YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (96 page)

‘It was “The Birds”,’ smiled Yannis. ‘Very ambitious of us.’

‘Did you really? You didn’t tell us that yesterday,’ Nicolas spoke accusingly.

‘There’s probably a good deal more I didn’t tell you, and I expect I’ve forgotten more than I remember.’

‘Were you happy there, Uncle?’

‘Happy! Who can say?’ Yannis shrugged. ‘I had moments of great happiness and some of my saddest times. It was my home.’

‘Weren’t you glad to leave?’ Elena looked at him in surprise.

‘Of course not. We’d built Spinalonga into a community to be proud of. I only wanted to come to Athens to get a clean bill of health so I could travel wherever I wanted. I planned to return until the government placed a closure order on the island.’

‘Haven’t you thought of returning, just to see how it looks now?’

Yannis smiled sadly. ‘Maybe. One day. When I have enough money.’

Daphne frowned. ‘Surely you have enough money to take the ferry over?’

‘Of course,’ Yannis assured her. ‘But I’ve always travelled at the government’s expense. It’s made me mean. Besides, I’d want to visit my friends, Andreas in Heraklion, Flora and Manolis in Aghios Nikolaos, Father Minos in Ierapetra. It would take a good deal of time and money.’

‘I’d like to see the island,’ mused Nicolas. ‘I’d like to go there with you and see your house, the hospital, and where you held your theatre shows.’

‘You’d be disappointed,’ interrupted Anna. ‘A good deal is in ruins now.’

‘Is that why you don’t want to go back?’

‘No, I suppose I’m just getting old and it seems too much effort.’

‘I’ll take you. If you really want to go, that is.’ Elena leant forward, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm. ‘We’ll load the car onto the ferry and I’ll drive you to see all your friends, then to the island and back to Athens. Please say yes, Uncle. We could do it when aunt Anna has to go home and take her with us.’

Yannis looked at his sister. ‘It’s an idea, Anna.’

The car bumped down the gangplank from the ferry and Elena began to weave her way across the quay, avoiding the throng of people who were trying to board the ferry before the arrivals had finished coming ashore. Using her horn liberally she cleared a passage for herself between the people, luggage and animals.

‘Where now, Uncle?’

Yannis peered out of the window. ‘It’s changed. I’m not sure if I know my way. Up the hill, I think. We should come to the Square. I’ll know my way from there.’ Following the line of traffic they rounded the corner and Yannis caught his breath. ‘This is the same. Go to the left, down past the market.’

Yannis directed his niece, taking left turns all the way, until they stopped before the tiny church of Aghios Manathaeus. Leaving the car parked precariously on the narrow pavement they trooped into Andreas’s little house, filling the room, whilst he sat there smiling proudly. He urged them to stay, but Yannis could sense that after four hours of reminiscing between himself and his cousin, Elena and Nicolas were bored.

‘We’ll visit you again on the way back, I promise,’ vowed Yannis. ‘We want to make Aghios Nikolaos tonight and stay with Flora and Manolis.’

Andreas crossed himself as Elena drew away. He had a deep mistrust of fast cars, particularly when they were driven by young women. He waved until they were out of sight; then returned to the peace of his sanctuary. The visit had been most enjoyable, but so many visitors at one time were tiring.

Manolis was still out fishing when they arrived, but Flora greeted Yannis rapturously. ‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ she exclaimed as she wiped away the tears of joy with the back of her hand.

‘How are you keeping?’

‘Fine. No signs at all. How about you?’

‘Fitter than ever,’ Yannis’s eyes roved round the room. ‘You still grow geraniums, I see.’

‘Manolis wouldn’t let me bring them back from the island. I had to start again with just a couple of pots. Let me show you our wedding photographs. I wish you’d been there. We had a tremendous party, just like Marisa, all the villagers came over.’

‘What made you take Yiorgo’s house?’

‘Manolis had it all ready and waiting for me. He wrote to Andreas to ask if we could rent it and he replied it was his now Yiorgo had died and if he could afford to buy it he could do so. It was such a surprise. How long are you here for?’ She chatted on, recalling for Yannis the years they had spent on the island, her indomitable spirit always coming to the fore.

Deftly she prepared a meal for them, refusing Anna and Elena’s offers of help. ‘I can manage,’ she assured them. ‘It took a while, but with practice I found I didn’t even miss my arm, besides, it’s much easier here than it was on the island. I think you’re brave, going back, Yannis, even for a visit.’

