She told them how she’d been saving as many ingredients as she could, anticipating how much more she would need at Christmastime. ‘I wanted to make it special for Maia since herbaba came and went so suddenly, and for Cassia and Eléni who were caught up in the terrible earthquake. I had plenty of olive oil and flour, so that helped.’
‘I hope by having a special day for me you still have enough for your second celebration in a week’s time. I cannot thank you enough.’ Tom stood and went to kiss Eugenia on the cheek.
‘It’s so good to have you all here today.’ Eugenia’s voice cracked. ‘I was dreading Christmas. Maia asks for Georgios every night. How do I explain to a three-year-old her father is a womaniser and I was a fool to have had him back? He was so charming I believed him when he told me he would never stray again. He’s gone back to her in Ithaca, you know.’
Cassia checked that Maia wasn’t watching her mother get upset. ‘We’ll celebrate with you, won’t we, Michaíl? You and Maia must come to Taverna Zervas for Saint Basil’s Day. It will be me cooking and using up our rations. You’ve done more than enough for us today.’
* * *
Later that evening, with Eléni fast asleep upstairs at the end of such a long and exciting day, and Michaíl in the bar, Cassia and Tom went for a walk along the quayside. They found a bench at the far end of the harbour. A few people wandered past, but it was mostly quiet. The fine, clear day meant it was a cold and crisp evening. Moonlight bathed the water and the fishing boats in silver, so together with dotted lights from the bars and tavernas, the whole scene was magical. No one would believe what was happening to her beautiful island. Out of the blue, she remembered Rhodri Jones, the Welsh newspaper reporter, and how she’d yelled at him for benefiting from the islanders’ misery. And yet, because of him, Eléni was alive. Having read about the hardship the islanders were going through in Eugenia’s newspaper that morning and being shocked by how so manywere emigrating for a better life, she wondered if he’d been right. Without news getting out to the rest of the world, they’d have had no help, no medical aid, no food supplies. She looked across at the man sitting beside her.And no Tom.
‘Penny for your thoughts? Or should I say a drachma for them?’ A cloud of white accompanied Tom’s breath in the cold air as he spoke. Cassia looked at him, puzzled. ‘It’s what we say when we want to know what someone is thinking.’
‘Oh, it’s just the newspaper report this morning has had a real effect on me. I can’t get the image of the queuing people out of my mind. And then to learn they would be turned away when the food ran out. They had queued in vain. I was shocked by the numbers who are leaving. I worry it will be as bad here soon.’
Tom placed his arm around her shoulders. ‘Try not to worry.Didn’t you say let’s just think about Christmas for today? I haven’t given you your present yet.’
Casia swivelled to face him. ‘Tom, there was no need. I got you the cigarette case for Eléni to give you something after you dropped a hint you’d got something for the girls.’
He placed a finger on her lips. ‘Shh.’
From his pocket, he took a square, flat box. ‘Happy Christmas.Nadolig Llawen.’
Cassia’s hand shook as she opened the box. Inside was a silver bracelet that shimmered in the moonlight. In the centre, the bangle widened to make room for a filigree Maltese cross.
‘Tom, I can’t accept this. It’s beautiful... and expensive.’
‘Think of it as a token of our friendship. Silver filigree is everywhere in the shops in Valletta. I thought if I hadn’t been stationed in Malta we would never have met, and I’ll be leaving there soon.’
He placed her wrist through the bangle. ‘There, a perfect fit.’
He went to kiss the top of her head, but Cassia raised her face towards his. He stopped.
‘Are you sure, Cassia? The bracelet is what I said it is. A gift for a friend. You mustn’t feel obligated to show your appreciation this way if you don’t want to be more than a friend. Isn’t that what you want?’
‘I’m sure. I want you to kiss me. Properly. Not as a friend but as...’
‘Oh, Cassia.’ Tom brushed his lips against hers, then pulled her closer. They kissed again, this time more urgently. Craving crept along Cassia’s veins. She knew she was doing the right thing. Reawakened sensations tumbled inside her. They were not the fireworks she remembered always happening when she kissed Nikos, but Nikos was gone. She did love Tom Beynon, but in a different way. But it was still real love. She couldn’t imagine him not being part of her and Eléni’s life. She dreaded having to say goodbye to him in two days’ time. What would happen after that she didn’t know, but, at least, Tom now knew what he meant to her.
They walked back to Taverna Zervas with their arms around each other. Michaíl was still in the bar when they got in, but the regular drinkers had left.
‘I was about to lock up. You two look pleased with yourselves.’
Nothing more was said. Tom left.
Cassia retired for the night, making sure she didn’t disturb a sleeping Eléni. She lay awake for a while thinking of what had happened that evening. She’d convinced herself that because Tom wasn’t Nikos, she couldn’t be more than a friend to him. But once she’d allowed herself to kiss Tom and be kissed by him, her feelings had risen to the fore. Nikos would always be part of who she was. They’d been young and crazy when they’d fallen in love. But here was another man who loved her, and she loved him. A mature and caring man, and a different kind of love.When she closed her eyes, it was the handsome face of a fair-haired man that filled her head.
Chapter Eighteen
The next four days leading up to Tom’s departure flew by, and the anticipation of what his leaving would do filled Cassia with dread. They spent as much time together as they could, but Cassia still had to work at the market to bring in some money. Michaíl hadn’t confided in her, but she suspected the diminishing numbers in the bar meant there was very little money coming in from there. Often she’d find him sitting in the corner, the rhythmic click of his kombolóialerting her to the fact that each worry bead represented his concerns.With the build up to Christmas, she remembered the tavernas and bars in Argostoli would normally be bustling and she suspected they would be the same here in Fiscardo. It had been when she was young. But this year, there were no bars left standing in the town she used to call home, and the few tavernas like Michaíl’s were almost empty. Even his elderly friends, who might have made a tot of raki last all night, were not venturing out to play their beloved Tavlí.
Every morning, Michaíl went out to buy a newspaper.
’It’s getting worse. There won’t be any islanders left if it carries on like this. Look.’ He spread out the paper on the table by the window for her to see. ‘Look at those queues to get on the ship. Taking them away to a better life. If I was younger, I’d be first in the queue.’
The grainy image showed men, women and children waiting in a line to board a large ferry boat. ‘Where do you think it’s sailing to?’ asked Cassia.
‘Athens, I suspect.’
