Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The next day Augi was happily ensconced back in her safe place, with most of her equilibrium returned.
She looked up to see one of her regulars — Mrs Henderson — peering in through the open door, handbag clutched to her chest as if the library might vanish if she didn’t get inside quickly enough.
‘Good morning,’ Augi said, smiling. ‘I have the reserve you ordered.’
She disappeared briefly into the back room and returned with the book, along with the pair of reading glasses she kept in a drawer for precisely moments like these. Mrs Henderson never remembered her glasses and couldn’t read without them.
Mrs Henderson beamed as she slipped them on. ‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ she said, flipping the book open. ‘You know this is all about the old days, when my family first moved into the area.’
‘I thought you’d enjoy it,’ Augi replied.
She listened as the woman talked — about houses that no longer stood, about dances held in halls that had been pulled down, about people who lived on only in stories. It was oddly comforting.
Her own mother used to talk of their family’s past in Thessaloniki. She’d been fiercely proud of their history, of the long line of stubborn, resilient people they came from. She’d died while Augi was still a teenager.
Augi excused herself and moved to the computer desk, determined not to think about her family today. She had learnt, the hard way, that some memories were better handled in private. Preferably at night, when there was no one around to see what they did to her.
As she logged in, a flicker of movement caught her attention.
An elderly man stood near the doorway, hesitating, his cap held awkwardly in both hands. He smiled when he saw her.
‘Mr Gardner,’ she greeted.
‘Χρ?νια πολλ?,’ he said carefully. ‘Happy Greek Independence Day.’
She swallowed, feeling the effect of the words like a chill settling in her gut, making her feel queasy. She hadn’t thought about it. Not consciously.
She managed a smile. ‘Thank you. I’d… almost forgotten.’
‘Ah, well, you’re a long way from home.’ He paused. ‘And of course it’s best to live in the now, isn’t it? Rather than the past,’ he added kindly.
She nodded. She certainly didn’t disagree with that. If only she could manage it all the time.
He lingered a moment longer, as if weighing something.
‘I nearly forgot,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘I heard something… on the radio this morning. About Athens.’
Her fingers froze on the keyboard.
‘What about it?’ she asked, though she already knew.
‘They were marking the anniversary. Of the protests in 2010. The strikes and demonstrations. And the deaths.’
The word echoed in her head as the memories rose without permission.
The noise first — sharp, impossibly loud, splitting the night open.
The smell of smoke. Sirens screaming. Explosions sounding.
People banging on their door, demanding access, demanding blood.
The terror in her husband’s eyes. It had only been then that she’d realised what he’d been unable to prevent.
What she would have seen if she hadn’t been looking away from her husband… at another man.
She had been there. She had seen it all. And she’d failed to stop the unthinkable happening. And it had been her fault. And she didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself, just as her husband’s family had refused to forgive her.
But now she said nothing, her mind drawing a blank, only vague images — images she usually was only haunted with at night.
He shifted his head so he could see her face.
But whatever he saw there made him want to explain further, rather than stop.
‘You know about the reactions to the government’s austerity measures.
I must say I didn’t realise unemployment rates were so high.
50% for youngsters, I think I remember hearing.
’ He paused, presumably hoping she’d add something, but she had nothing to say.
She’d had nothing to say since she left Greece ten years earlier.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I thought of you when I saw it. I said, Marie, I said, that must be where our librarian is from. I’m right, aren’t I? ’
She swallowed and managed a nod as she turned back to him, her face now the usual mask.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said automatically. ‘My family is from Thessaloniki, but I was living in Athens during the strikes and demonstrations.’
He nodded, relieved, and left soon after, the familiar squeak of the garden gate signalling his exit.
Augi stood very still.
For a moment she was back there — the chaos, the terror, the certainty that everything she had known had ended in a single, irreversible instant. She pressed her palms flat against the desk, grounding herself in the present. In the smell of paper and polish. In the soft murmur of voices outside.
‘Augi?’
Kate’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts.
Augi looked up.
