YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (76 page)

‘She says,’ Doctor Stavros took a deep breath. ‘She says she’s the daughter of Yiorgo Pavlakis.’

The doctor was quite unprepared for Yannis’s reaction to the news. He turned white, his hands clenched and unclenched. He grasped the doctor by his shirt and his voice was hoarse with emotion when he spoke.

‘Tell me that’s not true.’

Doctor Stavros tried to pull away. ‘What’s the matter? For God’s sake man, you’re strangling me.’

Slowly Yannis relaxed his grip and wiped a trembling hand over his forehead. ‘She can’t be. It would be too cruel.’

‘She says her father’s the mayor of Heraklion; you say the mayor was Yiorgo Pavlakis. He was a friend of yours so you must know if she’s his child.’ The doctor’s voice seemed to be coming from far away.

Abruptly Yannis rose to his feet and began to hurry down the path. The doctor followed more slowly, puzzled by Yannis’s shock at his news. Yannis stopped at the tunnel entrance where Phaedra was showing Anna the drinking fountain.

‘Anna, I want to ask you about your Mamma and Pappa. You say your Pappa is the mayor of Heraklion?’

Anna nodded.

‘What’s his name?’

‘Yiorgo Pavlakis.’

‘And your Mamma is Louisa? You live in a taverna?’

Anna nodded again. ‘And Pappa is a teacher, too,’ she volunteered.

Yannis’s voice sounded strangled. ‘He was my teacher, Anna.’

Anna’s face lit up. ‘You know him?’

‘Yes, Anna.’ Yannis turned and walked away, as the doctor caught up with him.

‘Yannis, what’s wrong with you? You’re behaving like a lunatic.’

‘How do you expect me to behave?’ Yannis shook off the doctor’s hand and walked rapidly up the path. Yannis pushed his way through the door of the hospital and looked around. Father Minos was sitting beside the mattress of a woman who was obviously dying. There could be no help from him yet. Disconsolately Yannis sat outside and waited.

When Father Minos left the hospital he was tired and drained, quite unprepared for Yannis’s wild, incoherent speech. He took his arm.

‘Be quiet, Yannis. I don’t understand anything you’re saying. Come back to my house. I want a glass of wine to clear my head. You sound as though you could do with one as well. I’ve been in the hospital for nearly twenty four hours and I’m exhausted.’

Yannis hung his head. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be troubling you at a time like this, but I need to talk to you. I need your advice.’

Father Minos refused to talk until they each had a glass of wine and he had removed his sandals. He wriggled his toes in appreciation. ‘Now, Yannis, what’s troubling you?’

‘A girl was brought over from the mainland last night. You were up at the hospital so you wouldn’t have seen her.’

Father Minos nodded. ‘I was told. She’s no more than a child, I gather.’

‘That’s right. Phaedra and I were asked to look after her until the doctor had seen her. She says she has a birthmark.’ Yannis’s face took on a stricken look. ‘I didn’t even ask the doctor if he’d diagnosed! I must find him.’

‘You can see him again later.’

Yannis ran a trembling hand through his hair. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘You don’t want this girl to live with you?’

‘I don’t mind and Phaedra’s delighted to have a child to fuss over.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’ Father Minos was beginning to feel impatient. He wanted to go to bed and catch up on his sleep.

‘I think she’s my daughter.’

The glass fell from the priest’s fingers. ‘Your daughter!’

Yannis nodded. ‘It’s quite possible that Yiorgo Pavlakis’s wife had my child.’

Father Minos waited quietly. ‘Do you wish me to confess you?’

‘It’s too late for confession. I paid for Louisa; I feel no guilt there. She was a prostitute. When I returned to Heraklion she told me she was going to marry Yiorgo as she was pregnant.’ Yannis smiled wryly.

‘Couldn’t it have been Yiorgo’s child?’

Yannis shook his head. ‘She was supposed to be betrothed to him, but refused to discuss marriage with him. She told me she was happy with her way of life. Poor Yiorgo. He worshipped her.’

‘What makes you think the child was yours? You say she was a prostitute.’

‘It was the way she spoke to me.’

‘Let’s assume the child is yours. What then?’

‘That’s what I wanted to ask you. Should I tell her?’

‘Can you be certain she is your child?’

Yannis considered. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Then you can’t lay claim to her. How would Yiorgo feel after all this time?’

