Eléni’s heart sank. She’d set her sights on getting an evening job.
‘What about positions for chambermaids? I could always work on my days off.’ She knew she sounded desperate. ‘And some weekends.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but it would be daytime and most of our ladies work every day.’
Eléni thanked the receptionist and left the hotel foyer.
Porth Gwyn was a spa town and full of large hotels built at the height of the time when visitors had come to take the waters. Eléni smiled to herself when she remembered how she and Bronwen had tasted the water from the chalybeate fountain in Rock Park.
‘Ugh!’ Bronwen had grimaced. ‘It’s foul. How can that awful taste be good for you?’
Yet many people in the nineteenth century had believed it was and had paid handsomely to stay in the town.
Eléni walked through the gardens opposite and tried her luck at the hotel on the side street. The receptionist there told her the same thing — the manager would be in touch.
‘What’s your telephone number?’
‘Porth Gwyn 2419. Thank you.’ All Eléni could do was hope.
She strolled back to call on Gabriella in the craft shop.
‘I came in to tell you I’ve had no luck getting the waitressing job. Mind, it was only the receptionist saying she doubted there were any vacancies. It looks as if I won’t be going anywhere soon.’
Gabriella was the only person she’d told about her Kefalonia plans. ‘Sorry to hear that. But didn’t you say you got some money from your great-aunt after she died? And what about the money your parents gave you for your twenty-first?’
Eléni had totted up all the money she had in her building society book and, yes, she might just have enough for a plane ticket, but she had no idea what it would cost to live in Kefalonia for a few months. ‘I’m not expecting to find my uncle in a few weeks, so I have to allow for a longer stay and it’s going to cost money if I stay in a hotel or lodging house. My next day off is Thursday so I’m going to go to Credenford on the bus. There’s a travel agent on the main street. I hope to figure out the cost then.’
‘It’s so exciting.’ Gabriella rubbed her hands together. ‘I just know you’re going to find him... and maybe a handsome Greek Adonis too.’ The doorbell chimed as a group of women entered the shop. ‘I’d better go. See you later.’
On her walk back home, Eléni thought back to what Gabriella had said. Her excitement about her forthcoming tripwould not be matched by her mother. Things were good between them at the moment, so Eléni didn’t want to spoil it until it was necessary to tell her.
As she opened the door, she heard her mother on the phone.
‘Thank you, I’ll tell my daughter.’ Cassia turned to Eléni. ‘That was The Crown. Something about a waitressing job. The girl said she’d spoken to the manager and they don’t have any vacancies at the moment, but will keep your details on file. I didn’t know you were leaving the craft shop.’
Eléni took off her coat and hung it on the hall stand.
‘I’m not. I love working for Mr Williams. I’m just trying to get more work to boost my wages. You know I’m saving.’ Her heart pounded as she waited for her mother to ask what she was saving for, but the question didn’t come.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘Before I work on some more drawings, I’m going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one? Slice of lemon with it?’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, please. I know you’d love me to drink it with milk like you, but I can’t break a habit of a lifetime, can I?’
They both laughed as Cassia followed Eléni into the kitchen. For as long as she could remember, there were certain traditions her mother had brought from Greece that she always followed, even though most of the time she’d embraced Welsh culture. Auntie Gwladys had taught her to bake the best Welsh cakes, and her bara brith was legendary. Her baba said her mother’s lamb cawlwas even better than Granny Megan’s. His mother had died when he was a young boy and it was the reason he and Uncle Glyn had been so close to Great Auntie Gwladys. She’d practically brought them up.
After serving the tea and taking a couple of pastries from the tin, Eléni excused herself and went up to her bedroom, which faced the back garden. She marvelled at the straight lines of mown grass marking the long lawn, her baba’s pride and joy. From a life at sea, he’d now settled into being the perfect gardener for this detached house on the outskirts of Porth Gwyn. Two neat rows of standard roses edged the wide path by the patio. They would soon be laden with tresses of pale-peach blooms with the most marvellous perfume. They were most fragrant on a balmy June evening, wafting up through her open window. It was one of the first things she’d noticed when she’d moved to Porth Gwyn from Cardiff. Her great-aunt’s house had had a courtyard concreted with crazy paving at the back, rather than a garden.
She pulled out her sketchbook from her desk under the window. She selected the six drawings Mr Williams had thoughtwould appeal to customers most and removed them from the pad with great care. Placing them between two sheets of stiff card, she put them aside to take for Mr Williams to get framed.
She took out the pile of borrowed library books about Kefalonia that she’d hidden in the long drawer under her wardrobe. Selecting one about the 1953 earthquake, she flicked through the pages to find images of the destroyed buildings. One showed a house with one wall and the contents of a bedroom still intact. She began to sketch it, first in soft pencil to map out the correct proportions and perspective, and then worked over the markings in pen and ink. The building slowly became real on the page and Eléni sucked in a deep breath to prevent tears from forming. It was as if she was there, witnessing the terror of what had happened to the family who had once called this place their home. Again, she thought of what her mother had experienced and wondered if, like her, she would want to lock it away in a hidden compartment in her mind. Her thoughts were interrupted by Bronwen knocking at the door.
‘Eléni, can I come in?’ Eléni covered her drawing with the sheet of blotting paper she always kept to hand when working in ink and closed her sketchpad.
Bronwen breezed in before Eléni could answer.
She spotted the books on Eléni’s desk and picked one up.
