Chapter 9: An encounter with the sinister Manolis

Having made their way through the village, they walked down a stony path that led eventually to the wide and busy main road. Here cars, buses, scooters and taxis flashed by with many honks, beeps and shouts of indignation flung at hapless pedestrians who seemed in constant danger of being ploughed down. It was a peculiar contrast to the quiet sleepy, little village – almost as if they had stepped through the Looking Glass from one time scale to another.

Beyond the highway lay the harbour town, the beaches and the sea awaiting them. They walked down to the quayside along small roads lined with tacky shops touting cheap tourist goods, cotton summer clothing or items for the home that looked likely to fall apart the minute you got them back. There were one or two small supermarkets and a few cafés. The evening air was redolent with the smell of frying chips, pork chops and fish and the trailing scents were accompanied by a dirge-like wail of music blasting from transistors, jukeboxes or radios, each one playing a totally different song.

At one of the fish taverns they found live lobsters crawling over the steps.

'What on earth are they doing there?' exclaimed David.

'They're for sale; Giorgo can cook you one now and it will be really fresh.'

'Oh, my God, I shall never eat a lobster again.'

'They put them in boiling water to make them red,' said Emily with a shudder. 'What a way to die!'

'Emily, don't you eat fish either?' asked Petros, mystified by the English people's reaction to something that to him appeared perfectly normal and sensible.

'No,' she replied with another shudder. 'What a horrible thought!'

'What on earth does she live on?' Petros asked David in amazement.

'Air, that's what she lives on. I tell you, she isn't normal.'

Down at the harbourside the sea looked inviting. Petros warned them that it wasn't a good place to swim as the rocks were covered in sea urchins. When they looked over the side of the quay into the deceptive blue depths they could see hundreds of the little spiky black creatures, clinging on so that the rocks looked black and furry like some crouching animal resting on the sea bed.

'So where can we go swimming?' asked Emily, disappointed.

'There's a lovely little beach across the National Highway. It's not far to walk and it's quite private. Few people go there. I guess you'll like that, Emily. But David will prefer the ones further along the coast, I know. Those places are all properly managed with life guards, loungers, umbrellas, the lot. The sand is always lovely; clean sand, clear sea.'

They took off their shoes and dabbled their toes in the water that lapped against the jetty. The moored boats bobbed up and down gently on the waves but further up the quayside, the fishermen were preparing to set off for their evening catch. They watched them idly, soaking in the evening sunshine, enjoying the freshness of the breeze. The air was full of the scents of pine trees, sea-spray, food, perfume; their senses assailed at every turn.

Now they could see the island far more clearly. It rose in the centre of the horseshoe curve of the bay. Some sort of keep or castle stood high on top of the rocks indicating that it had once had a garrison there to defend the mainland. It certainly had a good position in the centre of the bay with a view right out to sea. Emily looked at it and wondered what ancient battles had been fought against the towering walls that seemed to encircle the tiny island. She looked closer and saw that there were several houses on the island, but the whole place had a ruined and abandoned look, a lonely sad look about it; the houses like empty sockets in a skull. They stared back at her with black holes where windows should have been.

Islands had always fascinated her in their self-containment. They had a sense of mystery, aloneness, cut off from the mainland and floating in solitary splendour on the water. The more deserted, the more fascinating they appeared to her. It was strange and powerful, being alone on an island. Yet, there was something about this particular island that made the hairs suddenly crawl on her neck. It looked eerie and nasty.

It was those houses with their empty sockets. Empty, devoid of feeling, hopeless.

'Oh, that place is horrible!' she said with a sudden shudder and scrambled up from the quayside and began to pull on her sandals despite her wet feet. She couldn't bear the sight of it; she had to get away as fast as she could. She began to panic and gasp for breath.

The two young men looked up at her in surprise.

'Emily ...it's just a deserted island.' David's tone was pained.

'No, no, it's horrible ...it's full of death, there's death there!'

'Oh, for God's sake ...don't start on one of your turns!'

'But she's right, David,' said Petros, looking amazed, 'she's right. It was a place of death.'

'What d'you mean?'

'It used to be a fort when the Venetians were here,' said Petros. 'See that gun emplacement up there? And it used to have lots of huge cannons. It was mostly to keep away the pirates that used to raid the coasts round here in the old days.'

They both began to put on their shoes and follow Emily who was now walking away rapidly, much to David's disgust.

'Honestly, people are always dragging around after Emily and her moods. Why on earth can't she control herself? Okay, so there were battles there. There's been bloodshed everywhere in the world.'

'Yeah, lots of battles, of course. The Turks came about four hundred years or so ago and conquered Crete, drove the Venetians out. Then the Turks went away when Crete was liberated and the Greek government turned that island into a camp for lepers. All the people who had leprosy were sent there from Crete and Turkey and other places too. They just stayed there till they died and were buried there too, as far as I know.'

'That's pretty disgusting,' David conceded,' but sensible, I suppose, given that leprosy is such a catching disease.'

'Well, yeah, they had no cure then, so what else to do?'

'But there's nobody there now, is there?'

