Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
The crowds thronging the tiny church in the bay prevented Vicky from seeing the moment the Holy Light was given to the first parishioner by the priest. She and Suzie had no chance of getting into the packed church itself, but the air outside in the courtyard was still warm, even if it was just after midnight on Easter Sunday.
Little by little, the glow from inside made its way out of the door as the flame was passed from person to person and the light from the slim white candles, or lambadas, illuminated the scene, and happy disembodied faces shone in the darkness.
The candles were decorated with ribbons, jewels and strips of fabric, and brought from homes across the village, given as presents by grandparents to their grandchildren, or from friend to friend.
Angeliki had given both Vicky and Suzie a special candle encircled by red flowers and crystals, which Vicky was convinced made her virtually a local.
All along the sea wall, people waited patiently to receive their own personal ray of light.
The priest called out the words ‘Christós Anésti’ over and over again.
Suzie whispered in Vicky’s ear. ‘It means “Christ has risen.” And then we reply “Alithos Anésti,” “Truly He has risen.”’
Vicky practised the words under her breath.
‘Got it.’
All around them, people were saying and repeating the words to their friends and neighbours as more and more dots of light lined the route away from the church.
She and Suzie had exchanged greetings with everyone in touching distance and had their candles lit by an elderly man who appeared to speak no English but grinned away anyway.
Angeliki and Nick appeared out of the gloom to join them for the walk back to their place, holding their candles gingerly in front of them.
Angeliki blew kisses to them both with one hand while keeping her candle steady.
‘The idea is not to let the light go out until we get to the house. The Holy Light the priest holds comes all the way from Jerusalem via aeroplane from Athens. I’m worried that there’s some wind tonight, which will cause problems. Follow us.’
Keeping the flame alight was obviously something terribly serious, Vicky realised, judging by the look on Angeliki’s face.
She knew her old friend wasn’t particularly religious, but the Easter celebrations were steeped in ritual.
Slotting in behind their friends, she and Suzie attempted to defy the wind, but they’d only gone about a hundred metres when her candle spluttered and went out.
It had to be hers, didn’t it? Vicky was well aware she had a reputation for being clumsy, but this really wasn’t the time to prove it.
She turned to Suzie and whispered. ‘Crap. What do we do now? Isn’t that bad luck or something?’
Suzie pulled her down to her own height by tugging at the arm of Vicky’s cardigan.
‘Shhh. Got a lighter in my pocket. Lean down and pretend you’re doing up a shoelace or something.’
After a discreet relight, the two women were off again, and managed to get all the way to Angeliki and Nick’s house, which was set back from the beach, without further incident.
The sound of fireworks exploding in celebration came from all directions, and the spectacular bursts of colour above their heads left the tang of gunpowder in the air to mingle with the salt from the sea.
Angeliki reached the house first, snuffed out her candle and drew a cross above the door with the soot.
‘Do we all have to do that?’ Vicky asked Suzie.
‘No, just the homeowner is enough. It’s to bless the house and bring luck for the coming year.’
‘Probably best. I’d no doubt burn myself.’
Carefully blowing out their own candles, Vicky and Suzie followed the couple into their traditional whitewashed house. Vicky was excited to see inside. She’d only seen the sale details so far, from when the couple had committed to buying the place just weeks before.
It was the first time Angeliki had lived with a man since Vicky had known her, a huge step in anyone’s book.
Previous fleeting romances had never lasted.
Her friend’s relationship with Nick was truly something different, and Vicky was thrilled for her.
Easter Day had been announced as the great unveiling of the couple’s love nest.
The thought of setting up home with a man again made Vicky shudder in the night air as she stepped over the threshold.
She’d fought so hard for her independence, and her little flat had suited her and Scout down to the ground.
It was just her now, sadly, but it was still way better than being married to Ian.
Finding the toilet seat up every day, removing bristles and shaving foam from the sink and sorting the piles of stuff placed on surfaces she’d just cleared were things she’d never miss, and they’d been just the tip of the iceberg; minor irritations compared to what went on once the bedroom door was closed. But she wasn’t going there tonight.
Inside the typically Greek house, pale-yellow walls were dotted with pictures, and brightly coloured rugs in earthy reds and browns covered the tiled floors, while large cream sofas grouped around a fireplace were piled high with geometric cushions in shades of green and white.
