The Silence of Scheherazade Read online

  When they were out in the square again, she erupted like a volcano. ‘If I can’t go on a moonlight outing at this age, when am I supposed to go, Mama? After I’m married with a bunch of children? I am so fed up with your cautiousness – I want to live my life!’

  Even before she’d finished speaking, she regretted her words. Her mother would be very upset. What’s more, other things would come to her mind. Without raising her head from the ground, she looked at Katina from the corner of her eye. But what was this? A smile had spread across Katina’s freckled face. Unbelievable!

  They walked in silence past the shops with white awnings on Frank Street. Panagiota didn’t even dawdle in front of the windows. Any other time, she would have dragged her mother inside to look at the dresses and handbags from Paris and London. Near the French Hospital, the vegetable seller from Crete passed them, doubled over under his large basket. Katina bought five fresh courgettes and some tomatoes from him, throwing them into the beach basket Panagiota was carrying without saying a word. If it had been a different day Katina wouldn’t have been able to restrain herself from mentioning that most difficult birth as they passed by the hospital where her daughter had been born. She would point out the window of the room where she had first held Panagiota in her arms. Panagiota knew by heart the story of the European nurse who appeared behind the curtain with the baby her mother believed had died.

  That day they walked past the hospital’s yellow walls in silence.

  In their own neighbourhood, the old women were taking advantage of the evening cool and had brought chairs out in front of their houses and settled down to wait for the young people to come back from the sea. Children were already racing around outside, raising clouds of dust. Katina waved to Auntie Rozi. Panagiota looked for Elpiniki and Adriana. In a little while they would wash the salt and sweat from their skins, put on something nice for the evening and maybe all go down to the quay together for ice cream. She was still thinking about the lemonade she had refused out of stubbornness. But first she had to settle this fair business. While she was considering how to broach the subject, her mother spoke up.

  ‘Kori mou, tell me, who else is going to this fair?’

  In truth, Katina was not sure what to do about her daughter’s persistent nagging of the past two weeks. It was all right if she went to the quay for ice cream, but to row over to Agia Triada at night? Katina just couldn’t get her tongue to say yes. Although the neighbourhood children had known each other since the day they were born, she knew how unreliable young men could be at that age. What if one of them should put a hand on Panagiota… and the girl, drunk on moonlight, let herself be taken… God forbid!

  Katina had had four miscarriages between the twins and Panagiota. Because of this, from the moment the baby dropped into her womb, Katina had been afraid of losing her. When the two of them had come back from the dead during that difficult birth, Katina’s fear had intensified. For years she had gone to see all sorts of people noted for breaking magical spells, from a priest in their neighbourhood to a powerful hodja, one of the best-known Muslim spiritual guides who lived behind Basmane train station. She had made offerings, lit candles, left holy water on the windowsill on moonlit nights. Though Panagiota was a perfect child – healthy, smart, beautiful – that initial fear of imminent misfortune had not passed. ‘Had not passed’ is not the correct expression. Her fear, like the white in her hair, multiplied day by day.

  To make matters worse, the girl had grown so beautiful of late that ever since the lemon trees had blossomed, all the boys from the neighbourhood had been taking up their fiddles, dulcimers and tambourines and singing love songs under her window. Actually, it was not clear whether the serenades were for the blonde beauty Elpiniki, who lived next door, or for Panagiota. But every night the boys, like faithful lovers, made the whole street moan. It perplexed Katina that Akis didn’t take this carousing seriously. Even if it was Elpiniki they came for, she thought Akis should go out and do something. Elpiniki’s father, their neighbour, Kyr Iraklis, had been in hospital with tuberculosis for several months, and since Elpiniki’s brother had not returned from Athens, it was Akis’s duty to his sick neighbour to let everyone know that Elpiniki was not alone in the world. And most important of all, he had to protect Panagiota.

  Whenever the scratchy sounds of a fiddle and dulcimer along with the cracked voice of a boy under the bay window rent the midnight silence, Akis would tease Katina, saying, ‘What were you expecting, Katina mou? Or did you forget the young man who used to read poetry to you under your own window?’

  Katina would toss and turn in the bed. Then, distressed by the knowledge that she was contradicting herself, she would say, ‘Kyr Prodromakis, was I a child at the time of those serenades? I was at the marrying age, whereas Panagiota is still playing skipping ropes in the square. Also, times have changed. Our daughter is a pupil at Homerion High School.’

