The Butterfly Storm (6 page)

‘Lena doesn’t live here,’ I say.

‘No but they lived with his parents until they had children. It’s expected.’ She looks at Alekos. ‘You
don’t like living here?’

‘Of course I do Mama, it’s just…’ he shrugs and glances at me. ‘I can’t please you both.’

‘Then I’ll make it easy for you, Aleko, carry on doing what you’ve always done, pleasing your
mother.’ I turn to Despina. ‘You have no idea about my history with my mother. You also have no idea
how all my life I’ve longed to be part of a family. But I just need some space, Alekos needs space, Takis
needs space, my God you need space even if you don’t realise it. I’m not asking you to give
up your son and never speak to him again, I’m just asking for a little piece of him. We’re
talking about my future husband. Me wanting us to live on our own is simply natural, not
selfish.’

‘I didn’t say you were selfish,’ Despina says. ‘I said ungrateful.’

‘You have to have the last word, don’t you?’

‘Everyone!’ Takis shouts. ‘Silence!’

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Takis sound so angry. Maybe Alekos could learn something from his
father.

‘Alekos, Sophie, you need time together.’ Takis takes his wife’s arm. ‘Give them a few minutes to
talk
alone
. We’ve got a restaurant to open.’ He steers her out of the apartment and the door closes shut
behind them.

‘Well done, Sophie.’

‘It’s about time someone stood up to her.’

It is rare to be on my own despite the restaurant being built within an empty landscape
of farmland and mountains. Since
that
argument six weeks ago I’m spending more and
more time at my spot by the fence. I retreat here daily for a bit of ‘me’ time but I always
feel watched. There are plenty of places for people to spy on me from. I catch Despina
peering down at me from her bedroom window, a folded sheet in her hands. Our eyes meet
and she busies herself. I know Alekos and Takis, even customers, can see me from between
the arches in the wall that shelters the patio. It’s like I’m a housemate on
Big Brother
.
But there is seemingly no release from this house, no Davina to guide me out the other
end.

If Despina is unaware of my mood she’s certainly concerned why I’m outside in ‘bitter conditions’.
Her words. It is cold but it’s hardly a damp creeping cold that chills not only your skin but also right to
your core – that’s my memory of freezing, miserable winter days in England. The fence looks as if it’s
been dusted with icing sugar. The ground is hard and decorated with frost patterns. With the haze of
summer gone, Mount Olympus is clear, its rocky crags revealed, dark against the snow; a jagged white
outline against the darkening sky. I have a scarf slung round my neck, for comfort more than
warmth, and I’ve shed the thick winter coat Despina makes me wear the moment I step
outside.

Soon people will arrive for the New Year’s Eve celebrations, not just customers (mostly regulars
who know Despina and Takis well) but friends and family, basically anyone, however loosely connected
to the Kakavetsis family, will be here. It isn’t a normal night. Despina refuses to slave in the kitchen, so
we’ve prepared a massive buffet all laid out on tables that stretch the length of the restaurant. There
will be live music and dancing – and I mean a lot of dancing, until our heads spin and feet
ache.

The frost has melted where I’ve gripped the fence so hard. My fingers are frozen and red. I hear a
car crunch its arrival. I lean back against the fence and face the restaurant. It’s decorated with tiny
lights that can be seen all the way down the road. On this side of the patio wall was where Alekos
proposed to me in the summer. I remember waking up early the next morning, creeping from our
bedroom, past Despina and Takis’ room, and outside into the warmth of dawn. The puddles from the
storm had nearly evaporated; the garden, grass, flowers, trees and fields looked drained of
colour, dry and weighed down by the intense summer heat. I’d crossed the patio and lawn
to this fence and looked towards the clear outline of Olympus with its varying shades of
purple and grey against the blue sky. I found the drowned butterfly, its wings flattened
and pale against the red bricks of the arch. I buried it in the ground where Alekos had
proposed.

‘Sophie, you will freeze!’ Despina suddenly shouts from the archway. She’s wearing a fur coat with
the collar turned up and matching hat and gloves.

I slowly walk back across the grass.

‘Our guests are arriving,’ she says, hooking her arm in mine before marching me to the front of the
restaurant. ‘Alekos is serving drinks, Takis is laying out the food, and I need you to make your delicious
mulled wine.’

