Heart and Soul

  “Yes, that's right,” she said.

  “So now that we have checked the legitimacy of the funds, as we had to, we are just saying they arrived from Greece.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Vonni said.

  “So once he's bailed he'll probably get in touch with you.”

  “Not necessarily. It's just that I live in Greece, and now that I'm actually in the place where he is, I thought I might see him.”

  “If you want to talk to him first and tell him you are putting up the bail…?”

  “No—that would be blackmail. That would be saying that he must be grateful to me, he must see me.”

  “And would he not want to see you anyway? His mother?”

  “I was a bad mother,” Vonni said simply.

  “We're all bad parents. There's no training for it, you see, like there is for a job.”

  “I'm sure you did all right.”

  “Not really. My son wanted to be a musician. I forced him to go and get a proper qualification. I thought I was doing the right thing. He met a girl, she got pregnant and they married. He's still in a job he hates and it's all my fault.”

  Vonni looked at him openmouthed. The English were meant to be reticent, and yet this man was telling her his whole life story. This man knew Stavros—maybe he was saying something to prepare her for disappointment.

  Vonni was touched.

  “I will leave my name and the phone number of the B and B where I am staying, with you. When he asks, perhaps you could give them to him.”

  “ Ijf he asks,” the official said.

  “You think he might not ask?”

  “You never know.”

  “Well, when it's all gone through, give him my information anyway …”

  “Certainly,” the man said, and put the piece of paper in a letter rack on his desk.

  “You mean it's all signed and delivered?” Jacky looked at Stavros in disbelief.

  “I know, isn't it fantastic? I'm sorry it didn't come through for you too,” Stavros said.

  “And who was it?”

  “I didn't ask—you know what they say about not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Yes, but it's a hell of a lot of money.”

  “All the more reason to keep quiet about it. I'm just going to disappear.”

  Jacky looked at him in confusion. “That's what you're going to do?”

  “Well, of course it is. Why, what would you do?”

  “But you said it was a misunderstanding?”

  “Sure it was, but am I going to reform the courts of justice all on my own? Good luck, Jacky …” And he was gone.

  At the desk he was given a piece of paper.

  “Who left this for me?” he asked.

  “A lady.”

  Stavros looked at the name and the phone number.

  “Boy, if you had known her back then you wouldn't have called her a lady”

  “She looks fine now.” The older man's face was a thin line of disapproval.

  “Whatever.” Stavros tore the paper in half and threw it into the wastepaper basket.

  Back at her B&B, Vonni waited.

  And waited.

  After two days a man rang and asked to speak to her. She knew that it wasn't Stavros. It was an older man, a kindly voice that she had heard recently.

  “It's not my job or my business, but I thought you should know that your son didn't take your address.”

  “But why did you not give it to him?”

  “I did try, but there was a sort of a mix-up.”

  Vonni knew that she shouldn't ask, but she had to know.

  “What sort of a mix-up? Did he leave it behind when he left?”

  “Sort of, yes.”

  “How?”

  “He just didn't take it with him, madam. I didn't want you to be sitting there waiting. After all you did for him …”

  “And did he say anything? Anything at all? You can tell me …”

  “No, madam. Nothing.”

  “Thank you. That's a relief anyway.”

  And Vonni packed her little bag and went out to the airport. Simon had told her how if you traveled standby on a plane, it was much cheaper. And now that she had no money at all she would, of course, have to take such things into consideration.

  “If Vonni can go to England, maybe she could come to Ireland to our wedding?” Declan suggested.

  “Sure she could.” Fiona was casual. “And when we get round to organizing one we'll certainly invite her.”

  “Which might be sooner rather than later?” Declan finished.

  “Or which might be thought out carefully rather than rushed into,” teased Fiona.

  Sometimes Declan found it worrying that she didn't want to set the date right away. He wanted to marry her tomorrow, but he wouldn't put her under pressure. He would wait until she was ready. They had their whole lives ahead of them.

  His father's friend Muttie had an address for Maud and Simon, so Declan sent them fifty euros and a note.

  If you see something nice and maybe typical of the area that's not too heavy to carry, I'd love you to bring it home as a present for Fiona. It will be a surprise for her so don't tell her. She tells me that you are practically running the place over there. Well done!

  St. Jarlath's Crescent is much the same: we are having a good spring, but of course it's nothing to what you have out there. I'm back into the swing again and I only use the stick a little, so I'm as good as new, which was never all that great to begin with. Good luck, and give our best to Vonni. Why did she go to England do you know? Fiona said she never went anywhere these days.

  All the best,

  Declan

  Maud and Simon read this letter carefully.

  “A necklace,” Maud suggested. “They have nice filigree ones up in Kalatriada.”

  “Yes, but they're not really ofthis area. Maybe it should be some Aghia Anna pottery?” Simon was struggling to obey the message in the letter.

  “We'd break it, it's such a long journey home, Simon.” Maud was practical.

  “If Vonni comes home, we could ask her, of course,” Simon said.

  “I forgot to tell you—I met Yorghis, and he says she's coming tomorrow.”

