Paxos, 2003
Sofie’s face throbbed with every step, as if blood had leaked from her heart and was collecting under the skin. If Dimitrios hadn’t been holding her, she would have fallen. They stumbled up between the trees together, stopping to rest every few steps.
“It’s lucky none of the guests are around today,” Dimitrios said, panting a little. “Julia’s gone and Paul drove everyone else to Lakka for lunch; apart from Peter who left to collect those thugs from Gaios by taxi because they took his car, apparently without his permission. They haven’t returned yet.”
Sofie imagines Peter hauling the boys up from the ground. He wouldn’t be gentle. He’d be furious with them for taking his car and for getting into a fight. He would shout at them like he did when Jay spilt the wine. They wouldn’t dare show him those pictures, they’d be far too ashamed.
Everyone was in the kitchen. Mama, Babas, even Christos, which felt wrong. Christos should have been cleaning the pool by now, or working on the yacht, adjusting the rigging, checking the engine and the sails, but he was here, because of her. He had bruises on his face as well. His mouth was set in a tight line and he was frowning. Sofie had seen him serious before but never angry, not like this.
The kitchen was different too. There should have been bread on the rack and the scent of tomatoes and aubergines bubbling on the hob, but the stove hadn’t been lit. For once the kitchen didn’t smell of anything. There should be music coming from the radio, Bouzouki music, Mama’s favourite, but the only sound was the buzzing of flies at the window.
Athena was standing with her back to the sink. Her face was tight, as if she were holding on as hard as she could to every scrap of her strength. Her hair had fallen down which made Sofie feel unsafe. Mama’s hair was always neatly pinned. What other things might come apart, things she hadn’t thought of?
Babas was in front of the stove. He was always the same, quiet and serious. When you looked at him from a field away, you could see the dark of his eyebrows before you could make out any other features; now they were drawn like a thick bar across his face.
The only thing on the table was Christos’s phone; even from where she was standing, Sofie could see the screen was lit up with her face. Her face and the sea behind that. She understood why Ginger had called her a rabbit because that’s what she looked like on the phone, a frightened rabbit who’d been caught in the headlights. Christos must have showed Mama and Babas the other pictures as well. They knew then, they all knew exactly what she’d done. No wonder they looked angry. Everything they’d believed in had been a lie. It was like coming out of the cinema in Gaios, when real life returned with a rush. You felt stupid you’d been caught up in something unreal, like a child who believed in fairy stories. She’d done that to her parents, she’d made them feel stupid for believing in a fairy story. They’d thought if they worked hard and followed the rules there would be a happy ending, a reward for being good. It was clear now that was a myth; being good didn’t even keep you safe, bad things happened however good you were.
Athena was the first to move. She pulled out a kitchen chair, placed a cushion on the seat, and helped Sofie sit down.
“So now, pedhaki mou, tell us what really happened.”
Sofie’s tears were pointless, they seemed to have nothing to do with her. The world had exploded like a bomb; tears made no difference when everything had been blown apart. She wiped them away with her sleeve although they kept coming.
Athena gave her a glass of orange juice. Most mornings Sofie turned the inside of halved oranges against the ridges on the little glass cone until her wrist ached. She had put the jug full of juice on the breakfast table so many times, poured it out for the guests and watched as they sipped a little and left the rest in their glasses. She’d had to throw away what they hadn’t drunk, while her mouth parched with longing. Now she had some to herself, but when she tried to sip the juice, it stung the inside of her cheeks.
“It’s important you tell us exactly what happened.” Dimitrios’s voice was kind. He was a kind man; they were all kind, but no one could make a difference to what had happened.
“I know you couldn’t tell us before. We understand.” Athena sat down next to her. “But tell us now, we need to know.”
Sofie looked round at the familiar faces. They wouldn’t like her once they heard her story, but they probably know most of it already; there was nothing more to lose.
“They came to the beach.”
“Last night?” Athena asked.
Sofie nodded then shook her head, then nodded again.
