by Beryl Darby
Before she had become too large and unattractive she had used her time well during the day, raising her price a little and being available for as long as she dared before Yiorgo returned. Only half the money earned each day went into the till, and by this foresight she had managed to make the taverna look prosperous up until the time of her confinement. For two months now the takings had been low and she must appear to build the business up again.
Louisa smiled to herself as she continued towards the harbour, hoping a ship would have docked with at least one sailor hungry for a woman. Yes, she had been very clever and managed the situation extremely well to her own advantage. She felt confident she could deal with any other difficulties that arose. Yiorgo was so besotted with her, and she would make quite sure he stayed that way.
The time had come, Kassianai decided, to face Yannis and make him come to his senses regarding his daughter. Each day the girl hurried over the hills to visit her mother, scrambling over the low walls and running over scrub land that could trip her at any moment. As she had become larger and heavier both her husband and mother-in-law had prevailed upon her to use the track, which was less hazardous, and she had finally agreed. Even that was becoming tiring now, and Kassy would feel happier if her son could accompany his wife.
She chose her time carefully. What she had to say was for his ears alone. She watched as Maria set out along the dirt track that led down to the village, having admonished her to be very careful not to slip on the damp ground. Waiting until her daughter-in-law was out of sight, she wrapped her shawl over her head and shoulders. Not only was it chilly out now, but also there was a good chance that Yannis would not recognise her until she was face to face with him.
Yannis was working on one of the higher slopes, clearing away the tangled growth. Kassianai was standing next to him before he realised there was anyone else in the field.
‘Yannis Christoforakis, I want a word with you.’
He jumped visibly and spun round on his heel. When he realised who was accosting him he spoke angrily. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you. Get off my land.’
‘I’ll not go until I’ve had my say. You’re a wicked man, a hard man; you don’t deserve that sweet girl that you’ve disowned for the past few months.’
Yannis snorted and turned to go back to his work.
‘You’ve no right to treat her the way you have.’
‘No right! No right! After the way she repaid me for all the years I’d looked after her and loved her.’
‘Some love it is when at the first fault you get thrown out of your home, denied access to your ailing mother.’
‘She did wrong. She knew that. I’d brought her up to know right from wrong.’
‘I’m sure you had. Who would know right from wrong better than you, Yannis?’
Yannis sucked in his breath. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do I have to tell you? Have you forgotten Olga?’
Yannis’s face paled under his tan. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Olga, old Nikos’s daughter, no better than a cheap town girl. Every man hereabout knew Olga.’
Yannis shrugged.
‘Who gave her the money to go to the town, eh? Who wanted her out of the way so he could court a respectable girl?’
‘It was a long time ago. How should I know?’
‘You should know better than anyone else. How much did you give her to go away and get rid of your brat in secret?’
A dull red suffused Yannis’s neck and cheeks. ‘What makes you think it was mine? It could have been any one of a dozen’s.’
Kassy nodded. ‘It could, but it was you she went to for the money when the Widow said she was too far gone for any of her remedies, and it was you that gave her the money that killed her.’
‘I didn’t kill her,’ protested Yannis vehemently.
‘You killed her as sure as if you stuck a knife in her.’ Kassy shook her finger at the man in front of her. ‘She wanted money to go to the town and make her way there. We all know what way that would have been, but you persuaded her that if she went to the town she would find a doctor who could solve her little problem. She’d be able to come back to the village with her head held high and nothing trailing at her skirts to hamper her.’
Yannis’s mouth opened and shut.
‘Had you left well alone and let her go her time she’d be with us now, a comfort to her father in his old age, despite her waywardness. But no, you wanted her out of the way so you could court your Maria who thought the sun shone out of you.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, yes, I do. I was with her. It was quite by chance. I’d gone to Aghios Nikolaos to buy the material to make my wedding dress and there she was. Too close to death for anyone to save, squatting in the gutter of a back street, her life blood all but gone. They tried, at the hospital, but it was too late. I stayed with her and she told me. She told me all about you and her.’ Kassianai paused for breath and also to see what affect her words were having on the farmer.