‘Why should he be brave?’ asked Nicolas curiously.

Flora struggled for words. ‘It’s so “dead”, somehow. It feels dead, dead and sad. I didn’t realise how sad until I returned from the hospital and I couldn’t leave fast enough then. Manolis still goes. He takes visitors over during the season, but I’ve never been back.’

‘I’m surprised people can find anything to interest them over there. After all, it’s only a deserted village.’

Flora shrugged. ‘It pays well, and if they want to gawp at ruined houses let them.’

Manolis arrived, smelling of fish and tar. Yannis sniffed appreciatively. ‘That takes me back to boyhood. Yiorgo always came in smelling like that.’

Flora wrinkled her nose. ‘Now Yannis mentions it you do smell, Manolis. Go and wash and change your clothes or you’ll drive our visitors away.’

Despite their protests Manolis did as Flora bade him, returning in his Sunday suit. Flora laughed at him. ‘You didn’t have to be that grand, Manolis.’

Gravely Manolis took his place at the head of the table. ‘This is the first time I’ve entertained Yannis in my house. It’s an occasion. I have dressed for the occasion. Had it not been for him you would still have been on the island and we would never have married. I have a good deal to thank him for.’ Manolis raised his glass. ‘To Yannis.’

To Yannis’s embarrassment everyone followed suit and he felt his eyes growing moist. He wished Dora had been there with him, but he had bowed to her wishes that she stayed behind to keep Daphne company.

‘It’s only for a week, besides,’ she had added, ‘I don’t belong to your island memories.’

Yannis rose the next morning with his head throbbing. He placed his head under the tap hoping the cold water would help to clear it. Flora laughed at him.

‘You are out of practice.’

‘I’m just a little woolly between the ears,’ Yannis assured her. ‘I don’t really want to meet Father Minos smelling strongly of drink. He might think I’d returned to my former habits.’

‘Yannis,’ Flora bit at her lip. ‘It’s just possible he may not know you.’

‘Not know me? Of course he’ll know me.’

‘He’s an old man now, well into his eighties. His memory’s not what it was.’

‘He’ll know me,’ Yannis spoke with assurance. ‘We’ll call in again on our way back, so be on the look out for us.’

‘We will, and Yannis, thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘My life.’

Before he could answer she had shut the door swiftly and was waving to them from the window. Yannis settled back comfortably. He was enjoying himself.

They ran Father Minos to earth in a secluded garden at the monastery. The monk who escorted them to him warned Yannis gently.

‘He has become very old of late, his sight has failed and his memory plays tricks. You must not expect too much of him.’

Anna touched Elena’s arm. ‘Let Yannis go first. We mustn’t overwhelm him.’

Yannis approached softly over the grass and knelt stiffly before the elderly priest. ‘May I have your blessing, Father?’

‘Of course, my son.’ He placed his hand on Yannis’s head.

‘Don’t you remember me? I’m Yannis.’

‘Yannis?’

‘I was on Spinalonga.’ Yannis felt a lump coming into his throat.

‘Ah, Spinalonga. I was there a long time. With the lepers, you know. Sad cases, all of them, but they made a happy life for themselves, until the war, anyway. The Germans tried to starve them. They couldn’t do it, though. We beat them in the end. Then they took them away. All my friends gone.’ A tear slid gently down the priest’s wrinkled face.

Yannis patted his hand, rose and walked away. ‘He doesn’t remember me. I left it too long.’

An anguished look on his face Yannis led the way back to the monastery. He did not see Father Minos rise to his feet, his hand outstretched before him, searching the air.

‘Yannis? Is it you, Yannis?’ He sank back on his seat. ‘I could have sworn I heard Yannis’s voice,’ he mumbled.

Yiorgo eyed his visitors with something akin to suspicion. Stelios’s children were not to be trusted if they were anything like their father. They would get nothing out of him except board and lodging. He would not deny them that for the sake of his sister who seemed so taken with them. He just saw their gesture as an excuse for a cheap holiday.

Anna took him to task in the privacy of the kitchen. ‘Try to be more sociable, Yiorgo, they’re your niece and nephew.’

‘They’re strangers to me.’

