Staying Out for the Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘Papa?’ he said, as if he needed some sort of clarity that his eyes were not playing tricks on him.

  There was another crash as Dimitri seemed to lose control of a large box he was carrying and the woman next to him, Amalia, hurried to help. Despite his surprise at his father being here, Michalis stepped forward too.

  ‘I can do it,’ Dimitri said gruffly.

  ‘Papa, come on, let me help you,’ Michalis said, putting hands either side of the rigid cardboard.

  ‘Thank you, Michalis,’ Amalia said. ‘They are quite heavy.’ She began to assemble the containers she was holding, pushing them back out of the way of the door.

  Michalis could see the redness appearing on his father’s cheeks and he knew this wasn’t from the exertion of the lifting, but from feeling he had somehow been caught in a compromising position.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Dimitri barked, still not meeting his son’s eyes.

  ‘We are here for a tour and a wine tasting.’

  ‘How lovely!’ Amalia said with a big smile. ‘The wine is so delicious and I adore that special room in there.’

  ‘You did not say this was where you were going,’ Dimitri said, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  ‘You did not say you would be closing the shop today,’ Michalis countered.

  ‘What? Your sister is…’

  As Dimitri began to join the dots that both his family members were present at the winery, the door to the wine-tasting room opened and Nyx barrelled out.

  ‘What’s going on? You are going to miss the olive oil and bread. It’s next and…’ Nyx stopped talking the second she saw Dimitri. She scowled. ‘Why are you not at the shop?’

  ‘Because I am here,’ Dimitri answered. ‘You did not tell me you were coming here.’

  ‘I did not know that you even knew this place was a place,’ Nyx countered. ‘But you seem to be… very intimate with it.’

  Michalis watched his sister look from the boxes and containers to the woman their father was here with.

  ‘Hello, Nyx,’ Amalia greeted. ‘It is wonderful to meet you.’ She seemed to get caught between stepping forward and staying where she was and in the end she just sent them both another smile.

  ‘Hello, lady-I-do-not-know,’ Nyx said in sullen tones.

  ‘Nyx,’ Michalis said.

  ‘What?’ Nyx asked. ‘My father is somewhere he should not be. Somewhere where I am. The one day that I leave the butcher’s.’ She tutted. ‘And what is all this stuff?’ She stepped forward and pulled something from the box.

  ‘Put that down,’ Dimitri ordered a little too late.

  It was a canvas and Michalis watched his sister’s expression as she looked at it.

  ‘What is this?’ Nyx asked. ‘Things you have collected for a tabletop sale?’

  ‘I said put it down,’ Dimitri ordered again.

  ‘Dimitri,’ Amalia said softly. ‘Perhaps it is time that you told your children what you have been doing in your spare hours, no?’

  Michalis took a step towards his sister who was now gazing at the board in her hands anew. It was a painting. A really really good painting in watercolours and Michalis recognised the view immediately. It was trees and mountains ending with the sea, the exact vista from the spot on the edge of Sortilas where his mother had always liked to walk to and sit in the sunshine.

  ‘Did you… paint this?’ Michalis asked him.

  ‘I…’ Dimitri began, as if ready to deny it. It was only when Nyx looked up from the artwork and met their father’s eyes that his shoulders dropped in resignation that lying would be futile. He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it is fantastic, no?’ Amalia said quickly, discharging the muted energy. ‘All of Dimitri’s paintings are amazing. And that is why Theotoky Estate is displaying them here.’

  ‘You did this?’ Nyx queried, as if the ‘yes’ hadn’t told a big enough story.

  Dimitri nodded again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And they are being displayed?’ Nyx carried on. ‘Here at this winery where people will come and admire them while they are not too-slowly sipping the wines?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dimitri answered, still sounding a little sober.

  Not even Michalis had seen this coming. He had thought this was all about his father finding a new partner, but this was something else entirely. And he couldn’t really work out why Dimitri seemed almost ashamed of it.

  ‘I am hoping that people will buy some of the paintings,’ Amalia told them. ‘Dimitri is my most improved student. He has a wonderfully natural gift.’

  ‘I do not understand,’ Nyx stated. ‘You chop so hard. Everything always slashed so rough. But, to create this picture, you must sit very still and be so very quiet and… gentle. I… do not know this person.’