  Turning and embracing his distressed wife, Akis would reply, ‘But I remember when you also used to play skipping ropes. I would come and undo your sash, then run away. You would race after me until you caught me in some hidden corner. You weren’t even fifteen years old then, vre Katina.’

  Katina’s heart would soften with the sweet memories of her youth in Chesme. But the croaky voice of the boy reciting poetry under her bay window would ignite her anger once more.

  ‘Kyr Akis, you must put an end to this! It’s as if we’ve placed a bottle on our roof to announce that we have a daughter of marriageable age, like the villagers do. How shameful this is! If you don’t care about your own daughter, give a thought to our neighbour, Rea. The woman’s husband has tuberculosis, and her son crossed to Chios to escape the labour battalion and then went on to Athens and started his own family. These clowns have their eyes on your daughter, and I’m sure it’s because these two, Panagiota and Elpiniki, are the only ones who go to Homerion High School. I swear, if you hadn’t insisted and we’d sent the girl to the church school, there would be none of these disgraceful goings-on. It’s rubbing elbows with those snobbish girls that’s brought our daughter to this.’

  Most nights, Akis, unable to endure his wife’s nagging, would get up, lean out the window and shoo the boys away. But they always came back again the following night. Maybe if he aimed a gun at them, shouted, ‘Get away, you scoundrels,’ and fired a few shots into the air, they wouldn’t dare serenade in the same place again, but when Akis saw them he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. Everyone was familiar with the grocer’s temper, so if he were to pretend to be furious, no one would be fooled. When he stuck his head out of the window in his hooded white nightshirt and smiled from beneath his bushy moustache, the boys could tell that he didn’t really mind, so they happily made themselves scarce, until the next night…

  While all this was happening, Panagiota would gaze down with sadness at the crowd of boys from behind the tulle curtain of the window she had tiptoed over to in her bare feet. Stavros was never among them. He had not once joined in with the serenading on Menekse Street; all his friends from the neighbourhood gathered under her window, but Stavros stayed away. Hopefully he hadn’t fallen for some rich girl and was not at the quay feeding her ice cream – one of those girls who got all dressed up and went down to the quay to attract the attention of the officers who spent the whole day trotting round in circles on horseback. Thoughts like that hurt, as if her heart were being clamped.

  Katina repeated her question. ‘Daughter, who is going on this rowing boat excursion? Who will pull the oars? What if the boat capsizes, God forbid?’

  They’d reached the centre of their little square. Panagiota came to an abrupt stop and put down her basket. Something had changed in her mother’s voice. She pivoted round and looked at Katina, whom she towered over, these days. Yes, her mother’s eyes had turned the colour of hazelnut shells. Could it be…? A smile spread like sunshine across Panagiota’s face, revealing the evenly spaced teeth, like pomegranate seeds, in her small red
mouth.

  Seeing her daughter looking so fresh and innocent, Katina’s heart melted. Panagiota was her diamond. A miracle. God’s blessing. As beautiful and pure as a droplet of water.

  ‘Ohooo,’ boomed Panagiota in a deep voice quite at odds with her mother’s image of a water droplet, ‘everyone you can think of is going! All the boys and girls from the neighbourhood. They’ll be coming out into the square soon and you can ask them. Elpiniki and Adriana. And from the boys, there’s Minas, Pandelis, the fisherman’s son, Niko…’

  She hesitated briefly, then added, ‘And Stavros.’ She hoped her tone of voice hadn’t changed when she’d said his name.

  ‘Oh, so Stavros is going too?’ Katina puckered her lips as she always did when she was displeased.

  Panagiota’s cheeks felt hot. She was surely blushing. Hoping that the sunburn would hide her embarrassment, she picked up the basket again and began to head towards home. She’d had to think fast and come up with something quick, and eventually she’d blurted it out. In truth, she wasn’t even sure that Stavros was coming. Why had she brought up his name? Did she hope, like an idiot, that if she said it forty times, it would happen? She’d heard from Adriana that Stavros was coming – maybe. Adriana had heard it from Minas. Stavros and Pandelis would row, that’s what Minas had told Adriana, leaving the two of them to sit at the bow under the stars and… whatever.

