The Ebb Read online

  Outside the tearoom, Meg said goodbye quickly to rush back to her post, leaving Laura behind to have a look around. Feeling the most carefree she had felt in a long time, the young girl sauntered to the eastern landing stage in order to enjoy the sea view.

  She sat on a bench and watched the world go by for a while. Generous views of the Hove and the open sea that stretched towards an indigo horizon made it a pleasure to be there, even though it was late afternoon. The remaining sunlight was fading fast. She stood up and walked to the railing, dreamily watching the sea horses breaking on the shore. The breeze had picked up in the past few minutes, and she was almost shivering now in her dress and woollen cardigan. She looked up to see clouds travelling to the west, growing darker and darker by the second as the feeble sunlight continued to be engulfed by the growing darkness.

  “Excuse me,” she heard a voice from behind her. She turned around to face a young man around her age. He didn’t look older than twenty-two, twenty-four at most. He had short dark hair and sparkling blue eyes. He wore a rather shabby-looking jacket, dark trousers, and a pair of worn out shoes that had seen better days. His choice of clothes would have been totally unworthy of notice had it not been for a thick, rusty-brown scarf that was tied snugly around his neck.

  He stood smiling at her rather awkwardly, his thin lips twitching and all the while, his eyes seemed to speak to her through their amazing sparkle.

  She felt drawn to them as if they were sending out signals she was meant to interpret. He was nervous; she was sure of that. It was evident in the way he had dug both his hands in his pockets, looking a bit lost for words. And yet, the look in his eyes seemed quite confident.

  “Yes?” she asked, mystified by his body language.

  “Hello miss, sorry to disturb,” he finally said, rather unsurely.

  “Yes?” She asked again after another awkward pause.

  “Um, I was wondering if you could do me a favour…” His voice trailed off as he scratched his head.

  Laura gave him an encouraging nod. “How can I help you?”

  He shifted his weight from foot to foot for a few moments, then finally spoke. “Well, I was wondering if you could pretend we’re friends.”

  Laura knitted her brows. “I don’t understand.”

  “Could you offer me a handshake please? Or smile and give me a hug or something?” The half-smile he flashed her then, could also be perceived as a rather cheeky smirk.

  “What?” she protested. “What on earth for?”

  “You see that chap behind me, sitting on the bench?” He motioned with a slight movement of his head, shifting his eyes to one side. “No! Please don’t stare! He mustn’t suspect anything!” he pleaded, his blue eyes huge.

  “Why not? Who is he?” she asked even more intrigued now, as she darted her eyes surreptitiously to the young man on the bench once more. He wasn’t even looking, and she wondered what the fuss was all about. Silently, she thought the whole thing was rather amusing, but she wasn’t going to show that to the dashing lad before her. Instead, she fixed him with a stern stare that demanded an instant explanation.

  “Look, I’m sorry, all right? It’s just that I made a bet with him that I could prove we’re friends. He sort of said you’re too beautiful for the likes of me, and I wanted to prove him wrong; that’s all!”

  “So you told him a lie about me and now you want me to help you confirm it?” she asked, trying to sound stern despite aching to dissolve into laughter by then.

  “In essence, yes!” he answered, giving her a smile that this time, could definitely pass for a cheeky smirk.

  “But how does this benefit me?” she retorted with a naughty look in her eyes.

  He cocked his eye at her, startled. “Excuse me?”

  “What is there for me to gain from helping you out?”

  “I’ll buy you a drink if you like!” he offered immediately, and she wondered if that had been his goal from the start.

  “No thanks!” she answered sternly.

  Instead of speaking again, the boy regarded her silently in response with sorrowful eyes. It was a sad look of such intensity that the thought that crossed her mind then was that he was doing it on purpose. In the end, she gave in anyway. He surely was heaven. She had to admit it. And he seemed harmless enough.

  She took a step towards him and offered her hand to him. He took it gratefully and to his surprise, totally unprompted, she reached up then and left a kiss on his cheek.

