YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (21 page)

Annita had drunk little, but there was a pleasurable flush to her cheeks and she was enjoying being the centre of attention. Andreas had joined them and was standing on the fringe of the crowd, clapping in time to the music.

The dancing and carousing continued until the early hours of the morning. The bouzouki player seemed tireless and willing to play forever. The women slipped away first, gathering in little knots in the doorways, watching as the men continued to dance, jumping and slapping their boots. Yannis felt exhilarated, this time he was the central figure, before he had only been one of the neighbours joining in when there had been a party like this one. He wished his friends from Heraklion could be there to watch and join in also. Parties like this only took place in small towns and villages and he doubted that they had ever experienced the like in Heraklion. The dancers continued, their numbers dwindling, as they made their way back to their homes, exhausted and the worse for drink in most cases. The bouzouki player continued, even when the street was clear.

Annita giggled. ‘Shall I tell him the party’s over?’

‘I think he’s realised.’ A last wailing note was heard; then the shuffling, unsteady footsteps grew fainter.

The family looked at one another uncertainly. Andreas was the first to come to a decision. ‘I’m off to bed. Don’t anyone wake me tomorrow.’

Elena smiled wearily. ‘I agree. We may as well get what little sleep we can. You particularly, Annita, you have to be off early.’

Annita pouted. During the last exciting hours she had forgotten she would have to leave for the hospital again in the early morning. With a sigh she mounted the stairs.

‘I’ll wake you before I leave, Yannis.’

‘Wake me in good time. I’ll walk to the hospital with you.’

On impulse she took his face between her hands and kissed him. ‘I’m sorry I was so horrid to you earlier. I do love you, Yannis.’

Yiorgo cleared his throat. ‘Come on. I want to get to bed myself now.’

Annita and Yannis walked to the hospital in silence, their heads heavy and their eyes dull from lack of sleep. Yannis squeezed her hand.

‘I’ll try to get a message to you before I return to Heraklion to say what day I’m travelling. You might be able to get the day off again.’

‘I will, somehow I will.’ She clung to him, her eyes wet with tears. ‘I wish I could come to Heraklion with you.’

Gently Yannis disentangled her hands. ‘You concentrate on your nursing and I’ll concentrate on my studies. It will make the time go quicker.’ He bent and kissed her, wishing he could feel the same passion rising in him as he did when he kissed Louisa.

From inside the hospital a bell could be heard. ‘I must go.’ She jerked herself away. ‘I’ll be late.’ She ran through the iron gates and opened the massive door, raising her hand fleetingly to Yannis as she entered. For a while Yannis stood and looked at the door as though he expected Annita to reappear, then he turned and walked slowly away, trying to sort out the turmoil of his emotions.

Yannis disturbed Andreas as he scrabbled in his bundle to find a pullover that would be thick enough to protect him from the chill of the wind whilst he was on the boat.

‘What are you up to?’

‘I’m getting a pullover. Your Pappa is taking me to the canal.’

Andreas grunted and turned over, then rolled back again. ‘I’m sorry you’re not staying longer. I’d have liked to talk to you more about Heraklion.’

‘I’ll be back after Christmas. We can talk then.’

Yannis shouldered his bundle and began to trudge along the dusty path to Plaka. The cluster of cottages drew nearer and his steps quickened until he was almost running. As he rounded the curve of the track he saw his father.

‘Pappa!’

Yannis senior looked up. ‘Yannis! Hey, Yannis is here.’

Figures appeared from inside the house and rushed to greet him. Yannis found himself surrounded by his brothers and sisters. He gazed at them incredulously. ‘You’ve all grown so much. It’s only a few weeks since I saw you last – and look at you now.’

They plied him with questions and he answered as best he could, promising to tell them more later. ‘I want to see Mamma. Where is she? When we’re all together I’ll tell you about Heraklion and Aghios Nikolaos.’

Stelios led the way inside calling excitedly for his mother, who left her baking to fling her arms round her eldest son, then she released him and held him at arm’s length.

‘You look pale, Yannis. You need some country air – and what’s this?’ She indicated the scar from Yannis’s hairline to his ear.

‘It’s nothing. I’m very tired, Mamma. I’ll tell you all about it in a moment. I’d love some coffee first.’