  Panagiota didn’t even dream of sitting side by side in the bow of the boat with Stavros. They weren’t a couple like Adriana and Minas. Everybody considered those two to be engaged; when the families had completed the dowry talks, they would exchange rings. Feeling sorry for herself, she moaned silently, ‘No one would even call us a couple.’ The boy was like a thorn, appearing and disappearing. Could a fiancé behave like that? But his hands… his huge hands were like fire… How many days had it been since she’d seen him, since his hands had touched her body?

  ‘Panagiota mou? Where are you running to, vre daughter? Wait for your poor mama. I swear, I’m out of breath.’

  Panagiota slowed down when she got to the entrance of Menekse Street. Since last summer they had been meeting at the far end of the square, beside the cold stone wall of the British Hospital, to embrace and kiss amid the smell of fresh grass, tobacco and fried fish carried on the wind from their neighbourhood. The boy would take hold of Panagiota’s shoulders with his huge hands, put his tongue – which tasted sour, of the cigarette smoke that also infused his hair and skin – in her mouth for several minutes, and bite her lips until they turned purple, sucking on her as if he wanted to drain her of water. Panagiota, drunk from his hands moving over her body, from the hardness of his groin pressed against her, tried to reciprocate as much as she could.

  They hadn’t gone further than kissing, and the whole kissing scenario never lasted longer than five minutes. Panagiota always had to get back to the square before Katina noticed her absence. Even though their encounters were brief, Panagiota was conflicted. One part of her would tell herself that something was lacking, that she wasn’t doing it right, that Stavros would prefer a girl who could kiss better than she did. And the other part worried that she shouldn’t be giving her precious body into his huge hands and that Stavros would prefer a girl who sold herself less cheaply.

  Anyway, these love scenes – was it love? – beside the hospital wall did not happen every evening. If they had, Panagiota’s emotions and confusion could not have endured the storm in her soul.

  Katina caught up with her daughter in front of their house. Akis had lowered his shutters halfway and gone to the coffeehouse to play backgammon.

  ‘What is it – you don’t talk to Stavros any more?’

  To herself, Panagiota replied, ‘What do you mean by “talk,” Mama? When he’s with the other boys, he doesn’t even acknowledge me. He never once looks me in the eye or turns to say a word to me. Whenever it suits him, he sends me a signal, and I run to the hospital wall like a lamb – what lamb? I run like a rearing horse – to be crushed between his body and the wall.’

  Katina, noting her daughter’s silence, stopped in front of the blue wooden door with the key in her hand. The street was in shadow now. Panagiota wrapped her arms around herself.

  ‘Yavri mou, what’s the matter? Did Stavros break your heart?’

  ‘No, why should he, kale?’

  She turned her head towards the British Hospital, where she and Stavros had kissed, in order to hide the tears welling in her eyes, then added hurriedly, ‘There’s nothing between us.’

  Katina was aware that Stavros had not been seen around for quite some time. He wasn’t among those boys who hung around under the window in the evenings. He was a quiet, self-contained boy who never said much, just walked around with a sullen face. Akis had mentioned that some of the neighbourhood boys had joined one or other of the various underground movements – what if Stavros had got mixed up in all that? He was the tough, silent type; why had Panagiota set her heart on him? Had she fallen in love with those hard, green eyes? Oh, dear. The tight-lipped girl wasn’t telling her anything.

  ‘Kala, okay. Let’s see what happens.’

  They went through the blue door. Inside, it was dim and cool. A muted yellow-green light seeped in through the colourful stained glass above the door as Katina walked down the corridor. The clothes she’d hung out in the back courtyard were flapping in the wind.

  ‘Ela, come, pump some water. Let’s wash the pebbles and sand from our feet before we go upstairs.’

  The water was as cold as ice, for the tank from which it was drawn kept it chilled even in the burning heat. When she was a child, Panagiota used to think djinns would jump out of that tank when the water was pumped. As she washed her feet, hands and face with particles of crumbling soap, the coolness spread from her toes into her bones and throughout her body.

  ‘Take off your clothes and get in the bath if you wish. The water in the basin is hot. You’re as wet as a duck anyway.’