  ‘I know,’ Dimitri said with a sigh. ‘I know you don’t.’

  ‘I will leave you and… take some of these paintings into the area for the exhibition,’ Amalia said, lifting one of the boxes back up and making her way towards another door up a short flight of steps.

  ‘Papa,’ Michalis said. ‘These paintings are so good. You should be proud, not hiding away your talents.’

  Dimitri shook his head. ‘I do not know if I am good. All I know is that doing this… losing myself in these pictures helps me to remember your mother and… also to let her go a little more.’

  Michalis swallowed. He hadn’t realised exactly how much his father was still struggling with that loss all these years on.

  ‘Oh, Papa,’ Nyx said, throwing herself at him all octopus-like arms and over-enthusiasm. ‘You are a stupid old man!’

  The comment was made with deep affection and Michalis enjoyed seeing the embrace between his sister and their father.

  ‘Michalis thought that you were having romantic relations with that funny woman,’ Nyx continued. ‘And all she was doing was teaching you how to paint.’

  ‘Amalia and I,’ Dimitri started as Nyx let him go. ‘We have become very good friends.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Just good friends,’ he emphasised. And then added: ‘For now.’

  Nyx folded her arms across her chest. ‘I do not like the end of that sentence.’

  ‘Nyx,’ Michalis said. ‘We talked about this. Papa needs a new life too.’

  ‘And now he has his painting! I think it is a fantastic hobby. So not hula-hooping.’

  ‘Nyx,’ Michalis said, shaking his head. ‘I know that you could not really know this but… Mama would like Amalia. I am sure of it.’

  ‘Well, the Mama I make in my head would think that her lipstick is too bright and that she is a little too cheery.’

  Michalis felt for his sister then. Always having to create a version of their mother because her memories were so sparse. It was so much like Lucie with her mother. How could either of them form a full picture of who their parent really was out of old photographs and stories they weren’t part of?

  ‘Perhaps,’ Dimitri began. ‘We can have a meal all together and you can get to know Amalia a little better.’ He directed his gaze at Nyx. ‘I was thinking you might like someone else to try your lamb balls.’

  Nyx immediately screwed up her face, but Michalis was quick to put a hand on her shoulder and slowly, very very slowly, his sister straightened out her annoyed wrinkles until her expression was changed to one of only mild irritation verging on maybe one day being open to the suggestion.

  ‘No one is replacing Mama,’ Michalis whispered to her. ‘Say it will be nice.’

  Nyx gritted her teeth. ‘It will be nice.’

  The door to the wine-tasting room swung open and Lucie appeared.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything…’ She smiled and stopped talking, taking a step backwards as if she might be about to disappear again.

  ‘No, Lucie, wait,’ Michalis said, leaving Nyx’s side and stepping up to her. He caught her hand in his and then turned back towards Dimitri.

  ‘Papa,’ he began, taking a nervous breath. ‘I would like you to
meet Lucie.’

  ‘Ah,’ Dimitri said, stretching out a hand. ‘This is who you have been spending time with. I was beginning to think Michalis had made you up.’

  Lucie smiled and took his father’s hand in hers, giving it a firm shake. ‘It’s nice to meet you. Xero poli.’

  ‘You know Greek?’ Dimitri asked, looking impressed.

  ‘A little,’ Lucie said.

  Michalis watched her looking so cute and his heart soared. He couldn’t imagine staying in Corfu without her here now. But where would he start over again when he knew his sister wanted so much for him to remain?

  ‘Let me present our father,’ Nyx said, splaying out a hand. ‘The artist formerly known as the butcher.’

  ‘Xero poli, Lucie,’ Dimitri said.

  Sixty-Four

  Day of the Not Dead Festival, Sortilas

  The village square had been turned into something that resembled New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Garlands and ribbons adorned the trees, and little stalls were packed with produce in a market-style bazaar that had been open from early morning. Now it was evening and the main festivities were set to begin. Before she got dragged into traditional dances, Lucie was making the most of a cold frappe and the shade of the largest olive tree, dressed rather like one of the old-fashioned doll toilet roll holders her nan had used in the downstairs toilet.

