by Beryl Darby
Nikos groaned. ‘I can’t go back again. I’ve more than enough work here. There are new patients that I need to see. They could be urgent, more urgent than those on the island.’
‘You really feel that?’
‘I most certainly do.’
‘In that case I’ll write and tell them they have to wait until you’ve cleared your backlog of patients or they have to send a replacement.’
Nikos nodded. ‘I’d be grateful. I am needed here. Maybe I could return in six months.’
‘Yannis won’t be very happy,’ remarked Dimitris.
‘Yannis will have to put up with it. I’ll write to him and say Athens are investigating the results and it will be some time before we receive them.’
‘Good idea. Keep him quiet for a while at least.’
Anna was worried. Maria had suffered another stroke in her sleep. She had risen to help her mother wash and dress only to find her snoring heavily and nothing would wake her. All day Anna and Marisa took turns to sit beside her, waiting for any change in her condition, until finally her breathing quietened and became regular. They exchanged glances, neither was sure if this was a good or bad sign.
‘I’ll try to rouse her.’
Marisa nodded, biting her lips anxiously. ‘Should I fetch uncle Yiorgo?’
Anna did not answer her niece. ‘Mamma. Mamma. Open your eyes and I’ll give you a little drink. Come along now. You heard what I said. Don’t be difficult. Marisa and I will help you sit up.’
The eyelids flickered and dropped again. ‘Mamma, please try.’
Maria opened her eyes and shut them again. Anna breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Help me,’ she said to Marisa, and between them they lifted Maria up a little higher in the bed. Anna wrapped a towel beneath her chin and held a cup of water to her lips. ‘Just a few sips.’
Her eyes still closed Maria tried to drink, much of it dribbling from the corner of her mouth. ‘That’s fine,’ Anna assured her. ‘You can have some more in a while. Rest now, and I’ll make some chicken broth.’ Maria made no sign that she had heard her daughter. She lay immobile on the pillows, appearing to be asleep.
‘Come into the kitchen with me and help me make the broth, Marisa.’ Anna led the way and closed the door behind them. ‘I’m sure she’s had another stroke.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘There’s nothing I can do.’
‘What about a doctor?’
‘He could do nothing. Strokes are not like illnesses.’
Anna spooned a little of the chicken broth into her mother’s slack mouth, hoping some would be swallowed. Marisa seemed to have lost all initiative and Anna had to direct her to do the most simple and obvious tasks, until Anna insisted they changed places and Marisa tended to her grandmother whilst she organised a meal for when the men returned from the fields. Yiorgo returned early, his face strained and worried.
‘How is she?’
‘There’s no change. Marisa’s feeding her chicken broth.’
Yiorgo nodded. ‘Anything you want me to do?’
‘No. I’ll be ready when Yannis comes in. I think we should get a message over to the island. I’ll write a letter and ask Davros to take it over tomorrow.’
Yannis read the words on the crumpled piece of paper that Flora delivered to him and hurried down to the quay. ‘Davros, will you take me over?’
Davros shook his head. ‘Too much of a risk; I don’t want my boat impounded.’
‘I’d make it worth your while.’
Again Davros shook his head. ‘You’d be seen, bound to be.’
‘My mother’s ill. It might be my last chance to see her,’ pleaded Yannis urgently
‘You get over and I’ll bring you back. Save you the walk to Aghios Nikolaos.’
Yannis turned away dejected. It would have been so easy for Davros to take him over. Now he would have to ask Manolis if he would take the risk and if he agreed it meant waiting until early evening. By then it could be too late.
Yannis waded the last few yards to the shore, hoping no one had seen him slip over the side from Manolis’s boat in the darkness. He walked up the rutted path until he reached the farmhouse and opened the kitchen door. Anna flung her arms round her brother.
‘I’m so glad to see you.’
‘What’s the news of Mamma?’
‘She had another stroke, in her sleep, two days ago. She’s failing fast, Yannis.’ Anna looked at her brother with distressed eyes.
