2018
The morning after Sofia’s offer, Quinn slips out of her room at 5.30 a.m., Aphrodite at her heels. She is dressed in orange leggings and an orange hooded top and a small backpack hangs from her shoulders. She pads barefoot along the cool flagstones, silent and stealthy, but before she can reach the stairs, the door to Grigor’s room opens.
‘You are going somewhere?’ he says. Even at this hour of the morning, he is smart in his uniform, his waistcoat buttoned over his solid bulk.
‘For a hike up the mountain trail.’ Quinn’s birthday celebrations didn’t exactly go to plan, but she is determined to salvage this part of them. Besides, she needs to think. Get some perspective.
‘Without shoes?’ Grigor looks down at her feet.
‘Yes.’
‘How far?’
‘I’ll be back for breakfast.’
He hesitates, as if considering something, and Quinn wonders if he is about to stop her going.
‘I’m not running away,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing for me to run from.’
He must know that. He saw her community refuse Sofia’s disturbing offer.
‘It is dangerous,’ he says, ‘walking alone.’
‘I always walk alone.’
He asks her to describe the route she will take. ‘In case anything happens. You might have accident.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she says but does as he asks. When he seems satisfied, she turns and hurries towards the stairs.
‘Be careful out there,’ he says.
* * *
Quinn exits the Pure Heart car park and sets off at a brisk pace up the driveway, inhaling lungfuls of cool, fresh air. She glances back but there is no one behind her. As she crept out of the front door, she half-expected to hear Mel call her name. Last night, as Quinn lay awake, her tense body fidgeting in her narrow bed, she heard the toilet flushing in Mel’s bathroom and felt comforted by the knowledge Mel wasn’t sleeping either. Not that she was scared. There was nothing to be scared of, although at one point in the night she thought of the unlocked door to her room. Not that she would ever lock it. No need.
The full moon is still visible in the approaching dawn. A wash of pale yellow coats the lower regions of the sky. Jays squawk over the reedy, high-pitched songs of the coal tit and the Cyprus wheatear. A yellow gecko scuttles across the driveway in front of her and disappears into a bush.
Aphrodite trots dutifully beside her but when the driveway meets the road, they part ways, the cat slinking away into the nearby burnet bushes.
Quinn crosses the road. It connects traffic to a larger mountain road three miles away and is never that busy. A bus to Kakopetria drives this way twice a day during the week.
On the other side of the road, she meets the start of the forest and makes her way between the trunks of towering pines and slender cypresses. Before long, her feet find a familiar path. She stops, shrugs off her backpack and takes out a pair of black, barefoot trainers. She used to walk this whole route without shoes but tough as her feet are, even she can’t clamber over rocks like she used to.
Once her shoes are on, she sets off up the trail that leads to her favourite mountain viewpoint. Only a dim dawn light filters through the tree canopy, but it’s enough to guide her.
One foot in front of the other. Picking her way over tangled tree roots and fallen branches. Somewhere in the distance an owl releases what might be the last of its nocturnal calls.
Did Sofia really offer money in return for her death? Now, with the sun about to claim the day, the proposal seems crazy. When Sofia suggested they vote on the matter, Mel’s hand shot up immediately. The others were slower to react, but Quinn doesn’t blame them. They were all so stunned. Unable to process what was happening.
After losing the vote, Sofia retired to her room. Quinn suggested they all do the same, promising they’d discuss the matter as a community in the morning. She wanted to get away from everyone as soon as she could. Sofia’s words had wounded her deeply and she needed to rest and to think. Mel insisted on escorting her back to her room. Before going inside, Quinn laid a hand on Mel’s arm and was relieved when she didn’t pull away. She promised to explain everything properly soon and was reassured when Mel said her police career taught her there are always two sides to every story.
Forest sounds swell around her. Creaking branches and rustling leaves. She thinks of the secrets these trees could tell. In the 1950s, these mountains provided hideouts for EOKA, a rebel group of Greek Cypriots whose desire for unification with mainland Greece brought them into conflict with the British forces stationed on the island. Andreas knew some of these men. He drank coffee with them in the cafés of Kakopetria and listened to their stories.
Andreas. He really did seem blindsided by Sofia’s offer, and he did vote with the community to reject it. Last night, before she headed to her room, he reassured her once again he’d had no idea what Sofia was planning. He was slurring his words by then and, as she watched him swallow champagne like it was water, she couldn’t help a rush of compassion for him. The healer in her hated to see him succumbing to his demons.
Still, she can’t help feeling betrayed. After everything she’s done for him over the years. Yet she also understands his desire to help his mother and to honour Eva’s memory.