  ‘You will give your permission, won’t you, dear Mama? I really want to go. I want to very, very, very much. Please, se parakalo, gia to hatiri mou. Please, for me. We’ll all go together and come back together, ma to Theo. I swear to God.’

  The girl’s eyes had filled with tears again. Katina sighed.

  ‘Wait until the evening when your father comes home. I’ll talk to him.’

  Panagiota ran barefooted to her mother and wound her arms, dripping with water, around her neck. It was up to her father now. When Stavros saw Minas and Adriana cuddling in the boat on the night of the fair, he would relax and treat her like a real fiancée. Then when they were ashore, they’d buy a cone of hot peanuts and walk along the streets of Agia Triada, chatting like two lovers, like a real couple. That night would be a turning point in their love.

  Rejoicing in her dreams, she turned to her mother. ‘Come, Manoula, let’s get dressed up and go out to the square. The sun has set and everybody is out on the streets. There’s a full moon tonight – let’s go down to the quay together.’

  ‘Well, thank goodness you’ve come to your senses. Doksa to Theo. Thanks be to God. As if I’ve not been saying this all along, Panagiota mou. Go and change your clothes and then we’ll go, my little crazy, kori mou. You’ve made yourself miserable for so many days. And me too.’

  Pushing and shoving each other like children, they climbed the narrow staircase to their home.

  Serenade

  That evening, Lieutenant Pavlo Paraskis saw Panagiota for the first time, sitting with the other girls lined up like birds on the wall in front of the police station. With her eyes shining like embers, her red cheeks and cherry lips, the girl was a perfect sun goddess.

  Her hair was pinned back with enamel combs above her small white ears. From time to time her dreamy eyes gazed at the green spaces beyond the railway tracks. She gestured extravagantly with one hand as she laughed at something her friend was saying. Her calves, exposed beneath the loose white dress she was wearing, were strong, her ankles slend
er. Her curly hair tumbled down to her waist, dancing in the rosy evening light.

  Pavlo stopped walking and stared at Panagiota, radiant in the twilight. Was this a simple trick of the light or was it a sign sent from Almighty God? It was as if the girl were encircled by a glow that only he could see.

  When Adriana noticed the lieutenant standing across from them, she stopped talking and prodded the others. They all turned at once and eyed Pavlo fearlessly. The young lieutenant took off his cap and greeted them, causing them to cover their mouths with their hands and giggle. Panagiota smiled shyly, filling Pavlo’s heart with happiness, like sunshine after rain. The girl’s teeth were a little strange, but there was something about her face that made him want to look at it over and over again. Her long, slender nose gave her an air of nobility. Though her cheekbones had a slightly masculine hardness, one could lose oneself in the black of her almond-shaped eyes shadowed by long, thick lashes. For certain, Almighty God was sending him a sign. Thank you, Holy Panagia!

  Just a short while earlier he had felt crushed by the weight of his troubles and his homesickness for Ioannina. The gendarme had arrived late for night-guard duty; the man was a low-ranking member of the paramilitary police and yet apparently he did not take Pavlo seriously. The gendarmes were all from Crete anyway; they looked out for each other, talked behind his back. He really should not have to put up with this, being assigned to a neighbourhood police station with soldiers from Crete; if only his position at Stergiadis’s office had not been terminated because of a stupid accusation. And what was that anyway? Listening at doors!

  Anger had settled in his stomach like a hard, hot fist, but now his heart was rejoicing like blossom trees in spring. He understood all at once why he had come into this world. Lieutenant Pavlo Paraskis had somehow failed to bond with the people of Smyrna, with their passionate devotion to the wind and the water, to taking their pleasures and having fun where they could. Since setting foot in the city, he’d seen many beauties, had even chatted with a few at their garden gates, but he had never come across a scene that had made his heart race like this. For example, before he’d been assigned to Stergiadis’s office, when he was still Commander Zafiro’s orderly in Bournabat, he had fallen for a servant girl at the next-door mansion. He had somehow never learned this beauty’s name. When evening fell, she would take her place behind the wrought-iron garden gate and, choosing from a basketful of rose petals, would flirt with the soldiers passing by. Appraising them with her black eyes, she would ask, ‘Tell me, are you for Venizelos or are you a royalist?’ Her voice was so sweet that even those soldiers who weren’t taken in would change their route just to catch sight of her.