‘But you told me this door was always closed because it was such a mess in here.’
In fact, it was relentlessly tidy and I could see her taking all this in, looking around at the lime sticks, the wicker shoulder-pouch I took with me on hunts, the black calling devices lined up on the small desk, the containers stacked against the wall.
‘It’s like Indiana Jones with fridges. What have you been doing?’ she said
‘After I lost my job at Laiki, I became involved in hunting. I was desperate. I could never have survived selling mush-rooms and—’
‘Hunting what?’ she interrupted me.
‘Songbirds,’ I said, quietly.
‘Songbirds?’
She went straight to one of the fridges, opened it and looked inside. Luckily, they were all empty on that day. Then she shut it and opened the second fridge, and the third. Leaving this last door open, she turned to face me.
‘Where are they?’ she asked.
‘I don’t have any right now. I just made a delivery.’
She nodded, and there was a look of disappointment on her face. But this feeling belonged only to her; she wasn’t willing to share it with me in words.
‘I don’t want to do it,’ I said, trying to make her understand. ‘Once you get into it, it’s hard to stop. It’s a bit like drug dealing – there’s a huge underground organisation, and they won’t let you go, it’s too risky for them.’ I didn’t tell her that the previous week a man I knew had handed in his notice, and that night his boat shed had mysteriously burnt to the ground.
‘Who are they?’ Nisha asked.
‘The men at the top.’
‘So, once you make a decent amount of money, you want out and you’re stuck?’
‘Yes.’
She closed the fridge door and brought her hand to her stomach, her eyes to the ground.
‘What I’m saying to you is that I’m going to find a way out of this. I will. But I have more than enough money to be able to support us until I find a different job. The recession has passed now. I have experience in finance. I know the way I made my money isn’t ideal, but we can be a family.’
‘Not ideal.’ She repeated faintly. She turned and walked out of the spare room, then headed for the back door. Her hand on the door knob, she turned back to me and said, ‘I’ll think about it,’ then disappeared down the stairs.
After that, she didn’t come to see me for several days. But about a week later, she turned up at my door – I remember it was a Friday morning and I was surprised to see her in the light of day. She looked so beautiful, in a vibrant orange dress that brought out the gold in her eyes. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. Her lips glimmered with gloss. On her feet she still wore her practical, scuffed, high-impact walking sandals.
I wanted to reach out and hold her. ‘Come in,’ I said.
‘No. I’ve just come to tell you that I’m going to Limassol for the weekend, to stay with my cousin Chaturi. Do you remember when she came to visit me?’
‘Of course,’ I replied.
‘Well, she’s leaving to go back to Sri Lanka next week and I’m going to give her a few things to take to Galle.’
I nodded.
‘I need some time away from here so that I can think.’
I nodded again.
‘Don’t call me or try to contact me. It’s just for a few days.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I understand.’
Her lips broke into a small smile, but her eyes carried a lingering sadness. Then she walked down the stairs and I watched her as she went into her bedroom through the patio doors.
After the weekend passed, Nisha returned. Late on Monday night, I heard a knock at the door. She was standing there in a bright white nightdress, a pink cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, her face flushed like she’d been running.
‘I couldn’t wait to see you,’ she said.
She put her arms around me immediately and tucked her face into the crook of my neck; I felt the damp warmth of her body against mine, her breath against my skin. I was flooded with relief, joyful at her return, grateful to have her in my arms again.
‘I wanted to come last night, but Aliki was running a fever. I couldn’t leave her,’ she said.
We lay down on the bed. There was a soft summer breeze. She lay on her back, I on my side; I kissed her shoulder and stroked her hair, just as she liked. I almost couldn’t believe that she was there.
‘How is Chaturi?’ I asked.