Next morning I was feeling pretty rough after sleeping on someone's nest up at the windmills. I stormed into Virgenia's determined to have words with Nikos about why he allowed Mercouri to take over the restaurant. Nikos was nowhere to be seen. His van had gone. I presumed he was out fishing. Virgenia was in the kitchen entertaining the cleaners with a pantomime that included gripping an invisible someone and making some very obvious hip-thrusting gestures, adding a lot of eye rolling and quite a lot of groaning. It was all so very obvious.
The moment they saw me marching round searching for Nikos there came another outburst of sniggering and that just made me feel puerile and narrow-minded. My only ally was Nana.
'Poor Mr. Godfrey,' she'd mutter whenever she caught my eye.
What was going on? I felt surrounded by the enemy. Then just when I was about to go and look for Alessandra, I saw her crossing the square carrying a roll of linen.
'Alessandra! Any progress since we last spoke?'
'Yes I've spoken to someone and everything will be alright. We have to be calm and trust one another. I can't tell you any more at the moment except that you can relax and try to enjoy the day.' I'd expected something a little more concrete. I'd heard this sort of vague nonsense before from fortune tellers and cultists in the media, 'Godfrey, let's go somewhere for coffee.'
'Fine, but not Verginia's. It's too soon.' We walked along the winding passageway until we came to the Lemon Tree. It was deserted, which was just as well since Sophia had more than its fair share of ear-wiggers during the festival. I started with my suspicions of Daphne, told her about the interloper and then about Mercouri and his misplaced lusting after she had left.
'There's obviously some sort of conspiracy threatening our village, that's certain. We have to act. Give me time to call on someone close, someone I can trust, and I promise we will solve this problem. As for Mercouri, he's small fry. Bah, I can't stand the man. He's totally self-obsessed; ego-driven – rancid with lust. But you will be fine Godfrey, believe me.'
I told her about the chewing gum in my hair. 'It was weird. I felt I was being hunted. I kept thinking “How dare this guy do this” - and where was Nikos in my defence? Alessandra, I don't like to say it but he let me down. I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable in there again.'
'Come on, Godfrey, please. Try and see it from Nikos' point of view. This is not England. Here we need the tourism and remote villages like this one depend on the taxi drivers, the ferrymen and the bus drivers as well as the tourist offices. The drivers have a certain power that can make or break a business off the beaten track. Nikos knows what Mercouri is like and doesn't see a problem he can't handle.'
'Then he must be blind.'
'Of course, you are right to be angry and you should not have to suffer such madness. Mercouri was out of line. Nikos will have to choose. I will talk to him.'
'You know, all my life I've been seen as some sort of hopeless odd-ball because I'm one of those people who don't follow the crowd. Why do I have to change my character to get some peace? Or do you think I'm over-reacting?'
'Not at all, but by shrugging our shoulders and laughing it off we don't make it go away, we lay the foundations for it to happen again. We have to show it's not acceptable and demand more respect. Women have been doing this for years.'
I shook my head not sure of where all this was going. I looked into my cup, wrapped up in thoughts. We fell into a silence, and grew softened by the gentle valley. There was not a person within sight, just the two of us sipping our coffee in silence and warming in the morning sunshine. I was weary from the lack of sleep and the uncomfortable night. I saw a lifeless dolphin floating in the wash against a cloud but the more I stared the more it turned into an abandoned tyre in the sky.
We heard footsteps. It was Nikos, struggling towards his car with a basket of fishing nets. As soon as he was sure it was us, he waved and for the first time, didn't smile. I hoped he sensed my unease.
'I want Nikos to understand how serious a bad reputation would be for him if he allows outsiders to take control, or the madman Mercouri to take advantage of every lone traveller he happens to fancy - male or female. I mean, it's about respect for the individual. Do you understand, Alessandra?'
'But of course. I value self-esteem above everything.'
'Alessandra how would you like to adopt me for the rest of the day? You could stop me making a fool of myself, because if I don't get out of here soon, I'll be guilty of something very insulting.'
'I have to take this linen to our shop in Dorini. Perhaps you would like to come for the ride and while we're there I can show you around.'