‘What can I do?’
‘There’s nothing anyone can do. I just thought you’d want to see her.’ Tears welled up in Anna’s eyes and Yannis held her in his arms.
‘Of course, Anna. You did right.’
Yiorgo looked at his older brother. ‘You ought to get those wet clothes off, and have something warm to eat. You don’t want to catch a chill.’
Thankfully Yannis stripped off his trousers and socks, giving them to Anna to place before the fire whilst he donned those provided by Yiorgo. He walked quietly over to his mother and looked down at her. She appeared old and worn out. He took her hand in his and sat beside her bed in silence. Anna brought him a bowl of soup and some bread.
‘Come and eat,’ she urged him. ‘You can do no good by just sitting and looking.’
Yannis obeyed his sister, watching as she raised her mother a little on the pillows and tried to spoon some soup into her mother’s mouth. He pushed back his chair and returned to her bedside. ‘Mamma, can you hear me?’ He imagined that her eyelids flickered just a little. ‘Mamma, it’s Yannis. I’ve come to see you.’
He tried again and again to rouse her from her stupor, until her eyes finally opened. Full recognition shone in them, along with pleasure before they closed again and Yannis bent and kissed her cheek.
Anna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ve done her good, Yannis. That’s more response than I’ve had.’
‘I think she knew me.’ The lump in Yannis’s throat made it difficult for him to speak.
Yannis returned to the table, not noticing that his soup had grown cold. He ate automatically, his eyes fixed on the motionless figure in the bed, no longer seeing his mother, but remembering Phaedra. The pain of the memory was not as acute as it had been, more a gentle ache. He felt very much that he had lived through this before.
‘You must go to bed, Yannis. You’re exhausted.’
With an effort he withdrew himself from his reverie. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not. You’re almost asleep sitting there. Go and lay down on my mattress. I can easily wake you if there’s any change.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll be staying down here with Mamma. You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bed had suddenly become a very attractive idea.
Anna nodded. ‘You’ll feel much better when you’ve rested.’
Without any more argument Yannis climbed the stairs as he had so many times in his childhood and laid himself down fully clothed on Anna’s mattress. Within a matter of minutes he was asleep.
Dawn was just breaking as Yannis felt his arm being shaken. He sat up, uncertain where he was before he woke completely. ‘What is it?’
‘Mamma.’
Without further ado Yannis followed Yiorgo from the room. Anna was bending over her mother’s bed, Marisa and Yannis standing together by the fireplace.
Silently the three stood and looked down upon their mother. Her face, distorted by the recent stroke, seemed more peaceful than earlier, although her breathing was shallow and strained. How long he stood there looking down, remembering his mother as she had been when he was a boy, Yannis did not know. He was startled by Anna giving a choking sob and turning away. Yiorgo pulled the sheet over his mother’s face and turned to comfort his sister. Yannis continued to stare at the sheet. He had seen death so many times, yet the final moment always took him by surprise. It seemed incredible that one moment you
could be breathing and alive and the next you had stopped and were declared dead. In a way he could not explain he felt there should be a short while in between to prepare the witnesses for the event. He sucked in his breath.
‘Is the brandy where Pappa used to keep it?’ Yiorgo nodded. ‘Then I think we should all have a little, then Anna and the children must go back to bed for a short while and rest.’ He poured a measure of brandy for each of them and watched whilst they drank.
‘To bed,’ ordered Yannis.
Anna shook her head. ‘I must see to Mamma first.’
Yannis poured himself another brandy that he drank quickly. ‘Would you like me to help? I’ve helped before.’
‘No, I’d rather do it alone.’ She waited patiently whilst the children slipped back upstairs obediently and Yiorgo picked up the brandy bottle and followed Yannis into the kitchen.
‘Anna can cope.’
‘I know that. It just seems rather unfair that she should always be the one to do so.’