Mulled wine is my little piece of England that Despina has actually taken a liking to, unlike
Yorkshire puddings, bread sauce and horseradish, each of which she’d tasted and turned her nose up
at.

Alone in the kitchen I pour countless bottles of red wine into a cauldron-sized pan and add cloves,
star anise, cinnamon sticks and slices of lemon and orange and stir it gently over a low
heat.

‘I thought I could smell something good,’ Lena says, slipping into the kitchen. ‘Any chance of a
sneaky drink before anyone else?’

I ladle some of the wine into a glass and hand it to her. ‘You like it as much as your Mum
does.’

‘I can’t believe we were missing out on this for so many years before you came here.’

‘This is my Mum’s recipe,’ I say. ‘Although she always used to add a very generous helping of
Cointreau or any other spirit we had in the house at the time. She liked it strong.’

‘Do you miss her?’ With her hands cupped round the glass she blows on the hot wine.

‘I’m beginning to. My memory of her and home is outdated since she moved away from Bristol. Do
you think I’m terrible never having invited her here?’

‘I think you have your reasons.’

‘She’s infuriated me, made me angry, made me sad but I miss the way she could always
make me smile. I miss the way I used to be able to talk to her about anything, and I mean
anything.’

‘You’re lucky; Mama’s wonderful but I was always embarrassed to talk to her about
personal stuff, you know, my feelings.’ Lena takes a sip of the mulled wine. ‘That is so
good.’

‘It reminds me of Christmas parties at home with Mum, my friends loved it. We’d get
pretty pissed on the mulled wine Mum made.’ I ladle myself a glassful and take a sip. ‘Not
bad.’

‘What did you use to do for New Year in England?’

‘Go out with Candy and our friends in Bristol or go to a party at someone’s house.’

‘Do they still do that?’

‘Not Candy so much now she has Jake and is pregnant again, but my friends who are still in Bristol
will be getting together tonight.’

‘Are you going out later?’

‘With Alekos and his friends? I think so.’

Lena knocks her glass against mine. ‘To the New Year and more of this wine! I’d better
check if Callia needs feeding, plus Mama will be wondering why I’m not serving drinks and
being a good host to our guests. Alekos is far better at being sociable than me; he has
a natural way with people, but what Mama wants…’ she raises an eyebrow and we both
smile.

The band is playing by the time I emerge from the kitchen with a tray of glasses filled with mulled
wine. A few guests, led by Despina, have already made a circle on the dance floor. The first time I’d
been made to dance at Alekos’ cousin’s wedding, I’d surprised myself at how much I had enjoyed it. I
was rubbish though, particularly at the fast dances, where my feet would get muddled and I’d crash
into the person next to me.

My tray of wine is soon emptied and I stand at the edge of the dance floor and tap my foot to the
music.

‘Sophie!’ Takis calls as he sidesteps past me. He puts his free arm across my shoulders and pulls me
into the dance. My feet follow Takis’, stepping forward, forward, back and across, along with everyone
else circling in time with the beat of the music. This is what I love about Greece - the spontaneity, the
passion and zest for life. Alekos is on the opposite side of the circle sandwiched between Despina and
Demetrius. His face is hot from dancing and his shirt buttons are undone halfway down his chest. He
catches my eye and winks.

The dancing continues until nearly midnight when the band stops playing, although I barely notice
with the amount of shouting, laughter and singing going on. Everyone holds hands. The TV above the
bar is on. Alekos holds me, and a stranger’s sweaty hand grips my free one. We drown the Athens
crowd out with our countdown: ‘
Dheka, enea, okto, epta, eksi, pende, tesera, tria, dhio, ena! Kali
xrhonia!
’

Alekos kisses me, his arms encircling me as he whispers. ‘This is our year, Sophie.’ Then he’s
dragged away by Despina and I’m left with strangers kissing me on my cheeks and wishing me a good
New Year. That is the least I’m hoping for. I want more than a good New Year. I want a
perfect one. The New Year is supposed to bring us our independence. It doesn’t matter
if it’s an apartment the size of a garden shed, as long as it’s the two of us on our own.
Then there’s our wedding the following year and after that the possibility is there to start a
family.

