Sophie's Urn.

A note on this story.

This is a chapter from a completed novel which I am hoping to put forward for publishing. It's a mystery story set mainly in Greece and this is one of the lighter chapters.

Chapter 9.

‘Really Amelia, do you expect me to climb down that rickety footpath,’ Mavis was once again complaining and Lena smiled to herself. This was her second expedition with the elderly British women and she knew that although they might complain they were seasoned travellers with not an ounce of cowardice in their entire bodies.
‘Follow me ladies,’ she called as she struggled down the footpath with her paints and easel on her back. As an added incentive her wicked humour came to the fore,’ last woman down buys the G & T’s tonight.’ Now that would get them going!
The sound of stones shifting alerted her to the arrival of Amelia as she prepared to pass her.
‘Despite the advantage of your youth I am not paying for your vices,’ she said as she passed Lena.
‘Neither am I,’ laughed Mavis as she sped past in her sturdy boots. That suited Lena fine. The taunt was only meant to shift them slightly along. She would welcome their help when they reached the secluded beach; the tools of her trade were not light.
Incredibly the women had managed to drag a full hamper down to the beach; they would never go without their accruements of travel. Her breath coming heavy now she appealed to their good nature,’ have a heart girls, I’m wilting under the weight of this stuff. Just help me down the last few yards.’
‘Certainly not,’ Mavis was suddenly bold. It’s fair dibs.’
‘Oh no, here they were again, the girl scouts in their practical baggy blouses, voluminous skirts and safari hats.’ Lena thought,’ the sun would never dare to touch their English rose complexions. ‘Then Amelia took the easel off Lena’s back and she instantly regretted her uncharitable thoughts.

She had met the women on an evening in Fiscardo and enjoyed a hearty meal with them. Despite the age difference she had found them both charming and full of adventure. Despite her aversion to guided tours she had joined them in a trip around the island; it was a cheap way of getting to know the area after all. Bustled from one attraction to another she had nearly thought it a waste of time until they had reached the cavern and underground lake of Melissani. Legend told it was a haunt of the god, Pan and the nymph Melissan. Here was something that would have enchanted Sophie with its tale of gods and a lake nymph who could control the forces of nature. Part of the attraction was the shimmering colours of the water, highlighted by the small hole in the ceiling that had been opened in the earthquake of 1953. Boats loaded with happy tourists pulled out from a darkened jetty until the light from above streamed in and changed the lake into a jewelled miracle. Quickly grabbing her camera she had shot almost a reel of film to use as a study later. The Greek boatmen had posed and postured, one giving a running commentary on local legends, the other singing his heart out. It was cheap and tacky but she loved it. She hadn’t been so excited in months and the goodwill that ensued had led her to ask the women if they would like to see the tiny hidden cove near to Fiscardo.

Now they were on the tiny beach and its promise of isolation was fulfilled. A half-circle of cliffs kept it away from prying eyes, whilst the sea seemed to be at constant high-water mark in defiance of any tide. For Lena it was a place where she could look out to sea and maybe catch a glimpse of the near extinct Monk seals, or the turtles that laid their eggs away from the main beaches and the threat of civilisation. It was only a slight chance but she had another purpose in mind. Later on in the year if she was still here she would see the sea-daffodils and have a chance to both photograph and paint them.
For today she would both sketch the cliffs and their strata. She might find some plants to sketch and failing that the women would make a marvellous composition with their old world charm and true English manners.
Therefore it came as a shock when she looked up from her musings and saw both women stripped naked and running towards the waves like a pair of teenagers. For a moment she considered whether they were Lesbians or just free-spirited. Then she was caught up in the fun and slipping out of her clothes she yelled out, ‘wait for me.’
The water was cold to start with but soon she had warmed up. Amelia and Mavis were far away by then, their arms cleaving through the still water sending up just a slight spume of white froth. Kicking her legs she strove to catch them up, her old sense of competition coming to the fore. She would never forgive herself if she let two old ladies beat her at something she did so well, yet they were still pulling away from her. Deciding that they were probably ex-Olympic swimmers she turned over and gently drifted on her back. The sea lapped around her naked body giving her a sense of freedom that she had rarely felt before. Floating just under the surface her senses were limited to the sounds of the sea, the waves breaking on the shore, the cry of gulls and the sound of her heart bearing slowly in her chest. With her eyes open she watched the drift of the clouds high above, the shifting colours of the sky that was mirrored in the sea, sunlight glinting off rock, the lazy curve of a light gold arm.
Turning again she opened her eyes to the colours of the sea, cerulean, blue-green, violet and deep ultramarine. Little fishes darted to and fro their colours now dull then bright as a new coin. The sun beat on her back and she wondered if she should get out and apply some cream, despite the fact that she rarely burnt. Mark would be arriving in two days and then she would learn what itinerary they were going to follow.
Somehow she felt more ready to face him now and knew that part of this feeling was due to the lack of dreams. There was just one more thing she had to do before she was ready for her very first assignment without Sophie by her side and that was to talk to Mike.

