Page 53 of The Silent Sister

Theo Koulouris arrived dead on time in his open-top silver BMW.

Eléni thought he looked about the same age as her, maybe a few years younger.

After morning greetings and introductions, they were soon leaving Argostoli behind, winding along the coast road and avoiding the occasional goat along the way.

Theo looked in the rear mirror. ‘My father is looking forward to meeting you, Eléni. With just the little information we have, he is convinced you are his niece, I?ánna. It makes us cousins if you are! There’s no one else. Mamá died several years ago.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I can’t wait to meet your baba either. But we mustn’t build our hopes up. I’d almost resigned myself to never finding my uncle, hadn’t I?’

Simos turned around from the passenger seat and smiled. ‘I have a good feeling about this.’

For the rest of the journey, the two men chatted in the front of the car while Eléni drank in the magnificent views of the sea and the little coves below. It was good to feel the breeze on her face and her long hair blew out behind her.

In what seemed like no time at all, they arrived at their destination.

‘Here we are,’ said Theo. ‘Baba moved to New Farsa after Mamá died. He couldn’t bear to be in the house without her. Here there are no memories.’

Turning off the main road, he drew up into a street leading down a hill and parked halfway down.

The sleek BMW seemed out of place. The one other vehicle parked nearby was an old Datsun Cherry, covered in thick dust and sporting several dents.

Theo led them to his father’s house and entered through a wooden beaded curtain.

‘Baba, we’ve arrived.’ He turned to Eléni and Simos. ‘Come on through.’

Eléni clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. She found it difficult to breathe. The room at the back of the house was dark and cool. Kostas Koulouris got up from his chair in the corner and embraced his son.

‘Baba, this is Eléni, the young woman I told you about, and her friend, Simos Georgatos.’

The man immediately broke down in tears. Theo wrapped his arms around his father to comfort him. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you like this since Mamá passed.’

His father moved towards Eléni and took her hands.

‘This is my niece. There is not a shadow of doubt. It is like looking at my sister, your dear mamá, at the same age.’ Tears still streaming down his cheeks, he pulled Eléni into his arms. ‘ Efcharistó, efcharistó . I never thought I would see this day.’

Her uncle’s body convulsed into sobs against her. She’d dreamed about this moment ever since she’d found her aunt’s letter. She wept in silence with her arms around her uncle. Theo and Simos allowed the two of them time to savour their moment.

‘Come with me, Simos. We’ll take some drinks into the garden and let Baba and Eléni get to know each other.’

Kostas took Eléni to sit on the small sofa.

He held her hand. ‘You have to know, agápi mou . I tried so hard to find you. Once I heard you may be alive, I wanted to bring you up as my daughter, a sister for Theo. My wife, Philia, agreed. We were blessed with one son and you would have made our family complete. I was working away in Australia when the disaster happened. I couldn’t get back here until almost two years after the earthquake and by then you had left Kefalonia. ’

Eléni imagined what it would have been like being brought up here on the island. ‘How did you find out I’d survived?’

Her uncle seemed to want to talk about that awful time.

It was as if just seeing his niece had opened up all these horrible memories.

‘Philia and Theo were still living in Athens. I’d come back here to find out who of my family had survived.

I’m ashamed to say I was so shocked everyone in my family had died, I started to drink.

Every night, too much raki. I got talking to a reporter who’d been here right after the earthquake and his paper had sent him back two years later to find out how the island was doing after so many had emigrated. ’

Rhodri Jones! Eléni was convinced of it.

‘He told me he’d seen a couple take a little girl away in a farmer’s horse and trap with a doubtful explanation of going to visit the animals on the man’s farm. He didn’t believe them and found out they’d gone to Fiscardo to the woman’s sister.’

‘And you tracked my Theía Eugenia down and visited her there.’

Kostas sat back on the sofa. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because my aunt warned my mother someone was looking for me.’

His face turned red as he stood and paced the floor, his voice rising. ‘And she did nothing about it? How could she?’ Her uncle spat the words out.

Eléni spoke in a whisper. ‘Please don’t be angry, Theíos Kostas.

She just did what she thought was best for me.

She honestly thought I had no one. She saved me from going into an orphanage.

I had such a happy childhood. I’ve heard awful stories about cruelty if I’d been taken in by the authorities.

’ Eléni thought of Simos and the life he’d had.

Kostas’s face remained serious. ‘But she denied me finding the one member of my family who’d survived!

’ Calming down, he brushed away a tear and returned to sit beside his niece.

‘Anyway, I sorted myself out and brought Philia and Theo to Argostoli. We made our life here on the island where I could be close to my sister and parents, and where I grew up.’ He turned to Eléni and let out a big sigh.

‘She had no right to do that, you know. But I can’t change what happened. Let’s see where the men are.’

Eléni noticed the framed photographs displayed on a dark wooden bureau.

As well as a wedding photograph with a young-looking Kostas as the groom and a portrait of a baby that must be Theo, one stood out to Eléni.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was like looking in a mirror.

It had to be her mother. The same heart-shaped face, the huge dark eyes and the curly hair reaching below her shoulders.

Her hands shaking and her eyes welling with tears, she asked, ‘Is this my mamá?’ She knew full well it was.

‘ Nai. Wasn’t she beautiful? You are beautiful.’

For the first time since Eléni had found out, the feeling of not knowing who she really was lifted.

She at last knew whose blood ran through her veins.

First seeing her father’s photograph in the school hall in Fiscardo, and now this one of her mother, had had such a profound effect on her.

She had one person to thank. Simos Georgatos.

Her lip trembled. ’She was very beautiful. And who’s this?’ Eléni pointed to another photograph. One of a little girl about five, which was in colour.

‘My granddaughter, Amara. Remind you of someone?’

‘She looks like my mamá, I think.’

‘And you!’

They joined Theo and Simos outside. The small courtyard was partially shaded by a wooden pergola, draped in a well-established magenta bougainvillea.

‘Ah, good. You’ve got glasses for us, too. Help yourself to the lemonade, Eléni. Homemade, using the new-fangled juicer my posh son gave me, no doubt.’

Theo laughed. ‘Well, someone has to use it, Baba. I found it still in the box!’

It was clear father and son got on well. Eléni felt a pang as she wondered what life would have been like for her if Kostas Koulouris had returned to the island earlier and then berated herself for her disloyalty.

It was soon time to leave. The old man disappeared into the house and brought out a handful of small black-and-white photographs.

‘Here, you must have these, Eléni. To remind you of your real family.’ His voice became scratchy.

Eléni’s heart raced. There were photos of a baby at different ages, some of a toddler with black curls and others of a young couple she recognised as her parents.

Her eyes pricked with tears. She turned over each one to see they had been labelled and dated.

The baby and young child was her. Her uncle pulled her into a hug.

‘This is a special one,’ he said, handing her a bigger photograph of an older woman dressed in black with her hair pulled back from her face.

She held a young child who looked up at her with a wide smile on her face.

‘I took this on your fourth birthday before I left to work in Australia. Mamá adored you. Her first grandchild.’ His eyes misted with tears. ‘It was the last time I saw her.’

Eléni hugged him tighter. ‘ Efcharistó , Theíos Kostas. I shall treasure them. And thank you for looking for me. I’ll come and see you again before I leave. Perhaps on a Monday. It’s my day off.’