Page 40 of The Silent Sister

‘Before I work on some more drawings, I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one? Slice of lemon with it?’

Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, please. I know you’d love me to drink it with milk like you, but I can’t break a habit of a lifetime, can I?’

They both laughed as Cassia followed Eléni into the kitchen.

For as long as she could remember, there were certain traditions her mother had brought from Greece that she always followed, even though most of the time she’d embraced Welsh culture.

Auntie Gwladys had taught her to bake the best Welsh cakes, and her bara brith was legendary.

Her baba said her mother’s lamb cawl was even better than Granny Megan’s.

His mother had died when he was a young boy and it was the reason he and Uncle Glyn had been so close to Great Auntie Gwladys. She’d practically brought them up.

After serving the tea and taking a couple of pastries from the tin, Eléni excused herself and went up to her bedroom, which faced the back garden.

She marvelled at the straight lines of mown grass marking the long lawn, her baba’s pride and joy.

From a life at sea, he’d now settled into being the perfect gardener for this detached house on the outskirts of Porth Gwyn.

Two neat rows of standard roses edged the wide path by the patio.

They would soon be laden with tresses of pale-peach blooms with the most marvellous perfume.

They were most fragrant on a balmy June evening, wafting up through her open window.

It was one of the first things she’d noticed when she’d moved to Porth Gwyn from Cardiff.

Her great-aunt’s house had had a courtyard concreted with crazy paving at the back, rather than a garden.

She pulled out her sketchbook from her desk under the window. She selected the six drawings Mr Williams had thought would appeal to customers most and removed them from the pad with great care. Placing them between two sheets of stiff card, she put them aside to take for Mr Williams to get framed.

She took out the pile of borrowed library books about Kefalonia that she’d hidden in the long drawer under her wardrobe.

Selecting one about the 1953 earthquake, she flicked through the pages to find images of the destroyed buildings.

One showed a house with one wall and the contents of a bedroom still intact.

She began to sketch it, first in soft pencil to map out the correct proportions and perspective, and then worked over the markings in pen and ink.

The building slowly became real on the page and Eléni sucked in a deep breath to prevent tears from forming.

It was as if she was there, witnessing the terror of what had happened to the family who had once called this place their home.

Again, she thought of what her mother had experienced and wondered if, like her, she would want to lock it away in a hidden compartment in her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Bronwen knocking at the door.

‘Eléni, can I come in?’ Eléni covered her drawing with the sheet of blotting paper she always kept to hand when working in ink and closed her sketchpad.

Bronwen breezed in before Eléni could answer.

She spotted the books on Eléni’s desk and picked one up.

‘What’s this? I thought you’d given up the idea of going to Kefalonia. Well, you haven’t mentioned it since, anyway.’

Eléni shook her head. ‘No, but you must promise not to tell Mamá and Baba. Since the accident, they’ve been fantastic.

But I have to go, Bron. It was such a shock to find out I’m not who I thought I was, but I do understand why they didn’t tell me.

I’ve been reading all I can about the earthquake and what Mamá went through.

No wonder she doesn’t want to talk about it.

But I may have blood relatives out there.

I need to find out. It won’t make any difference to how I feel about Mamá and Baba or you, I promise. ’

‘But why keep it a secret, then?’

‘Because Mamá is afraid of losing me to my real family. And she and Baba broke the law. I’m saving up everything I can and when it’s all settled, I’ll tell them and ask for their blessing. At the moment, I want to keep enjoying how close we all are. So, please, Bron. Please don’t say anything yet.’

‘All right. But I don’t think they’re going to be happy you’ve been planning everything behind their backs. Remember how you felt when you were the last to know about not being theirs. I’ll see you later.’

Eléni thought about what Bronwen had said. Being the last to know was what had hurt her most, but she was still a long way off from booking her trip. If she didn’t get another job, it would be next year before she could afford to go.

* * *

The following Thursday, Eléni travelled to Credenford as she’d planned. At first, her mother had talked about joining her, but to Eléni’s relief, she remembered she’d promised to have coffee with a friend.

Eléni knew it would have been difficult not to explain why she needed to slip away on her own if her mother had accompanied her.

The hour-long journey to Credenford gave Eléni time to think.

She shuddered as they rounded the bend where Andy had misjudged the speed of his Mini and they’d travelled much faster than the bus was currently going.

