself.
Contrary to his expectations, Yannis slept well, not stirring until the sound of rain beating on his window aroused him. He shivered as he dressed, resolutely refusing to look at or touch his neck. The kitchen was cold when he entered and he lit the stove before looking for some coffee. As his water came to the boil Louisa appeared.
‘You’re early,’ she remarked.
‘The rain woke me,’ explained Yannis. ‘May I take some hot water up with me?’
Louisa shrugged. ‘If you wish.’ She sat down on the stool Yannis had just vacated and placed her head on the table.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, just a bit queasy. It will pass.’
Yannis nodded and left her, balancing a roll on top of his coffee and carrying a jug of hot water. Once back in the privacy of his room Yannis decided to eat and drink before shaving. He realised he was delaying the moment when he would have to look at his neck in the mirror. Finally he picked up his razor. It was more with revulsion than curiosity that he undid the buttons on his shirt and looked at his neck. There was an ugly, disfiguring raw area, where once there had been a small, white lump. Gingerly he touched it, still surprised not to feel any pain. He shaved carefully, cursing as he nicked his chin, bringing blood to the surface. Re-fastening his collar and pulling on his pullover, he picked up his jacket and took a last look round as he left. Where was the letter he had written? He felt in his coat pocket, then his trousers, before remembering that it was lying on the table in Father Minos’s room. He shrugged. He had promised the priest he would return to tell him the doctor’s diagnosis, so he could collect it then.
Louisa was looking better when he re-entered the kitchen and was able to greet him with a smile. ‘More coffee before you go?’
‘No thanks.’ He was about to enquire after her health when Yiorgo entered, pulling the girl to him and kissing her affectionately.
‘Goodbye,’ called Yannis, crossing the taverna rapidly and leaving before either of them could question him.
It was too early to go to the hospital and Yannis wandered down to the harbour. He wanted to avoid any chance encounter with any of his friends from High School and stood watching those fishermen who had been out during the night unloading their catch. The heavy rain had lessened to a misty drizzle and Yannis shivered. Finally he hunched his shoulders and wandered into the town, turning into a taverna, resisting the urge to squeeze himself in beside the stove and two old men who were playing backgammon. He ordered coffee and lingered over it, until the owner began to cast suspicious glances in his direction.
Unwillingly Yannis dragged himself to his feet and slowly walked in the direction of the hospital. He took his place in the waiting room, surreptitiously studying each person who was already there and those who entered after him. Each time it was his turn to enter he let another patient go before him, until he was alone, sitting on a hard, upright chair.
‘Are you coming in?’ The doctor was standing in the doorway of his room.
Yannis swallowed. ‘Yes, please.’
Yannis followed the white-coated figure into his room and sat in the proffered chair. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You sent me a letter, asking me to attend the hospital.’
The doctor frowned. ‘When?’
‘I’m not sure. I only received it on Friday, but it may have been sent before Christmas.’
‘Give me your name.’
‘Yannis Christoforakis.’
The doctor removed a ledger from his shelf and began to run his index finger down a list of names, finally finding Yannis’s. He read the information entered against it and looked at the boy carefully.
‘Remove your shirt, please.’
With trembling fingers Yannis did so, trying to keep the afflicted side of his neck turned away from the
doctor, who took up a stance behind him.
‘Ouch!’ Yannis jumped.
‘Hmm.’ The doctor continued to poke his neck, sometimes hurting him considerably and finally returning to stand in front of him, tilting Yannis’s head first to one side and then the other. At last he returned to his seat and began to write.
‘Put your shirt back on.’
Yannis sat, impatient for the doctor to finish writing, yet not liking to interrupt him.
‘When did you first notice this condition?’
‘I was about nine, I think. I had mumps.’
Almost imperceptibly the doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘Why have you waited so long before coming here?’
‘There was no need. It was only a little lump.’
‘Did you ever see a doctor?’
Yannis nodded. ‘He said it was a blocked gland and nothing to worry about.’
Leaning forward the doctor raised his voice. ‘Tell me the truth, boy. You’ve known for years. Who’s been hiding you? Your parents?’
‘No sir, it’s the truth.’
‘Luckily for you it appears to be a localised infection.’
‘It isn’t leprosy?’ Hope soared in Yannis’s heart.
‘Oh, it’s leprosy, but after the years of neglect it could have spread to other parts of your body and it doesn’t appear to be anywhere else. We’ll take you in and give you a course of treatment. Have you got your things with you?’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I’ll have to go and fetch them. How long do I have to stay?’
The doctor shrugged. ‘That depends. Months, maybe longer.’
The colour drained from Yannis’s face.
‘Give me your address and we’ll send a cart for you.’
‘No!’ Yannis’s voice was full of pent up emotion. ‘I walked here this morning, I can walk again.’
‘It’s the law. All lepers are collected by cart.’
‘Not me. I’ll be back this evening.’