She pointed across the road to something that made me slop my coffee, 'It's my Yamaha 1200. Don't worry. It's not so hard, just lean to the left when we take a left turn and to the right when we take a right. You won't fall off. There's a small handrail behind your pillion for you to steady yourself or you can hold on to me if you're unsure. There's a spare helmet and some gloves in the pannier. Also a jacket; it can get cold on the way back.'
I cocked my leg over the Yammy and winced. It was as big as a shire horse with hips just as broad. I almost split in two but as long as I kept my backbone straight, I could bend my knees - if I didn't, my legs stuck out like oars. Then the clouds exploded and in seconds I was saturated. I squatted on the pillion and couldn't get any wetter, so I relaxed into the rain like you relax into the sea, and right away felt much better, calmer. It was almost surreal. Place and time became irrelevant. We thundered through space with nothing to do but to be in the weather and the moment.
She careened down the road, cutting corners and bends, tendrils of wet hair whipping at my face, my hands on her hips and my head in the clouds. My knees were freezing and I swore never to sniff at bikers in all their padded glory again. Then the sun came back and shone for the rest of our ride and what a thrilling, spiralling joy it was to be screaming down the mountain towards Dorini. It seemed to take about ten seconds and half a dozen panic attacks to cover the distance. That day I learned Greek drivers motor along the middle of the road and don't move to one side until they meet something coming at them. At first I thought it was madness - but it works. We came to a stop under some trees in front of the harbour. Climbing off the pillion was torture. My legs had turned to wood.
'You need a little yoga,' said Alessandra, shaking her hair free, 'or any kind of exercise would help.'
Dorini was full of small pleasures. It gave me my first experience of young girls holding my gaze with innocent curiosity; and a moment with an enterprising gypsy lady I'd asked where I might find some drinking water. The little boy at her side, runny nose and dirty, curious face, kept staring with narrowed eyes full of defiance and suspicion. I don't know what he said, but the lady smacked him sharply over the head, shoved some money into his mucky paw and sent him scurrying barefoot out of sight. She touched my arm and kept smiling and mumbling and we waited until a few moments later he returned, struggling with a huge bottle of mineral water. I gave the lady some money and she sold me the water.
Everyone knew Alessandra. Ladies sat embroidering or chatting on chairs in the streets and all said hello. A couple of horses snorted by, down from the woods, dragging a wagon loaded with logs and strewn with work-weary bodies who somehow found the spirit to wave and shout her name.
'You probably didn't stop here on your way up the mountain because Dorini looks a bit ordinary and maybe too quiet compared to most other island ports.'
'I think I'd say refreshing.'
'I think so too. But also it has a treasure that not many visitors ever realise. There are traces of a Minoan settlement and public baths here which are signs the Dorini area has been chosen for settlement since the very early days of colonisation.'
'So it was once a pretty important place.'
She shot me a glance, 'It still is.'
'How come you know so much about its history?'
'My family has lived on the island for generations and Papa used to teach history when there was a proper school. It's been in the air all my life. Our culture fascinates me.'
'My father read me the Iliad before I knew what it was. I thought it was all true.'
'Maybe parts of it are. Who knows? Anyway, you are about to get a history lesson to help you get the picture. For a start, did you know Sophia had a kastro around the central and highest part of the village? A Sophian tribe thrived there who worshipped the favourite child of Zeus, the wise goddess Athena.'
'They lived in a castle?'
'Not quite so romantic. It was more a defence, more of a stronghold. Arabic pirate raids forced everyone to abandon their homes near the coast and form settlements wherever it was more inaccessible. Cut off like that you can see why the homage to Athena grew so strong.'
'They don't still pay homage do they?'
'As long as they feel the need for protection, people trust whatever it takes to help feel safe.'
As is well known, confidence doesn't always come with technology.
'A couple of hundred years later, when pirating became less of a threat, some people moved from the mountains back to settlements by the sea, like Kithira, Chania and our own Stephanos town. The bay at Dorini served the needs of the people who had to go to Faria to tend their goats, to worship or to establish trade with nearby islands or down to Stephanos main town in the south long before the road was built. This bay is least exposed to wind and high waves, and is the closest natural harbour to both Sophia and Faria. Nothing changes. Believe me, there has never been a systematic dig here and surprisingly, it's been overlooked by most archaeologists.'
