Chapter 6
The atmosphere in Porto Liakáda when they arrived back took them by surprise.
The sun was going down and twinkling lights shone in windows and around terraces along the entire length of the main street.
Plus, the restaurants and bars were humming with people, and music and bursts of laughter filled the air.
It felt like fiesta time, but perhaps it was the same every Saturday night when the weather was good. Cleo, who’d thought the village was quiet and sleepy, blinked a few times in amazement at the brightness.
‘Shall we have a drink?’ Tash suggested, eyeing someone’s glass of wine on the table as they passed by. ‘A soft drink, of course,’ she added quickly. ‘Unless…’
‘Definitely.’ Maya marched over to a table in a corner, right by the sea, and pulled out a chair. ‘How about here?’
Having broken her diet once already today, Cleo was determined to be good and ordered a glass of orange juice.
The others did the same. But when the waiter arrived with a bowl of olives, some rusks – local crisp breads, made with barley flour and dipped in olive oil – four shot glasses and a small jug of Cretan raki – the local brandy – on the house, all three lost their resolve.
‘We’ve got to at least try it,’ Cleo said, pouring out the clear liquid and passing her friends a glass each. ‘Cheers!’
She took a small sip and coughed. ‘Jesus!’ Her eyes were watering. ‘That’s strong!’
Tash pulled a face and pushed her glass away. ‘It tastes like petrol. I don’t like it.’
But Maya knocked her drink back in one.
‘Here, have mine,’ Tash said, wrinkling her nose and smiling in amusement as she slid the drink across the table.
Maya gave a naughty grin. ‘I shouldn’t – but I will!’
Once more, she tipped back her head and the whole lot went down the hatch.
When Cleo looked at her again, her eyes seemed to have grown to twice the size and were glittering dangerously.
‘I hope you’ll be able to stagger back to the villa,’ Cleo said with a laugh. ‘We’re not carrying you.’
All of a sudden, she became aware of two women on the table to her left, looking at her intently. One was very striking, in her fifties, probably, with long, black, wavy hair, big brown eyes and a strong, straight Greek nose.
The other was much older with jaw-length, iron grey hair and wrinkled skin. She looked tiny and neat, like a little bird. She was sitting up very straight and her gaze was clear and steady.
Cleo smiled briefly before turning back to her friends. But straight away, she felt a tap on her shoulder and when she turned round, the old woman had left her seat and was standing beside her.
‘Excuse me for interrupting. Can I ask you something?’ she said in perfect, heavily accented English. ‘Are you staying at Villa Ariadne, by any chance?’
Surprised, Cleo said she was.
The old woman nodded. ‘I guessed as much. And do you have everything you need? Are you comfortable there?’ She paused for a few seconds before resuming. ‘You see, I am the housekeeper, Katerina Papadakis. We’ve never hosted a wellness retreat before. I do hope everything is to your satisfaction?’
‘Yes, thank you. It’s absolutely lovely.’
As she spoke, Cleo glanced at the younger stranger, who was still sitting at the table, watching the proceedings with interest. A small, polite smile was playing on her rather beautiful, serene face.
‘I’m so glad,’ Katerina went on.
Glancing back, Cleo noticed the old woman’s bony hands and the thin gold wedding band on her left finger. She was fiddling with a string of inexpensive-looking pearls round her neck, feeling their smoothness, and she had matching pearls in her ears.
‘We’ve been exercising a lot,’ Cleo explained, making conversation. ‘Yoga, circuits, Pilates and so on. Henrietta, our instructor, is very good.
‘This afternoon we decided to do a bit of sightseeing, though. We walked to Chora Sfakia and had a good look round. It’s so pretty.’
‘Ah yes.’ Katerina nodded, reaching out and resting a hand on the table for support.
Realising the old woman might be weary, Cleo asked if she’d like to sit. Before Katerina had a chance to reply, though, Tash had jumped up and pulled out a chair. Katerina sank down gratefully.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I did not mean to disturb you. I will not stay long.’
Swivelling her head, she beckoned to her companion to join her and the younger woman pulled up a chair, too.
‘I’m Marina,’ she explained, extending a long, slender arm, jingling with multicoloured bangles, and shaking each of the Englishwomen by the hand. ‘Katerina and I go back a long way. She’s known me since I was a baby and was close to my mother when she was alive.’
The unexpected intrusion could have annoyed Cleo and her friends, but something about the two strangers was strangely captivating.
Cleo decided it was their stillness, as well as their deep brown eyes which fixed on Maya, Tash and Cleo in turn and seemed to penetrate into Cleo’s very soul.
