Page 29 of The Silent Sister

Eléni sat on her bed and opened the book.

First, she flicked through the pages and saw that her mother had kept a record of the time she’d arrived in Wales.

There were newspaper cuttings, letters, photographs and diary entries.

The last thing she’d done had been to stick in the estate agents’ brochure of their present house. She’d labelled it: Our own home .

Eléni turned back to the first page.

What have I done? I never want to travel by sea again.

How Tom spends his working life on board ship for months on end, I will never know.

Spent most of the time up on deck being seasick.

Thank God Tom was there to take care of Eléni.

Felt guilty for uprooting her again. More change, more nightmares.

Eléni vaguely remembered those awful times when she’d woken up in the dark bedroom after feeling trapped inside a black cave, as if something heavy were weighing her down.

She’d panicked, thinking she was being pressed further and further down into an abyss.

It was always the same bad dream. Her mother had soothed her and held her tightly until she’d become calm again.

After reading the letter earlier and wondering if she was the little girl pulled from the rubble of the earthquake, perhaps it wasn’t a black cave and she was reliving being buried when the earthquake had struck her house. She shuddered.

Arrived in a place called Tiger Bay, the name for Cardiff Docks.

There were so many houses all joined together, rows and rows of narrow streets.

Even our street in Argostoli was wider than those.

I have not seen any blue sky yet. It’s done nothing but rain, and in another month it will be summer. It’s so cold.

Underneath she’d stuck a postcard depicting a scene of Porth Gwyn Lake and boathouse. Eléni thought how idyllic it looked. It was where she liked to walk and sketch, now she was living back in the town. The swans were always eager to eat the stale bread she took along for them on her walks.

Her mother had described meeting her baba’s brother, Glyn, his wife, Katerina, and their two boys, Tony and Phil, and the warm welcome they’d all given her and Eléni.

On the next page was a newspaper cutting.

Apparently, Katerina had given it to her.

It was dated some days after the earthquake had struck.

Kefalonia, 15 August 1953. It gave the facts and figures of the devastation caused by the earthquake.

It had been written by a reporter from Wales, named Rhodri Jones.

The report detailed the harrowing scenes of bodies being pulled from the wreckage and how the seamen from rescue boats were working tirelessly to bring aid to the people who had been injured and lost their homes.

Eléni wondered if this was how she’d survived.

It mentioned a British ship being one of the first on the scene.

Could one of the sailors who’d pulled her out be her father?

She looked down at the main accompanying picture.

Although the photograph was unclear, she was convinced the woman standing in a line of men passing back bags of provisions was her mamá.

The article mentioned how the earthquake had affected the island.

So many inhabitants were homeless, and so many emigrated in search of a better life.

More diary entries followed. It all seemed to be going well until Tom had to return to sea. Tears formed in Eléni’s eyes as she read how desperate her mamá had been, dreading months of not seeing him. Yet one sentence jumped out at her.

In capitals, Cassia had added A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE! and underlined it. Perhaps Eugenia was right , she’d written.

No! Her parents’ marriage had always appeared rock solid.

She and Bronwen often found them with their arms around each other.

They used to call them the lovebirds. So, was that a lie, too?

Had her mother pretended to love her father all these years?

It was obvious she was a good liar. Her pulse raced.

Perhaps she shouldn’t read on. She was intruding into her mother’s personal space.

She went to close the journal, but the need to know everything was too strong.

She read on. There was another letter from Aunt Eugenia, dated before the one she’d read in the park. It seemed odd to call her ‘aunt’ when she’d learned of her existence a mere few hours ago. It was clear it had been written in answer to one her mother had sent.

Agapití Cassia,

I’m sorry to hear how unhappy you are. Back here, you had convinced yourself you truly loved Tom.

I’m so sorry the doubts appeared when you’d left the island.

I just wish you’d stayed and run Taverna Zervas as dear Michaíl wanted you to.

You’d have more than a two-ringed gas stove there to cook your spanakopita, and I don’t expect you can get lovely, salty feta in Wales.

Remember the big range at the taverna? I do miss you. But it’s too late now.

Who was Michaíl? Was her mother running away from him, too?

Try to make the best of it. For Eléni’s sake, if nothing else.

It makes me sad to know her nightmares are no better and you’ve had complaints from the people living in the next flat.

Give her a hug from me and Maia. Katerina sounds like a good Greek friend and I’m pleased you have someone you can speak to in your own language.

It’s a shame the boys are not kinder to Eléni.

No wonder she doesn’t want to stay with Katerina when you go to work.

How long is it before Tom comes home on leave?

Eléni placed the letter on her lap and racked her brain to think back to those times.

Their first home in Porth Gwyn had been a flat in a tall building near the crossroads in the middle of the town.

Theirs had been on the top floor, and from the bay window in the living room, she could look across to the red-brick building where her mamá had worked as a cleaner.

Mamá had told her the principal of the school there had been helping her learn sign language, and, in the evenings, Cassia would teach Eléni how to sign.

But I preferred to draw and mime , she remembered.

It was hard for her to remember not being able to speak, but she did recall the boys making fun of her.

The worst was Tony. He’d pretend to talk by mouthing the words at her, and his brother would dissolve into fits of laughter.

She had found the best way was to turn her back on them, but then they would turn her around and around so fast she’d get dizzy and fall over.

Auntie Katerina would come in and tell them off but as soon as her back had been turned, they’d be playing pranks on Eléni again.

Although her family had left Porth Gwyn in a hurry, she was not sorry to leave behind the taunts of her cousins.

There was another newspaper cutting, folded between the next two pages.