The shop was in a yard overlooking the bay and covering its low walls hung every type of linen designed for every household need. Hand-embroidered bed covers, chair covers, head covers, shirts and blouses of the national costume all decorated the yard, set off by a backdrop of rolling sea on one side and rolling hills on the other.
'These pieces are extraordinary, Alessandra. All this is your work?'
'Well, mmm, yes. I pass my winters with my loom and embroidery and make everything you see.'
'I'm impressed.'
'Come, Grandma Foula is here. She's my head salesgirl.' The grandma of Alessandra was a beauty with sparkling eyes for the men. She was round and pretty and small with a smile like Aphrodite. Dressed in black and red with high boots of leather and suede, she held my elbow and stroked my arm with a plump, soft hand. She offered me some cake from a tray on the counter, 'Alessandra, she don’t make the cake, just the linen.' She tried to look modest and coy.
Foula ran the shop with the help of two young girls, Poppi and Eli. Every time I picked something up, they'd say, 'Very nice, this is,' then carry on talking to each other.
Foula brushed them away and whispered to me, 'Are you a man alone?' We exchanged meaningful glances. I nodded. 'In that case you will want a single cover for your bed. Come inside and choose.' She steered me into the darkness and when I came out I was the proud owner of a unique blanket, woven with tassels in unbleached goats' wool.
Alessandra tried to keep a straight face while inspecting her fingernails. 'She's, er, very good at that, isn't she?'
Walking round the village, she felt like my big sister, showing me this and that, interesting little features, waving to people, proud of her Dorini. 'Before we go back to Sophia, can I show you the Dorini church? It has a mystery to take your breath away and it's my favourite place.'
Alessandra led me along the shore through a quiet fringe of cypress trees to a sand-coloured colonnaded building unlike other Greek churches I had seen. It overlooked the bay and stood separated from the nearest buildings by a row of tamarisks, with sunlight streaming onto its peaceful walls, radiating warmth and colour all around. Wagtails and brown butterflies bobbed about in the sweet and fragrant air. Benches had been dragged and left in no particular arrangement telling me this was the place for lovers or gossips at any time of year; a place to sit and watch the cyclamen and tortoises in the grass.
'Let's rest here for a minute, drink some water and close our eyes. If you let the rosemary fill you with softness you can take that feeling into the church the better to enjoy its secret.' She giggled so sweetly I would have stood on my head if she'd asked.
Old doors, like old shoes, are worn through years of use. The door to that church, though rugged and strong, was shiny from friction and sweat. It was locked with a huge chain and padlock. Alessandra took a key from the pocket in her skirt and opened a cavern of serenity, and a surprise. There, in a village on an island in the Aegean Sea, I stood in the nave of a gentle, humble church where above me hung a trio of splendid silver and gold chandeliers. And as I moved through the deepening shadows, delicate frescos emerged depicting the life of Christ and covering every centimetre of ceiling and walls. Beautiful murals, truly astonishing, revealed themselves through the craftsmanship and the silence. Sadly, their condition by then was not very good due to damage from candle soot and expectedly, some areas had succumbed to damp, but I was amazed at the depth of the ochre, the rusts and the blues, all given life by the sunbeams streaming in through the apsidal windows.
'Alessandra, this is remarkable. I've never seen anything like it.'
'That's not all. Look over here.' Behind her was another image almost three metres tall covering the surface of an alcove. It was the confident image of the goddess Pallas Athena, obscured by shadows, facing the onlooker, arms reaching, welcoming. At her feet was a helmet and shield and on an olive twig was perched a small owl - the sacred owl of Athena.
'Some time ago, the church authorities began important restoration work on the frescoes and there was great excitement when it was discovered that the walls held this mystery. During cleaning it became clear that at some time in the distant past part of the church had been a temple dedicated to Pallas Athena and although it was not unusual for the locals to mix their beliefs, the church authorities were rather embarrassed and the work came to a standstill until it could be determined who would provide funds for the work to continue. In reality it was abandoned to save face and so we lost this Athena for a while.'
