3

Katoumári

Koula, 18

Perth, 1964

Koula was in her lounge room drinking a glass of water, waiting for Chrissie to arrive so they could go to the Greek dance together. Her grandfather would drive them there and wait for them outside when it was time to leave.

Koula and her friends attended the Greek dances whenever they were allowed to go. They were held in the community hall, next to the sparkling golden dome of the church. Koula and Chrissie knew all the steps to the dances. They took on a soothing, repetitive familiarity.

They liked to see their friends and especially, the boys. Not that they had much say in their futures. It was their parents who would arrange their marriages, although some parents listened to their sons’ wishes.

Koula thought an arranged marriage wasn’t a terrible idea. That way there could be no surprises. You knew what you were in for. When you play by the rules you do well. It was obvious to her that it had always worked that way with the Greeks. And that was what you did when you were a good girl.

Love matches always broke up, or so she’d heard in whispers over the years, but proper arranged marriages stayed the course. Koula’s father had died young, so it was her grandfather whom the young men’s families dealt with. He was heavily influenced by her mother, who had her own views on whom Koula should marry.

There were more Greek men than women in Australia, and many of them sent for brides from their villages in Greece. It didn’t always end happily. Koula’s mother said it was better to know the families and the men, and then to make a match. She did not trust photographs and refused to elaborate.

Koula was born in Perth. She was a real Australian. She had gone to school in English during the day and attended Greek school in the afternoons. She had never been to Greece. Most of her friends hadn’t.

She had spoken Greek from birth, eaten the food, danced the dances. But it was not the real thing. Maybe it was better that way. Their families had brought the best of Greece with them to Australia. They could leave all the bad stuff behind.

Like the story Chrissie told Koula about her cousin back in her parents’ village. Her aunt had to find a rooster to kill on the night of her wedding. Her betrothed’s family was so old-fashioned Chrissie’s cousin had to show the whole village the blood on the sheets the morning after the wedding. Koula shuddered to think of it. Chrissie spoke in a low whisper when she explained that the problem was her cousin had already been involved with someone else. So they’d had to use rooster blood.

‘Are you serious?’ asked Koula.

‘Yes. She had to admit it to her parents so they could help her kill the rooster. But everyone in the village was happy. She pretended to be a virgin. That’s all they care about. The family’s honour was protected. Life goes on.’

Koula found this story very puzzling. Why had Chrissie’s cousin been involved with a man before she got married? That was the real question. It was unthinkable to Koula.

‘Rooster blood!’ Chrissie joked to Koula every time they talked about the young men they liked, and they both giggled. But deep down they knew it wasn’t a joke. There was something darker to it they chose not to understand.

Everything had been going well for Koula. She was working in her grandfather’s yoghurt business. It was only a matter of time before she would be matched up, get married and start her own family.

Koula had her sights set on Evan. He worked at his father’s grocery store down the road. He was a good worker and had a reputation for being honest. One day a non-Greek customer, who everyone knew was extremely wealthy, dropped his wallet. Evan picked up the wallet (packed with cash) and called around trying to find the owner. Evan returned it successfully and even refused a reward.

‘A good boy’ was the consensus. Koula’s mother liked him too. Koula was waiting for Evan’s parents to speak to her family about a proposal.

_____

On this particular Saturday evening in late summer, the ceiling fans were on their highest setting and not even the lemonade was cold. Koula’s make-up felt like it was sliding off her face. She dabbed her cheeks and under her nose where the sweat congregated in little beads. Her blue-eyed máti charm hung off her gold bracelet. She wore it every day. Sometimes some of the older Greek ladies looked at her strangely, as if they knew something she didn’t. As if they wanted to put the evil eye on her. Koula believed in the máti. They all did. And God too, of course.

Koula spied Evan by the door and waved to him.

But then she saw someone she didn’t recognise. A new girl, standing close to Evan.

‘Who’s that?’ Koula asked Chrissie.

‘Oh, her,’ Chrissie said. ‘She arrived last week from Athens. Her father is the new Consul to Greece and her mother is an artist or something like that. They are very wealthy. Her name is Mary. She’s really nice. I met her at church.’

‘Good evening, nice to see you here,’ Koula said, smiling as Evan and the new girl approached them.

‘Hello, Koula,’ Evan said. ‘I’d like to introduce Mary. Mary, this is Koula.’

Mary smiled and spoke to them in Greek. Her accent was different to theirs. Their Greek had been copied, learnt secondhand from their mothers in the kitchen and at after school classes, but hers was the original, spoken with a clipped precision none of them had.