‘You’re an evil old woman,’ he spat at her.
‘Evil! Me! I could have put paid to your hopes with Maria years ago. I kept my silence. What was the point of blackening your name? The poor girl was dead and gone and I had nothing to gain by pointing the finger at you. But I have now. You make your daughter welcome in your house, and her husband and child with her, or I’ll tell the village what I know about you. They might shrug and say it was a long time ago and best forgotten, but I doubt old Nikos would be so forgiving. He’d have his shotgun out for you. You think on that one, Yannis Christoforakis, and be thankful that your girl is a good girl and my son saw fit to do the right thing by her, not like some.’
Kassy turned and began to walk back the way she had come. She was trembling with the violent emotion she had felt during the unpleasant scene, but she also felt triumphant. She would give him a few days to mull over what she had said and if he had not seen his daughter by the end of a week she would try again.
The days passed monotonously. At fairly regular intervals the door was unlocked. Each morning the cleaners would arrive with mops and buckets of water. Within a few minutes they had mopped the floor carelessly from end to end, completely ignoring the occupants of the beds. An hour or so later stale bread, hard cheese and jugs of water were brought in and called breakfast.
At mid-day tomatoes, olives and cucumber accompanied the bread, cheese and water and some evenings a small amount of meat and rice came on a separate dish. Yannis noticed that for each person who was completely bed-ridden there was an ambulant leper looking after his welfare, feeding him if necessary.
Long hours were passed talking to Manolis and Spiro, the two men he felt closest to in the ward. He tried to talk to the orderlies when they entered, but was waved away with a menacing truncheon. Each day when his name was called he hoped he would be free to leave, but it was only to hand him the two capsules that constituted his medication.
The first time Yannis saw a leper die he was moved to both tears and fury. Dimitris had been a living torso in the bed next to him. The smell that arose from his gangrenous body kept most people away from him and he would shout abuse and curses at them. The night he died he was calm, asking for various people to go up to his bed and say farewell to him. Some did as he requested, others were unable and called out to him, yet others that he asked for had died earlier.
‘Can we say a prayer for Dimitris?’
Beside each bed a leper knelt, those who were legless sat with heads bowed respectfully. For some unaccountable reason Yannis found he was crying, and as he rose Spiro’s eyes looked suspiciously moist. He gave a weak grin.
‘Lucky man. He deserves heaven after all he’s been through.’
‘Is he very old?’
Spiro shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Is he really dying?’
Spiro nodded. ‘I expect so. Somehow people seem to kn
ow.’
‘How many people have died here?’
‘About thirty, I think, since I’ve been here, anyway.’
Yannis felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’
For the rest of the evening the ward was quiet. No one played dice or cards, groups chatted together in undertones, everyone glancing at Dimitris from time to time. The white haired man stayed by his bed in a continual attitude of prayer. Sleep did not come easily to anyone, least of all to Yannis who seemed to hear the slightest sound. The dawn light was filtering through the high, grilled window when Yannis heard a sound that made his hair stand on end. The shrill keening of women came to his ears, making him shiver. Groping his way to Spiro’s bed he shook his friend awake.
‘What’s happening?’
Spiro propped himself up on one elbow. ‘They’ve told his wife.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In one of the other wards.’
‘What? Are there women in here as well?’ Yannis’s eyes widened in horror. ‘He would have wanted his wife with him at the end.’ The dirty sheet had been pulled up over Dimitris’s face.
The keening and wailing continued well into the morning, until Yannis felt his teeth on edge and his head throbbing. ‘When will they stop?’
‘When they’ve been told the body’s been taken away.’
‘I wish they’d hurry up!’
‘It’s not a pretty sight,’ warned Spiro.