‘O, God, you don’t know, of course. The doctor brought some news with him. Heraklion has fallen and the Germans have shot the government. Yiorgo is dead.’

Father Minos crossed himself. ‘Yannis, think for a moment what kind of effect you would have on this child. You say the man she has called ‘Pappa’ all her life has been killed and you’re suggesting that you should tell her he wasn’t her father anyway. All you want to do is salve your conscience. You should be praying that the girl has a birthmark and nothing worse. Go into church, Yannis, and spend some time on your knees. Say a prayer for the soul of Yiorgo Pavlakis whilst you’re there.’ Father Minos leant back in his chair and shut his eyes. So Louisa had been speaking the truth. This he would have to think about.

Anna sat by herself looking out across the sea. Below the waves pounded on the rocks, matching the pounding in her head. She was confused and felt as though she was living in a dream from which she would finally awaken and find herself back in the taverna in Heraklion. After the doctor had left Father Minos had spent a long time talking to her. He had explained that her Pappa had been killed by the Germans and that at present her mother would have no way of getting to Aghios Nikolaos to find her and take her home. She had cried, dry, shaking sobs, which had racked her body and finally fallen asleep in Phaedra’s arms. Now, two weeks later, she was wondering how much longer it would be before her mother finally found where she was.

The wind was rising and Anna shivered. She rose slowly and walked to the edge of the path where there was a drop to the cruel granite rocks below. Cautiously she peered over, watching the waves as they sucked and gurgled or broke in a cloud of spray. She almost toppled over the edge when her arm was taken in a firm grip.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I was watching the waves.’

‘There are safer places to watch them.’ Flora steered her away from the edge. ‘The cliff could crumble and give way at any time. You must learn where to avoid on this island.’

‘I shan’t be here much longer,’ Anna assured her. ‘My Mamma will come for me.’

‘And when your Mamma does come she’ll want to find you safe and well, not covered in bruises where you’ve slipped down the cliff. You can watch the waves from here. You should be safe enough. You ought to have a shawl around you, the wind is cold.’

‘I’m warm enough. The waves are not as high here,’ she complained.

‘They soon will be. There’s going to be quite a storm. It will be too rough for Manolis to come over so I’m going up to the hospital to help.’

‘Do you like helping?’

‘Not much, but someone has to. I’m not a lot of use.’ Flora pointed to her mutilated arm.

‘How did you do that?’

‘The doctor had to cut off my arm to save my life. It was poisoning all of me.’

‘Don’t you mind only having one arm?’

Flora smiled. ‘I’d rather have two, but I’d rather be alive than dead, so there’s not a lot to mind about.’

Anna shuddered. ‘Some of the people over here make me feel ill.’

Flora gazed at her sadly. ‘Anna, if it makes you feel ill to look at them, think how they feel when they look at themselves. Never let them know. It hurts far more than the disease when you know people can’t bear to look at you.’

‘I’ll be glad when I can go home.’

‘I’m sure you will, but we shall miss you. We like having you here.’ Flora felt a catch in her throat.

Anna stayed watching the waves for most of the morning. The scene of wild desolation matched her mood and she was glad to be alone. Hunger finally drove her back to the house where Phaedra had soup simmering and freshly baked bread from the communal oven.

‘What have you been doing all morning?’

‘Watching the sea.’

‘You should have had a shawl with you. The wind can cut right through you. You don’t want to catch a chill.’

Anna shrugged. ‘I won’t catch a chill. I’ve never had a chill,’ she boasted.

‘You’ve never lived on an island before, either. Now, have you finished the writing Yannis set for you? He wants to spend the afternoon with you.’

‘Why should I have to do lessons?’

‘You should be pleased that Yannis bothers. No one taught me how to read and write when I was a child.’

‘I don’t think Yannis likes teaching me.’

Phaedra looked at her in amazement. ‘Of course he does. Yannis loves teaching. He’s taught many of us to sign our names and read the newspapers.

‘I can sign my name and read,’ protested Anna.

‘ So Yannis can teach you other things. You’re very lucky to have a teacher all to yourself.’

‘It would be more fun with other people.’

Phaedra looked at her sympathetically. ‘I’ll see what Yannis says. Maybe some lessons you could join in with the others.’

Anna nodded. There was obviously no way she was going to avoid the lessons. ‘I’d like to learn to sew,’ she volunteered. ‘Like you do.’