Kate MacLeod stood in the doorway, concern written plainly across her face. She must have entered as Mr Gardner was exiting. Kate took one look at Augi and crossed the room.
‘Are you all right?’ Kate asked softly.
Augi opened her mouth to deliver the usual answer. Fine. Of course. Nothing to worry about.
Instead, something inside her gave way.
‘I… I need a moment,’ she said, and was surprised by how unsteady her voice sounded.
Kate guided her to one of the chairs and sat opposite her, hands folded, while she waited patiently for Augi to recover. That, more than anything, undid her.
‘It’s silly,’ Augi began. ‘Mr Gardner mentioned something on the radio. Something from… before.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘The economic crisis we had.’ She shook her head. ‘In Greece.’
‘You were in Athens at the time, if I remember correctly? You mentioned it once.’
Augi nodded, but words eluded her.
‘Was it terrible? I remember a little, but’ — Kate shrugged — ‘you know, when it’s so far away, we only hear the headlines.’
‘It was terrible,’ said Augi slowly, unused to talking to anyone about what had gone on before.
Kate reached over and placed a hand on hers. Augi looked up in surprise. Usually her cool demeanour put people off. But she should have known Kate would be different. She’d been different from the day she’d met her ten years ago. But still she’d managed to maintain a distance. Until now.
‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ said Kate, ‘not if it upsets you.’ Kate looked thoughtful for a few moments.
‘But if you ever want to talk to anyone about it, I’d be honoured if you chose me.
I’ll keep your confidence, and it might make things easier for you if you talk to someone because I suspect you haven’t, have you? ’
Augi shook her head. ‘No.’ She shot her a tight-lipped smile. ‘And thank you… for your understanding. I appreciate it, more than I can express.’
Kate nodded with a smile. ‘You’re welcome.
And just remember, I’m here if you want to talk.
’ She paused for a moment. ‘And don’t feel you’re imposing because our friendship is a two-way thing, and I’m about to impose on you, yet again,’ she said with a smile full of charm which Augi recognised was something Dan had inherited.
‘If you’re free to talk?’ She stood by Augi’s desk, bag in hand, expression anxious. ‘If you’re not too busy.’
‘There’s nothing that can’t wait.’ Augi was curious. Even if she had been busy, she’d have made sure she had time for Kate because this wasn’t the usual opening conversation from her friend. ‘Is everything all right?’
Kate shrugged and sat down on the sunny window seat, pulling off her cardigan and tossing it to one side on top of her fraying kete — the Māori woven bag had clearly been well loved. ‘Depends on your definition of all right.’
Augi stayed in her desk chair, angling it to Kate who was haloed by the morning sun. ‘My definition would be that everyone in my life was well and happy and that there was nothing unforeseen to disturb the future picture.’
Kate held up one finger with emphasis. ‘That. Your last point. It’s my future I’d like to talk about — my insecure future, I should say.’
‘I hope you mean the house? You’re not unwell, are you?’
Kate shook her head. ‘I’m as fit as a fiddle. I do mean the house. None of my children will let it drop, and it’s getting to me. For years I managed to avoid thinking about it. But now?’ Kate shrugged.
‘You can’t, because you know they’re right.’
Kate pressed her lips together and nodded. ‘Yes.’ She looked at Augi sadly. ‘I have to face facts, I think.’
‘And you need more facts than I’ve already discovered?’
Kate nodded again.
Augi folded her hands in her lap. ‘That’s fine. You know I’m more than happy to help. Have you found out any more since we spoke last?’
Kate shook her head. ‘No. All I know is what you and Lucy have discovered. That my grandmother, Ngaire, took a photo of a US Marine who appears to have connections to Michigan. We still haven’t heard back from the lawyers in Michigan who Lucy approached.’ She looked ruefully at Augi.
‘Right. So, have they made any progress identifying the man in the photo?’
Kate shrugged, defeated. ‘No. But I need to press on and find out who he is. Maybe his identity will help us move forward with the trust. Now that Jen and Liam are home, it’s made me re-think things, made me see things a little differently.
I don’t want to live in doubt any longer.
I need to take control and move forward.
