Page 48 of The Silent Sister

That evening, Eléni approached the taverna where Simos waited for her.

Her insides flipped when he turned to face her.

In the early-evening sun, his face and arms were a deep bronze.

Although he was more casually dressed than when he worked at the museum, he still looked immaculate in a short-sleeved pale blue linen shirt, worn with the top two buttons open, and cream-coloured slacks.

She wondered if she was underdressed in her long cheesecloth skirt.

Striped in shades of pink, purple and ecru, its unironed look was a stark contrast to Simos’s expertly pressed clothes.

‘Eléni.’ Simos’s face broke into a wide smile that reached his eyes. ‘You look lovely.’

He kissed her on both cheeks. His lips were soft and warm on her skin and his musky cologne caused her stomach to tighten.

‘I hope the restaurant isn’t too posh. I feel a bit underdressed. You look so smart.’

He looked puzzled. ‘Posh?’

‘Smart. Where rich people go.’

‘No, you will see all kinds of people there, enjoying the views. They all wear what they want to.’

The motorboat was almost full by the time they went aboard. Eléni and Simos found two seats together on the left-hand side of the boat.

‘It takes about fifteen minutes to get there. We should have a good view of the island from this side. The only access to some of these beaches and coves is down very steep lanes. It’s much better to get to them by boat if you can,’ said Simos.

The early-evening sun shone on the surface of the sea, making it sparkle and glisten.

Shades of turquoise and aquamarine reached as far as the steep white cliffs.

Eléni looked over the side of the boat and marvelled at the clarity of the water.

She could see right to the bottom and watched shoals of fish swimming close to the boat.

‘It’s beautiful. The colour of the water is almost jewel-like.’

The boat passed several secluded beaches and little coves on the way. By one stood a whitewashed single-storey building. It looked deserted, yet a colourful rowing boat was moored to a small wooden jetty. There was no lane leading from the beach so it could only be reached by boat.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination. People were disembarking from motorboats, while others were lining up to join boats on the return journey. Bars and tavernas lined the quayside and already bustled with people trying to get the best tables.

‘Don’t worry.’ Simos smiled. ‘I phoned and booked us a good table for the view.’

The restaurant had a large eating area at the front but when Simos gave his name to the waiter on the door, they were led upstairs to the roof terrace.

The one unoccupied table was right at the front with a magnificent view over the sea and the harbour.

The reserved sign had the name SIMOS GEORGATOS written on it.

‘Perfect, efcharistó.’ The waiter pulled out a chair for Eléni and left them. Simos sat down opposite Eléni. ‘This is a good position, eh?’

It was obvious Eléni that Simos came to the restaurant often — the waiters all knew him.

An image of him bringing an elegant young woman here filled her head.

With long black tresses tumbling over her slim tanned shoulders, she would also be dressed in immaculate designer clothes, and diners at the other tables would stop and watch as the couple was shown to their table — this table.

She looked down and smoothed her skirt, which appeared more creased than usual.

Stop it, Eléni. Of course, he’s had girlfriends, maybe still has.

This is just an evening with a new friend.

We have the earthquake in common and that’s all.

A waiter appeared at the table and handed them each a menu. ‘We recommend the bakalàos.’

Simos explained. ‘It’s dried cod. Here it is always served with agliada , a sauce made of boiled potatoes ground with garlic, olive oil and lemons.

It’s delicious. I tell you what, why don’t I ask Stephanos, here, to bring us a selection of the restaurant’s speciality dishes for you to try?

I want you to try real Kefalonian food. Efcharistó , Stephanos. ’

‘I understand. And you would like an aperitif?’

‘Nai . Ouzo, parakaló . With lots of ice. And a bottle of Robola.’

The sky was now a deep coral, streaked with fiery orange. The glowing tangerine sphere slowly sank into the horizon.

Stephanos brought the ouzos and placed the wine in the ice bucket on the table. ‘It’s beautiful, eh?’ He lit the candle in the glass lamp on the table. ‘For later.’

‘I love watching sunsets at home, but they’re nothing like this. It’s spectacular!’ With that, the sun disappeared completely.

‘The island is famous for its sunsets and now you can see why.’ Simos swirled the ice cubes in his glass and the liquid became milky. ‘What do you think of our ouzo?’

Eléni sipped the aniseed liqueur and let the burn travel down her throat. ‘It’s... different.’

Simos laughed. ‘You will get used to it. Ah, here comes our food.’

Stephanos drew up a small table and put it beside theirs while another waiter brought an array of small dishes.

‘Your starters. I will let Simos explain to you what the dishes are.’ Stephanos opened the wine and poured a little for Simos to try.