The brothers sat, an uneasy silence between them, as they sipped at their drinks. Yiorgo rolled a cigarette and offered it to Yannis who shook his head. ‘I don’t any more.’
Yiorgo drew on the thin cigarette, breathing in the acrid smoke.
‘How’s the farm doing?’
Yiorgo shrugged. ‘It keeps us going. It’s easier now I’m running so many more sheep and goats. I’ve taken on a couple of youngsters from the village to help me pull down Babbis’s farmhouse.’
Yannis looked surprised. ‘You can afford to employ?’
‘We’re not short of money. Pappa left us plenty. I’ve your share in the cupboard when you want it.’
Yannis smiled at him. ‘What do I need money for? Besides, Pappa gave me more than my fair share when I went to Heraklion.’
‘It will be there if you need it.’
‘How much?’
About fifteen hundred drachmas.’
‘What! Where did Pappa get so much money? Did he win on the lottery?’
Yiorgo grinned. ‘He was a ‘middle man’ up until the war.’
‘What might that be?’
‘He stored whatever was delivered until a boat arrived. Don’t you remember the heavy packing cases we had to shift when Pappa broke his leg?’
Yannis did remember. ‘You mean Pappa handled smuggled goods?’
‘Of course; he and uncle Yiorgo worked together.’
Yannis whistled through his teeth. ‘What a simpleton I was!’
‘When I returned I went through all his papers. He kept a little book. It took me a while to realise what it meant. There was always a date and a record of the amount paid to him. He kept it in a box in the cupboard. I shared it out. A portion for each of us.’
‘Wasn’t it really Mamma’s?’
‘In law I expect it was, but I told her what I’d done and she approved. I’ll share hers out again amongst us.’
Yannis thought quickly. ‘Whilst you’re sharing hers, share mine also. I don’t need it.’
‘You may do one day. I sent a share to Stelios, and I’m holding Maria’s to go to her children.’
Yannis looked at his brother in admiration. ‘There’s more to you than I’d realised. A good many brothers would have taken the lot and considered it their due.’
‘That would have been dishonest and unfair.’
‘We would never have known. I’m glad you’ve told me. I was going to ask how you were placed financially and offer you help if you needed it. I’ve got five years pension saved up and nothing to spend it on.’
‘I’ll let you know if it ever comes to that. I appreciate the offer.’ He poured another glass of brandy for each of them.
Yannis looked at the glass speculatively. ‘This must be the last. I ought to see if Davros is down at the quay. He refused to bring me over, but he offered me a ride back.’
Yiorgo raised his glass. ‘I’ll see if Anna’s finished.’
He pushed open the door of the living room. Anna was kneeling beside her mother’s bed, saying a last prayer for her. Yiorgo waited until she stirred, then walked across.
‘She looks beautiful, Anna.’
Yannis followed and looked down at the inert form. ‘Thank you, Anna, for all your care. It can’t have been easy for you all these years.’
Anna gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘She was my Mamma. It was her due.’
Yannis took her hand. ‘I’m going now. I’ll ask Father Minos to say prayers for her. Come and see me when you can.’
He kissed her forehead and shook hands with Yiorgo, before bending over his mother and kissing her goodbye for the last time. ‘Thank you for sending for me.’
He unlatched the door and limped and shuffled as fast as he was able to the shore, relieved to see Davros sitting in the stern of his boat. As soon as he had boarded Davros cast off. The sad, closed look on Yannis’s face told him the news. ‘Were you in time?’
Yannis nodded and they spoke no more until the tiny boat docked at the quay on Spinalonga. ‘Thank you, Davros.’
‘I’ll bring you back any time you like,’ his teeth flashed in a grin.
Yannis shook his head. ‘I doubt I’ll make the trip again.’
Yannis took the letter from Nikos to Father Minos and showed it to him in disgust. ‘He says he’ll be back over here in a couple of months or so. He has to clear his backlog of patients at the hospital, and then he’ll come and take further tests as required by Athens. What do they think we are? Surely they must know from the tests they already have whether the drugs will help us?’