IS MISSING GREEK GIRL IN WALES?

Rhodri Jones — 12 June 1955

Almost two years on from the devastating earthquake that decimated the island, Kefalonia is being rebuilt and islanders are returning home.

One such man is Kostas Koulouris, 38, an engineer who had been working in Australia at the time of the earthquake.

He returned to find all his family had perished — his parents, his sister and her husband all died when the earthquake flattened their house.

However, a year on from his return, he has found out his five-year-old niece, I?ánna, may have survived.

After extensive research, he believes she was taken out of Kefalonia without permission from the authorities in Greece and brought to Wales.

Can you help? Has a Greek woman and a little girl who answers to the name of I?ánna settled in your town or village in the last two years?

If so, please contact Rhodri Jones, Chief Reporter, on Cardiff 3421. Help Kostas Koulouris be reunited with his niece.

Eléni gasped and put her hands to her mouth.

Her throat constricted. There was no mistaking who the little girl in the cutting was.

She’d never seen a photograph of herself that young, but there was no doubt.

She wasn’t five — or was she? — and her name wasn’t I?ánna, but the large brown eyes and thick black hair, the shape of the face.

.. She took a deep breath. It has to be me!

It had to be the reason she and her mother had left in such a hurry.

When they’d gone to live in Cardiff with Great-Aunt Gwladys, everything had improved.

She’d had no more nightmares and she’d begun to speak.

Perhaps her mother had thought they could remain anonymous in a large city.

There were lots of different nationalities and their communities in Cardiff, whereas in Porth Gwyn they’d stood out.

Hot tears pricked along her eyelids as she thought of the wonderful old lady whose plump arms would envelop her every night as she’d told her a Welsh folk story before bedtime.

Eléni remembered the first time her father had come home on leave when they’d just moved to the Cardiff house.

Her mamá had taken her to Tiger Bay where his ship had docked.

He’d scooped her up in his arms and squeezed her tight.

She’d been practising saying, ‘Welcome home, Baba,’ with the help of Auntie Gwladys and he’d given her the widest smile she’d ever seen when she’d said it.

Her mamá had been happy too. On that first leave of her father’s since they’d been in Cardiff, her great-aunt had often looked after her, taking her down to the boating lake and nearby park ‘to give your mam and dada time on their own’.

It was strange how she’d always referred to them as ‘mam and dada’ not ‘mamá and baba’.

On the next page was another letter from Aunt Eugenia.

Agapití Cassia,

I was so pleased to receive your letter. I have been worried thinking you and Eléni were unhappy and I could do nothing about it. You were right to leave the small town. Could it be the reporter you told me about? Be careful. You may still be found out.

Eléni thought back to the newspaper advertisement. The head offices of Rhodri Jones’s newspaper were in Cardiff, so her mother had been taking a chance on staying anonymous.

Theía Gwladys sounds as if she is a good woman. Does she know Eléni isn’t yours? Try not to keep any secrets from her. With Tom away, you need her.

You sound so happy in this latest letter.

Perhaps Tom being at sea for so long was what made you realise you had indeed fallen in love with him after all and the feelings you had for him in Fiscardo were genuine ones.

I am pleased to be wrong. Treasure him. You are lucky to have a man who loves you back.

I am so pleased there is to be a new baby. Eléni is going to love her new baby brother or sister. You do not love Tom like a friend now, eh?

As she read the words, Eléni was taken back to the day her mother had told her she was expecting. They’d been sitting with Auntie Gwladys in the sitting room.

‘I’ve got some exciting news, Eléni.’ Her mother had smiled. ‘What if I tell you that in a few months’ time you’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?’

Eléni squealed and clapped her hands. ‘Really? I am going to be big sister!’ She mimed rocking a baby.

‘You are and you’re going to be such a help to your mam, cariad ,’ said her auntie.

Bronwen’s arrival had been a happy time , Eléni remembered.

This letter was proof her concerns after earlier reading about a so-called marriage of convenience were for nothing. So her mother didn’t live a lie. Her parents did love each other as she thought. There was only one person who had been made to live a lie. And it wasn’t her fault.

There were photographs of baby Bronwen and one of Eléni holding her baby sister. She found the newspaper cutting and compared the photographs. She was the missing five-year-old I?ánna!

Conscious of the time, Eléni flicked through the rest of the book.

Her mother had pasted in certificates from events in Eléni and Bronwen’s childhoods — swimming events at the Empire Pool, ballet exams — even though she would never be a ballerina — and Brownie badges that had once adorned their sleeves on the tan-coloured uniforms. A whole page was given to an Eisteddfod certificate, where Eléni had won first prize in a drawing section.

Underneath was written: My lovely Eléni, who learned to draw so well when she couldn’t talk.

In capitals, Cassia had added: WE ARE SO PROUD OF HER!

Tears ran down Eléni’s face. She wanted so much to rant and rave at her parents, but if she hadn’t read the dropped letter they would still be the close, loving family her friends envied, in spite of the annoying little sister.

She heard her father’s truck pull up outside. She gathered up the journal and replaced it under the bed. There was one thing she kept back. The newspaper cutting with her photo on the front. She would decide what to do with it later.

‘Anybody home?’ her baba’s mellow voice echoed in the hallway. Eléni went to the top of the stairs.

’Just me, Baba. Be prepared for Madam Bronwen to swan in on high platforms. Got her own way with Mamá as usual. They’ve gone to Credenford.’

‘Now, now. Your mother wouldn’t have gone if she didn’t want to. Have you had a good day?’

‘It was... interesting.’ Eléni hoped and prayed he hadn’t seen Reg Morgan.