What was Becky going to do?
Forty-Three
Panos’s Taverna, Liakada
‘What are you doing in here?’
Elias looked up from his laptop to see his mother standing over him, an apron tied around her middle, what looked like batter in her curly black hair. He picked up his coffee cup and raised it slightly as if that told her enough.
‘I have coffee in the cafeneon,’ Eleni reminded him, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Mama, I wanted a cup of Panos’s coffee,’ Elias replied.
‘Here we are, Elia,’ Panos announced as he appeared holding a plate full of sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, black pudding, fried bread, tomatoes and baked beans. He placed it down on the table and stood back to admire his own presentation.
‘What is that?’ Eleni wanted to know. ‘That is… the breakfast of the English.’
Elias nodded, already having grabbed a fork and put baked beans into his mouth. ‘It’s good.’
‘The tourists love it,’ Panos announced. ‘I start doing this this season and I have the best reviews on TripAdvisor.’
Eleni tutted as if both of them were committing a crime against Greek cuisine. ‘You will die of heart failure. This is what I tell your father. This is one of many things I tell your father.’
This breakfast was good. As good as anything he had tasted in the UK. ‘This is so good, Panos,’ Elias told him through another mouthful of food.
‘Good enough for the five stars?’ Panos asked, lowering his glasses a little.
Elias nodded, smiling. ‘I will do a review.’
‘Oh, thank you, Elia. Thank you.’ Panos then retreated away from the table and Elias was left with his still-glaring mother.
‘What time do you come home last night?’
Elias shrugged, still enjoying the food. ‘I do not know.’
‘I know it was after one in the morning,’ Eleni said, tone accusing.
‘Then, if you know, why do you ask?’
‘Were you with your father?’
‘I thought you did not care what my father does any longer.’
‘I do not.’
‘I do not believe you.’ Elias looked at her directly then. ‘And I am still unhappy that he is living in a shed and that you did not tell me he was sick.’
‘He was not sick. He had a heart attack because of the eating the breakfast of English people and the smoking.’
‘So, you throw him out of his home?’
‘I do not throw him out. He walked. Badly. Like a man twice his age with no springs in his step.’
‘Ah,’ Elias stated. ‘Now we are getting somewhere closer to the truth.’
‘Like you hiding the truth from me that you are a man in charge of divorces, determined to make women pay for their mistakes of believing everything a husband tells them?’
Elias shook his head, but the fried bread he had just attempted to swallow was catching in his throat. He focused on the fluffy stray dog that had just poked its head onto the stone of Panos’s terrace. It might be hard being a stray, but it was infinitely simpler than his position right now. ‘It isn’t quite like that.’
‘Your job?’ Eleni asked. ‘Or the lying to me about it?’
‘Mama…’ He stopped eating now, longing to down the deep, dark coffee and order another.
‘No,’ Eleni said. ‘You might be clever with your words of divorce, but you do not know about things with me and your father.’
‘I disagree,’ Elias dared to say. ‘I think I know exactly what is happening with you and my father.’
‘I do not have to listen to this,’ Eleni began, and she turned as if she was going to walk away.
‘No, you do not,’ Elias interrupted. ‘But you should.’
Eleni stopped walking then and turned back to face him. The stray dog let out a whine as if sensing the unrest.
‘Mama, I know you have dreams. I know you want to travel. And I think you should. I think you should take some time away from the village and the cafeneon and you should go wherever you want to and see whatever you want to see. Italy, perhaps? You and Papa in a gondola sailing along the canals of Venice.’
He saw his mother’s expression change. Her eyes lighten, a glow to her cheeks, her appearance uplifting, all framed by the trailing grapevines hanging from the beams of the taverna’s terrace roof. His mother suddenly looked ten years younger. It was a snapshot of a youthful Eleni who perhaps had not seen her whole life being played out on the island of Corfu.
‘One thing I have learned from my business is… men and women, they are definitely not the same.’ Elias took a breath. ‘They have different ways of looking at things and one way is not the only way. But you do have to accept that there are vast differences to the thinking. And embrace those differences. Because if we were all the same, it would make for a very boring existence.’
Eleni shook her head as if to dismiss him, but there were tears in her eyes and Elias could tell that she was taking on board what he was telling her.
‘There is nothing wrong with you wanting something else, Mama. But you need to talk to Papa. You need to tell him what it is you long for.’ Elias paused before continuing. ‘Because I do not think you want Constantine or any of the other men from the village. I think you still want Papa, but you want Papa to understand that Corfu is not enough for you. You need a break from the cafeneon. You need a holiday.’
‘He doesn’t want anything else,’ Eleni stated firmly. ‘He wants only to drink ouzo and smoke cigarettes and play backgammon with his friends.’
‘I don’t really believe that,’ Elias replied. ‘I believe he wants to make you happy too. You just need to explain to him what is wrong and be open to letting him try.’
Eleni shook her head. ‘And if he does not listen?’
‘Mama, you are scared of exposing yourself,’ Elias stated. ‘But if you do not expose who you are, completely, you can never live your fullest life.’ The content of this conversation was sailing very close to being about him. Or, rather, about Hestia. Perhaps it was about them both now. Hestia must have held her true self in for so long before she came clean about her love for Thalia. And now Elias was hiding behind the past and using it to govern his future. ‘And then, nothing will change.’
‘This place!’ Eleni exclaimed, arms in the air like she was calling things down from the heavens. ‘I love this place. But sometimes I also hate it.’
‘I know,’ Elias replied, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip.
‘I do not want to live anywhere else. I would not know what to do living anywhere else. But…’ Eleni began.
‘Italy,’ Elias whispered to her. ‘Eating delicious pasta by a fountain, gazing out over the Amalfi coast, seeing the famous coliseum.’ He smiled at his mother. ‘Dancing with my father across a piazza.’
Eleni made a noise and flapped a hand in the air. ‘Your father dancing? I tell you already, he can barely walk in a straight line these days and if you add in the ouzo drinking then…’ She sniffed. ‘You have now broken the fantasy.’
‘Talk to him, Mama. Tell him,’ Elias said softly.