‘I can teach you to sew in the evenings.’

‘I’d rather do that in the day time than the lessons,’ Anna tried again. ‘When I go back home I won’t be taught how to sew.’

‘Doesn’t your Mamma sew?’

Anna shook her head. ‘She’s too busy to show me. She has to work in the taverna.’

Phaedra wished she could think of a way to change the subject. ‘Maybe your Mamma will let you stay with us a little longer if she’s so busy.’

Anna looked at Phaedra from under her lashes. ‘May I get down? I’ve finished.’

‘You may, then get your pencils and papers.’

Anna returned and sat at the table bored. Yannis had not arrived and Phaedra insisted that she waited there for him. She began to draw, first the pot of geraniums, then Phaedra busy in the kitchen area, Father Minos as she remembered him when he had talked to her so seriously, Flora, with the arm of her blouse hanging limply, Manolis tying up his boat at the jetty. She had almost finished the picture of Manolis when Yannis entered the room.

‘Practising your writing?’

Anna tried to shuffle the papers out of sight, but she was not quick enough. Yannis picked them up, holding them at arm’s length; then he looked at Anna. It was the look she hated, it seemed to go right through her as though he were trying to see her heart pumping. When he spoke his voice was very quiet and controlled.

‘Where did you learn to draw like this, Anna?’

Anna shrugged. ‘I just draw.’

Yannis nodded. ‘You’re a very clever little girl. May I borrow these? I’d like to show Father Minos.’

‘You can have them if you want them. I can always do some more.’

Yannis hurried to Father Minos, pushing open the door of the house without ceremony and sat down opposite him at the table.

‘I want to show you something.’ Yannis spread the drawings out in front of him.

Father Minos studied them carefully. ‘They’re not bad, not bad at all. Who did them?

‘Anna.’

‘In that case they’re very good.’

‘The last time I saw drawings like this they’d been done by my sister Maria. I know Yiorgo and Louisa couldn’t draw, so she must have inherited it from my family.’ Yannis’s eyes were glowing.

Father Minos held up his hand. ‘Yannis, it proves nothing. She could have inherited the talent from her grandparents.’

‘She could, but these pictures are identical in style to those drawn by Maria.’

‘How long is it since you’ve seen any of Maria’s art? Don’t you think your memory could be playing you tricks? You’re seeing what you want to see.’

‘I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you. I won’t be long.’

On returning to his house Yannis began to sort through his box of possessions, shaking his precious books until two thin sheets of paper fluttered to the ground and he clutched at them joyfully, rushing from the house and back to the priest.

‘There!’ He placed the drawings on the table, one of himself and the other of his sister.

Father Minos was struck by the uncanny likeness between Anna and Yannis’s sister. ‘This still proves nothing, Yannis. These are portraits of two young people done years ago. Even if I asked Anna to draw you it wouldn’t look like this. You’ve changed, matured.’

‘Never mind the faces, look at the lines, the simplicity. It’s exactly the same style of drawing. You don’t learn that, you inherit it.’

‘That still doesn’t prove that Anna inherited it from your family.’ Father Minos handed the papers back, making sure Maria’s portrait was at the bottom. ‘Yannis, listen, you must give up this idea that the child is yours. It would do no one any good. What difference would it make if Anna called you Pappa instead of Yannis?’

Yannis sighed. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

‘I don’t disbelieve you, but I say you need to have proof, greater proof than a couple of pictures drawn by your sister and some more drawn by Anna.’

Yannis was following the interchange between Father Minos and the German with interest. It was obvious that despite the priest’s pleadings they would receive no concessions at all. Father Minos was explaining that everyone on the island was totally dependent upon the mainland for supplies of food and medicine and if they stopped the fishermen from bringing it they would starve. The blonde commander listened patiently to all the priest said; then held up his hand.

‘I will speak now. You people out here are lepers, yes?’ Heads nodded to confirm his assumption. ‘Then you are of no importance. You have been sent to this island to stop the spread of your filthy disease. You are an abomination on the face of the earth. I do not wish to know if you are sick or starving. Maybe you have enough on this island to keep you alive, maybe not. It is not my concern and I will not make it my concern. What I will not have is a seat of resistance here. It would be too easy for you to shelter men who decide to take up arms against us and disappear into nowhere when we pursue them. The solution to the problem is to ensure that no one comes here.’