Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Something fundamental had changed.
Augi knew it because she’d slept better than she had in years. Her dreams were no longer full of anger, grief, and guilt. They were of the sea and, above all, a feeling of peace.
She thought of texting Dan ahead of her calling into MacLeod’s Cottage but she didn’t want him to know that she was aware he always went for a swim first thing in the morning.
Lucy had mentioned it once. Lucy had taken it as a good sign that Dan was connecting with his old home. Augi took it as an opportunity.
Rightly or wrongly, she wanted to see Dan again. Alone. Ahead of talking to Kate.
She sat on the chair on her front porch, close to the street, and took a sip of her coffee. At this hour, the sun shone into the front of her house and made the world feel friendlier and more welcoming. And she wanted to be welcomed, because she felt as if she were going on a journey.
She knew there was no going back now. Her old self had broken open, exposing something softer beneath. She only hoped it wouldn’t disintegrate on its re-acquaintance with reality — which she prayed wasn’t as harsh as it had once been.
She inhaled the sweet scent of a late-flowering rose and went inside.
Dan waded out of the water, raking his fingers through his hair, showering silver droplets that sparkled in the early morning sunlight.
He laughed to himself as he strode through the shallows back to the towel — the only thing on the beach.
It was still too early for most people, but he enjoyed the difference of getting up and outside as the sun rose.
So different to his other life. And he wanted nothing more than to enjoy those differences.
The utter peace and sense of isolation weren’t only soothing, they were somehow elevating, he thought as he dried his face and hair.
The quiet was broken by a bird screeching.
He looked around and saw someone walking towards him.
Someone with long dark hair that shone bright in the early morning sun.
And, as Augi came closer, with a smile to match. His heart leapt.
‘Augustini,’ he greeted her as she came up to him. ‘You’re early. I don’t usually see you here.’
‘No, I usually swim further along the beach.’ She glanced at the sea and then back to him. He couldn’t have said which sparkled more — the sea or her eyes. ‘Is it still warm?’
He couldn’t think to what she was referring at first.
Her smile widened. ‘The sea.’
‘Oh, yes, still warm. I’m going to try to keep this up all year.’
‘A lot of people do.’
‘I’ll have to toughen up a bit,’ he said with a grin. He liked that he caught her gaze drifting over his chest for a second before she remembered herself. He took pity on her as her blush deepened. ‘A bit different to Greece, I should imagine,’ he said.
‘Maybe not as much as you might think. The weather is more predictable in Greece, though.’
It struck him that she didn’t usually talk about Greece. ‘You don’t mind talking about your homeland?’
She frowned and then shook her head. ‘You know, Daniel, for years I tried not to think of it, to avoid anything Greek — people and things. I didn’t want a reminder of it.’
He was touched that she’d tell him this. ‘You obviously needed some space from it, for whatever reason.’
She glanced at him, hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes. As I alluded to you, I had a life in Greece of which I didn’t wish to be reminded.’
He nodded, reached down, and pulled a shirt over his now dry body. She looked away.
‘It’s too nice to go inside.’ He pointed to a wooden bench in the shelter of the dunes. ‘Shall we sit down?’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
’So,’ he said as they sat on the bench. ‘Has something changed to make you not avoid the subject of Greece?’ He didn’t want to let the subject drop.
He sensed something had changed for her.
The very fact she’d sought him out — because he didn’t kid himself she was here by accident — suggested she wanted to continue that process of change.
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, it would seem so.’ She gave an elegant shrug. ‘I thought I must have distanced myself for so long that I would be inured to it. Wouldn’t feel it.’
His smile fell. ‘And is that what’s happened?’
This time she shook her head. ‘No. I still feel connected to my past in a visceral way. I guess some things never leave you.’
‘And is that painful for you?’
‘Yes and no. It’s hard to tell. It’s a blend of the same thing. You know? When a memory is so beautiful and sad, and it’s hard to figure out which. It becomes a thing of its own.’ She shrugged. ‘Poignant, I suppose.’
He smiled. Augi never fudged what she said with ambiguous words. She always said what she wanted to say. If she didn’t want to say it, she kept quiet. He liked that. Her eyebrows dipped, and he cleared his throat as he realised he’d been looking at her for too long without replying.
