stain of illegitimacy and more pain that the special circumstances of its birth might cause. The pledge of silence that the village had taken on the night of Kosmas’s burial applied to Calliope’s decision too. The secret of one family would be the secret of the entire community; everyone was implicated in the crime, they would all make sure that the girl was kept out of sight during pregnancy from nearby villages and the truth would remain hidden always.
At first the girl rebelled against her mother’s plan. ‘You will always be the child’s mother, Froso mou, no one can take that away from you,’ Calliope counselled her daughter. ‘Look how your little brother feels about you: he loves you more than if you were his mother, you are his friend too. We have to think what’s best for the child, my girl. This is no time to think only of yourself.’ Froso had to agree with her mother; besides, no one would be taking her baby away from her. They would all live under the same roof as a family. But when the time came and especially when baby Eleni began to talk and would call Calliope ‘Mama’, Froso felt the sting in her heart.
16
The silence which descended upon the three women after Froso finished speaking engulfed them like a fog. It rendered them and, it seemed, the world around them, mute: not a leaf stirred, cicada song ceased, even the waves of the sea were hushed.
At first all Eleni was aware of was her pulse pounding in her temple and neck, until a small faint sound became audible: Froso’s muffled sobs. Eleni blinked as if trying to clear her vision and looked at the older woman.
‘You . . . my mother?’ she whispered in a voice alien to her, as if someone else had spoken.
Froso took in a gulp of air, held it for a moment and closed her eyes. ‘Yes . . .’ she finally murmured, ‘my life has been one long secret.’
Calli, who had been sitting motionless between her mother and Froso, became aware that she had stopped breathing. She took several deep breaths and stood up abruptly as if she had been stung; then, sinking back into her chair again, she opened her arms to hold the shoulders of the women on either side of her, silently pulling them towards her. No sound was uttered. None of them was aware how much time passed while they remained huddled together in this embrace. At last Calli dropped her arms, stood up and went into the house, returning with a bottle of raki and three glasses. She placed these on the table in front of Froso and Eleni as they sat, still holding each other.
‘We need help to unlock our tongues and our hearts,’ she told them. She looked at Froso and poured out the drink. ‘Yiayia?’ she murmured and handed her a glass as tears rolled down her cheeks.
It was still early in the day. During the last few weeks when Froso began telling her story to Calli it had always been after their evening meal and she talked well into the small hours of the night until fatigue and emotion got too much for her, leaving Calli wanting more. This time was different. They had the whole day ahead of them, it had hardly gone past lunchtime when she finished speaking and Calli was grateful that they had time ahead to try and process what they had just heard, even if she knew that this was only the beginning of that journey. Their world had now been altered forever.
At first Eleni was unable to speak: her thoughts were incoherent, and no clear emotion had taken hold; then gradually the tears began to pour, and the weeping followed. Nausea mixed with rage rose in the pit of her stomach. She looked at Froso and demanded to know how could she and the entire family keep silent during all those years? What right did they all have to keep this from her?
‘Silence hides the pain,’ Froso replied wearily. ‘Once the decision was made, there was only one thing to do, and that was to abide by it. You cannot imagine how many times I breathed those unspoken words just to myself: “I am your mama, Eleni mou. Calliope is your yiayia.” I would stand alone in front of the mirror in my room and whisper the words so only I could hear them.’ Froso’s voice broke into a