Seventy-two
Kalami Bay
‘My engagement ring changes colour almost every time I look at it,’ Sonya announced. She held out her hand, twisting and turning it in the sunlight like it was some sort of heat-activated mood ring. ‘See how the rubies are dark now, like Morello cherries, and now …’ She moved her hand again. ‘Lighter, like rose wine.’
‘Is Joey OK?’ Tess asked, waving a hand in front of her face to ward off the heat that was stifling, here on the wooden jetty on the beach. Joey was stood a few yards away, carefully positioned in the only bit of shade available from the overhang of a sign advertising boat hire.
‘It’s the heat,’ Sonya answered. ‘We had to get five fans for the bedroom last night. At first, given the stale air issue, we were going to try without anything, but then Joey’s bites started itching and he started scratching and I said cooling him off was the only way to ease things.’
‘I was hoping you would be hotting things up in the bedroom, not cooling things down,’ Tess remarked.
‘Oh, we did that, twice, before the itching and scratching – and a little bit before I introduced him to ouzo.’
‘Here they are,’ Tess announced, her eyes going to the beach.
‘Oh my!’ Sonya exclaimed. ‘Kira looks so beautiful.’
‘Now you have to spit,’ Tess ordered.
‘What?’
‘According to Greek tradition – Andras filled me in – every time someone compliments the bride today you have to spit.’
‘What, here? On the floor?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Let me get a tissue,’ Sonya said, unzipping her handbag.
‘Apparently she also has a lump of sugar under one of those gloves and a gold coin in her shoe,’ Tess added.
‘Goodness!’
Kira did look beautiful. Her abundant hair was plaited back off her face, flowers threaded into the design and her dress was simple, long and white with a lace cape over her shoulders. On her feet were the shoes all the women had signed at the pre-wedding family dinner.
Spiros led the donkey, Andras by his side, so handsome in royal blue suits, white shirts and waistcoats. Tess’s skin prickled in reaction to her lover’s gaze as he made his way towards the wedding guests waiting by the two large boats that would take them all on the short cruise to Agios Spyridon.
‘I think I’m going to cry,’ Sonya said, the tissue she had got out to spit in now serviced in wiping at her eyes. ‘I wonder where she got that lace cape … do you think that would look good on me?’
Suddenly, Tess’s arm was not her own and she looked to see Isadora at her side, in the process of linking their arms together.
‘You will sit with me,’ Isadora stated.
Tess looked to Sonya for some sort of assistance or a get-out. This could not be good.
On board the boat, filled with both families of the wedding couple, Papa Yiannis led some holy chanting to which everyone seemed to know how to respond. Sonya and Joey were sat at the very edge of the boat, hands locked together. Tess’s arm was still being softly crushed, Greek style, by Isadora, who hadn’t released her grip since they had set sail.
‘My son says that he loves you.’ Isadora spoke low in Tess’s ear.
She wasn’t sure what to say. She had a feeling this was going to be a little bit like watching a sex scene on television when you were thirteen and your parents were in the same room. She opted for nodding her head.
‘Andras does not love easily,’ Isadora continued.
‘I know,’ Tess replied.
‘He might seem like the strong Greek man who can take on the world but … there is much more than that.’
‘I know,’ Tess repeated. ‘Isadora, I should apologise for pretending to be something I wasn’t when we first met. I didn’t think enough about it and, before I knew it, I was in the middle of it and then … well, here we are.’ She didn’t know if she had ever said as many words and said absolutely nothing at all.
‘My boys,’ Isadora said, shaking her head, eyes going to Andras and Spiros at the head of the vessel. ‘They will do and say anything rather than tell a truth I do not want to hear and face the consequences.’
‘If we are talking truths and parents,’ Tess began, ‘I haven’t been able to tell my mother anything that wasn’t about tea or mackerel hotpot for a year.’
She felt, rather than saw, Isadora’s turn of head, the weight of the Greek woman’s gaze on her.
‘I think it is in all children,’ she sighed. ‘A deep despondency when you know you have done something to disappoint the ones that love you most, and you’re sorry, but suddenly, somehow everything has changed.’
‘You must speak with your mother,’ Isadora ordered.
‘I know,’ Tess answered. ‘I’m going to.’
Her arm was squeezed again, but this time more a reassuring pinch than boa-constrictor-on-a-mission.
‘I see how Andras is with you,’ Isadora said. ‘And this time … I hear what he tells me.’
Tess didn’t know how to respond. She looked across the boat at the main players in the wedding, watching Andras talking with his brother, then smoothing down the shoulders of his jacket.
‘You make him happy,’ Isadora admitted. She sniffed. ‘Perhaps that is enough.’ She sighed. ‘I have always only wanted for him to be happy.’
‘He makes me happy too,’ Tess finally replied, smiling as Andras looked over at her.
‘Good,’ Isadora answered. ‘Then today we will all be happy!’ She dropped Tess’s arm and stood up with the aid of her stick. ‘Everybody sing! Come on! This is a wedding, not a funeral! We will sing and we will dance! Ela!’