Chapter Sixteen
The village was peaceful at night, the warm fragrant breeze a caress against her hot skin, the moon lighting her way around the deserted buildings.
Had she thought about it, she might have considered that the last thing this quiet, pretty little place needed was nightlife.
But she was too distracted by searching for the bracelet to think of anything else.
She hovered outside Maria’s house on the way out, wanting to check her garden but reluctant to disturb her.
She imagined her friend, her white-streaked hair spread on the pillow as she slept.
If Nina made a noise as she searched outside the house it might disturb her, might frighten her even.
Although she doubted that Maria was easily spooked, somehow.
And she had the grandson with her, didn’t she, the good boy come to care for his yia-yia while she recovered from her injury.
For an absurd moment she considered banging on the door, rousing Maria from sleep and telling her all that had happened.
She would understand. But Nina wouldn’t do that; she wouldn’t disturb her friend in the middle of the night, no matter how desperately she longed for comfort from her.
Quietly, she eased the gate open and crept into the front yard, where the pale slabs glowed in the moonlight and Maria’s neat plant pots sat in the corners.
Milo was nowhere to be seen, probably snoozing in her little shed at the back of the house.
Fruitlessly, Nina searched the ground, lifting the heavy pots, peering under the table, examining the doorstep.
No bracelet. As she had known there would be.
Sighing, and with fury and frustration still tearing through her, she gave one last glance at the house; the windows were still shuttered, all was still silent. Nina moved on.
The café courtyard was immaculately clean, chairs sitting under spotless tables, a lizard darting over warm flagstones, so fast Nina almost missed it. The café awning flapped gently in the breeze, and the scent of oleander flowers drifted through the air.
Nina ran her hand over every table, peered at every chair, bent to search the ground.
Nothing. As she knew there would be.
She walked through the square, past the market place and the church and the tree with its little wall where a black and white cat slept. She walked up the street, past the houses painted in cream and yellow and terracotta, the shutters closed, their inhabitants peaceful in their beds.
Next, she decided to search the mountains where she and her dad had talked about his childhood such a short time ago, when all still felt right with the world.
She needed to move her body, get this tension out of her, and so she raced up the path to the top as fast as she could, keeping her eye on the ground.
No gold glinting in the moonlight, no diamonds sparkling through the scrubby grass.
Even in her haste, even rushing as she was, her gaze still strayed to the craggy surface of the mountainside, and she imagined stretching and pulling herself up it as she climbed it.
The burn of her limbs, the focus of her mind on which spot to reach for next, pushing out every other thought.
The satisfaction as she reached the top, looking down over the climb she’d just achieved.
It had been so long since she’d had that feeling.
When she reached the top, her heart pounded and a stitch burned in her side.
She searched the places where she and Theo had stood, but found nothing.
Flopping onto her back, the warm grass prickling her skin through her t-shirt, she stared up at the black sky, the bright moon and flickering stars, until she felt she could sense the turning of the earth.
Crickets chirped peacefully and the scent of the wildflowers pushing through the ground where she lay reminded her of her mum’s perfume.
Would Clare forgive her, if this last connection to her was lost? Could Nina forgive her Baba?
At last, as the sky was beginning to lighten, she dragged herself to her feet.
One last place to look. The beach called to her as she made her way down to it, the sand white gold in the fading moonlight.
She could see already that some of the fishermen were readying their boats, about to brave the water for their morning catch.
Logic told her the bracelet wasn’t there. How could it be? She had left it on the side at home, she hadn’t worn it since. But she had to try, just in case by some forgotten turn of events she had dropped it there.
Now, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was she would find it.
Hurrying on, hope beating in her now, she imagined the bangle nestled behind a rock on the beach, or half buried in the sand, or tangled in seaweed at the shoreline.
She pictured it so clearly, willing it into existence so hard, that she had all but convinced herself by the time the grass under her feet became sand.
She slowed as she reached the beach, her feet slipping in the sand, trying to recall where she and Theo had walked with Eirini and the children, ignoring the fishermen who busied themselves at the water’s edge, calling softly to each other.
She focused on the ground, kicking away stones and seaweed in case the bracelet was hidden beneath, bending to smooth down little heaps of sand in case it nestled inside them.
Trying to keep the image of the bracelet, sitting waiting for her to discover it, fresh in her mind.
She was so intent on her search that she didn’t notice the man on the beach with her until a pair of brown leather sandals fixed with a toggle stopped in front of her.
‘You here for the turtles?’ a voice said. A voice with a soft Welsh lilt, rising at the end of the sentence, as though in surprise.
Nina looked up to see George, the protest leader, standing looking down at her. Great. Absolutely the last person she wanted to see right now.
‘No,’ she said standing and brushing her sandy hands down the legs of her shorts. ‘I’m looking for something.’ As she spoke, tears filled her eyes, and to her horror, a few rolled down her cheeks – right in front of her nemesis.
‘Oh.’ There was a flicker of something in those blue eyes. Concern. ‘You’ve lost something?’
‘Obviously,’ she said dryly, to try and regain some control in front of him. Then, relenting a little as he stood patiently, ignoring her sharp tone, she added, ‘A bracelet.’
His expression closed again, the concern disappearing. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said. ‘That kind of stuff means a lot to you, doesn’t it? Trinkets.’ He was already turning away.
He was insufferable. Him and his self-righteousness.
‘It’s – it has sentimental value,’ she said, unable to keep the emotion out of her tone. ‘So, yes, it means a lot to me.’