  “Thanks! It’s more than I hoped for,” he whispered.

  Laura chuckled. “Now what?”

  Without moving his head, the boy darted his eyes sideways in a comical way and spoke behind his teeth. “Is he still there?”

  Laura tittered, but when she cast a glance at the bench behind him again, the smile on her face froze instantly. The lad was no longer alone there. A young girl, barely older than sixteen, was sitting next to him now. They seemed lost in conversation together, totally oblivious to what was going on around them.

  “You never spoke to that young man, did you? There is no bet, is there?” she put to him when realisation hit her. With her green eyes squinting at him, she placed a hand on her hip defensively, waiting, demanding the truth.

  The boy smirked and gave a wink. “My dad always said, ‘never lie to a beautiful girl, unless you’re after her heart.’ So I took my dad’s advice. Is that so bad?” he asked mischievously, tilting his head, amused by the stunned expression on her face.

  “Oh I see! So you were pretending to be nervous all this time. What an act! And for what?” she asked when she finally found her voice again.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I got a kiss on the cheek, didn’t I?”

  “And?”

  “You make it sound so trivial.”

  “It is, isn't it?”

  “Oh, I beg to differ Miss… Miss… Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name.”

  “Huh! As if I’m going to tell you that! I’m not falling for another one of your tricks!” Laura turned around and started to walk away, but the spring in her step revealed she was light-hearted.

  “You’re wrong though.” His voice trailed behind her, and she turned to face him again.

  “Wrong about what?” she demanded, her chin jutted out, her emerald eyes twinkling at him, her red hair flowing in the breeze, rendering him speechless for a few moments.

  “That the kiss you gave me was trivial. A kiss from a pretty girl like you will keep me warm after you go, all through the night,” he said with a grin and a hand over his heart.

  “Why don’t you get under a blanket to be sure,” she teased him and turned away.

  The echo of his laughter hung in the air between them as she strode off along the deck, her hand over her luscious, red lips, stifling her giggle.

  Chapter 5

  1987

  “Yiayia! Pappou! It’s so good to be here!” Sofia couldn’t stop cuddling her grandparents.

  “Sofoula mou! My little Sofia,” said Gran Kyriaki. “You look taller than last year!”

  Granddad Stefanos chuckled. “Just taller? Po-po! She’s a grown woman now. ” His kind eyes crinkled with mirth as he made pretend spitting sounds, to avoid giving her the evil eye.

  “Sit down, psyche mou,” Gran said, “you must be hungry. It’s early still for ouzo and meze, but I can get you some cake. I made it for your homecoming.”

  As soon as Sofia sat down at the table, she remembered her luggage in the yard, and stood up again. “Better get my trolley bag.”

  Granddad put up his hand. “Don’t you worry, I’ll get it. I’m not that old yet, you know!” He winked at her and went outside, before she could voice her protest. He returned quickly enough, lifting the luggage effortlessly despite his years and arthritic limbs.

  “How are your parents?” He asked when he returned to his seat. It was an unnecessary question, since he spoke to them often on the phone, but it felt right to ask all the same.

  “They’re fine,
Pappou. They send their love to you both.”

  “Are they coming this year?” Gran couldn’t help asking. She had just come in to bring Sofia a glass of orange juice and a large piece of sponge cake. It looked delicious. Sofia took a bite as soon as it was placed before her.

  “It’s lovely. Bravo, Yiayia,” she said amidst appreciating chomps. “As for my parents, you know how it is.”

  “Too busy again?” Granddad didn’t try to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

  “The taverna’s busy and Dad says he can’t close it down for a holiday. He said it would be a shame for the business.” She shook her head.

  “Shame for the business, is it?” mumbled Granddad, but Gran served him with a meaningful glance that made him stop short. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, but his eyes still spoke volumes for his frustration.

  “What about your mother? Could she make it for a few days?” Gran asked with hope. She loved her daughter-in-law, and even if her son couldn’t come, her visit would still be a nice change from the norm.

