Thirty
His cousins had told Andras it was an emergency and his first thought was for his mother. She might look as strong as an ox and have the demeanour of an angry, stubborn goat but she was close to seventy and she had been working furiously on this wedding for months. Then they had said it was Spiros. There had been no relief, just a further stomach-dropping motion as he ran through the house, heart pummelling his chest wall, fear gripping his every part. Spiros was hurt. But how hurt? And would the ambulance make it up here in time?
Barrelling out of the door and on to the lawn he could see, across the grass, someone laying on their back. He looked nowhere else, just to the unmoving form of his brother.
‘Have you called the ambulance?’ he shouted. ‘Done anything for him?’
He skidded as he dropped to his knees, arriving at his brother’s side and immediately reaching to loosen the top button of Spiros’s shirt. Why had no one done that already?
‘What happened here?’ he asked, looking to his relatives who all seemed remarkably calm.
He looked back to his brother’s lifeless form. ‘Spiro!’ he said, voice tight. ‘Can you hear me?’
There was no reply. His brother’s eyes were tight shut, his skin a little flushed. What did that mean? Pale, grey skin was worse than coloured cheeks, wasn’t it? Unless, like his father, it was a stroke.
‘Spiro,’ he said again, this time more urgently. He put a hand to his neck, hoping to feel the thump of a heartbeat.
‘He had a fall,’ Marietta stated.
‘What sort of fall?’ Andras asked. He pressed the back of his hand a little harder to his brother’s neck.
Suddenly Spiros’s eyes snapped open and he grinned from ear to ear. ‘A fall from a donkey!’ He laughed loud. ‘Hee haw! Hee haw!’
Confusion flooded Andras as, all at once, there were cheers, laughter and hands clapping together. He sat back on his haunches as his brother rolled up, still laughing. Then, in his periphery, came the donkey being led by Helena in Corfiot dress again, cheeks as pink as a radish.
‘Smile, Andras,’ Marietta said, her hands on his shoulders. ‘Spiros has completed another task on his list thanks to you.’
Spiros smiled at him. ‘The donkey you organised arrived half an hour ago.’ He laughed. ‘It seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.’
He still had no idea what was going on except that his heart was still somewhat in crisis, not knowing whether it was safe to feel relieved. He swallowed, unable to comment.
‘Opportunity for …’ he said.
‘To make a joke with the best man,’ Marietta answered.
Spiros slapped his shoulder. ‘It was on my list.’
Those scrolls! To make a joke with him? From where he was sitting it was more a case of them making a joke of him. He got to his feet feeling nothing but humiliated and angry.
‘Come, Andras.’
He turned around at his mother’s voice. How could she be in on this? To let him be convinced something terrible had happened to his brother?
‘This …’ He loosened the top button of his shirt. ‘This is not funny.’
‘Andras,’ Isadora said. ‘It was a simple joke. A joke that has been played in our family for years. You remember when Mikalis got married?’
He didn’t remember his cousin Mikalis’s wedding. The only memories he had right now were of finding his father’s car at the side of the road and him unconscious inside it. He had pulled him out of the vehicle, got down on his knees in the dirt and tried to find some response, just like he had with Spiros.
Spiros laughed. ‘Mikalis made his whole body look like he had the most terrible disease and his best man had no idea what to do.’ He laughed again. ‘They actually got all the way to Corfu Town, to the hospital, asking for the doctor in charge of special diseases, before Mikalis had to admit it was just paint!’
Andras looked back to the house. Tess and Sonya were out on the lawn, their eyes on the scene. Had they witnessed this hoax? This deliberate attempt to make him look stupid? He gritted his teeth together, seething. ‘Excuse me, I should get a drink for my girlfriend.’ He looked directly at his mother then. ‘It seems no one is attending to our guests.’
He heard Isadora inhale deeply before she replied. ‘There is wine in jugs on the table. Or does “your girlfriend from England” usually need someone to serve her like in Downton Abbey?’
‘I will see to the drinks, Isadora,’ Marietta said, getting ready to move.
