her voice.
‘Why, nothing,’ Froso’s reply came swiftly and with a sweeping gesture of her free hand banished the darkness that had clouded her gaze. ‘Nothing . . . nothing wrong, my girl,’ she repeated, trying to smile. ‘How was your trip?’ she hastened to add. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, Auntie, it was wonderful,’ Calli replied in confusion.
‘Good!’ Froso said and stood up. ‘I’ll just go inside for a minute, then you must tell me all about it,’ and picking up her needlework she made her way towards the kitchen.
Calli sat alone in the garden for a long moment, trying to decipher what had prompted her aunt’s dark mood, when she emerged into the yard holding a tray.
‘Don’t tell me you are still not hungry,’ Froso said, the gloomy cloud replaced by a smile, a plate of cheese, bread and a bottle of wine on the tray. ‘I suggest we have a little snack now and then I’ll make us something more for supper. What do you say?’
‘I say yes!’ Calli replied without hesitation and got up to help her.
That evening, after the two women had finished their supper in the garden and the heat of the day had given way to cooler air from the sea, Thia Froso sat back in her chair, looked her niece in the eye and began to speak.
‘Since you spoke to me the other night, my darling girl, since you confided in me about all that you have suffered, I have thought of little else . . . You and I haven’t spent much time together over the years, despite my longing to do so, and I was touched and honoured that you chose to open up to me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I know that my cousin Eleftheria mentioned that I have not been too well lately . . . I didn’t want to burden you with all of that, certainly not as soon as you arrived . . . but now I feel the time has come for me to talk to you.’
‘But you look so well, Thia.’ Calli reached for her aunt’s hand. ‘What exactly is wrong?’
‘I haven’t said anything to your mother either,’ Froso replied, holding her niece’s hand tightly. ‘When I was diagnosed with cancer the only thing that concerned me was that I might die without being given the chance to tell you and your mother everything that I needed to say, but I didn’t know how.’
‘People don’t have to die from cancer these days, Auntie,’ Calli interrupted her fervently. ‘There are many treatments for it, not like in the past.’
‘You can never be sure, my girl,’ Froso said calmly, ‘and then it might be too late . . .’
Calli held her aunt’s hand more tightly now and waited for her to speak.
‘Perhaps . . .’ she hesitated, ‘all that I want to say should remain unsaid.’ She looked into Calli’s eyes, faltering a little before going on. ‘But . . .’ she continued, ‘lately I have been deeply troubled and the prospect of going to my grave without speaking to you and Eleni has been tormenting me.’
‘My mum will be here too, Auntie. I know she will come soon; the only reason she’s delayed is because of Dad’s twisted ankle,’ Calli reassured her. ‘Having that stupid fall has given him more trouble than expected. I’m sure he’ll be fine soon and she’ll be here in no time.’
‘I know, my girl, it couldn’t be helped. Your mother told me when she called . . . but you are here, that’s good enough for me and Eleni will soon come . . .’ She hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued. ‘After you spoke to me of your sorrow it made me want to speak, too. They say, and I don’t know if it’s true, that if we carry a heavy burden inside us it can be like a cancer which in the end will devour body and soul.’ Calli sat motionless, holding her aunt’s hand, eyes unblinking, waiting to hear more, not knowing what her maiden aunt could possibly be referring to. Long moments went by in silence. Froso took Calli’s hand in both of hers and held it, her eyes downcast, as she tried to summon the courage to begin.
‘My life hasn’t been as simple and straightforward as you might have thought . . .’ She looked up at the young woman’s face and fell silent again as if she was considering whether to go