Yannis shrugged. ‘I’ve not seen anything in here yet that could be described as pretty.’
Spiro was right. The disposal of Dimitris’s corpse was sickening. Two orderlies arrived and threw a sack at the first inmate they saw. He held out his deformed hand and was tapped by a truncheon. ‘Get on with it.’
Unwillingly he made his way towards Dimitris’s bed and an orderly beckoned two more men over. The first held the sack open whilst the others placed the bodily remains inside. They tied it securely and dragged it to one side of the ward. The orderly unlocked a trapdoor set in the floor and the body was unceremoniously pushed through.
‘Where does it go?’ asked Yannis in a whisper.
‘I’m not sure,’ answered Spiro, ‘probably to an incinerator. They treat us like rubbish whether we’re dead or alive.’
‘Can’t we do something? We’re people. We can’t help being ill. If we spoke to a doctor wouldn’t he do something?’
‘Yannis, you have to realise that once you’re in here you can do nothing. If you complain to an orderly he’ll just give you a cosh.’
‘Suppose we forced them to take notice of us?’
‘How?’ Spiro was scornful. ‘What shall we do? Stage a protest march or go on hunger strike?’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Yes, Yannis, and so am I when I say there’s nothing we can do.’ Spiro walked away.
Yannis followed him. ‘Let’s talk to Manolis. Maybe he can think of something. He’s been here longer than us.’
Spiro sighed. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
Manolis was as scornful as Spiro had been. ‘I suggest we break up our beds and attack the orderlies with the iron bars, then we can walk out of the doors and return to our homes. Stop dreaming, Yannis. I thought you’d come to terms with it by now.’
Yannis tilted his chin defiantly. ‘I’ll never come to terms with it. I may have to put up with indignities, it doesn’t mean I have to accept them.’
He left the two men together and returned to his bed. It seemed strange not to have his noisy, putrefying companion next to him. He had grown used to the bubbly breathing and the nauseous smell.
‘I’m getting like the others,’ he thought miserably. ‘I’m beginning to accept these conditions and even be grateful for them.’ He banged his fist on the mattress. ‘I won’t! I won’t!’ he vowed. His head cleared. ‘I won’t what? I won’t lay here day after day, growing steadily more neglected, then what am I going to do?’
Dimitris’s bed was filled before the week was out. A middle-aged man, whose eyes held a wild, hunted look was allocated to it. Yannis spoke to him gently, introducing himself and asking the stranger’s name. The eyes stared at him and two well-shaped and manicured hands fluttered at him, pointing to his mouth.
‘Can’t you speak?’
The man shook his head.
‘Can you hear?’
The man’s hands fluttered again and he nodded.
Yannis crossed his legs under him and sat on the man’s bed. ‘I’ll talk and you can nod or shake. Understand?’
For almost an hour Yannis sat communicating with the dumb leper, when he left him he felt more depressed than usual.
‘You know,’ he said to Manolis, ‘I can almost envy you. He can’t speak and he has trouble eating. I dread to think what the inside of his mouth is like. He ought to have special foods and milk to build up his strength.’
Manolis looked at Yannis in despair. ‘What’s the point of fattening him up? It would be better to starve him for a few days so he could die.’
‘Have you seen his hands?’ asked Yannis. ‘He was a musician and he has the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen.’
‘Some of us would just like hands,’ remarked Manolis dryly. ‘You have to accept, Yannis, that the people who enter these four walls are here to die, and most of us would be grateful to get it over and done with. You seem to have some wonderful idea that we’ll all get better. Face facts, Yannis. We’re the living dead. There’s no hope at all for us.’
Manolis turned away, but Yannis took him by the shoulder and rolled him back to face him. ‘I’ve been thinking and I’ve got a plan. I want to know what you think.’
Manolis sighed. ‘I think you’re crazy.’
