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Justine
We drove up later than we had planned, having missed the turning
at
first. The brief dusk had already faded. A string of kerosene lights
had been hung from the olive trees to guide us up through the garden,
and, though the night was hot, a breeze off the sea set them
swinging. Their low hissing mingled with the scratching of the
cicadas and the crunch of waves on gravel somewhere far below.
We could see Ioannis and Justine smoking out on the terrace as we
toiled up the hill. They made noises of welcome, stabbing out their
cigarettes, and Ioannis went indoors to fetch some drinks. Justine
set some candles on the terrace table. She didn’t seem at all
the
vague, troubled figure I had been led to expect. In the candlelight
she looked warm and tanned, tiny crows’ feet round her eyes
when she
smiled. After it all, I like to think of her smiling. She spoke
English well, with very little accent, and we all stuck to that
rather than strain my poor Greek.
Something was clearly eating at Ioannis, however, as he laid out
the
plans for each of us. As the newcomer I asked one or two rather
basic
questions annd he scowled irritably. “Ray can explain all that
later”, he answered curtly. But at some remark I made—now,
I honestly
cannot remember what—he hissed between his teeth, threw down
his pen
and stormed away from the terrace. Mark and Ray gulped, looked
quickly at me, and then followed him off into the darkness.
Justine and I remained in embarrassed silence for a few moments.
The
wind had risen, rattling the steely branches. A sudden gust blew
out
the candles on the table.
“I hope I didn’t—” I began, turning to Justine.
“Oh, you must not worry about him when he is like this”,
she cut in
quickly, “he will be fine again soon enough. He has just been
working
so hard on all of this, getting things ready.”
Awkwardly, I murmured something conventional. She flung me an amused
look, and then frowned. Somewhere an owl was calling, softly. We
could hear raised voices away among the olives. I knew that they
were
discussing whether or not I could do the job.
Then Justine’s face brightened again. “Come on,”
she said, to my
surprise, “let’s go for a swim”. I nodded, confused.
She brushed her
hair out of her face. “Well. Come on then”, and springing
up, led me
at a pace down through the garden to the edge of the cliff. I crashed
through the mastic and thyme bushes, raising clouds of scent in
the
bruise-black air. Cautioning me to be careful, she scampered down
a
vertiginous set of steps cut into the rock, to a pebble-edged cove.
I
followed quite blindly. The steep rock walls shut out what light
there might have been and I heard rather than saw her peel off her
clothes, but in a shred of moonlight I glimpsed her silvery back
sliding into the water. Of course I had no bathing things with me,
so
I just folded my clothes on a rock and plunged in. It was
frighteningly cold, and I followed the sound of Justine’s deliberate
strokes out into the open water. Once we were beyond the rocks I
turned to look behind me; the lights from the kerosene lamps were
swaying high up in the air at the top of the cliff. The sound of
splashing had ceased and I wondered for a moment where she had got
to, how I would find her in the darkness. In fact she was just a
few
yards away, holding still in the water, and I almost bumped into
her.
She was facing out to sea. I spluttered and apologised. She laughed
and turned, but said nothing. And then the moon came through once
more; her smile was surprisingly white. Salt wavelets slopped at
our
faces as we looked around us, treading water. “Wow” I
stammered
foolishly, “This is—I mean—it’s so beautiful.”
She held my gaze,
about six feet away. Then she giggled and stretched out her arms
to
bridge the distance between, and I automatically took her hands.
Smiling still, she turned her palms upward against my own and linked
fingers, then gently pulled me toward her. I fought a momentary
start
of panic and let it happen but as she drew closer she suddenly turned
her head away and we embraced cheek to cheek, our arms wrapped around
each other, both laughing out loud. Christ, what was happening?
I
felt her pressed against me, and flushed at the touch. But before
I
could say anything, she took her arms from round my neck, wriggling
away from me in the water, and struck out for a dark rock a little
way out from the cliffs. “Race you!” she called indistinctly
over her
shoulder. I followed dutifully, the outline of the rock clearer
now
that my eyes had adjusted.
