Eléni had no idea what that was in pounds and ounces.
Simos could see her trying to work it out mentally. ‘I think it would be about five and a half pounds.’
‘Yes, very small.’
‘And my birthday is not on the seventh of May when I’ve always celebrated. I have a July birthday!’
Everything contained in the missing-child article in theCeltic Chroniclewas accurate. She’d been five at the time of the earthquake and her name was Iôánna. ‘My uncle got it right. I do hope we can find him.’
‘I think I know why you were known as Eléni rather than your first name. It’s a tradition here to name a girl after her grandmother. Remember on the census there was a womancalled Iôánna Koulouris. By her age, she must have been your grandmother. I think they called you by your second name to avoid calling the two of you the same name as she lived in the house with you.’
Simos moved the folder to one side. ‘Look at this.’ He held up a tiny white bonnet, embroidered with little pink rosebuds and the initialsI.E.M. edged in lace. Although the cotton had yellowed with age, the workmanship was exquisite.
‘Do you think my mamá made it for me?’ Eléni took it from Simos. ‘You said I was tiny, as tiny as a doll, I think.’ Emotion flooded through her. She had no idea what her mother had looked like, but she imagined a young dark-haired woman preparing for the birth, sitting and making beautiful clothes for her baby. Like any new mother, she would have had hopes and dreams for her little one’s future, never imagining she would not see him or her grow up. Eléni stifled a sob.
Together, Eléni and Simos rummaged through the records and items in the box. There was a small icon of St Gerasimos, the patron saint of Kefalonia, and a tiny gold cross and chain that Simos explained would have been given to her by her godparents.
Towards the bottom of the box, Simos found a detailed pen-and-ink drawing of a reclining baby.
‘Look at this.’
Eléni’s skin prickled with goosebumps. The drawing was labelledIôánna Eléni, aged four months. ‘My baba has signed it.A.S.M. Not only was he an artist, but he drew this in pen and ink. It’s so detailed. It’s so much better than a photograph, don’t you think? I can’t quite believe it. Guess what my favourite medium is?’ She didn’t wait for Simos to answer. ‘Pen and ink. I’m nowhere near as good as this, though.’
Simos reached across and patted Eléni’s arm. ‘I can see how much this means to you. But I think we should stop now and letyou digest everything you’ve learned about your family. The next step is to find this uncle of yours. We now have his full name from the census. And it looks as if he was one of the witnesses at your parents’ wedding, so it will narrow it down.’
Eléni stood. ‘I can’t thank you enough. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d find all this information about my birth family so soon. It’s all down to you.’
‘I’d love to just carry on with the search, but I do have other cases to work on. I’ve already heard comments that I’m spending all my time on yours.’ He laughed, but then his face became serious. ‘I think, as well as wanting to help you, I can just imagine what it must be like to find out your true identity. I still carry around this feeling I don’t belong to anyone.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Anyway, enough about me.’
‘You are so good at your job. You must research your own family, even if it sounds impossible now. I’m sure there must be a way.’
‘Perhaps.’ He looked directly at her. ‘Do you know I have told you more about myself than anyone else I know? I can’t believe I became emotional in front of someone I’ve just met. In such a short time, I think of you as a good friend. Is that even possible?’
Eléni’s insides did a flip.Of course, it’s possible, you gorgeous man. Friendship is fine.From the time she’d set eyes on Simos Georgatos she’d wanted more, but seeing him so vulnerable and opening up about his feelings, she knew this was enough for him. And anyway, she would have to return home once her money ran out, so there was no hope of their relationship leading to anything serious.
Simos continued. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d like to meet you for dinner tonight. Perhaps we can take a boat from the harbour to a bay where the view of the sunset is supposed to be one of the best. Shall we say seven o’clock in front of Taverna Xéniaon the quayside?’
Chapter Forty-Seven
That evening, Eléni approached the taverna where Simos waited for her. Her insides flipped when he turned to face her. In the early-evening sun, his face and arms were a deep bronze. Although he was more casually dressed than when he worked at the museum, he still looked immaculate in a short-sleeved pale blue linen shirt, worn with the top two buttons open, and cream-coloured slacks. She wondered if she was underdressed in her long cheesecloth skirt. Striped in shades of pink, purple and ecru, its unironed look was a stark contrast to Simos’s expertly pressed clothes.
‘Eléni.’ Simos’s face broke into a wide smile that reached his eyes. ‘You look lovely.’
He kissed her on both cheeks. His lips were soft and warm on her skin and his musky cologne caused her stomach to tighten.
‘I hope the restaurant isn’t too posh. I feel a bit underdressed. You look so smart.’
He looked puzzled. ‘Posh?’
‘Smart. Where rich people go.’
‘No, you will see all kinds of people there, enjoying the views. They all wear what they want to.’
The motorboat was almost full by the time they went aboard. Eléni and Simos found two seats together on the left-hand side of the boat.
‘It takes about fifteen minutes to get there. We should have a good view of the island from this side. The only access to some of these beaches and coves is down very steep lanes. It’s much better to get to them by boat if you can,’ said Simos.
The early-evening sun shone on the surface of the sea, making it sparkle and glisten. Shades of turquoise and aquamarine reached as far as the steep white cliffs. Eléni lookedover the side of the boat and marvelled at the clarity of the water. She could see right to the bottom and watched shoals of fish swimming close to the boat.
