by Maeve Binchy
“Work? Here?” She was unbelieving.
“I watched you with the customers. You are just what I need. You could even stay here in Adonis’s room. You’ll need somewhere to stay when Elsa leaves.”
Fiona laid her hand on his. “If you had asked me this last night or even early this morning I would have cried with gratitude. But now, now I say thank you from my heart, but I will not be able to come and work here.”
“It is too far up from the town?” Andreas asked.
“No, Andreas, not too far. It’s just that I’m going home. Back to Dublin.”
She looked around the table at their amazed faces. “Yes, I thought about it all the way back from Athens on the ferry. I just came back to say good-bye.”
Hannah wrote an e-mail:
Dear Elsa,
I don’t quite know what you want to hear. But anyway I showed Dieter your last e-mail. He read it carefully and thanked me. Very politely. That’s not his usual form. I thought you should know. Also you should know that Birgit has done everything except strip in front of his desk to attract his attention and he is only hugely irritated by her.
I tell you these things, Elsa, so that you should be in full possession of facts before you make whatever decision you do. Naturally I would love you to come home. But wherever you are we will always be friends.
Love, Hannah
Thomas and Elsa finished their meal and sat on the balcony looking out over the rooftops. “You have a nicer view from your place,” Thomas said.
“You can still see the stars from here, that’s all that matters,” Elsa said.
“ ‘What is the stars, Joxer?’ ” Thomas quoted in a heavy Irish accent.
“Will you say that I am showing off if I say I know where that’s from?”
“Go on, tell me, shame me, put me down,” he laughed.
“It’s by Sean O’Casey,” she said.
“Top of the class, Elsa. Another devoted teacher?”
“No, Dieter and I went to London, on a secret trip, and we saw the play there. It was brilliant.”
“Are you looking forward to being back with him again?” Thomas asked.
“There’s a problem,” she said.
He sympathized. “Isn’t there always?”
“I suppose so. This problem is an unusual one. He has promised that there will be no more deception and hiding and sneaking away from people. It will all be out in the open.” She sounded doubtful.
“That’s better, isn’t it, in the open?” Thomas asked surprised.
“Well, I think so, but in a way it might not be.” She chewed her lip.
“You mean you get a kick out of it being secret, clandestine?” he asked.
“No, I don’t mean that at all. It’s just that he never owned up to something. Like the fact that he and another woman had a child together.”
“Since you and he were together?” Thomas asked.
“No, years before, but the point was that he never acknowledged that little girl.”
“Is that what you ran away from?”
“I did not run away, I left my job and went off to see the world. But I did not think well of him. Anyone who has a child, either deliberately or accidentally, must be there for that child.”
“And he didn’t agree?”
“No, and somehow I was revolted by it. I felt I could never trust him again. I felt ashamed of loving him. I told him all this.”
“And so what has changed? What makes you think that it’s right to go back to him now?”
“Meeting him here, knowing he loves me and will do anything for me.” She looked at him, hoping he understood.
Thomas nodded. “Yes, I would believe him also. If you love someone, you’ll pretend anything to keep that person. I did, I know.”
“What did you pretend?” she asked gently.
“I pretended that I believed Bill was my son. I loved Shirley then so much. I couldn’t face her with the absolute proof that he couldn’t be.”
“He’s not your son?” Elsa was astonished.
Thomas told the story simply and without emotion. The tests that had proved him to be sterile, the joyful announcement of Shirley’s pregnancy, and the totally unexpected bonus that when Bill arrived Thomas discovered that he adored the boy, and biological parenthood was not important any longer. He hadn’t bothered to find out who the real father was; it was irrelevant anyway. And looking back, he had been so right not to create drama. If Thomas had disputed the paternity of Bill, he would have been denied access to the child after the divorce.
“Do you still love her? Shirley?”
“No. It sort of passed, like an influenza does, or a summer storm. I don’t hate her either. She irritates me, and now she and Andy are having a child together and that irritates me too. Greatly. The fact that they can, for one thing, and another is that Bill is so excited about it . . . his new brother or sister.”
“Did you ever think Shirley was having an affair?”
“No, not remotely. But let’s put it this way: Bill’s very existence meant that Shirley was not exactly the faithful type. I guess I thought it was just one fling.”
“It probably was,” Elsa said.
“Yes, I think so. But for whatever reasons, we found less and less to say to each other. And then we got divorced.” He looked gloomy.
“And did you find someone else?”
“No, I guess I didn’t really look. I cared so much about Bill, you see. And I was really very surprised when she brought Andy to meet me so that they could tell me their plans. Shirley said she wanted things to be ‘civilized.’ She said she just hated secrets and pretense. I swear she sounded positively virtuous about it all. Said she wanted us to be up front about everything.” He was scornful.
“Well, what was wrong with that?” Elsa asked.
“Oh, there had been months of secrets and pretense there! People in love can be so smug and they expect everyone else to fit in with their plans.”