  ‘I’ve bought too much,’ Meg announced, arriving by Lucie’s side and taking a moment to catch her breath. ‘I’ve got three olive wood appetiser dishes, two embroidered cotton bags and a gorgeous pair of leather sandals the man made right in front of my eyes.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Lucie said. ‘Did he? I might get myself a pair.’

  ‘The only thing I haven’t bought,’ Meg began, ‘is something to eat. And I have to say I’m famished. Shopping takes it out of you.’

  ‘Did someone say shopping?’ Gavin asked, appearing with a large paper bag swinging from his hand.

  ‘What have you got?’ Lucie wanted to know.

  ‘I think the question should really be “what hasn’t he got”,’ Simon said.

  ‘I keep telling you, you can never have too many balls.’ Gavin grinned. ‘I’ve got a set of hand-carved skittles for my niece. And… I got some massage balls.’

  ‘Are they going to replace the golf balls?’ Lucie asked him.

  ‘Oh, God, no!’ Gavin exclaimed in horror. ‘I don’t want to get the wooden ones wet.’

  ‘I don’t think I need to know any more,’ Lucie said, regretting bringing up the sporting equipment.

  Gavin put his hands on his hips. ‘Luce, what do you think I use the golf balls for?’

  ‘Well… I know it’s not golf.’

  ‘I take them with me whenever I go on holiday,’ Gavin informed. ‘Because most foreign hotels don’t have plugs for the bath. It’s a great hack.’

  Lucie closed her eyes but then quickly opened them again. ‘But… our bath at Villa Psomi does have a plug.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Gavin stated. ‘So I’ve been putting them in the freezer and rubbing them on my eyebrow space. I finally found a helpful blog! Apparently it promotes growth.’

  ‘I’m interested to know what Lucie thought you were using them for,’ Simon said, nudging Gavin with his elbow.

  ‘Yes, me too. Come on, Lucie, tell us what you thought I was up to.’

  ‘Oh, look, there’s Michalis,’ Lucie rambled fast. ‘I’ve got to go before he has to be carried to the front of the stage on a throne!’

  *

  His headdress was ridiculous. Looking at himself in the reflection of the butcher’s shop window, Michalis realised he didn’t represent a warrior king, which was the look he thought Melina was going for, but more a carcass of a large game bird before the plucking. Why was he even doing this? Except he knew the answer to that. To keep the village happy. But what of himself? What did he need to be happy going forward? He had received a Messenger message yesterday, from Anastasia. It had told him that she had spoken to Thekli and for the meantime, Thekli was going to be moving in with her. She promised again that she would ensure Thekli made no further contact with him. He was free. At least from the messages, calls and threat of attack. But how did he feel on the inside? With this clean slate, could he really begin to live again?

  He turned around and there was Lucie, running across the square towards him. The traditional dress was ballooning out like a parachute, her fingers lifting it a little, presumably so she didn’t trip, and she was smiling at him. Pleased to see him, despite the fact he looked like a crow that had been in a near-miss with the engine of a plane…

  ‘Whoa!’ Michalis said, catching Lucie as she all but ran into him. ‘You are OK?’

  ‘It’s this dress,’ Lucie breathed, holding onto his arms. ‘It’s completely changed my centre of gravity. At first I think I have a handle on it and then, no, it tips me up the other way.’

  He smiled at her, remaining quiet and still, imprinting the moment on his heart. ‘You look beautiful.’

  ‘Really?’ Lucie asked in a way that led him to believe perhaps no one had ever said this to her before.

  ‘Lucie,’ he breathed, putting a finger to her hair and tucking a short strand back behind her ear. ‘When I say something to you, it always comes from the deepest place.’ He kissed her then.

  ‘Ow! Feather in the eye!’ Lucie said, recoiling slightly.

  ‘I am so sorry,’ Michalis said, putting his hands to his headwear. ‘It is this bird helmet! I cannot wait to take it off.’

  ‘Don’t wish the minutes away,’ Lucie answered with a sigh. ‘Because before we know it I’ll be getting back in Miltos’s fruit van, being pummelled by grapefruits, and on my way to the airport.’

