The Unquiet Mind (The Greek Village Collection Book 8) (19 page)

‘It was insidious. And after a while, six months or so, I started to believe that something really was wrong with me and I went to see a doctor. He said there was nothing wrong with me and why did I think there was? I thought his next words were going to be “what’s wrong with you?”‘ She stops to smile at her own joke but quickly continues. ‘I told Mick the doctor said I was fine and he sneered and shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” He made me feel I was crazy. I got more and more tense around him and in turn that made me do stupid things, become clumsy, forget things, overreact. And each time, he pointed it out as evidence. I really thought I was losing it. Eventually I accepted how useless I was and so I stayed with him, thinking I was in the safest place for someone like me.’ Juliet lifts her chin, looks beyond the wall up to the far hills. ‘So although I have not experienced what you have experienced, Sophia, I know what it is like to be convinced you are crazy and how that can keep you from moving forward. But you were so young, it’s amazing you didn’t actually go crazy.’

‘I think I probably did a bit.’ She looks at Juliet, seeking signs on her face of her own life’s ordeals. But her features are open and kind and she looks back, waiting for Sophia to say more. It would be nice to hug Juliet to take away any remnants of her hurt. Why not; she would not feel any worse with someone else’s pain on top as she does now.

Sophia finds her face is wet. She sniffs. Juliet springs from the sofa and, within seconds, she has returned from inside, placing a box of tissues on the table between them as she sits down again. She takes a tissue herself and pushes them nearer Sophia, looking at her intently, listening.

‘I just counted the days until I would be eighteen,’ Sophia says. ‘I was nearing my fourteenth birthday when I arrived at the convent. It was near my fifteenth birthday when I overheard the telephone conversation to my mama. So I started to count the days until I would be eighteen and I could leave. It was all I could think to do. Mama had stopped writing. Sada had enough problems of her own with Aleko, and Angeliki was all about her marriage. Only Vetta wrote occasionally, and I had no stamps to reply.’

‘Yanni?’ Juliet asks.

‘Ah, Yanni.’ Sophia takes another tissue. ‘I planned to leave the convent when I was eighteen and they could not stop me. I wanted to get married. I desperately wanted to have lots of children that I could love and care for, to show them the love that children should have, make their worlds safe for them. The days dragged longer and longer as the time drew near. The seasons in the vegetable garden helped me through. Then my birthday was just a month away, so I took a big step and I wrote to Yanni. He was the only person who I felt understood me. And my feelings for him never left me.

‘I told him what felt like the truth at the time. I told him I had always loved him. I told him I waited for him when I was thirteen to rescue me and that I would wait again for him to come, that I was of age.’ She takes another tissue. ‘I probably wrote too much, said too much, but I felt so desperate. My parents had not been in contact for years, so I could not return to them. Being eighteen gave me the freedom I wanted, but I had no place to go and no skills to go with. I wanted to leave but to go where, do what? The only role that had ever been laid out for me was that of a wife.’

‘Did Yanni write back?’ Juliet asks.

‘No,’ Sophia says quietly and takes another tissue.

‘Oh.’ Juliet pulls her legs from the floor and tucks them under her.

‘Maybe he never got it. I asked a woman who used to come up often from the village for a stamp, but when I asked her to post it, she said I must ask the abbess, which I did and she agreed to it. At the time, it felt like my one hope and as the days passed and no reply came, I realised Yanni didn’t want to know.’ Sophia sniffs in defiance. ‘I considered leaving the convent by myself, but where would I go?’ She looks directly at Juliet, who shrugs. ‘On the island, everything is done through who you know. The jobs in the shops and tavernas, the renting of houses, everything is word of mouth, and away from the island, I knew no one. So I gave in and I tried to progress from being a novice to becoming a nun. But the abbess, thankfully, never thought me fit to become a tonsure. It has only been through getting to know Stella, who knew about the job in the sandwich shop, that I saw a way out now. That and my mama passing.’ She crosses herself. The tears dry up.

‘Mothers have a lot to answer for,’ Juliet says flatly.

Chapter 24

‘There’s a power cut,’ Sophia announces as she trots back into the drive less than an hour since she left Juliet’s. The days since she first moved in with Juliet have spun by, and it feels like she has known Juliet forever. They have talked into the early hours of the morning nearly every night. Talked about her, talked about Juliet’s brave and slightly crazy move to Greece. They have talked about cultures and education, English and Greek. Every new dawn, her eyes have been tired and have not wanted to open but her spirit has leapt from her bed ready for a new day. The days, with no hours of prayer and no strict adherence to routine, feel long and full of things to learn. Just being in the world, watching, feels fulfilling enough. ‘All day. It’s official,’ she adds. ‘The kafeneios are empty but Stella is busy. She only needs her grill, and Mitsos has brought his generator down from his house. It’s like the whole village is in there. As for the sandwich shop, the fridges are off, there’s been no delivery, so there’s nothing to sell. The owner’s wife came, told me that the pies have not even been baked so I should lock up and go. I have the day free.’ Sophia kicks off her shoes, holds her arms in the air, fingers spread, and causes the cat to jump from the wickerwork chair in fear of her outburst of energy.