'But it must be invaluable - a priceless relic.' We stood silently, respectfully, our minds resting in the comfort of that moment. When it was time to go we found we couldn't get out. Alessandra tried the key and we could turn the door handle and hear the latch lift and listen to the tumblers but even with all our pushing and pulling it still wouldn't budge. If the handle were to come off we'd be trapped in there forever and no one would ever know. While Alessandra studied the handle, I found another door leading down to the crypt and although it might be a little bold to go creeping about like a burglar, I had to investigate. I counted the steps down into the murk until I reached the lower level, steadying myself against the cool slimy wall in case I slipped and it felt as empty down there and as hollow and devoid of any interest, except to ghosts and spirits, as I had expected. With one hand in front of my face, I felt my way around until, with great relief, I found another staircase leading up to a smaller door at the top. It wouldn't budge at first but after a little persistent shouldering it gave way, opening onto the garden and the sunshine once again. Once outside on the grass I let the door go, surprised to find its own weight and gravity clanged it firmly shut again. Round at the front, I could hear Alessandra on the other side of the door muttering and swearing at her own frustrations, 'Godfrey, can you hear me? Are you down there?'
I took my chance, gave a pull and the big door opened. 'No, I'm up here.'
'How?'
'No idea, a miracle, but let's get going quickly before something else happens.'
In Dorini, the women outnumber the men and you can tell. Women can be seen everywhere. They smile, discuss, and are most relaxed. They stand erect, responsible and confident with hands on hips in ankle length skirts and boots of leather, amused by the fashions of the visitors on the quayside. They stand in small groups, laughing and talking like extras waiting to take part in some theatrical costume production, glittering eyes beneath their scarves, laughing at the Yamaha, laughing at our bumbling stumblings across the pebbled beach towards the bike. Oleanders fringed the woods and sent back a dense sweet twittering of countless birds. The men sit playing cards or hunched over tavli boards in obedient silence on the slipway. I saw an empty kafeneion; modest, allowing perfect sunlight squares to shine on its bare wooden floor. Its simple woodwork painted glossy turquoise blue. Framed pictures of children and wildlife hung from the whitewashed walls. Plates, statuettes, the framed business license and a calendar hung with equal importance beneath a clock plate and below it stood a kerosene lamp, prominent on its very own shelf, like a holy statue. The room was immaculate, a shrine, a grotto to the people and I wanted to be in there, to join them, inhale that place, sit on a chair in there at Easter time and sing my heart out.
But someone was tapping my leg with a stick and it wasn't Alessandra. It was an old lady hoarsely offering me some pulpy mush from her hand.
'Aloe Vera. AloeVera,' she pointed to a big cactus growing out of a wall. The Aloe Vera cactus, of course. The old lady pretended to put some in her mouth then pulled a face and held her stomach as though she was going to be sick. She rubbed some of the juice from her hand onto my head and seemed to imply that it would make my hair grow strong. Three or four others were watching from the shadows of their shielding hands waiting to see what I would do. I thanked her and did as she suggested, willing to make a fool of myself just to be polite. As soon as I began to rub it in, her friends twittered and giggled with gentle laughter and began chattering like the birds and patted their old companion on her arms; well done, another one bites the dust; tales for those long winter nights I supposed. We shook hands, waved to each other and then I ran to catch up with my chauffeur.
The blare of her horn echoed round the village and over the foothills of the mountains as Alessandra pulled away, 'Did you see that little hand movement they make to say good bye? It looks like they are calling you towards them, and they are. It means come back again some day. So open, isn't it? When you live in a shop it's good to get away every now and again and be with real people. And when the visitors have gone, the people of Sophia and Dorini get together and you can wander through their homes and talk and sing to music.'
'Alessandra, after last night's traumas, it was good to visit Dorini. Is that why you took me for a drive today? To give me some perspective? To show me the normal, extraordinary people of Stephanos?' She didn't answer. Perhaps she hadn't been listening, maybe concentrating on the tricky twisting road, but I'm sure I caught her smiling in the reflection of in her rear-view mirror.