‘Do you miss it? Greece, I mean?’
‘The place, yes.’
‘What about people?’ He knew he was testing the water here, but he was getting the idea this was what she’d come for. To open up to him away from everyone. And he wasn’t about to let the moment pass. ‘Are they still alive? Your family?’
There was a pause during which she looked out to sea, her eyes glassy, and he wondered if he’d pressed her too far. ‘No. They’re all gone now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I, also, am sorry about many things. But they were not like your family. They were not… supportive.’
Dan paused for a few moments, not wanting to stop her from talking. But, as the silence lengthened, he realised she wasn’t going to elaborate.
‘Yes, as crazy as my family all are, they are supportive. And I like being connected to them. It makes me feel…’ He groped for the right word.
‘Grounded?’ Augi offered.
‘Happy,’ he said at last. ‘And I guess feeling grounded is part of that sense of happiness. Seeing buildings around me I’ve known since childhood.
Seeing places in which I have memories embedded.
And seeing people I’ve known since childhood, changing, growing older.
It’s a place I know. Whatever I thought I wanted from going overseas seems to have fizzled out — come to nothing.
I turn around, and find that everything I want is here. ’
‘You’re lucky that the place you know so well has good memories. And you’re lucky that it still contains the same people. People you love.’
‘It holds a mixture of sad and happy memories. Like yours, to some degree,’ he added, not wanting to equate his low points to hers.
‘Of sadness,’ he quickly continued. ‘When Dad passed and great-grandmother Ngaire. But mainly good. I know I’m lucky.
Not everyone has that. And I’m sorry you can’t return home and find it. ’
‘No, there’s nothing there for me now. I’ll live the rest of my life here. This place has been good to me.’
He nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
She turned to him at last. ‘I wanted to say, Daniel, that I enjoyed the concert. Very much.’
‘Me too.’ He realised he was sitting grinning at her like a fool. ‘Very much,’ he added. ‘Maybe we can do it again.’
‘Maybe.’ She looked down at her swinging feet, shyly. ‘Although, as nice as that would be, maybe we don’t actually need to. We’re talking now. Getting to know each other here.’
‘We are.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to know about me?’ she asked with a smile.
‘I’d love to hear about some of the good memories you had growing up in Greece. You don’t have to give me any details if you don’t want to. No names or places. But I’d love to know something which happened to make you feel good when you were young.’
She closed her eyes for a second, and cocked her head as if she were listening.
She opened her eyes again. ‘The sound of the sea. It takes me back. Except the sea in Thessaloniki didn’t rise and fall onto sand — not in the city anyway — it slapped against the rocks at the base of the harbour wall on good days, and crashed over the road on stormy days.
I liked both. But it was a summer day that I remember well.
My mother usually kept me close at home.
It’s a long story. But this Monday morning I was allowed to go with my grandparents to a café.
It felt so warm and the food was lovely, and my grandmother kept hugging me.
Which wasn’t something my own mother did.
I tend to go back to that memory when I feel the need. ’
His heart squeezed a little.
‘So,’ she continued, ‘I guess in the reliving of it I may have exaggerated some aspects. And I think I have one even earlier memory. I must have been around two or three years of age, because I only remember looking up at a tree in the garden of a grand house. It was shifting in the breeze and there was a bird in the tree which was brightly coloured. I think it must have been, again, at my grandparents’ house.
They kept song birds. But this bird seemed to be competing with their own caged birds.
’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’ve talked too much. ’
‘You’ve talked just the right amount,’ he said. ‘I’ve enjoyed hearing your stories.’
‘That’s what they are. Just stories.’
‘Important stories. Tell me one more. Please?’
‘It would have to be, again, the house of my grandparents. My memories aren’t many, but they left an impression.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Grand. It sat high on a ridge overlooking the harbour. Like it didn’t have to hide from the world.
My grandfather was very successful in business but he was happy to stay in the house on the hill even though his colleagues said he should move to a more prestigious area.
He never did, because my grandmother loved it there.
It wasn’t a showy house, but solid and always sunny. That’s how I remember it anyway.’
It suddenly clicked for Dan. The house she admired opposite the library. Solid, understated but elevated, not hiding from the world.