  ‘Oh, Lucie,’ Michalis said, taking hold of her hands. ‘Do you really think I would let you travel that way again? I can drive you to the airport. In my car. With no fruit.’

  Lucie swallowed. She knew he meant that to be the loveliest of gestures, but really the thought of leaving him behind was making her sweatier than the fabrics she was currently taped into. Did he really not feel the same? Perhaps, right now, it didn’t matter so much what he felt as long as she was true to herself.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she began, trying her best to ignore the beginnings of Melina on a microphone that wasn’t quite tuned to the right level.

  ‘You have?’

  She nodded. ‘I have.’ Come on, Lucie, just spit it out.

  ‘And am I allowed to know what this thinking is about?’ Michalis asked.

  ‘I… know we said that we would… enjoy the time we have together here, in Corfu, and that maybe that time would simply be “that time” but—’

  ‘You do not need to say any more,’ Michalis interrupted.

  ‘I don’t?’

  ‘Ochi,’ Michalis said, shaking his head. ‘I know it is that you have… decided that I am still a little messed up. And you would like us to say goodbye at the airport and for that to be… the end.’

  ‘I… wasn’t going to say that.’

  ‘You were not?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ Lucie answered. She took a breath and ventured on. ‘But, is that what you want? For this to have been a holidate and nothing more?’

  She was holding her breath now, waiting, hoping as drums began to beat, followed by a melody played on stringed instruments. She recognised the song. It was the one before the one when she was involved in the dancing…

  ‘Lucie,’ Michalis said, squeezing her hands tight. ‘I do not want this “holidate” you speak of. Because it sounds like something that holds your interest for a little while and then it is thrown away.’

  She went to say something, but Michalis put a finger to her lips.

  ‘I do not want to throw away anything that we have shared together,’ he told her. ‘This time with you has been some of the best moments of my whole life.’

  ‘Really?’ Lucie mumbled, her lips moving up and down against his finger.

  ‘Why
do you doubt so much?’ Michalis said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lucie breathed. ‘Maybe because I’m standing in uncharted territory… in a wedding dress… never having felt for someone what I feel for you.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘A man dressed as a gladiator of the avian world.’

  ‘Are you mocking me?’

  ‘Flocking you.’ She laughed. ‘Sorry, couldn’t resist.’

  He kissed her then. Hard. Passionate. No doubt of his intent. And, when he finally drew away, Lucie was lost for breath.

  ‘I do not know where I will be,’ Michalis told her. ‘But wherever I am, whatever I am doing… I want to… call you and… see you… as many times as we can.’

  ‘Re—’

  ‘Do not ask the “really”,’ Michalis interrupted her.

  She laughed. ‘I want that too. So much.’

  ‘Then we are agreed,’ Michalis said. ‘No goodbyes at the airport. Only ta leme sindoma.’

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ Lucie told him.

  ‘It means “see you soon”.’

  ‘Ta... lay-may… sin-doma,’ she copied. ‘That might take a few goes to get perfect.’

  ‘I am very happy to commit to practise with you,’ Michalis said, pulling her close to him, wooden arm cuts digging into his skin.

  ‘Are we still talking about Greek lessons or do you think we might have time for honing other skills?’ Lucie flirted.

  ‘Loosely! Ela! Come! My grandmother and Ariana need to fix the bonnet to your head now.’ Suddenly Miltos was right beside them and within seconds he had locked her arm with his.

  ‘Bonnet? No. No, no one said anything about a bonnet!’ Lucie said as she was dragged away.

  Michalis laughed. ‘I would take a bonnet right now. Look at me! I have the head of an eagle and the body of a tortoise.’

  Sixty-Five

  Greek festivals were simply brilliant, Lucie had decided. Despite being dressed head-to-toe in materials that were ill-equipped for the July temperatures, wearing a bonnet covered in paper flowers and model bees made out of tiny yellow-and-black circles of wool and felt, the ambience was as laidback as it was electric. The villagers of Sortilas were dressed in their finest clothes, some in costume, all dancing and singing and enjoying hot lamb souvlaki, loukoumades, Mrs Pappas’s gross lollipops and Andino Butcher’s special beef tortoise-shaped pies. Even an actual tortoise had made a surprise visit in the village square, proving that they didn’t only live in Villa Psomi.