the mention of Raphael, Calli sat bolt upright to hear more.
‘Some generations ago,’ Katerina continued, ‘my great-grandmother believed she had witnessed a miracle and afterwards she pledged to light a candle every year on this anniversary. So all the women in my family would make the journey to the convent and take me with them.’
‘What sort of miracle was that?’ Chrysanthi asked, intrigued by this new information.
‘Something about saving a baby’s life a long time ago. It was one of my ancestors . . . I think it was my grandmother’s sister, I’m not so sure . . . but what I do know is that my mother and aunts still make the pilgrimage every year.’
‘But of course!’ Michalis exclaimed. ‘How could I forget that? The women in my family also prayed to him as much as to the Panagia. What’s more, my mother gave the archangel’s name to my brother after he was cured from some baby illness or other – I can’t remember what.’
‘You have a brother named Raphael?’ A wide-eyed Calli turned to look at Michalis.
‘Well, yes, kind of . . . His name is Nicos, Raphael was added as a second name; you know, a sign of thanks and respect, but no one ever calls him that.’
‘Where is he? Does he live in Crete?’ she asked again.
‘He lives in Athens, he moved there a few years ago. But he visits quite regularly and a couple of times a year I go and spend some time with him too.’
‘What’s he doing there?’ Calli’s surprise and curiosity ignited further. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to leave the Cretan paradise for the mainland, especially the noisy capital, unless they had to.
‘He sells our olive oil there,’ Michalis replied, ‘and he wants me to join him – but I would never go!’ He laughed. ‘I’ve tried living in the big city and it didn’t suit me. I make do with visits once in a while, that’s plenty for me. I’m trying to convince him to come back, we need him here.’
‘I like your brother, he definitely should come back,’ Chrysanthi agreed with her wide friendly smile, before turning to Calli. ‘You’ll love the trip to the convent,’ she added. ‘I only wish I could come with you.’
The convent, perched at the far end of a small peninsula, gleamed white as a dove against the blue of the sky and sea. From a distance it looked as if it was floating above the water. Michalis parked the car in a field and they made their way up the rocky hill.
Inside the wall surrounding the nunnery they found a small, well-tended garden; as they entered the gate, they were greeted by the cheerful ringing of bells and the aroma from a pair of jasmine bushes that stood on each side of an arched entrance leading into a cobbled courtyard. Following the sound, they walked through another archway towards a chapel where they could hear chanting voices. Was this Sunday morning mass, Calli wondered, or another form of service? Her religious knowledge was limited, neither of her parents having been particularly pious; whichever it was, she found it beautiful. They walked further into the courtyard, around which the nuns’ cells were situated. A young novice was watering pots containing basil, scented geraniums and rosemary, all lined up in neat rows outside each door.
‘Kalimera!’ she greeted them and looked up with a sweet smile. ‘Have you come to pay your respects to our Lady of Sorrow?’ she asked cheerfully. ‘The chapel will be empty shortly . . . or, if you like, you can go in now and hear the hymns.’
By the time they made their way to the chapel the service had ended and the nuns were leaving, making their way across the courtyard. As they glided past, cloaked in their black habits, Calli fancied they resembled a flock of black swans.
The little chapel was dark and fragrant and the smell, a mixture of wax and incense, was calming and comforting. The icon of the Holy Virgin stood out among the others on the iconostasis partly because of its central location and also because it was covered by a white lace curtain which the faithful had to move to one side in order to kiss it. Calli reached out and pulled gently at the cloth to reveal the image of the Holy Mother holding her baby boy in her arms. Unlike the other icons, her tunic and headdress as well as