Korčula #2
His mind made up, Lloyd struck out through the water towards Dida Krila with renewed purpose. He’d tell Ana, and Natali too, over breakfast. All right, he’d go down a peg or two – or maybe even three – in their estimation, but it was definitely time to come clean.
He showered as quickly as he could, then as soon as he sat down at the table he plunged right in.
“Ana, before you talk to Kristina today, you need to know exactly what happened between Mirjana and me in 1991.”
She looked at him over the rim of her coffee mug, her eyes troubled. “OK,” she said in that slow way she did when she was uncertain.
Natali sprung up. “Should I go? Clear the table, or—”
“No. I don’t want any secrets between us. Mirjana may be hell-bent on damaging the library by spreading lies about something I didn’t do, but she does have genuine reason to dislike me and I want you both to understand why.”
Natali sank back down and instinctively reached across the table to take his hand. The child was one in a million; Ruth would adore her, and his heart was suddenly filled with longing that one day they would meet.
“As I told Ana, I came to Kor?ula in 1991, and to cut a long story short, I was offered a job waiting tables at a konoba in Lumbarda. Mirjana was the owner’s daughter, and she was part of the reason I accepted.
She was lovely… Over the first couple of weeks, I realised I was falling for her big time and I knew I couldn’t stay if she wasn’t interested in me, so I screwed up all my courage and told her. Luckily she felt the same.”
“That’s so romantic,” Natali murmured, “just like in the new book I’m reading.”
Lloyd nodded. “I suppose it was. Well, yes, of course it was. So we started going out. Her father was pretty laid back about it – I’d always got on well with him – but for most of the time I was there, her mother was less than keen.
She wasn’t well, although she kept it a secret.
Mirjana told me she had heart problems and was waiting for surgery, so I guess she had a lot to contend with without her daughter falling for a foreigner.
“And I did understand her concerns, although she never voiced them directly to me. A guy who worked with us, Kesten, he was some sort of distant cousin of Mirjana’s, and initially he was worried about her getting hurt too, although over the summer he became a pretty good friend to me as well.
But within just a few weeks, Mirjana and I were head over heels, and talking about a future.
Or at least, whether one might be possible.
“I suppose if I’d been really romantic, Natali, I’d have taken her back to England with me there and then.
But for a start, I’d convinced myself it wasn’t practical – I was beginning my teacher training in the October and would be living in university accommodation.
And Mirjana said no way would she leave the island anyway, not until her mother had her operation.
She needed to be there to help her. So we agreed I’d come back over at Christmas, and maybe at Easter too, and we’d make some decisions then. ”
“That all sounds very reasonable,” said Ana.
“Yes, it was. But this was the summer of ’91 and increasingly there was talk of war.
Croatia was such a new country. Mirjana’s father thought it would be against their interests to fight and I suppose I just wanted to believe him.
Maybe I needed to, or maybe it was love making me blind.
I should have understood where the skirmishes along the border would lead, especially with the Yugoslav forces siding against Croatia.
Kesten warned us again and again what was going on, but I didn’t take it seriously, even when he said he was joining the army himself. ”
Lloyd paused and took a sip of his tea. Yes, this was painful to share, but as he rambled on and the thoughts and memories resurfaced, he recognised a spark of catharsis in it too. A spark he needed to focus on to keep him talking.
“When the conflict began to spread, Mirjana’s father told me I should think about going home, and despite having been against the relationship all along, all of a sudden her mother took me to one side and told me I should take Mirjana with me.
But Mirjana was adamant she wouldn’t leave.
At least, I thought she was, but I wonder if, given what’s happened now, perhaps I was wrong.
Maybe Mirjana came to believe that her mother was right when she said if I left her in a war zone then I didn’t love her enough.
“That last morning was crazy. Her father woke me before five and took me into Kor?ula town to queue for my ferry ticket. He promised he’d bring Mirjana later so we could say goodbye, but it never happened.
Kesten came instead. Somehow he found me on the quay in the midst of all the bedlam, and he had a message from Mirjana, saying that I’d hurt her so badly by leaving her behind that she never wanted to see or hear from me again. ”
Natali squeezed his hand. “Lloyd, that’s so sad.”
Ana was frowning. “I just don’t get it. She said—”
“She did say she wouldn’t come, but when we made our plans, we were completely oblivious to the threat of war.
And I’d told her it wasn’t practical while I was still a student, and maybe she thought, deep inside, that I didn’t really want her to.
So perhaps when she changed her mind she felt she couldn’t tell me.
” He shrugged. “As the war took hold, I realised I should have done everything I could to get her to safety. Who knows what she endured because I didn’t get her out?
And if I’ve never properly forgiven myself, it’s little wonder she hasn’t forgiven me either. ”
Ana shook her head again. “All the same, it sounds more like a tragic misunderstanding than—”
He cut across her. “It is what it is. But now you know the truth, you can tell Kristina as much or as little as you need to.” He stood up. He’d said enough. His eyes were smarting and his mouth felt dry as dust. “I need to clean my teeth. It’s probably time we were heading off anyway.”
* * *
It was half past three when Lloyd watched two teenage boys approach the library, more or less his first customers of the afternoon. One, who was carrying a book underneath his arm, he had seen a few times before, but the other was a newcomer.
“Dobar dan, Vlatko,” he called. “How did you enjoy Lovelace & Babbage?”
The boy set the book down on the table. “It was wicked,” he said in English.
Lloyd laughed. “You’re extending your vocabulary, I see.”
“Yes. This is my friend Mislav. We met some English girls on the beach. Their dad kept saying ‘wicked’ and I kind of liked it.”
“Yes, it is a good word, but if you want to impress those young ladies with your command of their language, I suggest you get up to date.” He searched on his phone.
“Here’s a list of current slang I can airdrop if you like.
It’s constantly changing and very different to my day.
I mean, ‘tight’ used to be that someone was mean with their money. Now it means they’re cool.”
Mislav nudged his friend. “You were right, this guy is … tight.” The boys burst out laughing.
As Lloyd helped them choose their books, he saw Ana cross the park from the direction of the old town. A gentle breeze stirred the palm trees above his head, but his hands felt clammy and he wiped them on his trousers.
At this distance he could read nothing in Ana’s face. Neither had she waved in his direction, yet he knew damn well she had seen him looking at her. Her hands were screwed into the pockets of her shorts, her shoulders hunched, as she waited for the lads to leave before approaching.
“Do I still have a job?” No point in beating around the bush.
“Kristina says she’ll talk to Mirjana.”
“And that’s it?”
Ana’s lips formed a thin line. “For the moment. She said she needs both sides of the story.”
“So how much did you have to tell her?”
“That you’d had a relationship that ended in misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that was probably painful for you both. I didn’t see the need to elaborate.”
Lloyd nodded. “So, ‘for the moment’ we carry on.”
“They were Kristina’s words, not mine.” Ana snapped.
“Sorry.”
She nodded, hands still buried deep in her pockets. “How’s it been?”
“Quiet. Bloody quiet.”
“Come on then, let’s pack up. I’ve had enough of this place today.”
He nodded. Despite the banter with the boys, he couldn’t disagree.