‘No, seriously, listen to me. Suppose we attacked the orderlies, no hear me out,’ Yannis remonstrated as Manolis threw back his head and laughed. ‘If we overpowered them, took their truncheons away, and held them here until the authorities agreed to treat us properly.’
‘They’d probably shoot us! For a start we aren’t able to fight them. We’re all of us sick and most of us are crippled, and if by any chance we did manage to overcome them they’d only send more to take their place. You must just put up with it, Yannis, like the rest of us.’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I’m sure if the hospital authorities knew how we are treated they’d do something. Conditions weren’t as bad as this in Heraklion. The food wasn’t very good, but it was edible. The doctor came to see us once a week. Here I’ve never even seen a doctor. Let’s give it a try.’
Manolis looked at Yannis’s flushed face and bright eyes with suspicion. He was probably running a temperature. ‘We’ll talk to Spiro. Call him over.’
As Spiro approached Manolis shook his head at him. ‘Yannis has been thinking and wants to put an idea to you.’
Spiro sat on the end of the bed. ‘I’m listening.’ He winked at Manolis.
‘I want to attack the orderlies and make them take us to the administrator. He’d have to listen to us.’
‘Would he? Why?’
‘He’d have to listen because we’d only make reasonable requests. I’ve thought it all out carefully.’ Yannis settled himself on the end of Manolis’s bed. ‘We’d ask them to provide more water, so we can wash properly,’ he began to tick them off on his fingers. ‘We’d ask for more food, so we don’t fight over it like a crowd of animals, and fresh food, not scraps and stale left-overs.’
Spiro nodded. ‘That sounds reasonable enough.’
‘Then we’d ask for clean sheets and clean clothes more often. Once a month isn’t enough. We all smell. Think of those who have open sores, their clothes and sheets stick to them. We could include in that clean bandages, every week at least.’ Yannis paused for breath.
‘I don’t know. They could make it worse for us.’ Spiro was doubtful.
‘Worse! How could it be worse? They hit us, underfeed us, leave
us in the kind of filth you wouldn’t keep an animal in and dispose of our dead like sacks of rubbish.’
‘Does it matter when you’re dead?’
Yannis rounded on Manolis. ‘It may not matter to you when you’re dead, but you know the effect it has on the rest of us. God knows we have little enough dignity whilst we’re alive, why shouldn’t we have a little when we die?’
Spiro shifted uncomfortably. ‘I know you’re right, Yannis, but I can’t see it working.’
‘Let’s try. How many others are there as fit as us?’
‘I don’t know, ten, twelve maybe.’
‘Then let’s ask them. If they all say no I’ll forget it, but if the majority are with me, let’s give it a try.’ Yannis’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm, the first he had shown since he arrived.
‘We’ll see,’ Spiro was cautious. ‘I’ll talk to some of the others.’
Manolis thumped his stump on his mattress. ‘You’re mad, both of you. If you manage to overpower the orderlies, and if you manage to get to the administrator’s office, and if you manage to get him to listen to you, what do you think he’s going to do?’ Spiro and Yannis looked at him. ‘Nothing! Absolutely nothing.’
‘Then we’ll do it again, and again, until he does do something.’
‘Count me out.’ Manolis turned away from his friends. Spiro raised an eyebrow to Yannis and jerked his head. They walked over to Yannis’s bed.
‘Take no notice of him. He’s having a bad day.’ Spiro leant his head on his hands. ‘I love Manolis like a brother. He kept me sane when I first came here, but how I wish he would die!’
Yannis hardly heard him. ‘Spiro, who’s the most respected man in here?’
‘I don’t know. Whoever’s managed to survive the longest I should think.’
‘I don’t mean like that. I mean by profession. The priest, what about him?’
‘Maybe, but he isn’t really a priest. He was a monk.’
‘Anyone else? Yiorgo, the doctor?’
‘He’s all right with cuts and bruises, but he’s not a doctor. He was a butcher before he came in here. Still is, according to his patients.’