‘So nice to meet you. What a strange and beautiful country this is!’ said Mary.

Mary had very white teeth and smooth skin. She had the figure they all wanted – bust, cinched-in waist and slim legs. She had brown eyes and her hair was shiny. Her dress was a new style and her shoes freshly polished.

Before Koula could say anything, several young men were lining up in front of Mary to speak to her.

And Evan – her Evan – was unable to take his eyes off the new girl.

Koula stood unable to move, unable to look away from this otherworldly creature who had stepped into her Saturday night and threatened to tear it to shreds with her mere presence.

_____

‘I haven’t seen Evan’s mother around much these days,’ her mother said at the dinner table a couple of weeks later.

‘I guess not,’ said Koula.

She looked at the mound of fish and tomato stew on her plate.

‘What’s going on?’ asked her mother.

‘I don’t think I’m his first choice anymore,’ Koula said.

‘What did you do?’ her grandfather asked in a loud voice.

‘Nothing! A new girl arrived. The daughter of the Consul. Everyone likes her,’ Koula said, feeling her throat clog up.

‘Oh yes, I heard about her,’ her great-aunt Tasoula said. ‘They all say she is very beautiful.’

‘Well, that’s a shame,’ said her grandfather. ‘I thought he might be good for the yoghurt business. I was waiting for his father to propose a match with Koula.’

Koula looked down at her plate and put her hands next to it. The máti on the gold bracelet on her wrist sparkled in the light.

_____

Evan and Mary’s engagement was announced in the church newsletter in Greek and in English, and also in the weekend newspaper. Once the words had been printed in ink on paper they could not be undone. Koula knew this.

Mary could have married someone even higher on the social scale was the word on the street. But Evan’s father’s grocery business was growing. He was opening a second shop next year. The family had a good name, a good track record both here and in Greece. And Evan was handsome and a good boy, still with credit from the wallet-returning story. Everyone also knew that before Mary he had liked Koula, but his parents had not matched them in time.

Koula couldn’t go to work. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. She was meant to work in the yoghurt business until she married Evan. She would have a beautiful wedding. Her mother had been collecting things for her dowry for years in an old wooden chest. Her boughoulo. Then she would move into her husband’s parents’ place. Eventually they would have their own home. She would cook and clean for her husband. She would have children (sons). That is what she wanted, what she had imagined with Evan.

And yet.

_____

The whole community was invited to Evan and Mary’s wedding, of course. It was going to be held at the Greek Orthodox cathedral with the reception at a big hotel in the city. Usually there would be a separate kitchen tea and then a kreváti, but for some reason Mary’s mother had insisted on only the one event. And so all the women were invited to the kreváti a few days before the wedding, to make the wedding bed for the happy couple.

That morning Koula felt nauseous. She tried not to go, but her mother would not hear of it.

‘Koula, we have to do the right thing. We are going,’ her mother said through the bathroom door. ‘I know that this is hard for you, but it’s worse if we don’t go. Trust me, it will be worse for our future. You must put on a brave face. Evan is a nice boy but there are others too. I want to make sure you marry someone with a good heart from a nice family.’

Koula knew that her mother was right.

_____

Later that day, Koula and her mother arrived at Evan’s parents’ house. The garden was in perfect condition, with neat rows of blushing roses in pink and orange and very green grass.

‘This is just so ridiculous,’ Koula said to her mother. ‘I still can’t believe you’re making me come to the kreváti.’

Koula was still pleading with Sia when Evan’s mother opened the front door.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Sia.

‘Hello, Sia. Hello, Koula. Thank you so much for coming and for helping us celebrate. It means a lot to us,’ Mrs Platos said, taking the gifts which Koula thought her mother had spent too much money on.

But the thing was, they liked Evan’s family and there was no use burning bridges in the community. And Mary’s family was clearly important. You could not go wrong with the daughter of the Consul.

Mary’s mother was there. She looked different to the other women and did not seem as comfortable. Koula supposed it was because Mary’s mother was new to Perth and everyone else knew each other well. Koula said hello to her and flashed a big fake smile.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Koula said to her. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Efcharísto,’ said Mary’s mother, nodding to Koula. ‘Thank you.’

Koula had not been able to bring herself to speak to Evan since the engagement. A couple of times when she had seen him in town she had purposefully crossed the street and walked in the other direction. Koula didn’t really have anything left to say to him anyway. Mary was his future.