She was rudely interrupted by the splashing of Amelia and Mavis as they made their way to shore. ‘Hey Mavis,’ she called, ‘you’ve gone as red as a lobster.’ Blithely she laughed as a worried Mavis tried to see if she had indeed caught the sun. Amelia soon caught on and reassured her friend that she was barely pink. Clutching towels around their naked bodies they watched Lena walk out of the sea, a Venus with pale golden skin and deep auburn hair.
‘Oh no, please don’t get dressed,’ she wailed as both ladies started to put their clothes back on, ‘I really wanted to paint you both as you are.’
‘All baggy flesh and floppy tits?’ Mavis enquired, obviously trying to get her own back.
‘No, two ladies in the prime of their lives, good friends that are ease with themselves and their own bodies, it’s a natural state that few ever achieve,’ Lena replied and understood she was talking about her mother.
‘Humph! Sheer flattery if ever I heard of it, what do you think Amelia?’
‘That I’m starving and thirsty. That the sun is long past the yardarm and therefore it’s time for a G & T. If Miss Lena cares to paint us after that she has some major sucking-up to do.’
‘Spoken like a true Admiral’s daughter,’ Mavis interjected, now where’s that bloody bottle?’

The hamper was raided, its contents spilling out like some conjurer’s trick. First a brightly covered cloth spread across a large rock and then an assortment of plates, cups, paper hankies, cutlery and a bona fide salt and pepper pot.
‘Now don’t tell me that is yours,’ Lena laughed, ‘you pinched it from the kitchen, now own up.’
Amelia looked outraged. Pursing her mouth up she made a little moue of distaste.
‘Haven’t you heard of that time-honoured thing called hiring?’ she asked. It might not be Harrods or Fortnum & Mason but its civilised, which, my dear, is something you are sadly lacking in.’
‘Oh pooh!’ Mavis butted in, ‘where’s the bubbly?’
It was a scene that Lena would never forget. Amelia, her back stiff with anger walked down to a rock pool by the sea and brought up a bucket complete with two bottles of chilled wine. Meanwhile Mavis spread out a veritable feast with a whole roast chicken, cuts of beef and ham, dips and pickles of every kind, cold bagged salad, crisp white and brown bread rolls and many different pastries. Amelia popped the cork on a chilled sparkling wine and handed around glasses filled to the brim. Lena apologised and even went as far as opening up her large portable beach umbrella to shade them while eating.
A thought passed through her mind but she was unwilling to voice her suspicions. All this was remarkably like a scene in Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and even if the beach was wrong, the island was the right one. Maybe Amelia had read her mind, or perhaps she just wanted to shock her younger friend. ‘We’re Naturalists you know,’ her manner was off-hand.
‘Nudists,’ Mavis giggled, pouring a second glass of wine.
‘Really,’ Lena heard herself say stuffily and then it all became so silly and they ended up rolling around in tears of laughter.
‘This calls for a G & T,’ Mavis went on giggling.
‘Please just don’t tell me where you’ve hidden it,’ Lena thought of it and decided to let it go.
Mavis put her arm into the hamper and brought out a full bottle of gin. The tonic followed just after. Lena lit up a cigarette and settled back, her stomach full and her mind at peace. The previous day had been a little strained as she wasn’t about to tell anyone her purpose for bring here. She could get away for a while with the story of painting for relaxation, but soon her friends would see her range of equipment and then they’d know she was no amateur. If Mike had heard of her then so might other people and the women were no fools. Just for now she would like to keep that air of contentment, it was a feeling so new to her and just a brief respite from her grief would help her to cope with what must surely follow when this idyllic period of time was over.
‘You look thoughtful, is there any problem’ Amelia asked, her birdlike head cocked to one side.
‘Just thinking about my mum and how she’d love it here.’ That at least was true.
‘Couldn’t she come with you?
‘She’s a business woman, this time of the year is one of her busiest times,’ immediately after she knew she’d made a mistake. Now they would ask about her mother’s work and that would lead on to Sophie and all the attendant grief. Amelia just nodded as if that explained everything.
‘We were so glad to retire, weren’t we Mavis?’
‘Of course we were. All that agonising over whether we should expand, take on new markets or sell out completely. I’m glad that’s all over.’
Now it was Lena’s turn to look mystified and wonder just how she came to forget that other people kept secrets too. Amelia soon put her out of her misery.
‘We were “M&A, designs on Living”; we had stores in London, Bradford and Birmingham. We stocked some of your mother’s top range designs. We also sent some business her way and she sent clients to us. You are very like her, my dear, except for the colouring. Now that’s out of the way and we can get on with enjoying ourselves.’
Mavis chuckled as if to say,’ you’ll get used to her’, but carried on packing up the remainder of their meal.
‘I can’t believe how much of a coincidence that meeting friends of my mother is to me, and how come I have never heard of you before?’ Lena thought they might have been more forthcoming with their information.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry my dear; I thought that dear Tanya might have mentioned we would be here.’ Amelia didn’t look the slightest bit sorry but then the elderly women were a law unto themselves. ‘You wouldn’t remember us,’ she added, ‘we came to the house a few times but you were quite young then. We were both more into interior design in those days, it all became too much bother a few years back and we sold out. Now we spend most of the year in the warm sunshine.’
Lena felt a bit embarrassed now, but she still wanted to sketch the two women. Glancing at her watch she saw it was getting on for four in the afternoon. ‘Will you sit for me now?’ she asked them, knowing she could find out more about their background with her mother later on if she needed to. Right now she wanted to catch this moment and the good light for sketching.