‘ Efcharistó . Excellent as always.’

The waiter filled the wine glasses and left them to their meals.

Simos turned back to Eléni. ‘I hope you will like what they have chosen for us. Maybe we’ll start with the dolmades .

They’re stuffed vine leaves. Then, these are mini lamb souvlaki, which go well with the tzatziki, the cucumber and yoghurt dip.

But I’ll stop. Discover the tastes for yourself, parakaló . ’

Eléni was amazed at the variety of foods to choose from and tried a little of everything, even the olives which she’d always said she hated!

‘Well, what did you think?’

‘I loved the variety. A bit different from the prawn cocktail I always choose back in Wales! I think my favourites were the vine leaves stuffed with rice and the lamb kebabs. The dish I wasn’t keen on was that one.’

‘Ah. It’s octopus. Disguised in a tomato sauce.’ Simos laughed. ‘Perhaps it takes some getting used to.’

It was dark now and each restaurant was lit with twinkling fairy lights. Moonlight reflected on the sea to give the whole place a magical, romantic feel. Eléni looked across at Simos and her heart skipped a beat. The contours of his face were accentuated by the light from the lamp.

‘I’ve told Stephanos to give us a few minutes before serving the main courses.’ Simos smiled. ‘You will have room, I promise. Let’s plan the next steps in your search.’

He took out a folded piece of paper and passed it over to Eléni. ‘From the 1971 census, I’ve made a list of all the men with the surname Koulouris living in Argostoli. So many went north to Fiscardo, as it was relatively untouched by the earthquake, so I’ve included a list from there too.’

Eléni unfolded the paper. ‘There are so many! Where do we start?’

‘It’s a very common name here. But we can rule out lots of them. Look at the column with their dates of birth. Anyone born after 1953 is going to be a teenager or a child. You said your uncle was thirty-eight in the newspaper report written in 1955.’

Eléni worked out the maths in her head. ‘So we’re looking for anyone who’s fifty-six now, fifty-four two years ago.’

She scanned the list. The long list was narrowed down to fourteen men of that age.

‘But none of those fourteen have the name Kostas, I’m afraid,’ said Simos. ‘I know it’s disappointing. Ah, here comes our main course. We’ll look at it again later.’

He picked up the paper to make room for the food. ‘ Efcharistó , Stephanos.’

‘Enjoy what we have prepared for you.’ The waiter placed two serving dishes on the table. ‘This is our speciality — bakalàos, accompanied by some horta . ’

Eléni noticed the strong smell of garlic as Simos spooned the fish onto her plate. The dark green leafy vegetable served alongside it reminded her of spinach, but it had been drizzled with lemon juice and olive oil.

They ate in silence for a little bit, just stopping now and then to sip the cool white wine.

‘What do you think?’ Simos could see Eléni had left the horta .

‘Sorry, it’s a bit strong for me.’ She quickly added, ‘But I like the fish. The sauce is delicious.’

He laughed. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to like everything. You will find horta everywhere in the fields. They say it is full of minerals and it grows like a weed. I think you like the wine, though?’ Simos grinned at her.

Eléni’s glass was empty again and she felt a little light-headed. She didn’t want the evening to end.

After the plates and dishes were cleared away, Stephanos returned. ‘With the compliments of the restaurant. Our mantola liqueur and honeyed baklavá.’

‘ Efcharistó , Stephanos. The food has been exceptional, as always.’

‘Yes, efcharistó . This has been a real experience for me,’ said Eléni.

Simos took the piece of paper out from his pocket again. ‘Let’s get back to finding Kostas Koulouris. I think the next step is to put out a request in the local press to see if anyone knows him.’

‘A bit like he did, to try to find me.’

‘Yes. You never know. Some of these Koulouris families may be his relatives... and yours. In the meantime, we could go to Fiscardo and look up these men. There are three with the name of Kostas. Perhaps your uncle didn’t want to settle back here in the place where he lost his family.’

Simos became quiet. Was he thinking of his own situation?

‘It must have been hard for you to return to Kefalonia if you were taken to the orphanage on the mainland. Why did you come back?’

‘You’re right. There’s no one in the world I belong to but when the position for an archivist came up in Argostoli, the pull was too much to resist. I can’t explain why.

It was the same at university. I chose to write my dissertation on the very disaster that wiped my whole family out.

It was as if I had to know everything and yet I still know nothing.

’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Apart from my name.’ His eyes misted.

Eléni reached across and took his hand. ‘I’m sure you can find out more... when you’re ready. You can tell me anything you remember if it helps.’

‘Perhaps. When I’m ready.’