YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (51 page)

‘It’s that priest. The one who came asking for Yannis’s money. I’ve tried to stall him, but it’s no use. He’s threatening to tell people that we owe and Yannis was sick when he stayed here.’

Louisa bit at her lower lip and thought rapidly. ‘How much does he say we owe?’

‘Four hundred.’

‘Tell him I’ll be down to talk to him.’

Pavlos returned to where the priest was sitting, drinking steadily. ‘I’ve spoken to my sister. She’ll be down shortly.’

He heard the thin wail of his sister’s child and to his surprise she entered almost immediately, holding the girl in her arms. ‘You’d better start the cooking, Pavlos.’ She slid into the vacant seat. ‘I understand Mr Christoforakis thinks we owe him some money?’ She smiled sweetly at the priest.

‘I’ve explained to your brother. A year paid in advance and the room used for less than six months means that half the money is due to be returned,’ repeated Father Minos patiently.

‘I’m sure if you were able to speak to Yannis he would have no wish for the money to be returned. He would probably ask his father to send some more – for his grand-daughter.’

Father Minos stared at the brazen girl before him; then shook his head. ‘I don’t think that very likely. Yannis was a fine young man, not a philanderer, besides, your husband? What would he say?’

‘Yannis was a hot-blooded young man. I don’t think that he would deny that he was the father of my child.’ Louisa looked into Father Minos’s eyes. ‘My husband is a good man who took pity on an innocent girl who had been molested with disastrous consequences.’ She leaned forward confidentially. ‘I have never divulged the paternity of my daughter before and I trust you as a man of the cloth not to tell anyone. For her sake and for my dear husband.’ Tears glistened in her eyes as she spoke.

Involuntarily Father Minos reached out and patted the girl’s hand. ‘Of course, my dear. Perhaps, under the circumstances, rather than embarrass anyone, it would be better to forget my visit?’

Louisa smiled. ‘I would be very grateful.’

‘I’ll tell Mr Christoforakis that at present you are unable to repay him.’

Louisa nodded and rose. ‘It has been a pleasure to meet such an understanding man.’ She held out her hand. ‘Please come again at any time.’

Father Minos touched her hand briefly. ‘The pleasure has been mine, my dear.’

‘Pavlos, can you leave your cooking to say goodbye? The Father is leaving.’

Pavlos appeared from the kitchen area, looking anxiously at Louisa.

Father Minos smiled at him. ‘We’ve settled everything for the time being.’ He placed some coins on the table. ‘For my wine.’

Before Pavlos could refuse he had left the taverna and Louisa sank back into her chair, hugging her daughter to her and laughing.

‘What did you say to him?’

Louisa shrugged. ‘Just told him a sad story.’ She was not prepared to tell her brother the nature of the conversation. ‘Don’t mention it to Yiorgo, it would only upset him.’

Pavlos smiled at her. ‘I’m not likely to tell him.’

He was beginning to dislike his brother-in-law who continually returned to the taverna with a following of men who made up the government. They would sit until the early hours of the morning, consuming food and wine, without adding to the day’s takings. When he had approached Yiorgo regarding the matter of the bills for them he had met with a refusal, Yiorgo insisting that the money he gave Louisa should cover the cost. It was necessary for him to entertain and where more natural to do so than in his own home?

Father Minos left the taverna saddened by the secret Louisa had shared with him. He knew her reputation and wished he knew the truth of the situation and able to call her bluff. He wondered if he dared ask Yannis such a personal question. He would decide the next time he visited the island. The more he thought about Spinalonga the more he was drawn towards the island. He could visualise it in a few years time, the houses repaired and their occupants living a decent life.

Doctor Kandakis banged his fist on the desk. It was all the fault of that meddling priest! He should never have given him permission to visit the island. Now he had a direct order to visit immediately and report back his findings to Athens. How he wished he knew if Father Minos had written to them. How could he say everything was fine if the priest had said otherwise? He tried to console himself. Surely they would take his word as a doctor; or would they? For years he had accepted the responsibility of being the doctor for the island and taken the addition to his salary. If the authorities found out that he only went over once a year, stood on the quay and left a meagre supply of Chaulmoogra Oil capsules he would not only be asked to repay the money, but be disgraced. He had no option. He would resign. He could plead his advancing years and increased workload on the mainland and hope that would be the end of the matter.