“Tell us the whole story from the beginning,” Athena said. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
Dimitrios sat in the chair next to her. Now she had Athena on one side and Dimitrios on the other. It felt safe.
“They came in the mornings as well as last night.”
Babas was staring at her. She turned her head so she couldn’t see him, not even out of the corner of her eye.
“How do you know they came in the mornings?” Athena asked.
“Because I was there.”
The silence was full of questions, but she forced herself to continue, what could it matter now?
“I’ve been taking Nico to the beach every morning, he likes splashing in the sea. One day the boys came.”
“You take Nico to the beach?” Babas’s voice was incredulous.
“Uncle,” Dimitrios said, just one word, but it stopped Babas.
“I watch him.” Sofie didn’t look up. “I watched him all the time.” Had she? What about when Jay held her so she could swim? But she couldn’t think of that, she should have realized that was the beginning of everything wrong.
Christos looked up and stared around the kitchen and under the table as if searching for his shoes, then hurried out. No one took any notice, they were all looking at Sofie.
“You can’t swim,” Babas said quietly.
Dimitrios put a hand on her wrist, it was meant to comfort her. He couldn’t know it was painful. Jay had twisted her wrists tightly and the skin was broken, it stung with the warmth of his touch.
“He doesn’t go far. I can reach him if I need to. He loves jumping over the waves.” Nico had deserved that time of being happy, they were all too busy for him, but she knew that wouldn’t seem important now.
“So, those boys,” Athena said. “What did they do?”
“They taught me to swim. I was going to show Christos after they went home. It was going to be a surprise.”
“What are their names?”
“Jay and Ginger.”
“That skinny one with spots and the fat pig,” said Dimitrios. “Not the one who is always on his phone.”
“You thought they were your friends,” Athena said. “So you trusted them, we understand that. No one is cross.” But it sounded as though she was going to cry, which was worse. “Now tell us what happened yesterday evening.”
So, in a whisper, Sofie told them everything she could remember. She tried to pretend that Babas wasn’t there, that she was just talking to her mother. She tried to be as truthful as she could. When she had finished, no one said anything for a while.
Dimitrios looked at Babas though Sofie didn’t dare. “She would have had no choice,” Dimitrios told him. “None at all.”
“They hit me when I tried to escape,” Sofie whispered. The shock of that blow came back, and she put her hand to her cheek.
“There are no pictures of that,” Dimitrios said grimly.
“Did they do anything else that wasn’t in the pictures?” Athena asked slowly, as though someone was dragging the words out of her mouth.
Dimitrios moved closer, leaning his shoulder gently against Sofie’s. All her life she would remember the warmth of that.
“She is asking if they raped you.”
She was glad he’d said that word. It was simple to understand. It should be simple to answer but she couldn’t. Ginger had put his fingers inside her, she could still feel them. Did that count? And then there was that thing she couldn’t remember, after they turned her over and pushed her against the boat, that pain. That tearing pain. Then blackness.
She shook her head though the truth was more complicated, she didn’t know, not really.
“Don’t talk any more.” Athena knelt and put her arms around her. Sofie leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder and closed her eyes, although that made them sting even more. She wanted to stay there for ever, but after a while Athena got up and began to move around the kitchen, opening cupboards and taking things out that belonged to them: the flowery apron and the lace cloths with embroidery that Yia-yia had made. She picked up the jug with the painted olives and the little saucepan with the curving handle that just fitted your hand.
Sofie began to feel frightened, a different kind of fear from before.
“I don’t want anything to change.” She tried to speak loudly but her voice cracked. “I want everything to go back to how it usually is.”
“Things have changed, little Sofie,” Dimitrios said. “Of course they have. We can’t go back.”
They heard footsteps running across the drive outside and then Christos was standing at the door. He was panting and he looked different, he wasn’t angry anymore, he was terrified.
“What?” Athena’s voice had a new, raw note of fear, as if she had already guessed what Christos was going to say next.
“I can’t find Nico anywhere.”