The Priest's Well (The Greek Village Collection Book 12) (9 page)

Then, as he is thinking that perhaps he should do something, say something, she lifts her chin, forces a smile and says, ‘Is the house really mine?’

She is inviting him to play.

‘Yes,’ he says kindly.

‘And the trees?’

‘Yes.’ He takes her hand.

‘And the well.’

‘And the well.’’ He strokes her knuckles.’

‘And the land?’

‘Everything around you is yours, Nefeli.’ As he says this, he looks deeply into her eyes to let her know he is included in that deal. She sighs and there is the smallest of smiles.

Unlike in America, the funeral is carried out immediately. With the weather so hot and no facility to cold store the body, it is the only way. The bishop turns up in recognition of the years of service Nefeli’s mama gave to the church. Marina from the corner shop also attends with Mitsos and his small-framed wife, Stella. Stella hands him an envelope and before the service begins, he opens it to find a request for him to bless the hotel’s grand opening. There will be food and drink and music. Life goes on.

Savvas has written his own letter, addressed to the bishop. He did not spend very long agonising over it, nor did he even bother to word it well. It is straight and to the point.

‘Bishop,’ it reads, ‘I thank you for your encouragement but it is with regret that I resign my position. I will complete the engagements on the books but I will be taking no more on past the end of the month.’ The hotel blessing is included in that list of duties as well now, but he does not mind that so much. There will be food and wine there. Maybe Nefeli will go. He hands his own letter to the bishop when no one is looking, and the bishop takes it with a small frown and pockets it unopened.

Nefeli. Poor Nefeli, alone now. She has no mama and those moments of him consoling her in the kitchen have led him to believe that his feelings are returned. She heard that he loved her and she fell into his arms to sob. What further confirmation does he need?

Six people follow the hearse from the church to the graveyard, and the coffin is interred.

Three of the party disperse after the burial, leaving the bishop and Nefeli to walk with him back to the church. The bishop has his open letter in his hand and does not look happy. He looks from Savvas to Nefeli and back, but Savvas refuses to feel any guilt. She makes him happy, gives him reason to live, kills his greed and all in all makes him a better person. Surely that must be the best reason in the world?

He will share the joyful news that he has resigned with her later. Her mama’s funeral is not the time. When they get back to the church, the bishop makes his excuses and leaves without a word about the resignation letter. Nefeli declares she needs time alone.

In the evening, he sits on his balcony drinking more ouzo and watches the sun go down. Technically, he muses, it is not his balcony any more. His home will be down in the cottage with Nefeli. His home will be amongst the olive trees with her. If the olives are not enough for them to live on, he will take a job in the nearby town of Saros. If that becomes a necessity, he will have to get his own car. The black four-wheel drive will be for the next priest. His own car, now that’s a nice thought.

Maria comes out of her front door, catches sight of him, and shakes her head forlornly. It makes him smile now. She will get such a surprise when he invites her to his wedding. He will invite her and the whole village! Maybe if this hotel is a nice place, he can have the reception there.

One ouzo becomes two and two become three and before he knows it, the night has passed and cockerels are crowing and the first rays of the sun are in his eyes. There is also a noise outside of metal against wood. Surely it is too early for anyone to be up. Rubbing his face to encourage wakefulness brings the world into focus, but what he really needs is water before he can take any interest in what the village is up to. In the kitchen, he drinks a litre of tap water straight down and takes another back up to the balcony. Nefeli won’t be here for another few hours to make his coffee. Another unusual sound comes from outside, from the side of the house, in the space between his house and the cottage.

Putting his glass down carefully on the balustrade, he leans over to see what is going on.

At first, it makes no sense. There is a pickaxe and a pile of ropes. The pickaxe is half-lodged under the well cover, which has been prised to one side. What on earth is going on? Nefeli will be horrified. Is this the church’s work? He must go and stop whoever it is.

As he is resolving to take action, Nefeli calmly comes out of her cottage.

He rubs his face with both his hands, his fingers rotating on his eyeballs, trying to gain better focus, make sense of what he is seeing. Nefeli rolls up her sleeves, loops one of the ropes around her waist, and tugs to check the other end is secure. Once she is satisfied, she lowers herself over the edge and into the well.

Savvas gasps. He watches her disappear beneath the well’s edge, hand over hand until there is nothing left to see. He thinks to go down, find out what is going on, but another part of him is in shock. He thought he knew her, that she shared her life with him, that he knew her thoughts, but this is something she has not even given him a hint about. This is something completely independent of him and it makes no sense. He would never revisit that church where he laid prone all those hours. He would nail the doors shut, bomb the place, have it levelled but he would not go inside, not for all the money in the world.

At first, his next thought seems a surreal notion. But then why else would she lower herself down there? It is crazy, but it is the only thing that makes sense. She simply wants to assure herself of the realities of what she experienced. See for herself that she created dreams to safeguard her sanity. It is easier for him; he never truly believed that he was lying on a beach or in front of a fire, but he could imagine touching the church floor to see if it is really as cold as he remembers it. Maybe that is what she is doing: proving that it is not that scary now she is grown and it is hers to do as she likes with. This is a new side he is seeing of her. A brave, bold, courageous side and he feels a tremendous sense of pride. What a women!

The rope, which had slackened, becomes taut again, and soon she reappears, hand over hand. He would never have given her credit for such strength. Her apron pocket is bundling and jolting against her skirts before her. Once on firm ground, she kneels, loosens her apron, and there are flashes and flames. The sun hits at angles, sending shards of light in all directions. The glints and blazes, glitterings and prisms of sunlight blind him so he cannot tell what he is seeing and only when the objects stop falling from her skirt to lay motionless on the ground is it clear what is there before her. In a heap lays a pile of gold coins, silver spoons, a small silver box, and a few other items that are indistinguishable from this distance.