Father Minos frowned. ‘Do you trust Nikos?’
Yannis considered. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I do.’
‘Then when he comes ask him for the truth. Did they lose the tests in transit, have you all suffered too long for the drugs to have any beneficial effect, is the delay political? You have a right to know, you all have that right.’
‘Has Doctor Stavros spoken to you?’ Yannis asked the question sharply.
‘Not about the tests. Why?’
‘There’s something going on that I don’t understand. I asked the doctor why there was so much delay and he said it was nothing to do with him and I’d have to ask Athens. I asked if he’d received the results through and he said that anything sent to him regarding our medical condition was confidential. I’m sure he knows something and won’t tell us.’
‘What he said is true, Yannis. He took an oath not to disclose medical confidentialities to anyone the same as I’m under oath not to reveal anything that’s said to me in the confessional. I suggest you tackle Nikos.’
It was more than three months before Nikos arrived and was met with a cool reception. Puzzled by the hostility he sensed around him he sought out the priest.
‘What have I done? I couldn’t help being held up on the mainland. I had to treat my patients there.’
Father Minos looked at the doctor. ‘You’re losing the trust and respect of the people over here. Ever since Yannis first wrote there’s been nothing but delay and excuses. These people want the truth, and then they want the drugs to which they’re entitled.’
Nikos spread his hands in despair. ‘I’m not sure if I know the truth. If I do repeat what has been told me from Athens I could cause more trouble.’
‘Would it help if you came to confession? Whatever you said would be treated in confidence by me and maybe I could advise you on your course of action.’
Cautiously Nikos agreed. He felt very vulnerable on this island, despite his friendship with Yannis, and had no wish to antagonise the occupants. He followed Father Minos into the church and knelt beside the altar whilst Father Minos blessed him.
‘I don’t know where to start, Father. I don’t understand what’s happening.’
‘Tell me as best you can.’
‘ It’s not my doing. I have to follow instructions.’ Nikos moistened his lips. ‘I’ve been careful and conscienti
ous with the tests. The first ones they said were too long in transit and did not give true results. The second tests were sent by air. There was no delay and still Athens was not satisfied.’
‘Do you know why? Are they too sick to benefit from the new treatment?’
‘No.’ The answer was a whisper.
‘Are they too old? Is that the problem?’
‘Then tell me, is it money? I’m sure there’s money in a fund held by Father Andreas that could be used on their behalf.’
‘No.’
Father Minos waited patiently. He could think of no other reason that could cause a problem.
‘Athens says that most of them no longer have active leprosy cells.’
‘What?’
Nikos turned anguished eyes to the priest.
‘Explain to me. I don’t know enough about medical matters to understand what you’re saying.’
‘The first tests that I sent to Athens showed no active leprosy in most of the people over here. Athens thought it was due to the delay in receiving the samples. The second tests showed the same result. That’s why they’ve asked for more. If these tests show the same result there’s no reason why anyone should stay on this island. They’re burnt-out, no longer infectious. They don’t even need treatment.’
Father Minos swallowed hard. ‘So what will happen to them if these tests give the same results as previously?’
‘I don’t know.’
The priest laid his hands on the doctor’s shoulders. ‘The situation is not of your making. No blame can be attached to you.’ His head was spinning and he could not think. ‘I need to pray. Maybe a solution to the problem will be given to me.’
‘Yes, Father.’ Nikos rose, he felt relieved now he had shared his burden.
It was more than an hour before Father Minos left the church and went in search of the doctor. At first he had knelt at the altar and waited, hoping he would receive divine guidance, but none came. He turned the problem over and over in his mind, until he finally thought of a possible compromise. Nikos scanned the priest’s face eagerly, but could read nothing. Father Minos sat beside him.
‘I think it would be as well if you told part of the truth. They know Athens wasn’t happy with the first results and now they want to confirm the second ones. You have to persuade them that it’s for their own good and no fault of yours.’