‘Do you both live here, in Porto Liakáda?’ Tash asked slightly breathlessly. Perhaps the scrutiny was making her feel uncomfortable, too.
Marina explained she lived above her artist’s studio at the other end of the street.
‘But Katerina lives high up in the white mountains,’ she went on, raising her chin and glancing skywards, as if searching for the summit. ‘In a little cottage far from civilisation.’ She laughed. ‘It’s how she likes it, isn’t it, Kati?’
The old woman smiled. ‘Ah yes. I like peace and quiet. My husband died many years ago and there’s just me. I’m used to my own company by now.’
‘You must be incredibly fit, walking to and from the village,’ said Maya.
Katerina lowered her head. ‘Less so than I used to be.’ She sighed. ‘Age catches up with us all.’
A look of dismay crossed Marina’s features but it soon passed.
‘She’s amazing,’ she said with a tinkling giggle, like wind chimes. ‘You should see her marching up and down the hillside, carrying her heavy bags of shopping. She’s very stubborn; she won’t let anyone help her. She’s fitter than me!’
Katerina frowned and opened her mouth as if to contradict, but she must have thought better of it and closed it again.
‘So,’ she said next, slapping her hands on her knees as if preparing to make an announcement. ‘You have all come to get well and healthy, yes? In body, mind and spirit?’
Once again, she fixed her eyes on Maya and Tash in turn, then on Cleo, who felt herself flinch in the spotlight.
‘Well, yes…’ Cleo said uncertainly, ‘I suppose so.’ It crossed her mind the old woman might secretly be making fun of them, but she didn’t think so.
‘I can see you are all facing a big challenge,’ Katerina went on in a serious tone. ‘You will be tested, but I have faith you will come through.’
It was an odd statement and Tash gave one of her characteristic squeals.
‘Ooh! That sounds scary! We haven’t come here for a big challenge. Not really. We’d like to get a bit fitter but we also want a rest!’
But Maya ignored her friend. Leaning forwards, she rested her elbows on the table and searched Katerina’s face, as if looking for clues.
‘What do you mean?’ she said with a frown. ‘Is there something we should know?’
At that, Marina broke into another of her tinkling laughs.
‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. She just means you will be challenged by all the exercise and healthy living.’
She gave Katerina a playful slap on the arm. ‘Lighten up, Kati. It’s all right.’
Something seemed to pass between the women, some sort of understanding, and Katerina nodded almost imperceptibly.
‘You speak the truth, of course,’ she said in a whisper. ‘As always.’
The two strangers were starting to give Cleo the heebie-jeebies and she wished they’d go. She would have remained schtum, hoping they’d get the message, but unfortunately, Tash seemed to feel the need to jump in and fill the silence.
‘We visited the memorial to the twenty-six men killed by the Germans in Sfakia today,’ she said. ‘It was very moving. They must have been so brave.’
All of a sudden, Katerina seemed to stiffen and her lips tightened into a thin white line. She was like a simmering pot, waiting to boil over. Cleo wondered what on earth had upset her.
‘Kati,’ Marina said gently, touching the old woman’s arm, then she whispered something in Greek and Katerina seemed to calm down.
‘Her father was among those who were executed,’ Marina said simply, giving Cleo, Tash and Maya an apologetic look. ‘He was betrayed by someone close to him. Understandably, it still makes her upset.’
Cleo was appalled that they’d stirred up painful memories for the old woman, though they hadn’t meant to.
‘We’re so sorry,’ she said, speaking for Tash and Maya, too. ‘We didn’t know. We wouldn’t have mentioned it—’
‘Please,’ Marina interrupted, ‘it is not your fault. She will be OK. She’s just feeling a little sensitive today.’
Cleo was about to apologise again when they were distracted by a blast of music. Four musicians had set up just outside the main restaurant and were playing a traditional folk song.
Dressed in black shirts and dark jeans or trousers, they were perched on stools, with their backs to the wall, allowing just enough of a gap in front for people to pass.
They had a variety of instruments, some of which Cleo had never seen.
‘That’s a Cretan lyra,’ Marina explained, noticing Cleo gazing at a small, pear-shaped three-stringed instrument on one of the men’s laps, which he was playing with a bow.
Another had a mandolin, a third a guitar and the fourth was playing something that looked and sounded like bagpipes.
‘This is an askomandoura,’ said Marina, pointing. ‘It’s very traditional here. It’s been around at least since the middle of the fifteenth century. It was originally played by goat herds. The bag is made from goat or lamb hide, tied at the neck and rear.’