‘No,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
In the kitchen, morning light fell through the shutters onto the table, and the bird was hopping amongst the rays. In the middle of this large table was a bowl of water and a handful of seeds.
This time Yiannis put the coffee on the stove without asking, and I sat on the plastic chair. The bird fluttered from the table to the kitchen worktop, close to Yiannis. He put his hand out to protect the bird from the flame and left it there as a barrier.
‘The bird’s even better today,’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll set it free soon?’
‘Of course.’ He stirred the coffee gently. Then he opened a jar of karydaki glyko and placed two fresh, whole walnuts, husk, shell and nut, leached and soaked in honey syrup on small plates with tiny silver forks. I hadn’t had one of these for years, and even the smell reminded me of this very flat, many years ago, when my aunt lived here. I suddenly remembered the lime-green curtains that had hung from the wall, embroidered with peacocks and lime trees. What had happened to them?
‘So, you have more news?’ Yiannis said, placing the coffee in front of me and sitting down.
‘I received a call from Tony – the guy I told you about.’
He nodded.
‘Late last night, he called to say he has some information that is troubling.’ I swallowed hard, trying to hide my panic from Yiannis; I thought I would start to cry.
Yiannis sat up, a deep crease forming in his brow.
‘He wouldn’t tell me over the phone. I’m going to see him this afternoon. I thought you would want to come with me.’
‘Of course,’ he said, gently, but I noticed that his fists were clenched and his knuckles were white. He caught my eye. ‘I’m scared,’ he said.
‘What of ?’
But he didn’t reply. We ate the karydaki glyko and drank our coffee in complete silence, while the bird hopped about in the rays of light between us.
‘There’s something else,’ I said.
‘Yes?’
‘Kumari, Nisha’s daughter. I’ve been thinking about her. Have you spoken to her again?’
Here he sighed deeply. ‘I have,’ he said. ‘But I just don’t know what to tell her.’
A taxi drives into the village. It stops outside the widow’s house.
There you go, the driver says, glancing with a yawn out of the window.
The woman in the car double-checks the address on her phone.
It’s coming up to midnight and the widow has been waiting up for them. She comes out onto the patio and raises her thumb. Yes, she says, welcome. This is the right place.
The taxi driver opens the boot and carries two medium-sized cases, one in each hand, up to the front door of the widow’s home.
Round the back, she says. That’s a good lad.
The widow leads the couple through the courtyard to the guesthouse and shows them around. The man picks up a sugared almond from the pillow and sucks it and says it reminds him of something, though he can’t for the life of him remember what.
Tomorrow we will visit the Byzantine Museum and the Museum of Barbarism, the woman says.
They are both equally illuminating, the widow says, before she leaves them alone.
I like the word Barbarism, the woman says to the man. It strips violence of ideologies – leaves it bare, don’t you think?
The other houses in the village are dark by now and so is the road leading out of the village, once the taxi has rumbled away.
Down by the lake, flesh has been removed from the head of the hare, from its abdomen and its hind legs. There are three mice feeding upon it now: one scuttles across the body as if it is running over a small hill.
The sky is dark. Clouds have gathered, thick and heavy, as a storm is brewing.
22
Yiannis
‘Y
IANNIS, MATE. I WANT YOU to go on another hunt this weekend. We’ve had a number of huge orders come through. Christmas parties coming up and all that malarkey. It’s gonna be busy again, like it was last year, remember?’ Seraphim said, over the phone.
I was in the bedroom with the windows closed, shutters down, keeping out the winter and the light, agitating about what news this Tony guy might have about Nisha.
What exactly was Seraphim asking me to remember? How I did everything without questioning it? How I had killed inside me the boy I used to be? How I had lied to Nisha?
I remained silent.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘this time, let’s go to the west coast of Larnaca. You had a great catch there last month. I’ll come with you this time, we’ll be even more productive.’