much larger festive gathering. As always, when family members returned to the village from abroad, they had to be welcomed by family and friends in true Cretan spirit. Costis, Chrysanthi and their children were the first to arrive with food, and then one by one others followed. At some point Michalis was assigned by Froso to go and fetch old Pavlis in his car. ‘And while you are at it,’ Costis called out to him as he was leaving, ‘bring your harp and violin so we can sing and dance tonight. We have much to celebrate.’
As on so many other summer nights over the years, the famous family hospitality surrounded them, much to the relief of Keith and Alex, who had feared that this visit to the village might be less than the cheerful affair that usually greeted their arrival. Once again, they were reminded that even in a crisis on this island, food, song and dance were always the best antidotes to a problem.
The conversation between husband and wife that afternoon was not mentioned again; Eleni knew Keith was right. If she had always trusted her own female intuition, why in God’s name wouldn’t she trust Froso’s?
The raki flowed and the dancing and singing continued till late, and Nicos took the opportunity to talk to Keith about Calli, who then in turn told her father of her joy at finally finding happiness and love again with a good man.
Michalis and one of the uncles were in full swing playing a soulful melody, and young and old were dancing. Eleni was sitting close to old Pavlis, holding his hand and talking to him. They had much to catch up on, there was so much she wanted to know; nothing would ever be the same again for any of them. Froso was sitting with Keith and Alex openly enjoying talking with her son-in law and her only grandson. She had much to feel happy about. The heavy weight she had been carrying in her heart all through her life had finally lifted and felt much lighter now, and there was also the news of the spring wedding to add to her joy.
Nicos had his arms tightly wrapped around Calli’s waist when he started to lead her towards the garden gate.
‘Look up at the sky, my love,’ he said, pointing above them. She turned her head and through the branches of the olive tree a yellow moon was playing hide and seek between the shimmering leaves. ‘It’s full tonight,’ he said and ushered her even closer to the gate. ‘Let’s head to the beach,’ he breathed in her ear, ‘no one will miss us for a while.’
They stepped quietly onto the road and ran towards the empty shore, guided by moonlight, its luminosity making the lemons and oranges on the trees and the prickly pears on the cactus bushes glow as if sprinkled with gold dust. They arrived at the sea’s edge out of breath, took off their shoes and plunged their naked feet into the cool surf. Turning their faces to the sky, they looked at the source of light above them, looming as huge and red as that other moon Calli had gazed upon with awe at the beginning of her summer.
‘It’s almost as big and red as the blood moon,’ she said and reached for his hand.
‘This is the harvest moon,’ Nicos said as he pulled her closer. She looked up at the sky again and wondered what this moon might bring. The last one, as she had been promised by Maya, had brought change and joy, and sadness too, but above all it had brought her boundless love.
She turned her eyes to Nicos. He smiled, and his eyes glistened in the moonlight; he bent and softly kissed her lips. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let out a gentle sigh. ‘Thank you, Raphael,’ she murmured and lifted her arms to the sky.
Acknowledgements
As always, I’d like to thank my agent and dear friend Dorie Simmonds for her constant guidance and support, my editor Caroline Hogg at Pan Macmillan, Samantha Fletcher and Nicole Foster for their incredibly keen eye for detail and Anne Boston for my first draft edit.
I would also like to say a big thanks and express my gratitude to my friends Roberto and Serena Dalfini for their hospitality in their home in Crete and for tirelessly taking me around the island while researching this book. They showed me a Crete that no visitor could ever