Page 51 of The Silent Sister

The third contact turned out to be a false trail, too. That Kostas had left the island the previous year and the new tenants did not have a forwarding address for him.

‘I’m sorry. It looks as if we are back at the beginning. Now our only hope of finding your uncle is the advert I put in the local paper. It is a weekly Saturday paper, so it should be in tonight’s edition. Come on, let’s go and get some lunch, and then we’ll find your aunt.’

After their meal, they returned to the car again and travelled in the direction of the cove on the map. If Eléni had remembered correctly, her aunt’s house would be close by.

‘Stop! I think it’s down there.’ Eléni pointed to a narrow scree lane leading to the left.

The sea glistened below them. As Simos drove slowly over the uneven surface, her pulse raced.

She knew she was in the right place — memories were fast returning.

Through the pine trees, the smallholding looked the same, apart from the fact that the olive trees behind it were noticeably larger and the house itself had been extended.

She half expected to see Maia playing with the kittens by the barn.

‘Is this the right place?’ Simos parked outside the gate and they walked towards the house. ‘It’s a lovely spot with that view.’

A brown-and-white dog bounded up to greet them, barking and wagging its tail.

‘Hello, boy. You seem pleased to see us.’ Eléni bent to stroke him. ‘Yes, this is it. Mamá used to take me and Maia to this beach to play.’

By the time they reached the house, a young woman with a curly-haired baby propped on her hip had come out to see what all the barking was about.

‘Shh, Titan. Can I help you?’

‘I’m looking for my aunt, Kyria Eugenia Papadatos.’ Eléni’s heart pounded. It was obvious the woman didn’t recognise the name.

‘I’m sorry, we moved here last year. We bought it from a family called Drakos, I’m afraid.’

‘Thank you, anyway. I lived here for a few years when I was young, before I moved to Wales.’ Eléni turned to leave before the woman could see the hot tears pricking her eyes, leaving Simos to say goodbye. Why had the letters between her mother and her sister stopped? Where had Eugenia moved to?

As they walked back to the car, Simos placed an arm around her. ‘I’m so sorry, Eléni. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing your aunt again. I would normally recommend we go to the post office for a forwarding address, but there have been two owners since she left the house.’

‘It’s not turning out to be a very good day, is it?’ said Eléni. ‘But I’ve enjoyed seeing more of your lovely island. I just have to accept I’m not going to find my uncle or my Aunt Eugenia.’

They drove back in silence until Simos banged his hand on the steering wheel.

‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before?

I know the person who has the same job as me here in Fiscardo and I could see if he’ll do me a favour.

I’d do the same for him. I’ll ask to see the census records from 1971.

If your aunt is still in Fiscardo, we’ll find her address there. ’

* * *

Eugenia Papadatos was indeed still living in Fiscardo. Eléni and Simos arrived at the locked wrought-iron gates of a large, detached house in a street where pink oleander trees in full bloom edged the wide pavement.

‘This is a bit grander than the smallholding. Can you see a bell?’ Eléni pressed the brass button set in the gate frame. They waited a while before she pressed again. Still no one answered. Just as they were about to go, a grey-haired woman emerged and walked towards the gate.

Eléni forgot all her worries about formality. ‘It’s me, Eléni.’ Memories of how kind this lovely woman had been to her when they’d first arrived at her house came flooding back.

Her aunt gasped and peered through the metal bars as she unlocked the gate. ‘Cassia’s Eléni? I can’t believe it! You have grown into a beautiful woman from the tiny girl you were when I last saw you. Come in, come in, please.’

The two women embraced and were overcome with emotion. ‘Theía, this is my friend, Simos.’

‘Welcome, Simos. It’s good to meet a friend of Eléni’s.’

‘You, too, Kyria Papadatos.’

‘Please call me Eugenia.’

The two shook hands.

‘Eléni, why don’t I leave you to catch up with your aunt and I’ll call back for you — say, an hour? You’ll have so much to talk about. I will be in the way, I’m sure.’

‘You don’t have to, but if you’re sure, efcharistó.’

Eugenia saw Simos to the gate and locked it behind him.

Eléni’s aunt led Eléni to the back of the garden where they sat in the shade under an ecru-coloured awning.

In front of them was a paved area full of ornamental pots overflowing with colourful trailing plants.

A bright cerise-pink bougainvillea tumbled over a wooden pergola at the end of the cultivated space that led into an orchard full of orange and fig trees laden with fruit.

‘This is a beautiful house, Theía. What made you move here?’

‘It was our family home, where Cassia and I were brought up. I moved here after our mother died. See the swing hanging from the ancient olive tree?’ She pointed to the left of the pergola.

‘Well, that’s where we used to have hours of fun.

Maia did too. It’s had new ropes, but the seat is the one my baba made for us, and the branches have just grown thicker and stronger.

