she didn’t know how to begin or what to ask first. ‘Could you bear to talk some more?’ the young woman finally said.
‘I have started, and I shall continue,’ she replied. ‘You must know everything, but it will take time. I need to pace myself because the memories are too painful.’
Froso had buried it all so deep and for so long that revisiting the past and bringing everything to the surface was reawakening her trauma after all these years. ‘I will tell you more, my girl, but only after I have had time to gather myself. Perhaps later . . . tomorrow, or in a few days . . . then we might talk some more, I don’t know, but now I need a break from the memories.’
‘Just tell me this, Auntie,’ the young woman enquired hesitantly. ‘Does anyone else know about what happened? Does my mother know any of this? Was she ever told?’
‘No, my girl.’ Froso’s eyes clouded over. ‘No . . . she was never told, why would we tell such terrible things to a child? How can such unspeakable things be spoken to someone so young . . . But yes, some of the village elders knew.’ She took in a deep breath. ‘Most are gone now apart from Pavlis . . . He’s been a comfort to me over the years, we’ve supported each other.’ She fell silent and looked away. Calli sat mutely holding her aunt’s hand, not knowing what to say next. ‘Kosmas was mourned by old and young alike . . .’ she finally whispered and closed her eyes.
Nothing more was said for a long time; the two women sat silently holding each other’s hands in the shade of the olive trees, both lost in their own thoughts: Froso in her mournful memories and Calli in confused speculation about what would come next.
The late morning heat was becoming uncomfortable and Calli’s sleepless night and early morning start were beginning to take their toll on her. Finally, her aunt stood up and announced she was going to have a rest.
‘I imagine you must feel the same.’ She looked back at her niece as she made her way wearily towards the kitchen door. Calli followed suit, relieved that Froso had not suggested a lavish lunch as usual. The bread, honey and mizithra that Chrysanthi had given her earlier was enough for both breakfast and lunch.
Once again Calli found herself lying on her bed reflecting on what might happen in her aunt’s next instalment. She had meant to switch her mobile to silent while asleep but was glad that she had forgotten, for otherwise she would have missed Michalis’s call.
‘I’m coming your way for some work,’ he said. ‘I wondered if you’ll be free a little later?’ He sounded uncertain. ‘Have you found out about your thia Froso . . . will you be spending the evening with her?’
She was torn between on the one hand wanting to see him and on the other, not wanting to cause a break in her aunt’s story if she was ready to continue. She swung her bare legs out of bed and stood on the cool marble floor for a moment, savouring the refreshing sensation before slipping on her sandals to go downstairs and look for her aunt. She found her in the kitchen, brewing some mountain tea.
‘I heard your phone ring,’ she said, turning round. ‘The telephones you young people have these days keep you in touch with everyone, no matter where you are, eh?’
‘True, Thia – it’s good and bad at the same time,’ Calli replied. ‘Sometimes it’s nice to be cut off from everyone but, alas, there is no escape.’
‘Was that your mother who called?’ She looked at Calli expectantly. ‘Do you know when she is coming?’
‘As soon as they’re back from the Lake District. She didn’t want to leave Dad with his twisted ankle after his fall but she’s coming really soon, I promise.’
‘I’ve been thinking . . . there are things I need to tell you both, together,’ her aunt said, sitting down heavily at the table, her limbs suddenly seeming weightier than before.
Although Froso had told Calli earlier that, now she had started, she would continue her story, she was also anxious about saying more without her sister present. She had never intended to reveal so much without her and now she had clearly decided that Eleni must be there too; she couldn’t bear going over everything again, that would be too