It was stylish but still welcoming, rather like Angeliki herself.
Vicky stroked a silky cream throw as she walked past the sofa.
‘This is all gorgeous. And you’ve only just moved in. You’ve done so much.’
Angeliki waved away the compliment and directed them to the sofas.
‘Nicky mou, can you light a fire, please, while I prepare the food.’
‘Vevaíos, my darling. Of course.’
Angeliki’s boyfriend reminded Vicky of a big cuddly puppy as he bounced over to the fire.
He’d probably be a black Lab, the perfect foil for her friend’s passionate nature.
Turning to Suzie, she decided her friend would need something glamorous and independent, like an Afghan Hound or a Saluki, slinking around the place, showing little interest in other dogs, knowing it was a superior breed.
What sort of dog would she choose as a partner now?
She’d had a snappy little Yorkshire Terrier for so long, it was hard to imagine.
Vicky smiled at the image of Ian’s head transplanted onto a fierce short-legged battler.
Not that she wanted another man, or even another dog, come to that, after Scout. She’d never find another Scout.
Loyal, affectionate, by her side whenever she really needed him, but never desperate for attention like some dogs, he’d been the perfect blend.
The tears were starting to form again. Just how long was the grief going to last?
She knew there were people who’d think, ‘He was only a dog, get over it,’ and one recently widowed neighbour, distraught at losing her husband of fifty years, had said as much, which had brought on an attack of guilt for being so upset.
But Scout had been so much more than ‘just a dog’. He’d seen her through the tough times, from the worst phase of her life with Ian and the much-longed-for divorce, to the sale of the family home, and Tasha leaving for New Zealand for goodness knows how long, possibly forever.
Her morose thoughts were obviously writ large on her face, as Suzie was giving her a strange look. She needed to shut this down and focus. It was supposed to be a celebration, not a wake.
After guiding them to the largest, squashiest sofa, Nick bent down to light the fire, presenting his broad shoulders in his navy cashmere sweater before he leapt up again.
‘Can I get you both a drink? This won’t take long to catch.’
Vicky spoke up. ‘Wine would be great. A rosé if you have it.’
‘Sure. Suzie?’
‘Yes, me too, please.’
Nick handed over the drinks moments later, perfectly chilled.
Suzie shouted over to him as he artfully arranged the logs on top of the kindling he’d lit a couple of minutes ago.
‘If you’re ever at a loose end, Nick, we’re sometimes short staffed in the bar.’
His dark head looked up from the now blazing fire.
‘I’ll give that some serious thought.’
As soon as they’d polished off their glasses of wine, Angeliki called over from the open-plan kitchen-diner with its big wooden table laid for four.
‘Hey. Don’t get too comfortable. It won’t be long until we eat.’
Nick was busy putting yet more wood on the fire. He was obviously a real fire type of guy. Vicky would bet he’d slay at barbecuing too. Angeliki had explained that her man ran some sort of engineering company on the island. Feeding the fire definitely seemed to be an exact science.
Vicky tore her eyes away from the flames and whispered to Suzie, ‘Eating, at this time of night?’
She’d got used to the Greek habit of eating dinner after nine, but it was nearly half past midnight.
‘Oh yes, it’s tradition, to symbolise breaking the Lenten fast after forty days.’
‘What are we eating exactly?’
Her question was cut short by Angeliki’s shout of ‘ready’, although she was slightly perturbed by Suzie’s evil smile.
As they approached the table, Vicky could see some sort of bread, eggs painted red, and a tureen of strange-looking soup.
Angeliki stood behind her offerings.
‘We’ll eat the eggs after we’ve played a game with them. The plaited bread is called tsouréki, and it’s sweet, rather than savoury.’
She turned her focus to the tureen.
‘It goes so well with the magiritsa, the only thing I’ve laboured over myself.’
Vicky tried to avert her eyes from the grey mass.
Angeliki wasn’t known for her cooking. As housemates back in Liverpool, that task had always fallen squarely on her own shoulders, while the trainee vet had made up for it by keeping the place spotless.
Her old friend cooking was a big deal. She’d have to try and enjoy it.
‘Here we have a traditional lamb offal soup with herbs and an egg-lemon sauce. We use the lamb’s liver, heart, lungs and intestines. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but most Greeks love it.’