Elsa was silent. She was thinking hard, working something out.
“Sorry for droning on,” Thomas said.
“No, not at all, you’ve just clarified something for me.”
“I have?”
“Yes. If Dieter is to be any kind of a worthwhile human being, he must accept the fact that he has a daughter, and recognize her.”
“He might have thought that it would mean losing you. Men get confused,” Thomas said.
“He wouldn’t lose me over it, if he could really believe that this girl needs a father. The problem is that he might just put on some kind of an act. He thinks that what I want is a diamond ring, respectability, commitment. All that sort of thing.”
“He doesn’t know you very well then, does he?” Thomas said.
“How do you mean?”
“I mean you have been with him for over two years and he doesn’t understand your values.”
“That’s completely true, he does not understand me at all, but it never mattered. The love part of it pushed all that under the carpet. And what you just said about people in love being smug and uncaring about others is so true. I never thought of it before.”
“Well, what is a friend for, except to come up with an idea now and then?” Thomas laughed.
“But you think I should give him up, don’t you?”
“What I think doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“All right then, I think you should be with someone who does understand you . . . as well as the other thing.”
“What other thing?” she laughed.
“You well know what I mean: sex, love, attraction. All of those are very fine, but if you held out for the understanding as well, then you’d be very happy.”
“And where would I find all that in one package, Thomas?” Elsa asked.
“Ah, if I knew the answer to that, I’d run the world,” he said, raising his wineglass to her.
At the table in Andreas’s taverna, they were still stunned b
y Fiona’s news. Rina cleared away the dishes and they sat with their little cups of coffee.
“Do your parents know yet?” David asked.
“No, I only just know myself, nobody else knows except all of you, my friends here,” Fiona said.
They murmured approval, agreement on the need to get back to real life and nursing. Andreas said he felt sure that her mother and father would be overjoyed. Georgi asked if she would get her job back in the hospital. David asked if she would continue to live at home. Nobody mentioned Shane.
The only person who didn’t join in the conversation was Vonni. Very unusually for her, she sat and stared ahead of her.
Eventually Fiona spoke to her. “You were right all along, Vonni, I’m the first to admit it. Aren’t you pleased you were right?”
“It’s not a game where you score points or lose points, it’s your whole life. It’s your future.”
“All the more reason to be pleased then,” Fiona said. “To say ‘I told you so.’ You deserve to say it.”
“I don’t want to say it, I’ve said enough to all of you. And I managed to annoy you all. That was always my trouble, knowing what was right for everyone except myself. Andreas and Georgi here will confirm this. Stupid, bossy Vonni who could run the world but couldn’t run her own life.”
There was a silence. Then Georgi spoke. “You certainly knew how to run our sister Christina’s life for her, she would never have recovered without you,” he said. “And every day of the year you do something to make someone’s life better here—getting Maria to drive, minding the children, visiting the sick. That doesn’t seem stupid and bossy to me,” Andreas said.
“I would never have known my father was dying if it hadn’t been for you, Vonni,” David said. “Think of the guilt I’d feel for the rest of my life if I had not discovered that.”
“And you came with me today and never once did you try to influence me. I don’t think you were interfering at all. You just happened to be right,” Fiona said.
“And you left me to my thoughts. I’ll never forget that.” Vonni looked from one to another. Her heart was so full she didn’t trust herself to speak. Finally she managed two words in the Irish language. “Slan abhaile, Fiona,” she said unsteadily.
“What does that mean?” David asked.
“It means ‘safe home,’ ” Fiona said.
Thomas and Elsa talked on the balcony as old friends talk. It was impossible to tell that they had known each other not for years but for only a dozen or so days. They knew the secrets of each other’s heart.
“So you will go back long before the year is over, before Shirley’s baby is born?” Elsa asked.
“You think I should?” He looked at her.
“Hey, I’m not telling anyone what to do, remember how angry we all were with Vonni when she told us what we should and should not do. You didn’t tell me what to do.”
“That’s different,” Thomas said. “I’m asking you and I really do want to know what you think.”
“Okay . . . I think that you love Bill, and that he loves you, and in life it’s so hard to find a good generous love like that. So I believe it’s a great waste for you not to be near him. It’s not as if you are putting him out of your mind and getting on with your own life. You worry about him all the time. So why not be near him, have a home where he feels welcome to visit. He’ll be jealous when the new baby arrives, he’ll need a place where he is king.”
Thomas listened to her carefully. “It was a good, generous love once, but I became mean-spirited about Andy. I diminished this love.” He looked very sad.
“Then maybe you should try to stick it back together, firm it up before it all trickles away,” Elsa suggested.
“In my head I agree with you, but in my heart I fear I’d make such a mess of it that I’d truly be better off out of his way . . . for his sake just as much as for mine.”
“Well, Thomas, you’ll come to the right conclusion. I know you well enough. Now come on, before you leave—and you will leave—are you going to tell me what to do with my messy life?”
