time had come to share with them some of her family’s hidden history.
They drove out of the village towards the hills, where Michalis lived. It was the first time Calli had visited his house; when they met he had always chosen to take her to a restaurant or bar or explore the countryside. Only once had she asked about his home, and then he had brushed it off as being something of a building site.
Some years earlier, the two brothers had inherited a small house from their grandfather: just two rooms with an outside lavatory in the middle of an olive orchard, which Michalis had recently set about turning into a home. He had lived there alone since he returned to the village and had virtually rebuilt it himself, adding an extension for more rooms, a modern bathroom, a fitted kitchen. He had made a terrace with a view of the sea in the distance, and had cultivated a fragrant garden. The plot was big enough to accommodate two such houses and Nicos had already started building a second for himself.
‘This is where I’m going to live when I come back to Crete,’ he said, taking Calli by the hand. She couldn’t hide her surprise and pleasure as he showed her around. ‘I suppose that’s partly what I’m waiting for – to finish the house and then return home for good.’ Nicos looked at his brother.
‘Not long now . . .’ Michalis smiled.
‘Looks practically done to me,’ Calli added, perching on the terrace wall while Nicos went inside to bring more chairs.
Concerned how the brothers would react to Froso’s tragic story, Calli took some moments to summon the courage to start, but once launched, her account flowed. She told them about the young lovers’ affair, about Mitros’s obsession with Froso, she told them about the rape and the brutal murder of Kosmas, and finally she told them about Calliope’s plan to bring up Eleni as her own. The one thing she did not mention was the killing of Mitros: that, she decided, was not for her to divulge. She did not have the right to break the silence of an entire village that had lasted for generations.
The two men sat silently, listening without interruptions, until she finished speaking. Only then did they respond.
Michalis was the first to speak. He looked genuinely distressed at what he had been told. ‘Poor Kyria Froso, what a life!’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve always been very fond of her . . . so different from other women of her own age around here, always considerate and tolerant.’ His voice faded away. ‘I suppose that’s why I was drawn to her – she was a bit of an outsider, like me. Not surprising, after the life she’s had.’
‘I assume Mitros got what was coming to him.’ Nicos spoke up.
‘Yes . . . in these parts, at that time, a man would stand no chance of going unpunished after committing such crimes.’ Michalis nodded in agreement.
Calli was taken aback by their matter-of-fact reaction and accurate conclusion. Intrigued, she sat quietly waiting for them to continue. These two were Cretan men, born and bred on this island: it was natural that they would know the ways of the people better than she did.
‘Passions run high here and the blood boils,’ Nicos continued. ‘I’m not saying it’s right to take the law into your hands, of course not . . . but those were different times. Our grandfather often talked of such goings-on and I’m certain Mitros got what they thought he deserved. They had their own set of rules in those days.’
‘It has changed a lot, I’m glad to say,’ Michalis added.
‘Yes. But even now, I wouldn’t like to be around to see what might happen to anyone who did such things . . .’
By the time the brothers dropped Calli back to the house the first stars had started to flicker in the darkening sky. Froso and Eleni were sitting talking together in the garden, a pot of herbal mountain tea and two cups by their side. She pulled up a chair as they both looked up at her, their eyes red with emotion but otherwise more calm than when she had last seen them.
‘Have either of you eaten this evening?’ Calli asked. ‘I know I haven’t . . .’ She got up and made for the kitchen; as before, she was right in assuming that neither Eleni nor Froso had thought of food since