Koula fiddled with the máti on her bracelet as she followed her mother through the house towards the crescendo of girls and women congregated in the kitchen and living room. Everyone was there, in their best dresses, a rainbow of lime-green and lemon and sherbet-pink. Red-lipsticked lips talking, eating, laughing. Evan’s cousins were passing around platters of all the favourite sweet and savoury treats. She could smell katoúmari, the oven-warm crispy pastry treat sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar that was served only on special occasions.

Suddenly, Mary appeared before Koula, smiling. She would have to speak to her.

‘Congratulations, Mary,’ said Koula.

‘Oh, thank you, Koula. It’s so nice of you to come. I don’t have many friends in Perth yet. It’s so lovely that the whole community is so supportive of this big day for me and Evan.’

Koula nodded and attempted to smile.

‘I’m sure you will be soon,’ said Mary, looking down. ‘I mean, you know.’

Koula took a deep breath and smiled on the outside. She could not lose her cool here and embarrass her family.

Mary turned to someone else and Koula was left in the centre of the room. This had never happened to her before. It was quite an odd feeling, to be surrounded by everyone, in a crush of people, but to be completely alone.

‘Are you okay, Koula?’ Chrissie stood next to her and took her arm.

‘I don’t know.’

‘I know this must be very difficult for you,’ she whispered. ‘You’re doing really well.’

‘This is hell for me,’ Koula said. A sofa full of old ladies stared in her direction.

‘Have you tried the katoúmari?

Koula shook her head.

‘Ladies, it’s time to make the bed,’ called out Mrs Platos.

Koula followed the congregation into the bedroom, where French doors opened onto a small courtyard. More pastel roses. Koula wanted this bedroom, this courtyard, these roses. She sipped a glass of water and stood still, trying to be as unnoticeable as she could.

Mrs Platos dragged Koula and Chrissie to the bed by their hands.

‘Remember it’s the young ones who need to make the bed. You’re too old, Thea Spyridoula, out of the way!’

Mary’s mother watched from a corner of the room, sipping a cup of coffee.

Koula and Chrissie took out the smooth sheets, and together with some of the girls from church, they made the wedding bed. The fitted sheet, the cover sheet, the blanket, the duvet, the duvet cover. All white and silky, the best quality. Koula could feel the money invested in this union.

Rose petals and white rice flew in all directions. One of the new mothers put her baby boy on the bed. Everyone cheered. Evan and Mary wanted a boy first. Had anyone ever wanted a girl first?

Pinned to the top of the bed was a máti, like Koula’s, peeking out in the kingdom of white.

Koula lingered behind as everyone left the bedroom. She stared at the decorated bed, fussed over by so many hands, and with such love. It was meant to be hers. This was not right. The bed melted before her eyes as if it was made of wax. And then, Koula watched herself as she unpinned Mary’s máti and slipped it into her pocket.

For the rest of the afternoon, Koula sat next to Chrissie and threaded cloves onto cotton. The scent reminded her of other kitchen teas and krevátia, of times when she had thought she would be happy if she just waited her turn and did the right thing. She thought she would be married by now. To Evan or to someone else suitable. She didn’t want to be left with one of the old men or some unknown late arrival from Greece.

Koula felt the máti in her pocket. She knew she should return it, but it was too late. She couldn’t go back in there or tell Chrissie. She just filled her plate high with pastry-encased sweets and ate and fake-smiled. Sugar was numbing the pain, the rejection, the confusion. How could this have happened? Koula had done all the right things. She had behaved in exactly the right way all her years. Her honour was rock solid.

And yet.

_____

The next morning Koula stayed in bed. She heard a thumping on her front door. Her mother was out the back in the garden. Koula put on her dressing gown and walked to the door. She opened it and her Thea Tasoula was standing there.

‘Where’s your mother? Have you heard?’ her auntie said, before Koula had a chance to open the door properly.

‘Heard what, Thea?’

‘Poor Mary, the nýfi.’

‘What happened to Mary?’ Koula felt a cold shiver creeping over her.

‘There was an accident. She fell down the stairs and she’s gone.’

‘What? When?’

‘This morning! Who would have thought? The poor child.’

‘It can’t be,’ whispered Koula.

‘Someone must have put the evil eye on her yesterday. Everyone is talking about it. And Evan – he is completely devastated.’ Thea Tasoula shook her head. ‘Such a shame. It could have been that Gorgomolous woman. She’s got a strong evil eye, you know.’