Seated at the table in the living room Yannis described the party that had taken place in Aghios Nikolaos the previous night. ‘That’s why I’m tired. I wish you could have been there, but it just happened. I didn’t expect Yiorgo to ask me if Annita’s earrings were a betrothal gift, and then for him to tell the neighbours.’

‘There’s no harm done, but you’ll finish your schooling before you think of marriage, won’t you, Yannis?’

‘Of course, Mamma. If I get married I shall need a job. The pay I get for working in the museum wouldn’t keep me.’

He told them about listing the pottery and his excitement at finding a golden axe, how well he had done in his exams and how he had fallen down the stairs and cut his head.

‘Is your head quite healed?’ His mother was all concern.

‘It’s fine. It’s just a bit pale where I had to wear a bandage for a week.’

‘Maybe we could ask the Widow to have a look at you,’ suggested Maria.

‘Mamma, I’m fine, really. I’ve seen a doctor.’

His mother still looked dubious and Yannis decided it was time to change the subject. He turned to his sister. ‘What was your exciting news from Aghios Nikolaos, Maria?’

‘Oh, yes, I’d almost forgotten. I sold a picture to some tourists.’

‘Really!’ Yannis was impressed. ‘What was it of?’

Maria giggled. ‘Pappa and Uncle Yiorgo.’

Yannis raised his eyebrows. ‘What were they doing?’

‘Drinking and talking. I just happened to be sitting on the wall and I sketched them for something to do. Some people passing by liked it and bought it from me.’

‘That’s wonderful. Have you done some more? I’d like to see them.’

‘I’ll show you later,’ promised Maria. ‘They’re not really very good.’

The day wore on, Yannis felt refreshed when he had eaten the meal his mother had prepared, but still very tired. By the early evening he was yawning surreptitiously, but his mother noticed.

‘You must go to bed. We shall none of us be late.’

Yannis was grateful. He longed for nothing more than to lie down and sleep. The revelries of the previous night had caught up with him. He had no idea how much later the rest of the family went to their beds; once his head touched the pillow he knew no more until Stelios shook him awake.

‘I want to show you where I found some pottery.’

Yannis groaned. ‘Not yet, Stelios; I’m not awake.’ Stelios sat back on his haunches and Yannis could feel his brother’s eyes on his face. He tried to ignore him, but found it impossible. ‘All right, I’ll get up. Give me a little while to dress and have some coffee.’

Stelios waited until he saw Yannis draw on his trousers; then he scampered away. His father would be wondering why he had taken so long to fetch his cigarettes.

By the time Yannis joined his family in the fields it was nearly mid-day. He had been more tired and slept longer than he had realised. No wonder Stelios had been impatient and woken him. He stood and watched the scene before him. The girls chattered and giggled as they worked, piling up discarded vegetation well away from the vines and carob trees. Yiorgo plodded slowly, attending to the vines, which they tried hard to grow on the poor soil, pulling up weeds that threatened to choke the roots, cutting off a dead piece, trailing a tendril that was trying to go its own independent way. Stelios was supposed to be helping him and Yannis was forced to smile at the similarity between his brother and himself. For a short while Stelios would pull weeds assiduously, then sit on his haunches and examine something he would either discard or put in his pocket. Yannis made his way up the hillside to where his father was planting, each vine the same distance apart, the line as straight and true as if he had used a rule to measure.

‘Pappa, Stelios wants to show me where he’s found some pottery. Is that all right? I’ll help later.’

Yannis senior sighed. ‘If I can find a place where there isn’t any pottery I’ll put Stelios to work there. He’s becoming as bad as you were.’

Yannis grinned and ambled over to his youngest brother. Stelios led the way to the other end of the vineyard. It was land his father had only recently begun to cultivate.

‘It was here,’ announced Stelios.

Yannis went down on his knees. ‘Scrape over the top layer with your trowel, then look to see if you have found anything,’ directed Yannis. They pored over the ground together, removing small shards of pottery and placing them in a pile. Yannis watched as Stelios scraped diligently and the pile grew, occasionally he would stretch out his hand and examine a piece more closely, pointing out details to Stelios. It appeared to be mostly Roman, hard, red and shiny. Stelios listened open-mouthed as his brother told him how the Romans had banded together to become a nation with a most formidable army.