It took at a little while to set up the tableaux. Earlier she had been struck by the curve of the cliffs and the way they suggested nurturing arms. There was also a timeless quality about this tiny cove, as if men could chip away for years and leave no impression on the landscape. When she had seen the abundance of the elderly women’s naked flesh she had one of those flashes of inspiration, the moments when nature compliments it creations and that was what she was trying to achieve as she set about drawing.
She persuaded Mavis to let her long grey hair fall loose from its bun and have Amelia combing it, Both bodies were angled towards her while their gaze was on the far horizon. She sketched quickly, knowing that the pose wasn’t what the women would have chosen. How could she say that the rock and bodies blended into one? That the vein in the rock was the vein in the body and that both the cove and the women were as timeless as the earth and stars? They wanted titillation, something slightly risqué and that she would do later.
‘Take five,’ she said and lit up a cigarette as the women poured another drink. Mavis wandered over glass in hand and nodded with approval.
‘As clear as the nose on your face,’ she said. Amelia stood there hand on hip,

‘She’s right you know, much better than all that flimsy stuff. I’ll want a copy of course, going rate.’
They had thrown her again, these two ladies who she had admired, but also laughed at in a nice sort of way. They knew her better than she did herself and as she looked at the sketch she saw the beginnings of a new maturity, if she was allowed to survive to see it.

She saw them back to their hotel, declining a nightcap as she intuited they would be tired.
Promising to call as soon as she knew when she would be free she wandered down to the harbour and thought on the day’s events. Feet swinging over the harbour wall she was startled when a man sat beside her.
‘Want to talk about it?’ Mike asked.
‘Not yet. I think I’ve had my mind stretched as far as it would go today.
‘Ah, our English ladies, quite charming and so helpless?’
‘How did you guess Mike?’
‘That they would take you in hand, puzzle you, turn everything you thought you knew on it’s head and then leave you wondering just how they had did it?’
‘Aptly put, ‘Lena smiled at him in the gathering twilight.
‘They did one hell of a number on me when I first came here. They have been coming here for many years but no one knows it except the hotel and they are just glad of the business. Many people think they will retire here, but I know better. ‘
‘What did they do to you, Mike?’
‘Oh, you know, they saw something in my eyes, something that’s still in yours right now. The Greek people are pretty laid back. If the land or the sea don’t cure you then nothing will. Most people think our race is optimistic, like we were supposed to invent the saying, “No Problem”. Tell that to the Jamaicans who were also supposed to have coined the phase. Look into their tin shanties with the flies buzzing and the children starving and then ask who made up that slogan? ‘He shifted a little as if he was uncomfortable.
‘Behind every smiling Greek you’ll find a fatalist, com si, com sa. I don’t think we have a word for it. Even Topol wasn’t a true Greek. Anyway, I had arrived from England and you know the story about that. I was raw with pain but I had a vocation, a calling. God wanted me on his side and Saint Mike wasn’t about to let anyone stand in his way. ‘He laughed but without humour. Lena took the opportunity to light up.
‘I had preached in Athens but not here, not on my own island. I held my very first communion, here in Fiscardo. It had a special meaning as it was one of the few places that survived the earthquake. I spoke with passion, with conviction. I was going to make a big difference. Yet somehow the fire, the passion, it didn’t work. I saw my congregation as their eyes glassed over and I was afraid. I changed out of my vestments and into jeans. Somehow I wandered through the bars and ended up in the Hotel where I saw two quaint old ladies holding forth over the bar on the topic of fishing in Greece. Imagine that! What the hell did they know about fishing, with their G & T’s and afternoon tea?
I thought it all pretty funny by then but when I waved my glass at them and asked what the hell they were talking about I got a lecture about sea-fishing off the Orkney Isles.
Okay, I was drunk and not about to be railroaded, so I propped my head on my hands and asked then what they knew about God. ‘
‘I can’t bear to think what they said,’ Lena added.
‘About as much as you know about fishing and that’s a fact,’ the thin one said. We became friends there and then and friends we have stayed for years.
‘Now tell me about your day.’ He said.
‘Only on the condition that you show me the Rovers,’ Lena answered.