Maria lay on her bed, trying hard to breathe deeply and keep the excruciating pain at bay. If only Babbis would come back with her sister. She let out a low moan. This must be a big baby. Her little Marisa had not hurt so much. Kassy was worried. The first baby had been so easy, but this one was going to be a different matter, already Maria was in a lot of pain. She stared out of the window, trying hard to penetrate the darkness in the hope of seeing her son returning. It had all happened so suddenly. Maria had been fit and well in the morning, helping as usual, then late in the afternoon she had clutched at her stomach and collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Panic stricken Kassy had run to the fields for her son, leaving little Marisa sitting on the living room floor, hoping she would not get into mischief. Babbis had raced back to find his wife semi-conscious. The time it took for his mother to return seemed unending.

‘What shall I do? What shall I do?’ he asked as she entered.

‘Get her on the mattress,’ advised Kassy.

Between them they lifted the heavy figure as gently as possible, then Kassy sponged the clammy forehead and held a vinegar soaked rag before Maria’s nose. Babbis stood by the bed, his daughter in his arms, his gaze riveted on his wife, praying silently that she would open her eyes and smile at him.

‘Best go for Anna,’ his mother urged him.

Reluctantly he dragged his eyes away from the bed and handed Marisa to her grandmother. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

Now Kassy was pacing the floor, Marisa wriggling in her arms, and Kassy remembered the child was probably hungry. Heating some milk and feeding her would take her mind off Maria, and with luck the child would be asleep by the time Anna arrived.

Maria did not open her eyes, her face had a greenish hue and her lips, parted with her laboured breathing, had a bluish tinge. Anna took the scene in at a glance.

‘Hot water,’ she demanded of Kassy and then turned to Babbis. ‘Go to my Pappa. Ask him to bring the Widow up here on the donkey. I’ll need her help. Quick now.’

Babbis nodded. He had great faith in his sister-in-law, young and untrained as she was. Anna went to Maria and took her pulse. It was far too rapid and she did not like the colour of her face and lips.

‘I’ll need more light,’ she called to Kassy. ‘Bring all the lamps you have.’

Silently Kassy obeyed until Maria laid ringed in light. Anna loosened her sister’s blouse and then removed her skirt and under garments, covering her legs with a rough blanket. Gently she placed her hand on the enlarged stomach; then pushed downwards, following the contours of the baby’s body. She frowned, her eyes meeting those of Kassy’s.

‘It’s breach,’ she announced.

Kassy wrung her hands. ‘What can you do?’

‘I don’t know.’

Anna bit her lip. She had gleaned as much knowledge as possible from the Widow and knew that breach babies could be turned by careful manipulation. She was now faced with a dilemma. Should she try to effect the turn and in her ignorance do more damage, or wait for the Widow, by which time it could be too late to do anything? Maria groaned again and Anna decided to wait no longer. Pressing down firmly once again on each side of the distended stomach she attempted to persuade the child to move. Something soft and damp touched her arm and she straightened her back.

‘Hold a lamp,’ she ordered.

Kassy obeyed and Anna examined her sister. ‘Too late,’ she announced. ‘There’s a foot born.’

Kassy replaced the light. ‘What can we do?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘Pray.’ Anna’s voice was harsh with emotion. The labour was going to be lengthy, the most difficult part coming at the end when Maria would be exhausted. She knew how dangerous such a situation could be.

Babbis arrived back alone. ‘How is she?’

‘It’s going to be a breach birth. It will take time. Put some water on for coffee. It’s going to be a long night.’

Silently Babbis went into the kitchen. Never again would he risk Maria’s life in this way. She was far too precious to him. He returned to the living room, hardly daring to look at his wife. He sat with his head in his hands, wishing there was some way he could help. Anna noticed the dejected figure.

‘Come and hold her hand. She’ll need something to grip on later.’

Babbis moved next to his wife, taking the limp hand into his own and raising it to his lips. Once again Anna felt the weight of the responsibility that rested on her. If only the Widow would arrive.