Yannis senior caught scraps of the conversation as he worked. He was impressed by Yannis’s knowledge and also by his patience with the younger boy, answering all his questions, however obvious the answers. Yannis and Stelios were too engrossed in their conversation to notice that the others had taken a break until Anna ran over.

‘Come along, it’s lunch time.’

Yannis looked up in surprise. ‘I didn’t realise. Come on, Stelios, we’ll finish later.’

Babbis appeared, as he had in the summer months, and greeted Yannis with pleasure. His attention seemed focused mainly on Maria as before and Yannis envied him. His mother was a widow and there would be plenty of room for Maria to move into the cottage if they married. Babbis was content to stay and work on the land as his father had done before him, seeming to have no other ambition than producing a healthy harvest.

Yannis could sit still no longer. ‘Come on, Stelios. Let’s see what else we can find.’

The brothers wandered off together and their father shook his head. It was a good job he had Yiorgo who asked for nothing more than to be out in the fields tending the vines and olives. His other two sons would make useless farmers. A few more years and he would have to ask Yiorgo and Elena to take Stelios under their wing so he could attend the Gymnasium.

The temperature dropped rapidly during the afternoon and Yannis senior scanned the sky anxiously. He hoped the rain would hold off just a few more days and that his oldest son would be more useful on the morrow. An extra hand could make all the difference.

Maria had their meal waiting for them when they returned, Yannis and Stelios surreptitiously emptying their pockets before they entered the house. Yannis ate with relish, much to his mother’s delight. The day out in the open air had given him an appetite. They settled round the table comfortably for the evening, asking Yannis to tell them once again about Heraklion and all he did whilst he was there.

Yannis sighed and was most relieved when his old school master knocked the door, having heard that Yannis was home and wanting to ask how he found the High School. Once again Yannis related the events of the past few months and Father Theodorakis’s eyes became misty as he began to recollect his own youth spent in the town.

‘Do you meet by the fountain, Yannis?’

‘Yes, every day, we eat at the taverna just across from it.’

Father Theodorakis smiled. ‘Do they still do the best kebabs?’

‘We think so.’

The talk continued, but Yannis was interested once again. It was no longer him that was relied upon for information; the attention had turned to the schoolmaster. The younger children were sent to bed when their mother noticed Stelios was falling asleep and Maria was sent out to tell the Widow that Yannis was there and invite her to join them.

The little house gradually filled with people and Yannis senior refilled glasses continually. Yannis remained the centre of attention for the villagers, many of whom had never been further than Elounda, and although he tried to describe Heraklion he felt they did not believe his stories of water coming from a tap in the kitchen and a toilet that could be flushed clean. The shed behind the house, with an earth floor that the chickens could pick clean, was their excuse for a toilet, although some families, like Yannis’s, had their own water pump in the back yard.

Yiorgo sidled out of the room and slipped off to bed and Yannis wished he could join him. He had been allowed to oversleep that morning, but he had no doubt that his father would expect him to do his share of work whilst he was staying. By the time the last neighbour left the house Yannis was yawning widely. His mother was most concerned for him.

‘I am tired,’ Yannis admitted. ‘I usually go to bed at a reasonable hour, but these last few days it’s been the early hours of the morning.’

‘Poor boy. Off you go. We won’t disturb you tomorrow.’

His father looked at him scathingly. ‘It just shows how unhealthy it is to live in a town. No stamina. I’ll be up as usual tomorrow.’

‘You’re used to it,’ Maria tried to placate her husband.

‘There’s a lot to be done before the weather breaks. I was counting on Yannis as an extra hand,’ Yannis senior continued to grumble.

‘I will help, Pappa. I’ll have recovered by tomorrow, then I’ll be able to work as hard as you.’

Yannis senior doubted his son’s boast, but he too was tired and not averse to going to bed. ‘Go on up,’ he said. ‘I forget you use your brain for work and not your back.’

The slight hurt Yannis, but he made no reply. ‘Goodnight,’ he called from the foot of the stairs. ‘Wake me when you get up.’

It was Yiorgo who woke Yannis just after dawn. ‘Come on, sleepy head. Pappa has work for us.’