I was still a few yards from the rock when she cut past me again
through the water, heading back in to shore. She was a strong swimmer
and easily outdistanced me; she had her shirt on and was leaning
against a rock towelling her hair by the time I reached the cove.
I
stepped into my shorts as I stood, rubbed myself down with my T-shirt
and then pulled it over my head. “This way” Justine said,
taking my
hand to guide me up the steps toward the house. The moon had slipped
behind the clouds again and in the darkness I stumbled, leaning
on
her once or twice.
Back at the house the terrace was empty but we could hear voices
from
inside. Everything seemed to have been patched up; they were talking
and laughing, and a bottle of retsina stood on the table. Two more
glasses were poured as we came in. “There you are!” Ioannis
boomed.
“You know you must be careful swimming here at night. It is
more
dangerous than you think, if you do not know the place”. He
chattered
on, throwing me a jumper as I shivered slightly. Then Justine noticed
a puddle of red on the tiles under my foot, and flew to the bathroom
for a bandage. I must have gashed my foot on a rock at some point,
but I hadn’t felt a thing. Cleaned up it proved less ugly than
it had
first looked, and we settled down to continue the evening’s
talk, for
there were arrangements to be made. I said very little, just listened
in the main, stealing the occasional glance at her. She joined in
the
discussion with some animation, even though officially, of course,
she had no real connection with the business. But her suggestions
were sound and valuable. She didn’t look my way or catch my
eye, even
when we all took our leave much later, and I put the whole incident
to the back of my mind. It was to stay there for a very long time.
* * * * *
—So, tell me, what
really happened, then? Ray asks me, setting down
the pints.
—What d’you mean, with Justine? I ask back. —Well,
well nothing really.
—What do you mean, nothing? What about that evening when—
—Well, nothing. We went out for a swim.
Ray is silent for a moment,
his head on one side. The pub is quiet,
mid-afternoon, pools of sunlight falling on the waxed surfaces.
—Did you know he
was watching you that night?
—What, Ioannis? I pause. —Is that what he said?
—Mm. When you two went out in the water. He told me about it
one time
later. Me and Mark’d gone back in to the house, and he stayed
out,
went onto the cliff for a fag. And then he said he saw you…
My blood goes cold for
a moment. I can guess how it looked. I feel
dizzy, sick. But nothing happened. In actual fact I hardly saw her
again on her own, just with other people. The job left little
opportunity, and anyway, she was my boss’s girlfriend, I didn’t
allow
myself to think much about her. But she had left an impression on
me
that seemed to sharpen with time, like a developing photograph,
like
a dinosaur’s footprint fossilizing. It was hard work keeping
her out
of my mind. So I worked. I remember the parched landscape pocked
with
eucalyptus trees, with their flaky trout-spotted bark… clay-dust
and
cobalt blue overhead. Noon sun so fierce the sparrows would gasp
open-
mouthed and we’d kick our heels in the shade like carp in a
cool dark
pool. Hot rocks flickering with tiny lizards. Shattered greenhouses.
In the heat of the day they’d shimmer and become mirage, not
setting
solid again till evening. It felt like being burnt alive. And then
came the news.
—So, um, do you
know if he ever said anything to her? I ask.
—I don’t know. I guess he might have done. They were fighting
so much
at the time, you know. I couldn’t tell what he thought. Whether
he
thought you were to blame somehow, or whether he thought you were
the
only one could help her. You know how she used to talk about you?
—Me?
—Yeah. You know, all the time. And then when she…
—No, I don’t know, Ray. Tell me.
—You know she came looking for you that night?
—What night?
—The last night, of course. The night she…
—What? She came down to the camp?
—That’s right. We didn’t think that much of it at
the time. It seemed
like almost nothing. But that was the night. She came down asking
for
you. And you had just gone off with that girl... and she must have
gone straight back then and gone to the sea —
—Oh no, please, don’t.
And that’s when
she did it, when she finally went. She was missing
for days; we all thought she must have run off and left Ioannis
at
last, not taking anything with her. But she was finally found by
some
fishermen way out past Poros, floating star-shaped. Just stepped
into
the water and struck out for Africa. As I said, she was a strong
swimmer. Why might she have come looking for me? The last thing
in
the world she would have wanted would have been pity.
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