‘Oh, sorry cat.’ She lowers her arms.

‘I know. No computer. I didn’t leave it on to charge, so no work for me, either.’ Juliet puts her book and glasses down. ‘I don’t think I’m going to finish that book.’

‘You want a frappe? Oh no, well yes. I could make it by hand?’ Sophia goes inside.

‘No thanks. You know what, let’s go into Saros, wander around like tourists. We can go for a coffee there. Sit and watch the world go by?’

Sophia stands in the doorway.

‘Don’t look so scared. It’s only coffee in Saros.’ Juliet laughs.

Saros is busy. The roads through the centre are closed off, men beyond the barriers are on hands and knees laying a pattern in bricks; it is all being pedestrianised. Juliet is not ruffled by it. She takes a left into a maze of roads and they come out by the water’s edge, where they park the car.

The long harbour front is lined with gleaming white yachts. The clicking of the halyards against the masts takes Sophia back to her childhood, to the port on Orino, filled with the yachts of the rich. Yanni there with his baba and their one donkey, Suzi. She will be old now. He will be older, too. The yearning in her chest catches her unawares and her vision blurs. She keeps strolling, Juliet by her side, but she looks away from her, towards the town. Parallel to the quayside is the main road to the old town, and on the other side of that is a strip of grass dotted with bushes and flowers that edge the endless line of street cafés on the other side. From here a hum emanates, a burst of laughter every few seconds. The world is alive and people are happy. Sophia blinks away the tears and smiles. She is part of this now; she will find her place.

‘I like these cafés by the harbour, but once you are sitting down, you are too low to see the sea. Are you all right if we go into the town and sit in the main square?’

Sophia shrugs. It is all new to her. Everything is all right as far as she is concerned. Where the yearning was a moment before, her stomach flips with excitement. They cross the road and walk up a narrow alley that brings them out into an open square that is heaving with people. Around the square’s perimeter are chairs and tables sprawling out of cafés; in the middle, preschool children run and shout and kick balls. A woman stands clutching a huge cluster of bright, metallic-coloured balloons in the shape of dolphins and zebras, and some that look like a square sponge with eyes. There’s a floating dog, a goldfish with black and white stripes on its orange body, a yellow smiling face. High above them, one of these balloons floats in the still air. There will be a child crying somewhere for the loss. Sophia’s eyes return to earth, looking for the bereft child, but all she sees is people smiling, children laughing, joy everywhere.

‘Here, this is the place I prefer.’ Juliet heads for a café whose tables and chairs are littered under the spreading arms of a huge plane tree. Some of the branches are so old and heavy, they have wooden supports keeping them from bending to the ground.

‘Is it safe?’ Sophia asks, but she is not serious; there is nowhere she would rather sit. ‘Here?’ She chooses a chair turned to face the square, from where she can see everything.

‘Sure.’ Juliet sits, lithe, like a cat, her hips sliding between the table and chair; first her upper body and then her legs following. She kicks her shoes off even though they are out in public. There’s no denying the excitement Sophia feels and it is just from being here in the square, alive, free. Yes, definitely from being free.

‘Do you think you would have stayed the rest of your life in the convent if you had not met Stella?’ Juliet asks once they are seated. Sophia is watching a boy with a ball who is using the people walking through the square as obstacles to be dribbled around. No one seems to mind. She hears Juliet’s question but she does not really want to think about it.

A child with matted hair and a dirty face stands by her shoulder with its hand held out.

‘Oh!’ Sophia exclaims at the sight of her. That was one thing that always amazed her about the nuns, and which seemed to contradict their Christian beliefs. They firmly believed other people were different, that the Albanians were not like them, that the Romanians didn’t feel as they felt, that the Gypsies had no hearts. It was as though they felt that the Greeks, the followers of the Orthodox faith, were somehow elevated. After years of listening to these attitudes, Sophia catches her first reaction to this Gypsy child, and it is one she classifies as repulsion, but her strength of logic tells her, on second analysis, that it is fear. Fear of the unknown. The child looks so far removed from any experience she has ever had.

‘Give me a euro,’ the child recites in a whining voice, but its eyes flick left and right, fear betraying the pretence of need. Sophia fumbles in her skirt pocket and finds a two euro piece. She looks up to give it to the child.

‘Go.’ The waiter speaks firmly and marches at the child. It takes one look at him and runs.

‘Now madams, what can I get you?’ The waiter keeps one eye towards the square, checking the Gypsy does not return.

‘Do you have electricity?’ Juliet asks.

‘We have a generator for such times, so what will be your choice? We have everything.’ His attention is still on the Gypsy child who is edging near a customer sitting further along.