‘No,’ Andras snapped. ‘You have done enough.’ He tried to calm down, adrenalin still rushing through him. ‘I will do it.’
‘Andras, I did not think …’ Spiros began tentatively. Was his brother finally realising just what memories his prank had evoked? ‘I did not think that …’
Waving a hand, Andras cut him off. He couldn’t talk to him any more. He needed to move away from the family group before he said something he might later regret.
‘Do we help ourselves, do you think?’ Sonya asked, eyeing the earthenware flagons of liquid sitting on the long, rustic trestle table covered in a pretty white lace tablecloth.
Tess’s attention was with Andras as he made his way over. Something had happened down there in the middle of the garden. She had seen the urgency in his movements as he’d left the house, the way he had dropped to his knees on the grass and tended to his brother. Then a donkey had come onto the scene and people had started clapping. Andras’s eyes had darkened and the tension in his torso, when he’d stood up, had told her he was furious about something.
‘I don’t know whether I should but I’m quite thirsty and …’ Sonya deliberated.
‘Have wine,’ Andras stated as he finally reached them, his breathing ragged.
‘Oh, are you sure?’ Sonya asked. ‘I didn’t like to—’
‘Have it,’ he said. ‘Have all of it. Drink from the flagon. I am going to.’ He picked up one of the jugs and poured some into his mouth, a little drizzling down his chin.
Tess swallowed, watching as he wiped long fingers over his stubble, removing the liquid.
‘Well … I’ll get a glass,’ Sonya said, picking one up from the table.
‘What happened over there?’ Tess asked softly.
He shook his head. ‘My family and other animals. Just like the book.’
‘Shall I fill up wine glasses for you two?’ Sonya suggested.
‘What was wrong with your brother?’ Tess asked.
He scoffed. ‘Nothing. My family thought it would be funny to trick me into thinking he was half-dead for the sake of a list of wedding traditions.’
Tess looked over to Isadora and Marietta, heads close together as they walked up the garden. What were they plotting next?
‘I do not know why I am surprised,’ Andras said. ‘It does not matter what I do, it will never be right.’
Tess turned back to Andras. ‘Right for who?’
‘Right for my family. My mother.’
‘Well,’ Tess stated. ‘Her name on the birth certificate doesn’t give her the right to tell you how to live your life.’ She sniffed. ‘You worry too much about what she thinks. So much so you created a fake girlfriend, for God’s sake.’
Sonya nodded. ‘Tess does have a point.’
‘And you?’ Andras said, his eyes on Tess. ‘You do not worry about the thoughts of your family? Do things that you do not want to do for them?’
The question had Tess wishing Sonya would hurry up with that wine she was taking ages to pour. Her family. Her mum and dad who had sunk every penny they owned into Rachel’s wedding that had ended in divorce and then hers that never even got out of the church. No, she didn’t do anything for them. She’d run away and packed her guilt with her. And she was still not even halfway close to saving up the money to repay them both. Until she had done that, there was always going to be an awkwardness between them. Perhaps it was of her making, but she knew she had let them down and it still felt so utterly horrible. So she kept her distance. Out of sight. Out of mind. She had no real idea what they were doing with their lives right now. Was her mum still doing pottery? Was her dad still dating that Canadian woman? And what about her sister? They hadn’t spoken since Rachel had gone through the stage of following Phil when he left work again because someone had told her he had another new girlfriend. When was that? Was it really months?
‘Let’s have some wine, yes?’ Sonya said, arms breaking into the space, a wine glass in each.
Tess took the glass and knocked back a large mouthful. She smiled at Andras, the alcohol hit restoring a little confidence. ‘One thing I do know is, my family would never involve national dress, or a mule, in any of their dramas.’ Right on cue there was a bray from the donkey who seemed to have its head stuck in a bush of bougainvillea.
He leaned forward, face only inches away from hers and she instinctively held her breath. ‘But costumes,’ he breathed, ‘and an ass …’ He wet his lips. ‘Might make things a little more interesting, no?’
