Korčula
“Well here we are, Obi. Let’s hope Krasna isn’t too long.”
The wonderful aromas of bread, tangy, melted cheese and rich, sweet custards drifted over them from the nearby bakery, and Natali knew Obi would be straining at her leash to get closer if it weren’t for the crush of people around them.
It was another sweltering day, and the harbour was busy with the diminutive cruise ships that made their way up and down the islands on a weekly basis, disgorging their human cargo in a sweaty mass of visitors eager to see the beautiful old town and sample its cafés and restaurants.
A tour group swirled around them and Obi pushed herself into Natali’s ankles. She was about to bend down to pick her up when she saw Krasna emerge from the estate agent on the corner.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I saw you from the window, but I am not allowed to start my lunch until half past. Shall we go to the pekara? They know to serve me quickly and we can sit in the back, away from the tourists.”
“You work in the estate agent’s?” That would explain the smart white sleeveless blouse and navy skirt.
Even having changed into clean shorts and a polo shirt, Natali felt properly scruffy beside her.
She could barely imagine what it would be like to dress up for work; her jobs were normally so grubby that she wore her oldest clothes.
“I only help in the konoba in an emergency. My mother always encouraged me to do better for myself, not to be reliant on tourists.”
“Do you still live there?”
“No. With my boyfriend.” She twisted a small diamond engagement ring Natali hadn’t noticed before. “We’re getting married next year.”
“Congratulations.” It seemed like the right thing to say.
At the bakery counter they ordered flaky spirals of burek, stuffed with spinach and cheese, taking them through to a tiny back room Natali hadn’t realised was there.
“It’s only for the locals,” Krasna explained. “Somewhere we can have our lunch.”
“I expect it’s d-difficult in the summer.”
Krasna shrugged. “A small price to pay for the visitors we so badly need. Now, is Obi allowed a bit of my pastry?”
Natali grinned. “Only a tiny piece. It’s not good for her, and it’s best to wait until we have almost finished eating, or she will pester you for more.” She leant under the table to pat Obi’s head. “Now you, lie still under there.”
Krasna picked up her burek, then put it down.
“I wanted to explain about Mama. I told her you had tried to find her on Saturday, and what you said about Lloyd.” Krasna sighed.
“She hasn’t put it into words, but I think she’s finding this extra hard because she’s only just getting over losing my father. ”
“I’m so sorry.” This time Natali’s response was heartfelt.
“Thank you. It’s been more than a year. He had pancreatic cancer but we didn’t know.
Just for a month before the end and it was brutal.
It’s only really since Easter that she’s coming back into herself – talking about him more normally, going out with her friends …
then your Lloyd turns up out of nowhere. It must have been such a shock.”
“Lloyd’s wife died of cancer too. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. And he has a grown-up daughter.”
“Don’t tell me, she’s an estate agent!”
“No. She works for a company helping people to find jobs. They’re very close. He talks to her every night.”
“I think, when you lose a parent, you do become closer to the other one.” Krasna fed Obi a scrap of pastry under the table, and Natali felt her tail thump against her leg. “What about your family, Natali?”
Nice as Krasna seemed, Natali didn’t really want to explain. “That’s Obi,” she grinned. “And you’ve just made her a very happy dog.”
Krasna nodded. “Can I ask you…? I mean, can you do me a favour? Me and Mama, that is.”
Natali took a gulp of her cola. This was it. “Go on.”
“Mama has a question for Lloyd, something he said that doesn’t make sense to her.”
Well, at least she didn’t expect Natali to try to persuade Lloyd to leave Kor?ula for good. “What is it?”
“It was about Mama sending someone called Kesten with a message, but she didn’t. I can tell it’s bothering her.”
This was so not the moment to play messenger herself. They didn’t have time. Ivana would be back from her holiday on Monday. “P-perhaps you would like to ask Lloyd?”
Krasna traced a burek crumb across the table, then looked up at her. “Yes. I think I would.”
They walked together past the tourist office and the Marco Polo shop, dodging into the road to avoid the crowds of people, Obi firmly in Natali’s arms.
“How do you stand this?” she asked.
“You get used to it, and it’s only for a few months.”
They turned into a side street that was far too narrow for cars and filled with useful shops rather than ones selling T-shirts or souvenirs.
It was quiet enough for them to walk side by side, but they did not speak again.
Krasna was no doubt caught up in her own thoughts, and Natali was thinking about Krasna.
Well, not Krasna, specifically, but her life.
Her round-the-year job, her smart clothes, her plans to marry and settle down.
She’d said that her mother had always encouraged her to do better for herself, which presumably meant she’d stayed on at school and got qualifications – the exact opposite to Natali’s mama who’d wanted her earning as soon as possible.
But now, this summer, Natali had experienced that kind of encouragement from Lloyd and Ana.
Was it too late to make something of her life as well?
Lloyd was sitting on a bench close to the library table, Kindle in hand.
But he wasn’t reading; he was gazing out over the marina.
Natali had told him what time she was meeting Krasna, and it was bound to be distracting him.