‘Right, I will have a freddo,’ Juliets states. ‘Oh and a toast. No ham, just cheese please.’

‘What’s a freddo?’ Sophia asks, also watching the Gypsy child. The people she was edging towards are waving her away. The child’s face is rigid, as if their dismissal has no bearing on her. It does look like she has no heart, but how terrible that such young life has been so hardened. Surely she would respond to love and encouragement like any other child, so equally she must be affected by cold indifference and worse. The poor child wears no shoes, her t-shirt is torn, and her shorts are very dirty.

‘It’s kind of a coffee milkshake I suppose, creamy and cold,’ Juliet clarifies. ‘Can I have caramel syrup with mine please?’ The waiter nods.

‘I’ll have the same,’ Sophia says. Right now, she could take on the world. The waiter moves off and within seconds, the child is by her side again, its hand held out, its head turned to follow the waiter’s course, legs twitching, ready to run. She cannot be more than five, maybe six years old.

‘Here you are.’ Sophia gives her the coin. ‘Where are your mama and ...’ But there is no point in finishing the sentence because the child runs off.

‘You cannot save them all.’ Juliet has sunk into her chair, looking comfortable as always. Sophia tries to do the same, but she feels she is sliding and sits up straight. ‘So do you?’ Juliet asks.

‘Do I what?’ The Gypsy girl has reached the other side of the square and is approaching a group of tourists. So tiny.

‘Think you would have ever left the convent?’ Juliet links fingers across her stomach.

Watching the Gypsy being waved away by the tourists in their new clothes, designer shoes on their feet, Sophia considers Juliet’s question.

‘It was a constant question in my mind. Once I had come to terms with that fact that Yanni was not going to write back, not going to come and rescue me, my constant question was how could I leave? I had no money, one dress and one skirt, and the nuns thought I was possessed by a demon.’

‘Were you an official nun—you know, ordained?’ Juliet asks, her head turned to watch a toddler on a tricycle being chased by his baba.

‘No, I never became ordained. I tried to go down that route for a while. In my early twenties, when I realised it would not be so easy to leave. For a while, I even believed it was my calling, but the abbess was not to be conned. Thank goodness.’ She laughs. Juliet smiles, a lazy smile that grows as their coffees are delivered.

‘Your toast is coming,’ the waiter tells them and turns to invite a couple standing arm in arm to take a quiet seat around the far side of the tree. They follow his lead.

‘So they let you stay anyway?’ Juliet asks.

‘I worked like a horse in that garden. I knew the seasons; the things I planted flourished. The garden kept my spirit alive and the food I produced kept the nuns alive. They weren’t stupid.’

‘So do you think you would have, then?’ Juliet asks.

‘Would have what?’ Sophia asks.

‘Stayed.’ Juliet laughs.

‘Oh, right. Well, I think the fact that I have left proves that I would not have stayed, if you see what I mean. If you look for something, I think you find it. I was looking for a way out, so I found it. A bit late perhaps but now, I am here!’

‘And your parents dying? Has that helped? Sorry that sounds terrible, but you know what I mean.’ Juliet has ditched her straw and sports a freddo moustache.

‘Ah. Well I’m not sure, really. Vetta will keep her shop in the port, no matter what the will says. Sotiria, well, she is in America, so I don’t suppose she is interested at all in the old house. Angeliki has no need for anything. The last letter I got from Vetta was to say that Angeliki was opening another taverna down the coast on the island. They have bought and done up an old ruin there apparently and have boats to run customers back and forth to the town. Vetta said the waters are very deep not far from shore there so the big yachts can anchor, and it has become the place for the rich to dine. So that leaves Sada and me.’ Sophia sighs.

‘Sada with the drunk husband,’ Juliet says. The toasted sandwiches arrive and she sits up, pulling the crusts off and eating them first. Sophia makes a small prayer, just a thank you, but it no longer feels like she is praying to the God that lived in the convent. This new God is more generous, more at one with nature. Bigger.

‘Yes, Sada. She has her own home, so she won’t want to live in the old house, but I am hoping she will not want to sell it. I think Aleko would just drink a lump sum away until he is dead, which would leave Sada with nothing. But if I live in it, what will I do for money? To those who know me, I am the woman who stabbed Hectoras. They will not employ me. Those who don’t know me will not give me a job because they don’t know me. So I am thinking maybe I can rent the house. This might give Sada money to pay her bills and me money to live on. What do you think?’ Sophia cuts her sandwich halves into quarters. ‘But of course that leaves me nowhere to live.’ She takes a bite.

‘Do you want to go back to live on the island?’ Juliet chews and swallows.

‘Well, in truth, there is no reason to. But then, where else do I know? Also, I need to know for sure.’

‘Know what for sure?’ Juliet asks, pausing before she takes another bite.

‘About Yanni.’