How could he imply she didn’t have Eva’s best interests at heart? All Quinn remembers is how hard she tried to make Eva better. She thinks of all the times she brought Eva on this very walk, knowing exercise was one of the best cures for depression. Eva would talk on these excursions and Quinn would listen. She absorbed all of Eva’s fears and negativity. One morning as they walked, Eva turned to her and said, ‘All this I say is only between me and you. Promise me you will never tell anyone the things I say to you.’
‘I promise,’ Quinn said. ‘Never.’ True to her word she never did share Eva’s ramblings with anyone. Not even with Blake, and there were many days she could have done with her lover’s support. No, her work as a healer is sacred to her. She carried Eva’s pain alone; unaware Eva was also confiding in Andreas. Quinn suppresses a rush of anger for the dead woman. Eva was sick. She can’t be held responsible.
After a while the trees thin out and the path leads her onto open, rocky ground. A canyon, with towering walls of limestone rears up on either side of her. As she navigates rocky boulders and piles of scree, she wonders why she didn’t spot any warning signs of Andreas’ conspiracy. Surely, she should have detected some subtle change in his aura?
Stones and fragments of rock shower down from above. She dodges the downpour, almost losing her footing. Once steady again, she glances up and sees a mountain goat glaring down at her, dirt clinging to its shaggy brown hide, the tip of its right horn missing. It snorts before trotting away, the tight clip of its hooves echoing around the rocks.
Quinn picks her way out of the canyon and joins a trail that leads her through scrubby bushes. Tension drains from her shoulders as the viewpoint approaches. This is her happy place. Here she will be able to think.
When she reaches her destination, a cool wind whips around her shoulders. She opens her bag, takes out a burnt-orange pashmina and wraps it around herself. The sun is cresting golden over the hills to her east, infusing the sky with a pinkish tint. The viewpoint is at the crest of a craggy limestone pinnacle. Far below it is a deep ravine, still in shadow. Tourists and hikers rarely visit this spot and Mel is the only community member to come here regularly. There are no signs warning people to stay away from the edge. To beware of the dizzying drop below.
As Quinn recovers from the exertion of the walk, she takes in the panoramic view. To the north, not fully visible yet, is the sea and beyond it, the coastline of Turkey. To the east, more forest and mountain peaks. Looking back in the direction she has climbed she can see the Pure Heart property. Her own rebel hideout. She has a partial view of the driveway, car park and front of the building. From this angle, the courtyard is obscured but she can see the terraces below it.
She spots a small object flying over the terraces. The drone, out on its morning patrol. Circling and dipping.
She sighs. This dawn walk was supposed to christen a new phase of her life. She didn’t expect to greet the day with a crisis on her hands.
Looking down at the hotel, she wonders if Sofia is sleeping. Did her well-executed plan bring her any peace and satisfaction, or will she keep pursuing this unjustified revenge?
An image of the Death card floats into her mind. The skeleton grinning up at her. Did she interpret the Tarot card the wrong way? What if it did signal actual physical death?
She thinks of her freshly dug grave beneath the cedar tree and shivers. It isn’t the empty grave that scares her. It’s the memory of Dmitri standing beside it, looking down at her. You will have to dig a little deeper than that. If you want them to give you a proper burial.
What Sofia doesn’t realise is that broken people cannot always be fixed. Not in this lifetime anyway. If Quinn was guilty of anything back then, it was not being specific enough with her healing mantra. Please let Eva be free of her terrible illness. Over and over, she addressed those words to Spirit, but she never expected Eva to find release in the way she did. Since then, Quinn has been very careful how she phrases her prayers. Humans often underestimate their power to manifest their reality.
Should she ask Sofia to leave? Would that work out best for all of them? Then she remembers Sofia has paid to stay here. A generous sum of money Quinn can’t repay because she’s already spent it. She groans. The universe does send some difficult challenges at times.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asks the wind.
An object soaring swiftly up from the ravine catches her eye. At first, she thinks it’s the drone, come to spy on her, but then she realises it is a bird. Not just any bird. An eagle.
She gasps as the magnificent creature soars into the air above her. Sunlight catches the white underside of its body and the dark markings on its wings. A Bonelli’s eagle, native to Cyprus and, judging by the size of it, a female. The females are always larger than the males.
It is a sign. To Native Americans, the eagle is the Great Spirit. In Greek mythology the bird is the embodiment of Zeus. It is a connection to the angelic realm, a messenger from a higher source.
Quinn watches the bird circling above her, buoyed by the air currents. It has come to tell her to soar high above the drama and discord down below. Suddenly it all becomes clear to her. She knows what to do. ‘Thank you, Great Spirit,’ she says to the eagle, but it is already flying away, scanning the mountainous terrain below for prey.