‘What good can it do to know at this stage in my life . . . is it not selfish of Froso to drop this on me now?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. I think knowledge is better than ignorance; better to know than not,’ Calli replied, having already come to that conclusion.
‘But I still don’t really know, do I?’ she said, her voice rising with frustration. ‘I still don’t know who I am.’
They had reached the carob tree and sat down together at its roots. Eleni picked up a pod that had fallen on the ground, brushed the dust off it and absent-mindedly started to rub it with her thumb as she spoke.
‘What I knew all through my life was that I was Calliope and Nikiforos’s daughter . . .’ Her eyes turned to meet Calli’s. ‘. . . that I had Mavrantoni blood running through my veins . . . But now? Now I learn that it was all a lie, that I am not who I thought I was or . . .’ she stopped and averted her gaze, ‘or even worse!’ The last two words came out in a whisper.
‘Mum!’ Calli protested. ‘Mum,’ she repeated, her voice softer, more soothing, realizing what her mother was referring to. She reached across and wrapped her in her arms as if she were a small child. ‘None of that matters. You are not your blood. You are you!’ she said, gently rocking her.
‘That’s what your father said,’ Eleni replied after a long pause and wiped her eyes with the edge of her skirt. ‘You really are your father’s daughter,’ she said and smiled through her tears. Shifting a little closer, she leaned her head on her daughter’s shoulder. They sat together for a while, mother and child lovingly connected. Calli thought of the countless times she had been comforted this way by Eleni, of the many tender moments and all the support this woman, her mother, had given her in order to face the world when she was growing up and beyond.
‘I am so lucky to have you, my child . . .’ Eleni told her. ‘You and your brother are the pride and joy of my life.’ Calli turned and kissed the top of her mother’s head as Eleni had habitually done to her when she was a little girl. ‘I used to pity my sister for not knowing the joys of motherhood,’ she continued, ‘especially when we used to visit her when you and your brother were small and I saw how loving she was with you and Alex, how she longed for your affection and attention . . .’
‘Oh, Mama . . .’ Calli murmured, and a lump rose in her throat, ‘it’s so sad . . .’
‘I want you to know that I will always be there for you, Calli mou. You can be sure that for as long as I am alive, I am your rock, and so is your dad . . . All I have ever wanted for you is to be happy.’ She looked up at her daughter. ‘I don’t suppose Froso wanted anything less for me either, but life didn’t deliver her such a good hand as me, did it?’ Eleni let out a sigh. ‘I am doing my best to understand, Calli mou, and no doubt in time I will, though right now I am struggling. But I am blessed to have you and such a good family by my side.’
If any moment could be the right one to tell her mother about Nicos and her decision to stay with him in Crete, this was surely it. Calli turned, took Eleni’s hands in hers, looked her in the eyes and began to explain.
As Calli had hoped, her mother’s response was no less approving and even more jubilant than that of Chrysanthi. She had been worried that Eleni might feel abandoned if she was to leave London for Crete, especially at this time, when she might need her daughter’s support.
‘Your happiness is all I care about, and you deserve to be happy, my darling girl. You’ve been through enough,’ she told her. ‘I shall have your father and your brother at home, and you will be at the end of a telephone.’ She took her daughter’s face in her hands and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. ‘Besides,’ she smiled, ‘from now on I shall be spending as much time in Crete as in