The ambulance with its blue lights flashing had got her there as fast as it could.

Looking out of the window, she noticed how the landscape had changed.

The soil was now a rich red-brown and she remembered her father telling her it was good for growing hops that produced his beloved beer.

Soon the bus was travelling through villages filled with picturesque black-and-white houses that lined up on either side of the road.

Most had steps up to the front doors. Some had thatched roofs and she imagined the climbing roses that would soon trail over arches in the gardens and maybe even over some front doors.

The scene resembled the colourful images she’d seen on tins of chocolates, but here was proof the idyll did exist. It was a stark contrast from the pictures of what was left of the houses in Argostoli.

Perhaps when she arrived there, the new town would have regained some of its former glory but, even then, it would not be anything like the villages here.

It wasn’t long before the coach pulled into the bus station.

The main street was only a short walk away and Get Away Travel was found about halfway down.

The large front window was covered in posters that advertised the holidays and travel destinations on offer.

Inside the office there were stands with brochures organised in alphabetical order.

Eléni pulled out one for Greece. There were lots of Greek islands mentioned in addition to mainland Greece, but nothing about Kefalonia. Her heart sank.

Eléni waited for an assistant to become free and then sat in front of their desk.

‘I’d like to travel to Kefalonia. But it seems to be the one island not advertised in here.’ She pointed to the brochure.

The young woman opposite was dressed in a smart navy-blue suit with a red-and-blue neckerchief.

‘It’s a beautiful island, but, of course, it was devastated by the 1953 earthquake.

Although it’s been almost twenty years, tourism is just starting to grow again there.

So many islanders left. Of course, with the twentieth anniversary coming up, everyone’s hoping this will be a bumper year for them.

Apart from one small area in the north, everywhere had to be rebuilt.

The new hotels are more in a villa style than the sixties tower blocks of say, Spain.

It’s very pretty. The airport opened last year.

You’ll need to fly to Athens and then to Kefalonia from there. ’

‘Oh. What about hotels or lodging houses? Is it easy to book accommodation? I need to visit there.’ Eléni’s voice cracked. She was surprised at the magnitude of emotion pent up inside her and how important the visit had become.

The assistant reached behind her and retrieved a brochure with a general heading, Travelling to Greece .

‘Let’s have a look in here. I can see this means a lot to you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘In here, it’s not package holidays but visits in general.

You have a section on flights and then a separate one on hotels and places to stay.

So, for instance, if you just need a flight and are staying with relatives or have a home there, you pick a flight from the flight timetable, and it may be all you need.

Here, look. Flights from Heathrow to Athens. ’

It was more than Eléni was expecting. In her head, she totted up everything she had in her account. ‘Thank you. This looks like what I need.’ She took the brochure from the assistant and left the shop.

On the coach journey home, she scoured the pages of the brochure for the best prices and any low-cost accommodation in Argostoli itself.

As long as it was clean and central, she didn’t need to stay in a fancy hotel that was going to eat into her money.

In spite of not being able to fly direct from Britain, Eléni was more determined than ever to get to the country of her birth.

The coloured photographs of the turquoise sea and busy fishing harbours, together with the vibrancy of the fresh fruit, vegetables and cheeses made her dead set on making the visit happen.

She put the brochure in the bottom of her bag and walked up the hill from the bus station to her house.

She couldn’t wait to tell Gabriella her plans.

Her mother was already back and Eléni could hear music blaring from Bronwen’s room.

‘Hiya, Mamá. I’m back.’

Her mother was in the kitchen preparing their evening meal. ‘How did you get on?’ Eléni went to tell her about what she’d found out and just stopped herself in time. Her mother knew nothing of her visit to the travel agents.

‘Get anything nice in the shops? I don’t see any bags apart from your handbag.

Not like your sister.’ She laughed. ‘She’d buy up the whole of Chelsea Girl if she could.

By the way, someone from the Metropole called.

You need to call in tomorrow and they’ll talk to you about a waitressing job.

I told them you’ll be working, but maybe you can slip over in your lunch hour. They said that would be fine.’

‘Oh, really? That’s great. Thank you, Mamá. No, I just had a browse around. I bought some new sketching pencils from the art shop next to the cathedral.’

‘I still don’t know what you want more work for. It’s not as if you spend much, is it?’