Unable to move, he watches her fill a waiting bag with her trove, which she then carries into her cottage and closes the door behind her.

Savvas shuts his mouth, which has fallen open.

Maybe she kept this from him because she was not sure if it was a dream? Maybe she even wanted to surprise him. One thing is for sure: he will not have to get a job in Saros! The gold and silver hoard will be worth thousands! More than the value of the house. Should he wait for her to come to him or should he go to her now?

He should go to her. He has not even told her about the letter to the bishop yet! He will go down and tell her that he has quit the church and that they can now be married and she can show him the treasure!

He trots down the wide staircase, holding his cassock up between finger and thumb. His heart beats so hard, his chest feels like it might crack. The back door swings open as he runs into the olive grove, round the side of the house, and past the well. He stops just beyond the gaping black hole, and retraces his steps to stare down into the depths but doesn’t linger and instead hurries on to tap lightly but rapidly on her door.

‘Nefeli?’ he calls.

After a few minutes, she opens the door a crack.

‘Nefeli, it is me.’

She opens it wider, allowing him admittance. The gold is on the table. Some of the coins are stacked in towers, as if she has been counting them. The sight of it take his voice away and he just stares. There must be more wealth there than a person needs in a whole lifetime, no matter how well they live! After the initial distraction, he turns to her.

‘Nefeli.’ He wants to do this properly. He tries to slow his racing heart down, take it slowly. ‘I once asked you if I was not in the priesthood, would you and I be different, and you replied yes.’ He gazes into her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction. She is wide-eyed but does not offer any resistance to his words, and he allows himself to be encouraged. He lifts his cassock and drops to one knee.

‘Nefeli, I have left the priesthood. Will you marry me?’

A frown, a smile, a chuckle, a straight face. She seems to go through a whole range of emotions. It takes some time for her to compose herself.

‘Papas,’ she begins.

‘Savvas.’

‘Savvas, it would take someone with a personal conviction strong enough to make that person become a man of the church for me consider them as a possible partner.’ It is possibly the longest sentence he has ever heard her say. She looks down at him where he remains kneeling, her beautiful eyes, with deep, wide pupils reaching deep into his being.

‘And I am that man.’

‘Yes.’

‘But now I am free.’

‘You are.’ She is smiling now.

‘I am. I was a priest, and now I am not.’ His excitement is making him tremble. It is difficult to keep his balance.

‘So I could never marry you.’

Does she misunderstand?

‘No you could not, but now you can. I am free of the priesthood.’

‘And now you are free of the priesthood, I could never marry you.’

‘No, you can.’ This is not making sense.

‘No, I cannot. I will not. If you are fickle with the calling of God, how much more fickle will you be with people?’

‘But I love you.’

‘You love yourself.’ She does nothing to soften her words. There is a beeping outside. She goes through to the bedroom and returns with a stout leather bag. She sweeps her treasure into the bag and, snapping it shut, walks to the door.

‘Goodbye,’ she says.

‘Where are you going?’ Savvas doesn’t care that he is losing all dignity, running after her as she marches to the waiting taxi. ‘Nefeli, where are you going?’

She climbs into the backseat.

‘Athens,’ she inform the driver, who looks back at her with a frown. She fishes in her pocket and brings out some notes. The driver pockets them, smiling now.

‘Nefeli? Nefeli? Are you coming back?’

She tuts and rolls her eyes; a very Greek
‘no
.’

And the square in front of the church is suddenly empty. There is just him, and Maria outside her front door, arms folded across her chest and a sneer playing about her mouth.

The bishop’s car pulls up.

‘Well here we are.’ He leads the young man in the cassock from the chauffeur-driven car towards the grand house. ‘This is your house and you have a help who lives there.’ The bishop points to the cottage. Savvas ducks below the window ledge from where he has been watching. ‘He is called Savvas. He used to be a priest but has lost his way a bit, so out of kindness, we let him live there and be caretaker, but let us know if he is not up to the job.’

‘Oh, it is sad to hear when someone loses their way.’ The young priest cannot be much more than twenty. His beard is hardly there at all.

‘I think at one point, he became almost delusional.’

‘Oh dear, nothing too awful, I hope.’

The bishop takes on his confidential tone.

‘Well, between you and me…’ He moves closer to the new priest but even his whispers carry through the cottage’s open window. ‘He said the girl that lived in the cottage before him killed her own mama! He said he found items of clothing that she had stolen from her neighbour stuffed up her chimney. He said that she had burnt charcoal in a pan in the sealed room. Carbon monoxide poisoning. The girl herself has disappeared to Athens, and we cannot trace her, but then, why would we? The mind does funny things under stress.’

The bishop sighs before continuing. ‘And if that were not enough, he claimed that this same girl killed the priest before him, too! It is hard to find sympathy for a man who goes to these lengths in his lies. But then, perhaps they are not exactly lies, if he believes what he says. His mind was focused on the material things in life, you see. One of his fantasies is that this same girl lowered herself down that well and came up with her skirts full of gold. We have tried to keep his state of mind out of public knowledge. It is not always a good thing for the people to know everything. No, indeed it is not! What this village needs now is a steady man like you. A steady man who can work towards both the good of God and the church.’

The young man is smiling and nodding with enthusiasm. But he stops suddenly and Savvas shifts his own position to remain hidden behind one of the shutters, following this new priest with his gaze.

Outside her door, opposite, with arms folded, stands Maria, appraising the new priest.

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