many of them pass through the village? They all line up on the telegraph wires, it’s quite a sight!’
Calli was struck by the irony of his words. Surely, she thought, if the energy is so good, then murder and rape should have no place near here . . . Then again, she decided, the land can be positive and blessed but there is no accounting for those who walk on it; the earth is not responsible for the people who inhabit it.
‘There has always been talk of unexplained things in these parts,’ Michalis continued. ‘Some people say that millennia ago aliens landed here, others that it’s the presence of the Holy Virgin that creates this feeling of serenity.’
Or maybe it’s the angels, Calli thought, remembering her mentor Maya once again; who knows, she thought again, maybe she had really sensed Raphael’s presence earlier on. In fact, what actually made this island so special to Calli was hardly important to her; even despite last night’s revelations, it had been the place she had liked best since childhood, and she would be hard pushed now to have to leave it.
‘Anyhow,’ Michalis said as he started to get up, ‘I must go now, time for work.’ He reached for her hand, not to shake it in a formal gesture; he took it and held on to it in an act of physical bonding, flesh on flesh: two people who liked each other connecting, in much the same way that people here hugged each other when they met. He held on to her hand all the while he spoke, his big rough palm comforting, almost protective, and she liked it. ‘Would you like to meet later . . . this evening?’ He smiled as he spoke, and his eyes smiled at her too.
‘Yes, I would.’ Her reply came quickly before her thoughts turned to Froso. ‘Can I call you when I know what my aunt is doing?’
When Calli returned to the house her aunt was not there, but she hadn’t left a note this time. She bathed and dressed, hoping that by then Froso would have returned, but as there was no sign of her she made her way to Costis’s house to see Chrysanthi. She knew her cousin would be at work, but she hoped his wife might be there and perhaps she might have an inkling about past family dramas; if Costis knew anything it was certain that Chrysanthi would know too. She found the young woman cooking in the kitchen and delighted to see her.
‘Honestly,’ Chrysanthi told Calli, placing two cups of coffee, bread, honey, and some cheese on the table for them, ‘if I’m not at the school teaching, I’m here working in the house. It never stops for us women, does it?’ Even when complaining, Calli thought, her cousin’s wife did it with good humour. She found talking with Chrysanthi as easy as chatting with her friend Josie back home; she was funny and open, and in the course of their conversation Calli tried subtly to establish if the young woman had any knowledge of what had happened years ago in her husband’s family. But it soon became obvious that she knew nothing.
What Chrysanthi did want to discuss more than anything and with intense interest was how Calli was getting on with Michalis.
‘As soon as I met you, I knew you two would be a good match.’ She smiled broadly.
‘I didn’t realize people are still into matchmaking around here,’ Calli laughed.
‘Of course!’ Chrysanthi laughed in return. ‘It has never stopped! How else are people going to meet if their friends don’t give them a helping hand?’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Calli replied wistfully. ‘In England we all rely too much on internet dating these days.’
‘So, tell me! How did you both get on with each other? Did you like him?’
‘Yes, I did . . . I do like him . . .’ Calli smiled at Chrysanthi’s persistence. ‘But I can’t answer for him.’
Michalis and Costis had known each other for many years and Chrysanthi was always keeping an eye out for a suitable match for her husband’s favourite friend and her son’s godfather.
He was a very thoughtful person, she told Calli; if she ever needed advice, it was to Michalis that she would turn. He was well read and had more books than anyone she knew, being a teacher she respected that.
‘And he is a good musician, and good-looking,’ Chrysanthi enthused. ‘He plays the Cretan harp like an angel, and the