“I suppose I could tell you that we can get over loving people and I hoped you might contemplate getting over him.”
“But why, why do you want it to be over? You’re my friend, you’re out for my good as I am for yours. You know that Dieter is quite simply the love of my life.” She was confused.
“You asked me what I thought. I told you,” Thomas spoke simply.
“But I can’t think why you would want me to give him up, get over him,” said Elsa.
“I could comfort you.”
She looked at him openmouthed. “Thomas, this is not true!” she gasped. “You and I are mates. Friends. You don’t fancy me, as you put it, it’s only the wine and the stars.”
“You never thought of me in that way at all?” he asked, head tilted to one side.
“I did think that it would be very easy to love a gentle, thoughtful person like you, rather than a restless, urgent man like Dieter. But then I’ve often idly wished for things that didn’t happen. Couldn’t happen.”
“All right, then. I think you should go back to him tomorrow. Why hang around?” he said.
“You give up pretty easily,” she said flirtatiously.
“Come on, Elsa, everything I say is wrong. I did you the courtesy of considering what you said. You are not doing that.”
“I’m only playing with you,” she said.
“Don’t,” said Thomas.
She was contrite. “I know I’m like those feminists who get annoyed if a man stands up to give them a seat and get annoyed if he doesn’t. I’m only playing games because I don’t know what else to do. I know what you should do. It’s so obvious and easy, what everyone else should do—Dieter, David, Fiona, Andreas, Vonni—all of you. It’s just my own decision that isn’t clear.”
“What should Vonni do?” Thomas asked with interest.
“She should get Andreas and Georgi to find her son and tell him what kind of person she is now. Young Stavros would come home if he knew.”
Thomas smiled at her. “Elsa the Crusader,” he said affectionately and patted her hand.
In the taverna they talked about Fiona’s journey home and when she should leave.
“Perhaps you could come on the last ferry with me tomorrow,” David said. “We would be company for each other, and you might even fly to London with me.”
“That’s not a bad idea. It would make it much less hard to say good-bye.”
“For a while,” Vonni said. “You’ll come back again, you’ve both got many friends here.”
“Tomorrow I’ll go and say good-bye to Eleni and thank her for everything and call on Dr. Leros as well.”
“And I’ll give Maria a last driving lesson and tell her that Vonni will take over now. Is that right, Vonni?”
“Has she any coordination these days?” Vonni asked.
“Much improved,” David reassured her. “And she’s great, if you can manage not to shout at her but instead build up her confidence.”
“Aren’t we all great when people don’t shout at us, and build up our confidence?” Vonni grumbled.
“Have you told them in Ireland that you are going back?” Andreas asked Fiona.
“Not yet, I’ll call from the Anna Beach tomorrow.”
“Go in and use my phone,” he said, as he had said all that time ago on the day that Manos had perished with his boat.
“Just a quick call then, to my friend Barbara, thank you so much, Andreas.” And Fiona ran into the kitchen.
“Isn’t it unusual that you young people don’t have mobile phones?” Georgi wondered.
“Yes, it is odd. Only Elsa had one, and it doesn’t work,” David said.
“It’s not unusual at all,” Vonni said. “You’re all running away from something. Why would you want a phone so that you could be tracked down?”
“Barbara?”
“God Almighty, it’s Fiona!”
“B
arbara, I’m coming home!”
“Well, that’s great news. When will the pair of you be back?”
“Not the pair of us. Just me.”
There was a silence at the other end. “Shane is staying there?” Barbara asked eventually.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Well, that’s a pity,” Barbara said.
“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Barbara, you’re delighted.”
“That’s not fair. Why should I be delighted that my friend is upset?”
“I’m not upset, Barbara. Could you and I share a flat, do you think?”
“Of course we could, I’ll start looking right away.”
“Great, and Barbara, could you sort of tell my mam and dad?”
“Sure, what exactly will I tell them?”
“That I’m coming home,” Fiona said, surprised that there should be any question about it.
“Yes, but you know the way people of that generation always want to ask questions,” Barbara began.
“Oh, just head them off at the pass,” said Fiona casually.
Thomas walked Elsa back to her villa and kissed her on the cheek. “Schlafen gut,” he said.
“You’re learning German just to impress me?” She smiled at him.
“No, I think I’d have to do much more than say ‘Sleep well’ to impress you, Elsa,” he said ruefully.
“Like what?” she asked.
“I’d have to be restless and urgent. I could try, but it might take a long time.”
“You’re better the way you are, believe me, Thomas. See you midday tomorrow at the harbor.”
“You won’t have gone back to Germany by then?”
“Nor you back to California?”
“Good night, beautiful Elsa,” he said, and turned away.
Fiona was in Elsa’s villa, already packing her suitcase. “Before you say anything, I want to apologize. I was completely out of order with you trying to borrow money and everything,” Fiona said.
“It doesn’t matter a bit; anyway, I was very short and harsh with you, I am the one to be sorry.”