How would he feel meeting Mirjana’s daughter himself?
What was she about to put him through? But no, this was the right thing to do. This time she was sure of it.
As they neared the table he looked up, then stood.
“Lloyd, this is Krasna,” Natali said, rather limply.
He held out his hand and shook hers. “Pleased to meet you. I saw you in the supermarket up the road a few weeks ago. You’re very like your mother.”
“Some people might say so.”
There was an awkward silence. Natali realised it was up to her to fill it. “K-Krasna came with a question from Mirjana, and I thought it was best she asked you herself.”
Lloyd stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Fire away.”
“Something you said to Mama last Saturday didn’t make sense to her. Something about sending Kesten with a message.”
Lloyd frowned. “Well she did.” He paused.
“But I think the best thing I can do is tell you what happened that morning. You have to remember, it was chaos. People expected war to break out any minute, and there’d already been fighting to the north of Split.
Your grandfather was adamant I leave. Your grandmother had already told me she wanted me to take Mirjana with me, but your mama and I had discussed it and decided it wasn’t the right thing to do. Or at least, I thought we had.
“Anyway, the next morning her dad woke me before five, because someone had told him I needed to be in the ferry ticket queue early. Your mother was still asleep, but he promised me he’d bring her into town later to say goodbye.
“By the time I left the ferry office there were crowds everywhere. Around the bank, the shops … I’d never seen anything like it, and I just hoped Mirjana and I would find each other.
I waited for ages on the steps to the old town gate where we always met, but eventually I knew I needed to get to the quayside.
I kept looking out for her, but it was our friend Kesten who found me, and he said Mirjana had sent him. ”
Lloyd’s shoulders had drooped as he talked, and instead of looking at Krasna and Natali, he was gazing out over the busy road at the trip boats bobbing on the quay beyond. Natali wanted nothing more than to give him a great big cuddle. He looked so isolated, so alone.
“It’s silly, really,” he continued. “I’ve hardly spoken of this before.
At the time, and for years afterwards, it was the worst moment of my life and I’m not exaggerating.
It knocked me for six, because Kesten told me she couldn’t bear to see me because I didn’t love her enough to take her to England, and that she never wanted to hear from me again.
I was stunned. Even now I can barely remember anything about the journey home from Croatia. ”
“But you said Mama didn’t want to go.”
“Which was why it was a bolt from the blue. We’d talked so often about a future together, and how it might work.
We’d even made plans that she’d join me the next summer, once I’d finished my teacher training.
Of course, that was before the war. Kesten had warned us often enough that the conflict was coming, but we didn’t want to listen.
We were too wrapped up in each other, and in our dreams.
“I’ve asked myself a million times what made Mirjana change her mind.
Maybe she listened to her mother after all.
To be honest, Kosana never really took to me, so maybe she wanted to turn her daughter against me when I wouldn’t take her to safety.
But the truth is, I shouldn’t have left without Mirjana.
I should have moved mountains to get her to London.
I should have turned back at the quay and gone to fetch her. But I didn’t.”
After a long silence, finally Krasna nodded. “Thank you for being so honest with me. I will try to explain to Mama.”
Lloyd smiled wryly. “Honest? Was that a slip of the tongue, or did you mean it?”
“I mean it. I don’t think you’re the conman Mama believes you to be.
The way you spoke … it must have been painful.
But I need to think this through. I’ve grown up with the story of the Englishman who stole the jewellery, and now…
” She shrugged. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be back at work.
” She turned on her heel and walked away briskly, leaving Lloyd and Natali staring after her.
“So Mirjana didn’t make up those accusations to get rid of me.” Lloyd leant heavily back against the table. “I assumed…”
“I wonder what really happened. If we could find out…”
He shook his head, frowning. It would be wonderful if they could, but it was completely impossible.
“Natali, no. It was all so long ago. I guess, maybe, with war coming there were dishonest people who wanted valuables they could trade if the currency collapsed. It literally could have been anyone. People were in and out of the konoba all day.”
“I suppose you’re right. You could tell Kristina your theory though. It might make a difference.”
“Or it might sound like an excuse.”
Natali tucked her arm into his and gave it a squeeze. “Anyway, I thought you were very brave, telling that sad, sad story again.”
“Yes, but we both had our happy endings with other people. Or at least, I assume Mirjana did, because of her daughter.”
“I think so. Krasna told me her father died last year though. Cancer, like your Jenny.”
“It takes too many, too soon.” His voice carried an infinite sadness, but she couldn’t see his face because he’d broken away from her to stretch his fingers upwards towards the trees. He clasped them together, then dropped them.
“Right. I need to rearrange those books for the fourteenth time, to see if it attracts any custom. See you later.” He bent down and patted Obi. “You too, little one. Be good.”
As Natali crossed the road and walked through the bus station, she still felt uneasy.
Krasna may have believed him, but what would Mirjana make of Lloyd’s story?
She’d write it off as even more lies, probably.
And just where would that leave them? All she could do was cross her fingers firmly behind her back and hope that something might change for the better.