She quivered. She actually quivered, as her brain conjured up all manner of kinky right there on the lawn. It was not the Corfiot sun making its slow-burning descent that was heating her up, it was Andras, so incredibly close …
‘Pass them the babies!’
Before Tess had time to wonder where she could find something leather and tight on a Greek island, a large, bald six-month-old was thrust into her arms. It grinned, gums, a few teeth and drool sliding from its mouth. She couldn’t tell immediately if it was a boy or a girl but it had an air of Vladimir Putin about it.
‘Ooo, I’m not sure I … hold on! I’ll have to put the wine down. Oh, hello little one,’ Sonya said, as the baby was pushed at her.
Tess looked at her friend, arms around the small child who was immediately trying to rip her earrings from her lobes. This was the last thing Sonya needed. Getting up close and personal with someone in nappies when her relationship was faltering due to unresolved baby issues … She shook her head.
‘Ba!’ the baby in her arms declared, thumping its fist on her chest.
‘I’m not really a … that is, I don’t really … Tess began. All Greek eyes were on her as the baby decided to try out a full drum solo on her boobs. ‘Which one of you is the lucky mother?’ She swallowed. ‘Such a lovely … boy.’
‘It is a girl!’ Isadora exclaimed. ‘You do not know the difference between a boy and a girl.’
‘Usually, unless it’s Eurovision.’
Andras scooped the child out of her arms, raising it up to the sky and causing it to chuckle excitedly. ‘This is Athena.’
‘Lovely,’ Tess stated, picking up her glass of wine and having another gulp.
‘Ow! Sorry,’ Sonya said. ‘This little one seems to like my hair and my earrings.’ She tried to gently tease the baby’s fingers from her earrings and where it was attempting to pull out fistfuls of her hair.
‘Come!’ Isadora announced. ‘We will roll them on the bed!’
Tess almost spat out her wine. ‘What?’ She looked to Andras as Sonya was finally relieved of her baby. ‘What did she say?’
‘It is another Greek tradition,’ he answered, Athena tugging at the collar of his shirt. ‘Babies are rolled around the bed of couples who are to be married. It is believed to promote fertility.’
Tess laughed. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes, we are serious,’ Isadora said, appearing at close quarters and snatching Athena from Andras’s arms. ‘Perhaps, when the time comes, I will roll a baby around your bed too.’
Tess swallowed. How could the woman make something involving a baby sound like a threat?
Andras spoke to his mother in Greek, then slipped an arm around Tess’s shoulders, drawing her into his body a little. Tess watched as Isadora’s expression immediately darkened.
‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ Isadora stated, launching Athena against her shoulder and turning for the house.
Tess looked up at him. ‘What did you say to her?’
He smiled. ‘I simply said that she was welcome to roll the babies around our bed any time she liked.’
Her stomach squirmed just thinking about Andras’s bed – him between the sheets, her on top of him. This scenario was starting to get a lot harder now she was banned from seeking any other male attention while she was here.
‘They were lovely babies, lovely,’ Sonya said, and her comment made Tess pull herself together. She held her glass out to Andras. ‘Could you get us something a little stronger than wine?’
He nodded, taking the glass. ‘I know just the thing.’
Tess smiled, then as soon as he left the table she made a move back to Sonya, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry about the babies.’
Sonya shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly. Babies are everywhere.’
‘But not usually forced on you like that.’
Sonya sighed. ‘Little chubby cheeks … little eeny weeny fingers and toes …’
‘Covered in drool,’ Tess reminded her quickly. ‘Covering everything you own, including your body, in drool. And, if they’re ill, you’ll be wishing for just drool.’
‘They can be nice, though. All those smiles and giggles,’ Sonya mused. ‘You know, a little person you’ve made with the man you love.’
Tess gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘Let’s focus on us smiling and giggling as we stuff ourselves with Greek food tonight.’
‘And drink,’ Sonya added. ‘If we have enough drink we might end up being the ones drooling over everything.’
‘Cheers to that,’ Tess replied.