George turned back, and his forehead wrinkled. ‘Oh. Well, that’s – we’d better find it then. I’ll help you look. What’s it like?’
‘Well, it’s – it’s a gold bangle with little diamonds in it, it’s .
. .’ What could she say? There was no way to convey what the bracelet meant to her, and she didn’t particularly want to share her story with this stranger, who had done nothing but make their lives difficult and dismiss her as some spoilt princess.
She sighed, holding in a sob, and pushed the hair from her face as she cast her gaze around the beach. ‘But I don’t think it’s here.’
There was a beat of silence as he looked at her with an intelligent and sympathetic gaze, his expression completely different from the derisory one he’d had just moments before. ‘Why don’t we look anyway,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’
She nodded. ‘Thanks.’
He stayed close to her as they searched silently, and she smelled coconut and fresh shower gel.
Nina wondered briefly about this man, with his sandy hair and freckles and Welsh accent who appeared to live in Kefalonia, and apparently cared so passionately about the local wildlife.
So passionately that he went storming ahead organising protests and vandalism without checking his facts, she thought, irritation rising in her.
She wondered, but not deeply. He was nothing to her, nothing more than an inconvenience, and her mind was filled with the fading image she so desperately wanted to cling to of the bracelet resting in the sand.
They spent a long time scouring the ground and occasionally bending to look more closely if they saw something that looked like the glint of metal or the curve of a bangle. It never was.
After what felt like an hour, when her back twinged and her neck ached from the constant bending and searching, Nina admitted defeat. She turned to George, who was still diligently looking under a rock.
‘It’s no use; it’s not here.’
George straightened and met her gaze with a nod. She had the feeling that he’d given up hope long ago, perhaps had never had any, but had been patiently waiting for her to come to the same realisation. ‘Well. I hope you find it. Genuinely,’ he said.
Grudgingly, she had to admit that she was grateful he’d said that, and not given some empty assurance that it would turn up. She folded her arms across her chest and glanced past his shoulder at the sea that was reflecting a honeyed strip of light as the sun rose.
‘I appreciate you helping.’
He nodded, and she should have left it at that. But she was tired and sad and angry, and she couldn’t let all the trouble he’d caused slide. If her dad hadn’t been so upset by the protests, then he might not have lost her bracelet in the first place.
‘You know we haven’t done anything –’
But he didn’t seem to hear her. He was gazing out over the water with a wistful expression, his lips lifting into a smile. The sun lit the golden hairs on his forearm as he lifted a hand to shade his eyes.
‘This is why I come here so early,’ he said.
‘Yes, the sunrise, it’s pretty, but –’
He shook his head, turning to her and smiling wider, and she realised that he was sharing something beautiful and private with her. She was special; he’d chosen to include her. He bent his head closer to hers, and she felt herself lean in, forgetting her anger at his accusations.
‘No, look,’ he said. ‘Next to the boats. See?’
She looked out to sea again, more closely this time, to where the boats were bobbing just off shore. As she stared she saw something, a little head dipping in and out of the water, a little flipper breaking the surface. She felt a smile spread over her face.
‘Turtles,’ she murmured, afraid that if she spoke too loudly she’d somehow scare them away. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’
He nodded. ‘They do this every morning, swim out with the fishing boats.’
‘And you come to watch?’
He turned to her. They were standing so close to each other that she could see the freckles smattering his nose and the long, pale eyelashes behind his glasses.
She felt his gaze on her face as he smiled gently.
‘Yes. I mean, not every day. But yeah.’ He looked back out to sea. ‘That’s why we don’t want the hotel.’
She sighed, irritated again. Just as she was beginning to forget how bloody annoying he was he was back on one his tirades.
‘Oh, come on, it’s just one small hotel; it’ll hardly do any harm, and this place needs a bit of a . . .’
He was frowning, shaking his head. ‘I assume you’ve seen the plans for your hotel?
’ he asked. ‘Because I have, and it’s not going to be some charming boutique-style place.
It’s going to be a complex, with a pool and a restaurant and a bar, which means a lot of unnatural lighting.
And all that light, it confuses the turtles that live here, it’ll have a real and terrible impact on their lives. ’
This was more information than she’d been given. She was sure Theo had said it was just a small hotel. George must have it wrong.
‘No, it’s not . . . are you sure –’
‘I’m sure. I’ve checked; I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t get in your way without knowing the facts. I have a life, you know.’
Nina still wanted to argue, to deny all he was claiming. But she was beginning to doubt herself. ‘Is it really that bad for the turtles?’
George looked impatient. ‘Yes. It confuses them, the babies especially. When they hatch and they go into the sea, the light messes up their instincts and they don’t know where to go.
It threatens their survival. Why you’re being so bloody stubborn about it .
. . you just don’t give a toss, do you? Maybe you just want to get the money you’re going to make out of the hotel, and you don’t care who gets hurt. ’
She looked out at the turtles, swimming around the boats and began to feel a little sick.
It didn’t help that George was staring so angrily at her.
It was all too much. ‘Maybe you’re just – just trying to justify your stupid, crazy protests,’ she said defensively.
‘You’ve just got it in for me and my dad for some reason, I don’t even know –’
Nina only realised she was full-on crying when she tasted her own tears. And the realisation made her furious. Because he would think she was crying about him, that he had the power to affect her that much, and he was nothing to her, nothing more than an irritation, a splinter under the skin.
These tears were for something else. Something so precious now lost.
Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, she batted the tears away and started to walk home. Turning back briefly, she saw George staring after her, his expression unreadable.