Page 56 of The Silent Sister

The hotels were now full. Although there was not going to be a formal event on the actual day of the anniversary, when Eléni spoke to customers during her shifts in the taverna, they all said they wanted to come and pay their respects to those who had died.

Many were Greeks who had emigrated to America in the aftermath of the disaster.

Most had married local men and women and were bringing them and their children to the island for the first time, as part of their Greek–American heritage.

All were staying on to observe the spectacle of the annual pilgrimage to the church of St Gerasimos, when hundreds would arrive to pay their respects to the island’s patron saint.

One evening, after finishing her shift, Simos surprised Eléni by taking her to a restaurant she hadn’t visited before.

With its prime position overlooking the harbour in the distance, away from the bustle of the tavernas and bars, Ta Elaiódentra was a pale-pink building set in its own grounds surrounded by mature olive trees from which it took its name.

Oleander bushes with blooms the same colour as the rendered walls of the restaurant lined the short walkway from the street to the glass-covered outside seating area.

‘I thought we could try this place tonight,’ he said.

‘You deserve to be wined and dined after being kept so busy now at the taverna.’ He took Eléni’s hand and kissed it.

‘If you like it, perhaps we could come here the evening before the anniversary. I expect every restaurant and taverna will be overflowing with diners on the night of the twelfth. And, besides, do we really want to celebrate the day both of us became orphans? Acknowledge it and remember it, yes, but I want the evening to be special for you.’

Eléni smiled and took his hand as he led her into the restaurant. ‘Every meal out with you is special, Simos Georgatos. Especially when you pick amazing places like this.’

‘Ah, but this is going to be extra special. You’ll have to wait and see.’

The restaurant was full and Eléni was pleased when the waiter took them to the table on the upstairs verandah that Simos had booked for them.

The food was superb. Eléni had the sea bream and Simos chose his favourite lamb souvlaki.

After they’d drunk their coffees and were sipping the complimentary ouzos, Simos took Eléni’s hand.

‘Do you remember me saying my friend, the archivist in Fiscardo, was going to help me with a bit of research about my family?’

‘Yes, have you heard from him?’

Simos became animated. ‘Yes, Lysander rang the office today. All I’d given him to go on was my name and the name of the orphanage.

’ He inhaled deeply. ‘I haven’t mentioned anything to you but since talking to him, I’ve been letting myself think about the day of the earthquake more.

I remember I had two brothers who were much younger than me, babies perhaps.

My mother was beautiful and kind. She had a sweet singing voice.

’ Bringing his fist to his mouth, he stifled a sob.

‘As well as my parents and grandparents, my aunt, uncle and cousins lived in the house next door. Everyone was wiped out while I played in the garden.’

Eléni stroked his hands with hers. ‘Helping me find my family must have been so hard for you. I’m so sorry.’

‘No, not at all. It’s what I needed! Anyway, he’s found out I was from Old Farsa.

I could have done this myself years ago, of course, but hadn’t been able to face it.

The best news is he’s visited the area, and, better than that, he’s found someone who lived through the earthquake.

Kyria Lourdata. She is willing to see me! ’

* * *

On her day off, Simos picked up Eléni in a hired truck that would be more suitable than his car to reach the ruined village of Old Farsa up in the mountains.

Lysander had told Simos that, at first, Kyria Lourdata had refused to be rehoused in New Farsa when her home had been destroyed in 1953, but had relented in the end as long as she could be at the nearest point in the new village to her original home.

‘I told Kyria Lourdata we’d arrive about eleven o’clock, so I thought we could go to Old Farsa first and see what’s left of it. Perhaps more memories will come back to me. I was a bit older than you were, don’t forget?’ Simos looked across at Eléni. ‘It’s strange, but I’m feeling quite nervous.’

Eléni squeezed his thigh. ‘You’re at the stage I was when we came to visit my uncle. I know how you feel.’

The car climbed its way up to the ruined village. Eventually, they had to get out and make the last part of the journey on foot.

‘I’m glad you warned me to wear strong shoes,’ said Eléni.

The narrow gravel path clung to the edge of a steep cliff and it would be so easy for them to lose their footing.

Below them, halfway down the mountain and nearer the sea, the orange-red roof tiles of the houses in New Farsa glowed brightly in the sun.

Reaching the ruins, there was still plenty of evidence of the houses that had once stood there in the old village. The paths were now covered in grass and they could make out the shape of the village square.

They came to a ruin where one wall stood with its wooden door still attached to the masonry. Behind it was a plot of land in which there was what looked like an olive press and several squat olive trees, their trunks gnarled and twisted. All the colour drained from Simos’s face.

‘Are you all right? What is it?’

He shivered.

‘I think this could be where I used to live. See the old tree at the farthest point from the house? I had a treehouse there and that’s what saved me.

’ He walked across to where the tree stood, forlorn and gnarled.

‘Look, there are still some rotting planks of wood underneath. They must have fallen from the fork in the branches where the floor was.’ He pointed to the heap of rubble beside the standing wall.

‘Everyone else was in there.’ He put his hands over his ears.

‘There was an ear-splitting, huge bang. I heard everyone’s screams and the crack from the wall shattering threw up so much dust I couldn’t even see the house. ’

He steadied himself against the solitary wall. ‘I’ve never allowed myself to remember until now. Oh, Eléni.’ She held him until he’d cried twenty years of tears. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shh. If it’s too much, we don’t have to do it all today.’

‘No, I’ll be fine. It’s long overdue.’

They wandered around the old, ruined buildings. It was eerily silent apart from the sound of birdsong and an accompaniment from the cicadas. A welcome light breeze sprang up and wafted the smells of wild thyme and a neglected jasmine bush.

‘It must have been a beautiful place to grow up before...’ Eléni’s voice was barely audible. She was living the emotions Simos must have been feeling inside.

From the colour of the stone and the size of the buildings, Eléni tried to imagine what it had been before the fateful day when Simos’s life had changed for ever. He’d carried his burden around for twenty years. She’d only known about being an orphan for five months.

He looked at his watch.

‘Come on. Let’s go and meet Kyria Lourdata.’