Maria drifted in and out of consciousness. Faces appeared before her as if in a dream, her father, sister, husband, mother-in-law and the Widow, most of all the Widow, speaking sharply to her, giving instructions which she tried her hardest to carry out. A faint cry penetrated her confused mind. They must see to Marisa. She tried to raise herself to tell them. A strong hand held her down.

‘Lay still. Try to sleep. It’s all over now.’

Babbis sat by his sleeping wife, still holding her hand. His face was drawn and grey. The Widow sat huddled in a chair, a rug over her, needing rest as much as the young mother. Kassy nursed the tiny baby, the cause of so much distress. Anna washed her sister gently and examined her for tears and bruises. She hoped fervently that the internal damage was not as bad as the external appeared. She tapped Babbis on his shoulder and beckoned him to a corner in the room.

‘She needs to see a doctor. I’ve done my best and so has the Widow, but we haven’t the knowledge. Go and ask Pappa if you can borrow the cart to take her to Aghios Nikolaos.’

Babbis looked at his wife and back again at Anna.

‘Go on,’ she urged him. ‘I’ll look after everything here.’

Still Babbis hesitated.

‘What is it?’ Anna was becoming impatient.

‘I haven’t any money for a doctor,’ he mumbled.

‘Ask Pappa. He’ll not refuse, and Babbis, tell Mamma that I’ll be back soon.’

Babbis nodded and went out into the chill of the morning whilst Anna turned back again to her patient.

It was left to Anna to break the news of Maria’s death to her mother. She tried to do so as gently as possible, but the invalid sat unmoving for days afterwards and Anna was frightened she would have another stroke. She was desperately tired herself. Sleep was a luxury. She would lie for hours wondering if she could have done more to save her sister, although Babbis had returned from the town assuring her she had done her best. No one could staunch the massive internal bleeding that had taken its final toll on her weakened heart. He appeared to be sleep-walking most of the time, working long hours in the fields, arriving home exhausted and collapsing into his lonely bed to find solace in a few hours slumber. Kassy was trying hard to cope with the house, her morose son and a bewildered toddler who asked for ‘Mamma’. The new baby had been just too much for her to tackle and Anna had offered to look after the child for a while. He was demanding. When she finally fell into an uneasy sleep he would wake, crying for food and comfort. Stelios complained bitterly about his disturbed nights, but her father and Yiorgo said nothing.

Now Anna rose as the dawn streaked the sky and crept from her room. Maybe the child would sleep for another half an hour and she would be able to prepare a meal for Yiorgo and her father to take to the fields with them. It would save her time and energy if they could take the food when they left instead of her having to trek up the hill and find them at mid-day. Maybe, if Yannis slept on, she could wash her mother and get her comfortably settled in her chair before he demanded more attention.

The days merged together and they did not seem to get any easier. Babbis would visit them once a week and nurse his son in melancholy silence, but did not offer to take him back to his own house. The one time that Anna had broached the subject of the baby’s return Babbis had seemed embarrassed and made the excuse that his mother would not be able to manage. Marisa was such a little handful and his mother was not young. By the time Yannis had reached six months old she accepted the fact that her brother-in-law had no intention of relieving her of his son. Gradually she had worked out a routine and was managing a little better now the baby slept most nights. She had written to Andreas and asked him to pass on the sad news to both Annita and Yannis. If little Yannis were awake when she waved to the island she always held him up, hoping her brother would see his tiny namesake.

Her father had long given up protesting at her daily ritual of waving and had even stood beside her on one or two occasions when a figure could be seen waving back. Yiorgo took little notice. He had problems of his own. The farm was gradually becoming neglected and was likely to become more so. Stelios had no interest in the fields at all and was leaving for Aghios Nikolaos in the autumn, Anna had no time to help, his mother was unable and his father was still troubled by his lame leg. However long Yiorgo worked he never seemed to make any headway and he was wondering if he should suggest to his father that they sell some of the land.

Doctor Stavros read the letter through a second time. It did not make sense. Why was he being asked to visit Spinalonga? Doctor Kandakis was in charge of the island. Much as he disliked the idea he supposed he would have to find out what was expected of him. There was no urgency; he would leave it until after his annual holiday. A few days in Sitia would do him good. He might even visit the oculist whilst he was there. His headaches had definitely worsened over the past six months and a new pair of spectacles was probably the answer.