Seventy-three
Agios Spyridon
Light from dozens of candles filled the holy space as the bride and groom stood before the priest, their family and friends, a donkey, a goat and three chickens (an odd number for luck) to become man and wife.
‘What are they doing next?’ Joey whispered to Sonya.
Sonya leafed through the book on her lap, eyes scrutinising the writing within. ‘I’m not sure. Did they do the exchange of crowns?’
‘Yes,’ Tess said. ‘Didn’t you see? Three times of swapping.’
‘It says something here about a common cup,’ Sonya stated.
‘I think you’ll find that’s called a mug,’ Tess replied.
‘No, there’s a cup that the priest fills with wine that symbolises life and the couple each take three sips out of it to signify how they will share their life together.’ Sonya looked to Joey. ‘This is so traditional and lovely. Maybe we could incorporate that into our wedding.’
‘Three sips of Davey Black Friar’s mead,’ Joey suggested.
‘Oh yes! He does make a lovely mead,’ Sonya agreed.
‘They’re walking around the table,’ Tess pointed out.
‘Are they?’ Sonya asked. ‘With candles and the Bible?’ She shifted her position, looking around the large frame of Fotis who was stood in front of them.
‘It looks that way,’ Tess answered.
‘How’s Helena holding up?’ Sonya asked. ‘I can’t see her from here.’
Tess leaned out a little. ‘I can see the top of her flowered hat. I think she’s still standing … oh, they’re coming down the middle of the church.’
‘Did they do it?’ Sonya asked. ‘Are they married?’
‘I think so,’ Tess said. ‘Everyone is smiling.’
‘Kira’s Uncle Timon has been smiling since we got on the boat. I think he has a hip flask of tsipouro.’
‘What’s tsipouro?’ Joey inquired.
‘A bit like mead,’ Sonya said, patting his leg.
‘Or battery acid,’ Tess added.
Andras now had a sister-in-law and his little brother was married, about to embark on a new adventure on the Greek mainland. He couldn’t be happier for him. It had been a beautiful ceremony, his mother had cried happy tears and as the prayers and traditions were being shared, he had thought only of Tess, his deep affection for her and how their meeting had changed him.
The bright sunshine greeted them as they stepped out of the church to almost an entire village full of people cheering and clapping their hands together. It seemed Agios Spyridon, like Kalami, had all come out to celebrate the wedding Greek style.
As people pumped his hands and Helena and the other young children gave out sugared almonds to everyone, he searched for Tess. He had something he wanted to give her.
‘I am married!’ It was Spiros, grinning like a man who was destined to spend the rest of his days with the love of his life. ‘Married!’
Andras clapped him into a brotherly hug, holding him tight. ‘Congratulations, Spiro. I am so happy for you.’
Spiros held Andras away from him, eying him sincerely. ‘And I am happy for you, with Tess.’
Spiros shook his head and brushed some imaginary dust off his brother’s suit jacket. ‘She is going back to England soon.’
‘She is?’ Spiros inquired.
‘Of course,’ Andras replied. ‘That is where she lives.’
‘You do not think to ask her to stay?’ Spiros asked. ‘I know what I said before, but the way you are with her, it is like me and Kira.’
Andras smiled. ‘No one is like you and Kira, Spiro.’
‘I get it,’ Spiros said. ‘You do not want to talk about your feelings with your brother.’ He opened his arms. ‘But now I am married I have been bestowed with counselling properties.’
Andras let out a laugh.
‘Do not mock me; ask Papa Yiannis.’
Andras drew Spiros back into a hug, squeezing hard. ‘I am so proud of you, my brother.’
‘Stop now, please, Kira is desperate for the photographer to capture all these crazy “emotional” pictures. I am planning to be in none of those!’
Andras stepped back and, as he did so, there was Tess, standing under the large eucalyptus tree seeking shelter from the direct sunlight. The cream, light fabric dress she was wearing moved with the gentle sea breeze, her hair too, that beautiful hair …
‘Go to her,’ Spiros ordered. ‘Give her that candle I saw you put into your pocket.’
Andras smiled at his brother then stepped towards Tess. The wedding had been so different to a traditional English wedding. There had been no exchanging of vows, just the priest making blessings and a lot of chanting, but the symbolism, the things done for luck, had been utterly charming and captivating. This was all on the cards for Sonya very soon. Her best friend was going to be putting that scrapbook of wedding plans to the test very soon.
‘Tess.’
And there was Andras, looking super-hot in that suit, a sliver of olive chest exposed beneath the unbuttoned white shirt, stood beside her.
She smiled. ‘The wedding was lovely.’
‘Could you see? There were so many people in the church I could hardly breathe.’ He smiled.
‘We were behind Fotis,’ she answered. ‘But we made it work.’
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and drew out a taper candle, simple, no Jo Malone, its wick black where it had been lit. He held it out to her.
‘What is it?’ Tess asked. ‘I mean, obviously it’s a candle but …’
‘It is one of the candles that was lit during the wedding ceremony,’ Andras replied. ‘It represents everlasting love and Kira and Spiros will keep the candles until they are all burned right down to the end.’ He gave her the candle. ‘Except this one. This one I want to give to you.’
‘Andras …’ Tess said.
‘You do not have to say anything. I just want you to have it and to take it back to England and maybe light it and remember Corfu.’
She wrapped her fingers around the candle. ‘I won’t forget Corfu, Andras.’
‘Andras!’ It was Marietta calling, beckoning furiously from a few yards away. ‘It’s the donkey!’
‘Go,’ Tess said, sniffing away her emotion as best as she could. ‘Go and be the koumbaro. Did I say that right?’
Andras nodded. ‘Yes.’ He kissed her quickly. ‘Sagapo.’
‘What?’ Tess exclaimed as Andras made off, the donkey appearing from the right adopting speeds of a steed Frankie Dettori might have mounted. ‘What does that mean?’
She slipped her free hand into her bag, determined to ask Google Translate the answer, but checking the home screen she saw she had three missed calls, all from the same person. Mum.
It was time to face the music. Her stomach in knots, she pressed the screen. Closing her eyes she listened to the number eventually connect and then:
‘Hello.’
There was her mother’s voice, sounding more poignant than ever before.
Voice choking up, Tess replied. ‘Hello, Mum, it’s me.’