Koula stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had happened. She still had the máti she had taken from the bed. She had put the evil eye on Mary. It wasn’t the Gorgomolous woman. It was Koula. Koula had mátiazed Mary and killed her. And it was too late to remove it or ask one of the old ladies for a spell to lift the curse. The girl was dead. Dead.

For so many years she had wondered who these mysterious people were that she was protecting herself from by wearing her máti – she had never realised that she was one of them. She was the one with the biggest evil eye of them all.

The news of Mary’s death spread like wildfire, curling into the homes of everyone in their small community.

Mary’s parents arranged with the priest to fly Mary’s body back to Athens immediately for the burial.

They never returned.

_____

Koula did not sleep well. She carried the máti in her pocket wherever she went. She wasn’t sure what to do with it, whether to tell anyone. Perhaps she should ask her mother to help her find a spell to reverse it. But what good would that be now? Mary was gone.

‘Evan’s parents are concerned for him,’ Koula’s mother said over breakfast. ‘They do not want him to be tainted by this forever. She was a lovely girl and it was a tragedy, but life must go on. So, they are going to speak to your Pappou about matching him up with you. It’s time now. I always thought you were meant to marry him. Evangelos.’

Koula shivered.

‘You don’t like him anymore? They are a very good family. Koula, you know I’ve turned down other men because I was worried they wouldn’t treat you well. But Evan is good. Some families do not get their daughter’s opinion, but for you—’

Koula burst into tears. She felt her whole body break down in emotion. She had never cried like this in front of her mother before.

‘It’s okay, I know it must be very hard for you,’ her mother said.

‘No, Mama. Don’t you see that it’s my fault?’

‘How could it possibly be your fault?’

Koula took from her pocket the máti, hand shaking, ‘I put the evil eye on Mary. I stole this at the kreváti. This is hers.’

Her mother put her hands to her mouth and began to shake, eyes wide and then slapped Koula with her hand. Koula felt it, hot and heavy on her cheek. She didn’t even move. She deserved much worse. In another family who knows what would have happened to her.

‘Koula!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Koula whispered, as she lifted her hand to her face. ‘But everyone just expected me to be fine with it. How would you feel if you were me?’

‘It doesn’t matter what you feel, Koula. It was not about you,’ her mother said, raising her voice.

‘I just—’

‘Koula, you must never tell anyone of this, you understand. Not a word. To anyone, ever,’ she said. ‘I will not even tell your grandfather or your aunt. And listen to me, you will marry Evan. You will marry him and everything will be okay. This is bad, very, very bad. Oh, Trina, I’m so sorry Trina.’ Her mother’s eyes began to water.

‘What?’ asked Koula. ‘Why are you apologising to Thea Trina? What does she have to do with this?’

‘Never mind,’ said her mother, shaking her head and wiping away tears.

Koula sat on her bed, clutching at the lace bedspread. It rubbed into her hands, printing them with its pattern.

Her mother looked at her as if she were about to say something else, but instead shook her head again and left.

_____

When it was Koula’s turn for her kitchen tea and kreváti, she played along as the smell of toasted cinnamon and sugar filled the air. Her lounge room filled with gifts wrapped in white paper and ribbons. Her guests sewed plump cloves onto a bracelet for her.

Her mother passed around katoúmari and ordered Koula to eat some.

‘We are making the bed now,’ Sia called out, and soon Koula was watching the bed being made again. Chrissie and the other girls were throwing pillows, rose petals, white rice. A baby boy, belonging to a different cousin, gurgled as he was placed on the bed and fussed over.

She had long imagined this scene, this moment, this making of the bed. This was all she had ever wanted. And yet it felt so wrong now. She did not deserve it. Koula looked over at her mother and great-aunt, who were beaming with pride. When Koula caught her eye, her mother smiled harder and stepped towards her.

‘Look happier, Koula-mou,’ she said, stroking her hair. ‘What’s done is done. You were meant to marry him.’

And so Koula smiled and fussed and acted the nýfi as best she could. She had got what she had wanted all along, hadn’t she? Yet underneath she was actually a terrible person. She was the person whom everyone should be protected from. She was the reason women wore the máti. It was to protect good people from women like Koula.

That evening, when everything was washed and packed away and her mother was asleep, Koula did something she had never done before. She climbed out of her window and walked to the beach. It was a full moon.

She threw Mary’s máti into the ocean, watching the moonlight hit it before it disappeared, under the rolling black waves. As soon as she threw it in, she immediately regretted it.

Koula would never be able to get it back.