  “Did he say …?”

  “No and I didn't ask …” Maud finished.

  “Sure it's her business,” Simon agreed.

  They planned how to welcome her.

  “I keep thinking we should get some wine or Champagne even,” Simon said.

  “Yes, but she's like Mother. It doesn't agree with her.” There wasn't an ounce of disapproval in Maud's voice. “We'll just get in eggs and mushrooms, bread and honey. I imagine she's coming on the morning boat. So Yorghis says.”

  “We'll be there to meet her,” Simon said.

  There were five men and two women waiting for Vonni. Andreas, his brother Yorghis, her good friend Dr. Leros and the lawyer Takis, and Simon. Maria was there, and Maud.

  When Vonni came into harbor she saw them from the deck of the ferryboat and waved, delighted. They decided to have breakfast at Mesanihta. They all searched her face for some hint of how things had gone for her in the few days she had been away.

  But since they didn't ask any direct question they could not complain that they didn't get any answer.

  Andreas wondered were the English people friendly? Very, very welcoming, apparently. Yorghis wondered were they loud? Some of them had ended up in his cooling-off rooms when they had been obstreperous over the years. No, Vonni hadn't found anyone loud. Rather the reverse.

  Dr. Leros came nearest to saying what was in his mind when he wondered had she been worried about her health—gone to see a specialist? Vonni was taken aback by this. No, no—her health was perfect.

  Maria asked what kind of clothes the women wore in England and Vonni said she didn't really know, she hadn't really looked. Takis asked had her business turned out as she had hoped. Vonni looked at him vaguely and said it had all been done as had be
en planned. He got nothing more.

  Maud and Simon asked no questions at all. They told her that everything had gone very well. There had been very good sales of the little blue mugs. They had put them in the window and people came in especially to look at them. They had been up to the hospital and chosen the wool for blind people. They had done some babysitting at the Anna Beach Hotel and had been paid. They had put the money aside for Vonni to cover their board and lodging. They were learning ten words of Greek a day and they had learned a little Greek dance. Their blond hair was shining in the morning sun and their skin was golden. They looked a lot healthier and less eccentric than when they first arrived.

  Vonni smiled at them with pleasure. Not everything worked out well. But some things did.

  This was what she had to hold on to.

  Simon and Maud carried Vonni's little bag home for her after all the warm bread and honey at Mesanihta.

  “Is it good to be back?” Maud asked.

  “To your real home?” Simon defined.

  “Yes, very good.” Vonni looked around her, happily greeting people here and there.

  “We got lots of shop avgas in case you'd like an omelette,” Simon said.

  “I could murder an omelette,” Vonni said with a tired smile. She went in to change her clothes while the twins got the food ready.

  They were so kind and attentive and totally undemanding.

  “Well, now, you two,” she said to them later, “I can't have you working for your entire stay here. I want you to enjoy yourselves, take a few days off. Take the money you earned and go and see more of the island.”

  “But we thought we could repay you a little,” Simon said.

  “No need. Aren't we all doing fine the way we are? I'd love you to see all the beautiful places, the gorge and the caves and the empty beaches up in the north of the island. When you are busy professional people—a lawyer, a teacher—you will always look back and remember it. That would give me huge pleasure …”

  “If you really mean it…?”

  “If you're totally sure …?”

  Vonni looked at them thoughtfully The few euros they had earned minding children at night in the Anna Beach would go a long way to seeing them around the island. “Please believe me. And another thing?”

  “Yes, Vonni?”

  “Why do you think I was in England? I notice you never tried to find out. What do you think it was about?”

  They paused for a moment and looked at each other.

  “Go on, say it—I wouldn't ask otherwise.”

  “I think someone died,” Maud said.

  “Yes, I think you went to a funeral,” Simon agreed.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because your eyes are very empty. Different somehow.”

  “And even if you're smiling you seem sad.”

  The time flew by, the holiday was over and it was time for a bronzed Maud and Simon to go back to Ireland. Vonni had helped them to choose Declan's gift for Fiona, a beautiful hand-painted scarf.

  “Will you come over for Fiona's wedding?” Simon asked the night before they left.

  “No, Simon. I'm too old to travel now,” she said.

  “But you went to England.” Simon was always remorselessly logical.

  “That's because it was an errand of mercy,” Maud reminded him.

  “An errand of mercy,” Vonni repeated wonderingly

  “Was that the wrong thing to say?” Maud was distressed.

  “No, it was a lovely thing to say. Do you think you two learned anything here, anything that will stay with you for life?”

  “Well, we learned a little Greek. Not enough, I know, but some,” Simon said.

  “And we learned that you don't have to have lots of money to make you happy,” Maud added.

  “That's for sure. Where did you learn that?”

  “Well, everywhere, I suppose. Up in the mountains where they have hardly anything. And here with you. You don't have a lot, but you don't ever seem to want a big income or anything. You just get on with life, fine the way you are. No matter what happens.”

  Vonni was surprised. “But you two don't think money buys happiness, do you?”