How is Cassia?’ Her face became serious.

Eléni knew there had been some sort of row between them. ‘She’s fine, but she didn’t want me to come to Kefalonia. I’ve only just found out she’s not my birth mother. A few months ago, I found a letter from you saying someone had come looking for us.’

Eugenia let Eléni talk. ‘I know why she took me away and I’ve had a very happy life, but they should have told me. It’s why I’m here. To find all I can about my birth family starting with the man who I think is my uncle.’

‘I’ll never forgive her for not coming back to see Mamá when she was dying.’

For a moment, neither spoke and there was an awkward distance between them.

Eléni defended her mother. ‘I’m sorry, but Mamá is terrified she will be prosecuted for taking me out of Kefalonia without permission from the authorities.

It’s the reason she doesn’t want me to find my uncle.

She said she broke the law, but what she did was in my best interest. After meeting Simos, I know it was.

I just wish they’d told me so I didn’t have to find out like I did. ’

‘But it’s been nearly twenty years. So many people emigrated. I doubt they would be concerned about your mother doing what she did, even then. And what do you mean about Simos?’

‘His family was wiped out like mine, but he didn’t have anyone like Cassia. He was taken to an orphanage on the mainland where he suffered terrible abuse.’

Eugenia held Eléni’s hand. ‘Oh, poor man. One thing is for sure, I know my sister loved you very much. She was even willing to marry Tom to have a better chance of getting you away. Let’s go inside and I’ll make you a drink.’

Eléni thought the comment about her mother being willing to marry her father was strange.

But she remembered being surprised that her mother had written A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE over one of her diary entries and added, Perhaps Eugenia was right .

Maybe that’s what it had been at the start, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her parents loved each other very much.

The kitchen was much bigger than the previous one, but it was still a cook’s kitchen. Well-used pots and pans of various shapes and sizes were displayed on an overhead clothes airer suspended from the ceiling. The copper briki , essential for making Greek coffee, took pride of place.

‘Would you prefer an iced coffee, a frappé or a lemonade? The lemonade is freshly made.’

‘Lemonade, parakaló.’

The large refrigerator doors were covered in children’s drawings. Eléni thought back to the time when she’d used drawings to communicate with her aunt and Maia.

‘Whose are these lovely drawings?’

‘Ah, they are my granddaughter’s. Eléni. She’s five.’

Eléni gasped. ‘My name!’

‘Yes. Maia named her after you. We often talk about you. They live in Patras now so I don’t see a lot of her, but Maia sends me lots of drawings. They remind me a lot of yours.’ Eugenia pointed to a framed photograph displayed on the dark wooden dresser. ‘That’s her there.’

Eléni walked over to take a good look. ‘She’s beautiful. She looks like Maia.’

Eugenia agreed and they went back outside.

The mid-afternoon sun was still intense and Eléni was glad to sit under the shade of the awning.

‘I haven’t found my uncle, but with Simos’s help — him being an archivist — I have found out a lot about my birth parents.

It was very sad to stand on the very spot where they and my grandparents were killed.

My father was an artist. It’s what I do too. ’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Eugenia. ‘Your drawings were exceptional for a three-year-old.’

‘Ah, but my birth certificate says I was five. My full name is I?ánna Eléni Mouzakis. Simos says it was a tradition for baby girls to be named after their yiayiás, so he thinks I was known by my second name. It’s a bit more Greek than Beynon, eh?’

‘Your Greek is excellent. Your mother did a great job teaching you.’

‘Yes, I am very grateful for that. It’s made getting around Kefalonia a lot easier. She insisted my sister, Bronwen, and I both learned. I’m not so good at writing it, though.’

They continued chatting and the hour flew by. The bell rang and Eugenia let Simos in.

‘Have you both had a good catch-up? I visited my friend. It may not come to anything, but he’s going to look up some records at the orphanage for me.’

Eléni stood and hugged him. ‘That’s the best news.’ The fact he’d confided in his friend had to be a step in the right direction.

‘ Efcharistó, Theía. It’s been so good to see you again. Please remember me to Maia. And I promise I’ll come to see you before I go back home.’

The two women hugged each other, neither one of them wanting to pull away first. But it was Eugenia who abruptly stepped back.

‘Did you say your surname was Mouzakis? It’s not common here in Kefalonia, but I’ve been racking my brain to remember where I’ve heard it before.

Your father’s name wasn’t Andreas, was it? ’

Eléni’s heart raced and she looked at Simos. ‘Yes, Andreas Spyros Mouzakis. The names of both my birth parents are imprinted on my brain. Why?’

‘In the school hall, artwork from well-known Kefalonian artists is displayed on the walls. I’m sure there is one by Andreas Mouzakis. It may not be him of course and I don’t want to build up your hopes.’