Page 61 of The Silent Sister

The next morning, the little church was full as they filed into their seats.

Kostas and his family sat two rows in front.

Cassia admired the gilded screen displaying paintings of saints and scenes from the Bible.

She looked up at the huge ornate chandelier above her and remembered the old church that had been destroyed.

Dressed in black, the orthodox priest entered and before stepping up into the sanctuary, he crossed himself.

Although it was a Sunday and the usual religious services would take place throughout the day, this was not going to be a formal service.

It seemed appropriate to commemorate the anniversary in a church.

Cassia’s faith had lapsed — she told herself it was because she couldn’t find a Greek Orthodox church in which to worship in Wales, but she knew it was an excuse.

There’d been Greek churches in Cardiff when she’d lived there.

‘Today we are here to remember the six hundred men, women and children who lost their lives on the fateful day twenty years ago today. At exactly twenty-four minutes past eleven, the exact time the earthquake struck, let us take a minute’s silence to remember those who perished. Will you please all stand?’

Cassia and Tom, standing either side of Eléni, held their daughter’s hands. Eléni sucked in a deep breath. Kostas’s head was bowed and Cassia realised, like Eléni, he had lost his parents that day too.

A bell from the outside belltower struck eleven times and the church became eerily silent apart from a single sob that came from the row behind them.

‘ Efcharistó . Please be seated.’

The priest ended the service by reading an account of how the island had progressed, starting to rebuild and recover over the last twenty years.

‘Let us depart in peace.’

The congregation left the solemnity of the church for bright sunshine. Families were milling around — some were reuniting with people they hadn’t seen for years.

‘Let’s catch up with Theíos Kostas,’ said Eléni. ‘He’s going to take us to the memorial he’s had erected for... um...’ She paused.

‘It’s all right. You can say it. Your mamá and baba, eh?’

Eléni nodded.

Together, both families made their way down to the harbour and walked across the long bridge to the municipal cemetery.

They walked through the large metal gates into what seemed like a sea of white marble.

Large family tombs stood alongside single gravestones, memorial plaques, crosses and obelisks.

They followed Kostas until they came to a simple slab of white marble inscribed with four names and the date of the earthquake.

‘Here it is. They died together so they are remembered together.’ Kostas stood with his head bowed and his hands clasped together.

Tom placed an arm around Eléni as she too bowed her head. ‘Rest in peace, Mamá and Baba,’ she whispered.

After some quiet reflection, they walked away and left the cemetery.

Eléni was the first to speak. ‘ Efcharistó , Theíos Kostas. It means a lot that I can come here and pay my respects. I’ll see you again before I leave. I’m going to spend the rest of the day with everyone up in Fiscardo now. Bye, Theo. Irida. Can I have a hug, Amara?’

The little girl ran into Eléni’s arms. ‘Ooh.’ Eléni picked her up and rubbed her head into Amara’s tummy, making her squeal.

On the journey back to Fiscardo, Cassia smiled as she listened to Eléni and Bronwen talking non-stop in the back of the car to catch up on what they’d missed while they’d been apart.

‘You’re not going to leave all this behind, are you? Break the divine Simos’s heart?’ Bronwen whispered.

Cassia strained to hear.

‘I promised, Bron. In any case, lots of people have relationships with hundreds of miles between them. It makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it? Look at Mamá and Baba when he was in the Navy. Simos understands. I’ll come over as often as I can and he’ll come to Wales.’

‘If you say so,’ said Bronwen. She didn’t sound convinced.

It was good to reach Eugenia’s house. It had been a solemn morning, but it had meant so much to Cassia.

To them all. Looking around the sitting room, she focused on the photographs on the sideboard and wondered what the couple whose picture was central to the display would have thought.

Would they have accepted Eléni as their granddaughter?

And what about bubbly, excitable Bron? Could she have thawed her pappoú’s heart?