I slip out of the restaurant and into the dark kitchen. It’s cold without the ovens on or the lights
blazing. I sit halfway up the stone steps that lead to the apartment. The live music has started again
and vibrates through the place, along with the stamping of feet and clapping of hands. I hug my knees
to my chest and can’t stop myself from crying.

‘I’ll be here for you if it doesn’t work out.’ Those were Mum’s last words to me. There was no truth
in them. Why wouldn’t it work out? I love Alekos. End of story.

He finds me sitting on the shadowy stairs. I have no idea how long I’ve been here but I feel numb
with cold and my cheeks are tight from tears I can’t be bothered to wipe away.

‘It’s snowing,’ he says. Standing a couple of steps below me our faces are level. His brown eyes bore
into me but I can barely look at him. ‘What’s the matter, Sophie?’ He lifts my chin up. ‘You’ve been
crying.’

‘We need to sort our lives out.’

‘Right this minute?’ he asks. ‘We’re going to Katerini soon.’

‘I’m not going.’

He kneels on the step below me. ‘You’re joking, right?’

‘I know it’s New Year’s Eve but I feel sad.’

He takes my face in his hands. ‘Actually it’s New Year’s Day and you should be happy.’

‘Well, I’m not.’

His hands drop and he moves next to me, so we’re shoulder to shoulder on the stairs.

‘We can talk if you want,’ he says and sighs.

‘You won’t want to hear it.’

‘Try me.’

‘This year’s going to be different, isn’t it?’

‘I promise.’

‘No,’ I say, turning to look at him. ‘Don’t just promise. Let’s do it – move out.’

He’s silent for a moment. The coldness of the stone steps has seeped through my trousers. I twist
the engagement ring on my finger.

‘We’re getting married in less than eighteen months’ time, Sophie. If we wait until after our wedding
we can sort ourselves out a bit more,’ he says slowly. He looks ahead and not at me. Our shadows are
huge against the white wall, we look like shadow puppets. Our conversations are a performance, each of
us saying the same things over and over again, night after night, month after month. It’s getting tiring.
The fact he can’t look me in the eye tells me he’s breaking last summer’s promise. I stand up and head
down the stairs.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

‘To see the snow.’

He scrambles after me.

Outside the kitchen door white flakes glow in the light as they fall thickly to the ground. I hear
voices from the other side of the restaurant and Yannis’ unmistakable giggle. I go as far as the patio
and switch on one of the heaters. Alekos joins me at the table. Through the arch in the wall, Christmas
lights cast red and green light on to the nearly white field. All the children, Yannis included, are
running about, trying to catch the snow. The music rumbles inside, the tempo faster than the falling
snow. Darkness spreads away from
O Kipos
.

Alekos’ teeth are chattering. I know what Despina will say if she catches us sitting outside, in the
snow, with no coats on.

‘How much more sorted do we need to be?’ I ask.

‘What?’ Alekos frowns.

‘We’ve got enough money. We’ve got jobs. We work for your parents for God’s sake. You said if we
left it until after we’re married…’

‘There’s no rush.’

‘Aleko, you’re thirty this year. I’m twenty-nine. How can you possibly think there’s no urgency? I
was living away from home when I was eighteen. I miss that freedom.’

‘So do I. I’ve spent two summers away from here too.’

‘Then what’s stopping us?’

He doesn’t answer. The snow’s falling thickly now, settling on the table between us. The heater
glows with warmth and the snowflakes landing on it melt instantly. Alekos moves to the edge of the
bench to be as close to the heat as possible. I watch him. His year-long tan looks washed
out.

‘It’s your mother. I know she wants you to stay here,’ I say. ‘But you can’t do what she wants all
your life.’

‘You don’t understand. It’s just the way family life is here.’

‘What about having a life of our own, Aleko? Time together, a place where we don’t have to abide
by your mother’s rules. That’s what I want. That’s what we talked about. I thought we both wanted
the same thing.’

‘We do.’

‘Really?’

‘We both want to start a family.’

‘Not like this I don’t.’

He looks at me, open-mouthed, as if I’d just punched him in the gut.

I shrug. ‘Promises don’t mean anything unless you act on them.’

‘I’ve been trying.’

‘For over three years?’

‘That’s not fair,’ he says.