‘They were to me at first, but I’ve got to know them and I like them.’ Yiorgo snorted and Anna was reminded, not for the first time, of her father. ‘They’ve been very good to us.’

‘You’ve been good to them, you mean. Providing them with free meals from Yannis’s friends and now staying with your relatives.’

‘Don’t be foolish, Yiorgo,’ she retorted sharply. ‘Who do you think paid our ferry passage and has put all the petrol in the car? They haven’t allowed us to pay for anything. All I ask of you is to be sociable and make them feel welcome.’

‘For you I’ll try, Anna, but you know how I feel about Stelios. If he didn’t want to know us for all those years why should we bother with his children?’

‘Please, couldn’t we just forget that? We don’t want to start a family feud that goes on forever. Stelios asked Yannis’s forgiveness just before he died. If they were prepared to be friends then we should do our bit as well.’

Grudgingly Yiorgo took the brandy from the cupboard in the kitchen. ‘For your sake, Anna,’ he reminded her, ‘not theirs.’

The island shimmered like a mirage in the early morning sunshine as they boarded Davros’s boat. Yannis watched, fascinated, as they drew closer. He had mixed emotions. Had he made a mistake to come back? He wished Dora were beside him to dispel his fears of the ghosts of the past that seemed to be beckoning him. Davros skirted the customary landing place and tacked round to the shingle beach.

‘What’s wrong with landing at the jetty?’ asked Yannis.

‘Silted up, no one uses there any more.’ Deftly he threw the rope over a tree stump and hauled the boat as close to the shore as he could. ‘You’ll have to jump for it.’

Nicolas spanned the gap easily and helped his sister and Yannis ashore. ‘Where now?’

‘What do you want? A conducted tour?’

They nodded and Elena slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Please show us round, uncle. We want to see your house and where Flora lived, all the things you’ve told us about.’

Yannis led the way through the tunnel and stopped in the square. The houses on both sides were open to the elements, stinging nettles and weeds rising knee high from the doorways and across the rotten floors. He blinked. This was how it had been when they first arrived. He collected his thoughts and cleared his throat.

‘It was almost as bad as this when we first came. Not the weeds, but most of the houses in ruins. Many of the lepers sheltered in the tunnel or the church during the bad weather before we really got things under way. That was my house.’ He pointed to the arched doorway with arched windows to match, the remnants of a staircase showed inside and a cupboard hung limply on one hinge. A couple of geraniums struggled for their existence amongst the tangle of weeds that had once been his carefully tended garden.

Slowly they moved along the path, skirting a fall of masonry and ducking beneath the branches of a tree, through the next section of tunnel to the shops. Yannis ran his thumb lovingly over the carvings of ships on a wooden shutter.

‘Anna did those. It was how she cut her finger.’ He sighed deeply. ‘That building there was where we kept our food and water when it was sent over from the mainland.’

Nicolas and Elena listened to him enthralled as he described the occupants or the use of the various buildings, not liking to interrupt him with questions. He smiled when he reached the house where Flora had lived; the geraniums had won their battle against the weeds and were a riot of colour, along with large headed daisies and bright pink roses.

‘We must tell her that her garden is flourishing,’ he smiled. ‘She loved her garden. I think it was the first piece of colour she’d ever had in her life. They’ve left the church bell,’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘Give it a pull, Nicolas.’

The mournful sound echoed round the island, bringing back memories for Yannis.

‘The bell was a wonderful idea. Whenever we wanted to hold a meeting we tolled the bell. It wasn’t just for services.’

They passed the washing troughs, and the patch of concrete where Kyriakos had sat for so many years, coming to the tower where Flora had lived originally, now overshadowed by gaunt, expressionless apartments that stared at them blindly. He led them round the rocky outcrop and they gazed at the remains of the Venetian fort spread out below their feet, now exclusively the home of sea birds, and down the gently sloping path where the sheer cliff fell down into the sea below. As they reached the other tiny church Yannis stopped and crossed himself.

‘Phaedra is in the tower over there,’ he said quietly and began to mount the steps opposite the church.

‘Would you rather we waited for you?’

‘No. You can come and pay your respects.’ He looked across the graves to where the tower was half hidden by a low wall and long grass. ‘We were too weak to dig a grave for her.’

They bowed their heads, the peace around them only disturbed by the bees searching for nectar amongst the profusion of yellow flowers.