Page 11 of The Silent Sister

Since finding out how much Eugenia was struggling financially, Cassia was determined to find a way to bring in money.

Every evening, she worked on her embroidery and lace.

She spent her days baking as much as she could with the ingredients she could find.

She made large amounts of filo pastry, which was used to make spanakopita, her favourite spinach-and-feta pie, as well as her own versions of sweet honey baklavá with a few crunchy nuts as they were in short supply.

The long walk into Fiscardo was slow going, and her arms ached by the time she reached the market.

Eugenia had directed Cassia to the owner to tell her which was her sister’s stall.

It was the first time she’d left Eléni with Eugenia and Maia, so she hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat of the upsetting row between the girls.

The drawings were helping. Eléni answered everything with a detailed sketch Maia could understand.

Although Eléni was only three, her drawings were particularly sophisticated.

She had moved on from the simple stick figures she had drawn at the shelter in Argostoli.

On one half of the table, Cassia arranged the items of embroidery and lace.

On the other, she displayed the baked produce.

She had no idea how many drachmae to charge.

It was when she was writing up the labels that she heard a voice that made her go cold.

She looked up to find herself facing her mother.

‘So, the rumours were right. And you have a child now.’

Cassia’s heartbeat raced. Her mother’s hair, now snow white, was pulled back into a tight chignon that made her already sharp features even more severe. The two had never been close and the glower on her mother’s face oozed disapproval.

‘ Kaliméra , Mamá.’

It had been five years since she’d left, and in that time her mother had aged. It wasn’t just the colour of her hair. It was her bent posture, her skin, the fact she wore black from head to toe. She looked like an old woman.

‘I wondered when you’d show up again. I heard that husband of yours was gone.’

Her mother made it sound as if Nikos had just left her like Georgios had left her sister. No, Mamá, he was murdered. I was the one who found him soaked in blood, down by the harbour.

‘His name was Nikos, Mamá. He didn’t go. He was killed. They still haven’t found the person who did it.’

Her mother’s lips formed a thin straight line. ‘If you say so.’

The older woman picked up one of Cassia’s hand-embroidered duchess sets. ‘At least you learned something from me. Your needlework was always the best.’

Did I hear right? thought Cassia. ‘ Efcharistó. ’

Her mother moved on to the next stall. No asking how she’d survived the earthquake in Argostoli, no enquiring after her child , as she’d called her, no finding out where she was staying in Fiscardo.

By the time the other stallholders were packing up, Cassia had sold out of the spanakopita and only a few baklavá remained.

But it was as she feared — none of the lace or embroidery had sold.

She counted the drachmae in her pot. When she allowed for the cost of the ingredients, there would not be much to hand over to Eugenia, but she felt better trying her best to contribute to the household.

Before leaving Fiscardo, she called into the little post office. She didn’t recognise the elderly woman behind the counter, but it was clear from her expression that she knew who Cassia was.

‘Your mother said you were back.’ The woman’s frown formed two deep lines in her forehead.

‘My home in Argostoli was destroyed in the earthquake. I had nowhere else to go. With the state of the towns in the south of the island, I wondered if there was any post for me, parakaló . Cassia Makris.’

The woman looked under the counter and brought out an envelope addressed to Cassia and Eléni, care of Eugenia, and handed it to her.

‘Efcharistó.’

It was from Sophia, she was sure of it. She placed it in her pocket, eager to get back. She would open it and read it to Eléni later.

* * *

As Cassia neared her sister’s house, Eléni came running out to meet her.

At first, she worried something had happened in her absence, but when she saw the smile on the little girl’s face, she realised Eléni was just pleased to see her.

How different she was now from the little girl who it had once seemed would never forgive her for taking her away from Sophia and Arianna.

Cassia hoped those days were firmly behind them.

The two girls still rowed sometimes, but her worries about Maia’s frustration and unkindness towards Eléni’s inability to speak seemed to be unfounded.

They were settled now, and this had to be good for Eléni’s recovery after what she had been through.

Eugenia was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to the moussaka she was preparing. ‘How did you get on?’

Cassia counted out the money, placing it by Eugenia. ‘Our contribution. I’m sorry it’s not much. The pie was popular and most of the baklavá went. But not one of the lace and embroidered items. I didn’t think they would be essential for people who are hard up.’