’ She shrugged, as if she were working things out as she spoke.
‘I guess I’m feeling more secure in my world.
’ She looked up into Augi’s face with surprise, as if she’d only just admitted this fact to herself. ‘I guess I’m ready to move on.’
Augi smiled and nodded. ‘Then maybe I can help.’
Kate drew in a deep breath. ‘Let’s do it. Why don’t you come round later and we can talk it through?’
Augi really didn’t want to go to Kate’s house in case she bumped into Dan, but could hardly refuse now she’d committed to help her. ‘Sure.’
Kate rose and smiled. ‘Great. Come to dinner. You know, I feel better now I’ve made that decision.
Whoever was behind the trust, and I imagine it’s the man in the photo, wanted to make sure my grandmother Ngaire was OK.
And he did that. And more. He also made sure Hope was OK, and my family and me.
So, I shouldn’t feel resentful. Clearly something happened in the early 1940s which made us lose the house.
And then a few years later, he bought it and let our family live in it, without anyone knowing he’d done it.
And, for that, I should be eternally grateful. ’
Augi smiled, although she wasn’t so keen to go to dinner but couldn’t think of a convincing excuse. ‘It’s always good to feel grateful rather than resentful.’
‘Yes, but harder,’ Kate said picking up her bag. ‘You know, aside from my own security and the question of the house — which, to be honest, I think I’m reconciled to — what really plays on my mind is what actually happened to our family that made us lose the house in the first place.’
‘It wasn’t that long ago. There may still be people around who remember.’
Kate nodded thoughtfully. ‘That’s what I was thinking. I think it’s about time I talked to my Māori whanau about it.’
‘Haven’t they mentioned anything over the years?’
‘It’s never come up. I think there was some kind of falling out between Ngaire, Tamati and his family. We didn’t attend the usual family events. Weren’t invited, I guess, and I never missed it. Because you don’t miss what you never had, do you?’
‘They could give you valuable information,’ said Augi.
‘Yes. I’ve been reluctant to ask questions. Pride, maybe.’ Kate pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘Until recently I hadn’t even told the kids. But I think now it’s time to reach out to my Māori relatives, mend bridges, and try to find out what went on all those years ago.’
Augi nodded. ‘Good. Although oral history can be faulty, you might be able to get more of a flavour of the truth than from documents and records.’
Kate paused at the door and turned to her. ‘I’d really like it if you came to dinner tonight. I promise you it won’t be as dramatic as last week.’
‘Er, I said I’d call in on my neighbour this evening.’ It wasn’t a lie exactly, but Augi hadn’t specified a time and it was only ever going to be a brief visit.
Kate smiled. ‘I heard you were helping Annie with some shopping and cooking.’
Augi shrugged. She didn’t broadcast these things. ‘I do what I can. Annie’s finding it hard since she was discharged from hospital.’
‘And she thinks it’s only your help which is keeping her in her own home. Anyway,’ Kate continued, as if sensing Augi’s discomfort. ‘Why don’t you call in after dinner, after you’ve seen Annie, like you did last week?’
Augi found herself agreeing because she couldn’t lie to Kate.
She watched her walk away. The day was still full of sunshine, children laughed in the nearby crèche, and a couple of teenagers played tennis.
She stepped aside with a smile as a library patron greeted her and went inside to the shadowy library.
Augi followed, and life, stubborn and ordinary, continued.
But something had shifted. She felt like she was losing the battle to keep separate from the world and people around her.
She just hoped it wasn’t a repetition of last week.
And that Dan wouldn’t look at her with the warmth which almost felt like caress.
Because she wasn’t sure how long her resistance could last. But she knew her warning to him about her had hit its mark.
She’d seen the shock in his eyes. He hated secrets, and she had them.
She hadn’t enjoyed telling him that, but she had no choice because without his restraint she didn’t know how long she could resist his attentions.
And she had to, because she wasn’t the woman Dan thought he knew.
She had to be more vigilant than ever because she had the uneasy sense that the careful walls she had built around herself were beginning, very slowly, to crack.