  “She did try to get the time off, but as usual the travel agency is very busy. Her boss won’t grant her a leave during the summertime.”

  Gran sighed. “It doesn’t matter, as long as they’re well.” She met her husband’s silent gaze from across the table and said nothing else.

  “The cake was wonderful, thank you,” said Sofia, wiping the chocolate glaze from her lips with a paper napkin. It was well timed, as the compliment broke the awkward moment.

  Gran smiled at her sweetly. “Glad you liked it, psyche mou. There’s plenty more where that came from! I’d better feed you now you’re here, starting with the roast lamb I’m making today.”

  Sofia made appreciative sounds to the mention of a roast. Gran picked up the plate to return it to the kitchen, but she stopped at the threshold to shake a playful finger at Sofia.

  “You’ve lost weight! I’ll make sure to fix that before it’s time for you to go.” With a cunning smile playing on her lips, she turned away without waiting for an answer.

  As soon as she was out of the room, Sofia and Granddad exchanged glances and burst out laughing. This was typical of Gran. She always found her granddaughter too thin. That gave her an excuse to pile up the food on her plate and to treat her to homemade sweets almost every day too. Not that Sofia minded of course. Gran’s cooking was exquisite and besides, Sofia seemed to feel ravenous all the time during her summer holidays.

  A few minutes later, Granddad heard the distinctive honk from the bread van and rushed to the square to buy a loaf. Sofia stayed behind in the small downstairs room that somehow served adequately as sitting room, dining room, and guest room. She was sitting on the divan-bed by the table. This was going to be her bed again for the next two months or so.

  The divan was old and thus precious in her eyes. She thought the same about every single antique item in the house, including the ancient, dark cabinet with the elaborate flower designs where Gran stored crockery, cutlery, and porcelain tea sets. Its mirror was heavily tarnished. Her image stared back at her, distorted as usual, but to her, it was the most endearing sight because that same mirror had held her reflection since she was little.

  Back in Athens, her parents liked to renovate their home and to buy new things all the time. It meant that they periodically got rid of their old furniture and belongings. As a result, there wasn’t much left in Sofia’s house that had witnessed her past. Her dolls, board games, and picture books from her childhood had almost all gone as well. Her mother had gradually given them all away when she felt that her daughter had grown too old for them. As a result, Sofia cherished the few items from her early life that she had managed to salvage from her mother’s charitable acts.

  On the contrary, in her grandparents’ house, it felt like old things were revered. Every single knickknack, every black and white picture on the wall, and even the smallest thing like a forgotten button in a trinket box remained every year in the same place. And all these things she always counted on to revisit, they made up a map, the map of a true home. It was the only place where she felt she had an identity and a history behind her.

  Clanking sounds of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen outside. Sofia guessed Gran was looking through her crammed cupboards to pick a roasting tin for the lamb. The kitchen was situated in the back of the house at the end of a concrete courtyard. It was incredibly tiny, barely allowing two people to be in it at the same time, but somehow Gran managed to prepare culinary triumphs in there that would put to shame top chefs in spacious, fully equipped kitchens.

  Sofia stood up and slowly climbed the indoor staircase. As soon as she entered her grandparents’ bedroom, her eyes looked up to the corner where the same old icons hung on the wall as always. She crossed herself and said her quick thanks for her safe arrival and her grandparents’ good health. The oil lamp with the stained, red glass hung from the ceiling from its long and rusty chain. The aged, discoloured icon of Saint Spyridon, patron saint of Corfu, had a fresh twig of basil tucked behind one of its top corners.

  The large wardrobe of honey-coloured wood seemed even more tired this year on its aged legs. Sofia opened one of its doors and took a deep breath. It was an insane thing to do, to fill her lungs with the musty smell of humidity and moth balls, but it made her smile. Her reflection in the tarnished long mirror on the inside of the door smiled back at her, and she closed the door again.