They sat in a dark corner of the bar, not because Mike was embarrassed, but that so many people asked about him. He nursed a cold Guinness while Lena stayed on the wine. Her painting gear was stacked behind the bar for now. She had kept her sketch-book out and now he was going through it with her permission. Most were from today. A quick sketch of an old fisherman mending his net in the old way brought a long glance. He smiled at the one she had done of Stavros. Then he came to the nude study and she heard a sudden sharp intake of breath. ‘Had she offended him, she hoped not.’
Finally he looked up from his pint and she caught a gleam in his eye.
‘This is excellent. Did they know just what you have achieved here?’
‘I think so, they seemed pleased. I thought they might be disappointed, rather have something flattering. I caught them as I saw them, two strong women who bend with the wind, not against it as I do.’
‘You are too hard on yourself,’ he said, as his hand lightly brushed hers. ‘You see both beyond and in the heart of things.
‘You don’t know me yet, Mike, I am stubborn and I don’t like being told what I should be feeling or how I should cope with my life. I am happy here for now, at least as happy as I can be without Sophie. But it’s all so new and it feels dangerous, as if I allowed myself to let go for even a moment then the grief would come back twice as bad as before. I’ve been ill, so ill that I nearly lost the will to live. My nightmares were terrible and so like yours that I couldn’t admit to them. I was going to come and see you before I have to start work on the project. But now it comes to it I don’t know if I can.’
‘I’m here now,’ he looked wistful and somehow sad that she couldn’t yet trust him.
‘Do you think that maybe you feel guilty about being happy when Sophie has moved on? That’s very common, but more so with a twin.’
Why did she snap then? For the life of her she didn’t know. Getting up from the table her voice had been icy.
‘I don’t want your cheap psychology; you know nothing about me or Sophie. She’s not dead, she’s trapped. Get the hell away from me.’ Crying she had run from the bar without her paints and with no way of getting back to the villa.

She was retching over the river bridge when a car pulled up beside her.
‘Get in,’ he said, ‘I’m not leaving you here.’
The ride back was a nightmare with neither speaking and Lena’s head was pounding already. She caught a quick look at Mike and was shocked by the pain it caused her to see him so grim and unhappy. If she hadn’t thought of Sophie then maybe it would have been alright now.
The ride ended abruptly and climbing out of the car she staggered towards the door. She knew instantly that something was very wrong. There was a glow coming from the downstairs room and she knew she had left no lighting on. The shock was so great she didn’t hear that Mike’s car was still idling outside, for her the world was focused on the light and the scent of candles, the scent she now associated with the heady perfume of funeral lilies.
The door swung open easily as if someone had it ready for her. She saw the candles arranged before the alcove picking out the gleam of gold in the Urn that until now had stood twelve feet away in the window. She heard a roaring in her ears and the floor gaped open in front of her. Stones fell around her and tree roots turned into hands that grabbed at her in an agony of trying to escape the yawning pit.
Into that nightmare she heard Sophie calling to her, ‘catch it Lena, and for God’s sake don’t let it all be in vain. The earth churned, the pit belched forth fire and she was falling into darkness…

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