  “No, but we meet a lot of people who do.”

  “Do you know, I think you two are pretty good at getting on with life no matter what happens,” Vonni said. “You're managing just great.”

  “Please come to Ireland. We'd love to show you things,” Simon suggested.

  “We'll take care of you like you took care of us,” Maud offered.

  “Let's wait until Declan and Fiona fix a day. We'll see then,” Vonni said.

  “People always say ‘we'll see’ when they mean ‘no,’” Simon grumbled.

  “You're very observant, Simon. You'll be a good lawyer,” Vonni said. She felt a great closeness to these young people. It had been a while since she had let herself get close to people in any way.

  Later that night, Takis paid a call.

  “Where are the Irish kids?”

  “Down catching some bouzouki in the harborfront. Andreas and Yorghis and I will join them later—do you want to come?”

  “No. I want to talk to you.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Oh dear, indeed. Well, he's gone, left Britain, though he's not meant to. He didn't turn up to check in as he was supposed to. Probably went on a day trip to France and didn't come back. You've said good-bye to your money.”

  “It was his money, Takis, you know that. His to do what he liked with.”

  “He never met you, did he, never thanked you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The authorities there were in touch with me. I spoke to that man—he remembers you going to visit.”

  “It's not important.”

  Takis sighed heavily. “There was never any use talking to you.”

  “There's more, isn't there?”

  “Oh, Vonni, you can read faces like a book. Why could you not read the face of your own son?”

  “I told you, it didn't matter. It was his money to spend when and as he liked. What more have you to tell me?”

  “He shared a cell with a Scottish fellow called Jacky, and Jacky asked the people to forward a letter to you. They sent it to me and I'm afraid I opened it.”

  “Really?”

  “I was afraid it might be a begging letter.”

  “And was it, Takis?”

  “In a way, yes. But I thought you should see it.”

  “Very generous of you, considering it was addressed to me.”

  “Just read it, Vonni.”

  She did.

  Dear Mother of Stavros,

  I shared a cell for many weeks with your son. He was so happy to be released thanks to your generosity. I suppose I was just hoping that you might be a wealthy woman and that you might be able to put up my bail too. It's much less than for Stavros. I would work forever to get it back to you, I would be so grateful I would do anything on earth you wanted.

  Stavros is not a bad lad, but he is very confused. He sees things as black and white, he doesn't know the world is gray. He said you and he had a lot of problems when he was a child. It only seemed to be drink when he got down to it, which we all had in our homes, but he is very unforgiving.

  Stavros telephoned me once since he was released. He wanted an address of someone. I asked him had he seen you and he said no. I asked him was he not grateful and he said you must be as guilty as sin about your past otherwise you would never have raised that money for his bail. He said that he had been beginning to wonder had he been too harsh on you, but this proved that you knew you had ruined his life and caused him to be the way he is.

  I only tell you this because I would be so different. Please, Mother of Stavros, believe me, I would be so grateful and I would look after you when you get old.

  Yours,

  Jack McDonald

  When she looked up, Takis was looking out the window, over the rooftops that led down
to the harbor. He did not want to meet her eye. He tried to arrange his body so that it did not scream the words “I told you so” at her.

  “Well, thank you, Takis. Now we all know where we are.”

  “Yes, that's true,” he said.

  “And I think we are on our way to the harbor, don't you?”

  “You can go to a party after that? You are a remarkable woman, Vonni.”

  She smiled at him as she smiled at her friends all around this island: the smile of someone who felt lucky and free and who tonight had been proved to have paid all her debts. She didn't want sympathy, she wanted solidarity.

  “Pame, Vonni. Let's go,” he said.

  “Pame, Takis. Let's go to the taverna,” she said.

  Chapter Nine

  Linda Casey wished she had lived at another time. A time when her talents would have been appreciated. She could have been a royal mistress, or a kept woman in a luxury apartment or even a wife to some gentleman landowner who encouraged her to have a small town house in Dublin.

  But no, she was of the here and now, in a world where everyone, men and women, had to go out and work for a living. Were they meant to thank the Women's Lib people for this? A world where relationships were full of compromise, where marriages didn't last. And a world that said you should be grateful day and night because you had a place to live, an education and were young and reasonably good-looking.

  Linda didn't think that was nearly enough.

  But try telling that to anyone and see how far you got. Not very far with her mother. Mam seemed to have transformed herself into some kind of advertising campaign for how a well-groomed, middle-aged woman should live. She had seen her mother sponging jackets with lemon juice, putting shoe trees in her shoes to keep their shape, polishing her handbag, and creaming her neck with some heavy unguent. And for what? Mam was still a sad, driven person. So what if she looked good? Inside, she was like everybody else—a mess.

  Linda couldn't really remember when Mam and Dad had got on well. Her sister, Adi, who was two years older, said she could, but then Adi was so sentimental: trees had feelings and we shouldn't sit on leather sofas because an animal had died to make a covering for us to sit on. And as for Adi's boyfriend, Gerry—he was a total nutter! Adi had made herself into a complete doormat for him.