  Smiling still, she approached the chest of drawers and rested her gaze upon the framed photographs that stood on top. Most of them were pictures of Sofia from past summers, but there was also a wedding photograph of her parents as well as a picture of her father’s brother, Uncle Yiannis. Sofia twisted her lips, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. Her eyes darted further to hover fondly over the last picture in the corner. It was the familiar sepia picture of her late aunt Sofia—her father’s sister—whom she had never met but knew that she owed her name to.

  Her aunt Sofia had died at the age of seventeen in a road accident. Everyone in the family said she was the most beautiful girl the village had ever known. According to everyone, Sofia’s resemblance to her deceased aunt was uncanny. It often filled her with sadness to never have met her, especially as she knew she had died so young and so tragically.

  No one spoke of her often, except perhaps for Uncle Yiannis, who sometimes pointed out the resemblance by giving Sofia a wistful look that filled her with an odd sense of unease. Uncle Yiannis had a way of making her feel uncomfortable, and this was one of the reasons why she avoided him like the plague. As thoughts of him formed in her head, she cast her gaze again on his picture.

  Uncle Yiannis was a successful restaurateur just like her father back in Athens, except he was still single although he was well into his fifties. People loved him for being friendly and chatty, and his loyal customers drove from all over the island to taste his exquisite dishes. Despite his popularity, Sofia wished they weren’t related. She pulled a face of disdain and looked away from the picture, now tormented by the nagging thought that soon she’d have to see him again.

  After a quick visit to the bathroom, she rushed back downstairs, to find her grandparents outside in the yard. Gran had just served ouzo and was about to call her. Sofia didn’t like the taste of ouzo, yet, she loved to pour it in the glasses and mix it with water to create the magical, cloudy effect. And although she’d pour only water in her own glass, she’d make sure to sample all the different plates of meze Gran would prepare. Sometimes she’d fry sardines or prawns, other times homemade meatballs and bite-sized cheese pastries.

  With a grumbling tummy, as if on cue, she took a seat at the plastic table, marvelling at the delicacies before her eyes. She ate quickly; there was no time to lose. She couldn’t wait to put on her swimming costume and head for the beach, trotting down that hill like a man looking for water in the desert.

  Chapter 6

  The beach was crowded just as expected. Sofia had made her way there
via a shady path that snaked through dense olive groves. It was a joy to walk it and tremendously peaceful but only to the ones who didn’t mind the perpetual cicada song.

  She stepped on the sand and looked to the right in order to salute silently across the bay, her pyramid-shaped mountain. It was still shrouded by the morning haze. Yet, she knew that in the afternoon it would come alive again, with its cypress trees dark green and the metal crowns on the chimney tops glinting under the clear, blue sky. She turned to the left and took the wooden walkway past Regent’s Hotel. Its beach bar was busy as usual.

  Multi-coloured towels hung from the rails on the bungalow porches; a clear sign that the hotel was full again this season. Many of the guests were lying on the lawn around the pool, while others lounged on deck chairs under the thatched umbrellas at the edge of the shore. Although the hotel allowed access to the grounds and facilities only to its guests, the beach was municipal and Sofia was welcome to stay there if she wanted to. Yet, she never frequented it as she found it too busy for her liking.

  She carried on walking to the very end of the wooden walkway until she reached a sports water pier, across from the last bungalows of Regent’s hotel and her cousin’s coffee bar/restaurant, Karavi.

  She stepped onto the sand, a smile of joy playing on her lips, and she stood for a moment to look around at her favourite stretch of Vassilaki’s sandy beach. At a short distance away, the leaves of the tall willow trees rustled in the cool breeze.

  She shaded her eyes with one hand and gazed up to their top branches that swayed rhythmically against the blue sky, as if playing a game of catch with the strong sunrays. This was the part of the beach that the locals favoured for its relative peace and quiet. It was their refuge from the mad bustle of the tourist trail and their meeting place for the daily gossip. The odd tourist wound up there too of course, although most of them preferred the long stretch of beach on the other side of Regent’s Hotel. That one was lined with bars that seemed to shake with blaring music. Sofia shuddered at the very thought of going there.