Chapter 7 #4
‘It’s too early to say. We only got here yesterday. But so far, it hardly seems any different at all. It’s still just as charming and unspoiled.’
The waiter came over and Edie ordered a Coke and some water. The others hadn’t yet finished their coffee.
‘We met Jean-Luc in a shop back there and he told us about Marina,’ Hannah explained hurriedly. ‘She’s an artist.’ Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Edie nodded. ‘I was just speaking to her father, Mr Makris, who owns the leather shop. I was on my way to the studio when I saw you.’
Marina gave a little laugh, like tinkling wind chimes.
‘He tells everyone. I wish he wouldn’t; it’s so embarrassing.’ She glanced at Jean-Luc affectionately. ‘You’re almost as bad, assailing these poor women in a shop and forcing them to look at my paintings.’
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to reply but Hannah butted in.
‘Oh no! We’re glad he told us. We mightn’t have known about your studio otherwise. I adore art.’ She was leaning forwards, addressing her words to Jean-Luc, not Marina. ‘Do you paint, too?’ she asked, tilting her head to one side and twizzling a strand of long blonde hair round her forefinger.
‘Me? No.’ He crossed an ankle over one knee.
He was in a black, round-necked T-shirt and baggy, brown carpenter shorts with lots of pockets. He had a frayed string bracelet with coloured beads round his wrist and there was a tattoo on his upper arm, which was tanned and quite muscular.
‘I’m a poet,’ he went on. ‘I live in Paris most of the time – but I was raised in Lille. My mother is French and so am I. You’ve probably guessed from my accent.’ He smiled.
‘She and Konstantin – Mr Makris – weren’t together. In fact I never saw him when I was growing up. It was only when I was eighteen I found out I had a half-sister.
‘Marina got in touch, you see. I thought I was an only child and I was so happy to find a sibling. Now, I come here most summers to see Marina – and my father,’ he added quickly. ‘This time I have rented an apartment for two months. It’s very quiet, so I can write.’
The longer he spoke, the bigger and wider Hannah’s eyes grew. ‘A poet?’ she said, leaning forward even more. ‘How fascinating!’
The waiter arrived with Edie’s drinks and set them on the table. Meanwhile Jessica, who’d been silent till now, watching what was going on, piped up: ‘Do you write in French?’
Jean-Luc nodded. His dark brown hair was cut in a low fade and there was a hint of stubble on his chin.
‘You speak French, don’t you, Hannah?’
Hannah gave a modest smile. ‘Only a little. I learned at school but I’m very rusty.’
‘Ah!’ cried Jean-Luc, taking a sip of coffee, ‘you can practise on me! ?a va? ’
At this, Hannah sat bolt upright and drew back her shoulders. ‘Oui! ?a va bien, merci!’
She grinned and Jean-Luc leaned across the table and high-fived her.
‘Excellent,’ said Jessica, with a small, satisfied smile. ‘After French p’raps you can get on to Greek.’
‘My Greek is very bad, I’m afraid,’ Jean-Luc replied.
‘Never mind! French is probably enough for now.’
Edie sipped her Coke and frowned. She felt rather as if she were on the set of a film, watching the action but with no role in it. Something was going on between Hannah, Jessica and Jean-Luc, but she wasn’t sure what. Marina seemed clueless, too.
‘Does your mother still live in Crete?’ Edie asked the artist, wanting to steer the conversation in another direction. Was she being too forward? After all, she and Marina had only just met.
‘No. Unfortunately, she died about ten years ago. I still miss her.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Marina shrugged. ‘It happens. Dad is the exception rather than the rule. He’s ninety-four, you know.’
‘Goodness! I’d never have guessed. He’s amazing! So with it and amusing.’
‘And annoying,’ Marina added with a laugh. ‘At times, anyway. But yes, he is amazing. His mind is razor-sharp. It’s just his body that lets him down.’
‘He’s lived a very full life,’ said Jean-Luc in a meaningful tone.
Marina glanced at her brother before focusing again on Edie.
‘He was a terrible philanderer in his younger days.’
Edie started. ‘Really?’ She was taken aback, not so much by the information itself but by the fact the artist had chosen to reveal it to her, a virtual stranger.
Jean-Luc snorted.
‘Don’t say you didn’t notice his roving eye! He must have lost his touch! God knows how many children he’s got. They’re probably all over the world. He was particularly partial to the Swedish girls who came here on holiday, so I gather.’
‘I don’t think there are any other kids,’ Marina replied dryly. ‘Just us. He would have told me.’
Edie cleared her throat. ‘Did your mother know – about all the affairs, I mean?’
At this, Marina’s eyes clouded over. ‘I’m afraid she probably did. But she chose to look the other way. It was self-protection, I expect, and also a desire to shield me. She was a very kind, loving person.’
Emboldened by her openness, Edie now asked about Katerina.
‘Why does your father dislike her so?’
‘Ah!’ said Marina, fiddling with the silver bangle on her slender wrist. ‘He could never get over the fact she turned him down. She was perhaps the only one who ever did.’
Good on her, Edie thought, though she didn’t say so. Mrs Papadakis instantly shot up in her estimation.
‘There are other things, too, but I won’t bore you with them now.’
Edie nodded. ‘Have you any idea how Katerina came to run Villa Ariadne? Who are the owners?’
Marina examined her nails, which were short, neat, square-shaped and painted orange.
‘Ah, now that’s another story, too. She has looked after it for many years. The owners are no longer here, but she runs it exactly as they always wanted. She only rents it to special people who will benefit from it – like you.’
At this, Marina fixed on Edie with her dark, deep-set eyes, lined with black kohl, and made her flinch.
Edie wanted to ask what she meant, and why she and Katerina behaved as if they knew something she didn’t. But for some reason, the words wouldn’t leave her mouth.
‘You know she has special powers, my sister,’ Jean-Luc blurted, arching one eyebrow. ‘At least, she thinks she does.’
Marina playfully slapped her brother’s thigh and the spell was broken.
‘Some people are so mundane,’ she said with a laugh. ‘If they can’t see it, they don’t believe it. I feel sorry for the poor things. There’s a whole world they know absolutely nothing about.’