‘Thank you for trying. It’s getting harder, isn’t it? I suppose we are luckier than most. We have eggs and milk. And I can make feta from the goat’s milk. We just have to try to be more economical.’

Cassia changed the subject. ‘How have the girls been today? They seem happy enough playing now.’ She looked across at Eléni and Maia playing with Maia’s dolls.

A lump formed in her throat. Eléni had no toys of her own.

Everything she had would have been buried in the rubble of her house.

Cassia didn’t even know what toys she had or what she liked to play with.

When things got better, she vowed she would buy the little girl whatever toys she wanted. She would have her own possessions.

While her sister made the sauce for the moussaka, Cassia made coffee. She watched as the thick brown liquid boiled in its copper briki on the stove. She remembered her mother teaching her how to make Greek coffee and how to pour it into cups, leaving behind the sticky sludge formed at the bottom.

‘I saw Mamá at the stall.’ Cassia carried the two coffees over to the table. ‘She knew I was in Fiscardo, but didn’t ask where. I expect the woman in the post office will tell her, though. There was a letter for me there. I couldn’t get over how she’d aged. She looks just like Yiayiá . ’

Happy memories of time spent with her grandmother as a girl came flooding back.

What her sister said next surprised her.

‘Mamá hasn’t been the same since the awful row when you left.

Father dying so soon afterwards was a shock and she’s never got over it.

I try to visit her when I can, but there’s always something to do at home and.

..’ She paused. ‘And I hate saying this, but Mamá isn’t the easiest of women, is she?

She may appear not to care, but the number of times she says, “I wonder what Cassia’s doing now”, I’ve lost count.

You were always her favourite — the one she wanted to carry on her embroidery business. ’

‘I never knew. She seemed to want me and Nikos gone.’

‘We all missed you. Even Baba. The thing we didn’t miss were the rows between him and Nikos.

Then, of course, it was Georgios they hated.

The main difference was that he was on the same side as them in his politics.

Neither Nikos nor Georgios was good enough for his daughters.

He’d have been happy with the old way of selecting a nice boy from a good Greek family of their choosing. And neither of them fitted the bill.’

Eugenia placed the earthenware dish in the oven and sat down next to Cassia to drink her coffee. There were tears in her eyes.

Cassia reached over and patted her sister’s arm. ‘You miss Georgios, don’t you? But if he’s betrayed you once — more than once — he’ll do it again. You must see that.’

‘I know you’re right but I still love him, in spite of everything.’ She stood to lay the table. ‘There’s no likelihood of him coming back anyway. The siren will see to it.’

‘Perhaps it’s for the best. Then you and Maia can move on with your lives.’ Cassia could see her sister was upset and looked to change the topic. She fumbled in her pocket to take out the letter.

‘Eléni. I have a surprise for you.’

The little girl came and stood by her.

‘I’ve got a letter and it’s addressed to both of us.’ Eléni pointed at her chest. ‘Yes, you.’ Cassia smiled at the little girl’s delight.

She slid her nail under the seal and took out the letter. The handwriting was neat and even, resembling her yiayiá’s.

23 Davaki Street

Athens

Greece

12 October 1953

Agapití Cassia and Eléni,

I hope you are both settled living with your sister.

It is the address you gave me, so I hope this finds you safe and well.

It broke my heart to see you both go, especially when my lovely Eléni got so upset.

But it was for the best. The nights are very cold now and with no place to stay apart from under the shelters.

I am one of the lucky ones. My daughter arrived and took me back to Athens to live with her.

There is nothing left for me in Kefalonia now.

Everything I had was buried in the rubble of my house.

Whatever time I have left, I know I will be looked after by my daughter.

But the earthquake couldn’t take away my memories.

I will never forget your kindness to me, Cassia, and how you never gave up searching for little Eléni.

If you are in touch with Tom and the Welsh reporter who got her out alive, please remember me to them.

If you are ever in Athens, please call to see me.

Your friend,

Sophia

Eléni smiled. She pointed at herself and mimed drawing.

‘Yes, I think Sophia would love a drawing from you.’

Eléni grinned and rushed to start a picture for Sophia.