'No, no one lives there, no one wants to live there. The last of the lepers left in the late nineteen-fifties; they'd found a cure by then so they could be treated and not just left to rot away. All the houses are still there, left as they were. But nobody goes near the place. It's a bad place. They say it has the Evil Eye.'

Petros crossed himself three times surreptitiously but David saw him out of the corner of his eye.

'Why did you do that?'

'What?'

'Cross yourself like that? You don't believe in such things; that's what you said to Emily.'

Petros was annoyed and showed it. The dark brows came together in a scowl. His proud Cretan nature hated to admit that deep down he was nervous of all things occult, things that belonged to the darkness of men's souls and could not be explained. He was as superstitious as the villagers but would never have admitted it. After all, he was a palikari, a brave man, afraid of nothing.

He drew himself up to his full height.

'It's a habit,' he said with dignity. 'If you believe in God, then you must believe in the Evil One too. It makes sense.'

'I don't think religion makes sense at all,' said David, but wisely decided it wasn't a good road to go down and dropped the subject.

'All the same,' he went on, after a short silence, 'it would be interesting to go and see that island sometime. Sounds pretty gory to me, all that leper stuff. I've seen pictures of them, their fingers and noses rotting away ...foul! Is the illness still there, is that why people won't go over and live there?'

'Nobody here would ever want to live there, nobody wants to go there. It's not the illness. They can cure the illness now. It's the ghosts people claim to see.'

'Hear that, Emily? There's ghosts over there! Sounds just up your street, Sis. Why don't we go over and explore?'

'No thanks, you go if you're so keen,' said Emily still shuddering at the mere thought of it. Petros looked relieved by her reply and David began to think he was a tame companion. Scared of ghosts and the Evil Eye! You'd seriously think they were still in the Middle Ages.

'Well, I'm going to get one of those boat guys to take me over there sometime,' he said defiantly. Petros was proving to be a bit of a wimp. He could see he wasn't going to be the fun companion he had hoped for. Pity Dad had vetoed Adam's coming along. God, they'd have had fun!

'You won't find anyone willing to take you,' Petros insisted.

David shook his head in sheer disgust and disbelief.

As they began to wend their way back towards the main road, they heard a voice calling them.

'Re, Petros! Come over here.'

They turned to see a man lounging in his shop doorway, beckoning them to approach.

'Who's he?' asked David.

Petros turned and waved to the man. 'It's old Kyrio Manolis, the greengrocer. He probably wants to meet you. People are always curious round here.'

'Must we?' sighed Emily, who was beginning to feel tired with both the long walk and the unwelcome attention they were receiving. She'd had enough adventure for a day and was beginning to feel a little overwrought.

Petros turned them back and they went over to Manolis who bade them welcome. He offered Emily an apple and stared at her so hard that she turned away and moved off a little, feeling irritated and ready to scream at somebody. Then he shook hands with David and said to him, 'You Germans? You and the girl are very fair and white-looking.'

He spoke in German and David replied in German that they were English and that they would soon look brown and not so pale. The weather in England that summer had not been conducive to sunbathing.

'Ah, English! I always love them,' came the fluent response. These foreigners all spoke so many languages! And, thought David, as they often spoke English, even if it was American style, so what was the point of putting himself out to learn another foreign tongue?

Manolis was a small, swarthy-looking individual, a man probably in his late fifties, yet with hair that was still quite luxuriant and dark. Some grey lightened his temples but he looked strong and tanned and fit. He had a hooked nose, dark piercing black eyes and a thick mustachio with waxed ends. There was something of the bandito about him. When he smiled, the flash of gold-capped teeth gave him a strange appearance. David was fascinated, wondering what it must feel like to eat with golden teeth.

'These are my friends from England,' said Petros, 'come to spend the summer with us here.'

Manolis smiled his thin, cruel smile again, flashing those golden teeth.

'Your friend is a handsome boy,' he said, 'a very handsome boy.'

David felt a slight alarm at these words and the speculative manner in which Manolis was regarding him. Better steer clear of him! Still, at least he wasn't all over Emily, which made a change. She was steadfastly keeping at a distance and refused to be drawn into the conversation. Holding the apple in her hand, she stroked its glossy green skin but then flung it away petulantly.

'May we go back now? I feel tired and fed up,' Emily said.

'It's too much for you, maybe,' said Petros sympathetically.

'I'm sorry, Petros,' she said looking up at him in the manner that melted his heart. 'Everything's beginning to feel odd and out of place.'

'I hope you don't wish you hadn't come.'

Emily made no reply but yes, she wished in that moment that she was home in her garden, in her own familiar quiet surroundings. The noise of the transistors blaring from the houses was beginning to get on her nerves.

They left Manolis and made their way back up the steep path to the village and thence to their villa where the wonderful smell of supper arose from the kitchen and the veranda looked cool and inviting.

'That guy looked like a pirate,' David said as they walked along.

'Manolis? He's a tough fellow; half Syrian I think. No one messes about with him. He scares people a lot. He's a loner. Doesn't mix with the others a great deal but people respect him.'

'I don't like him,' said Emily.

'He's not a bad man, Emily.'

'You don't often say you don't like someone,' said her brother, looking surprised at her remark. 'You're in a funny mood all of a sudden. Hope you're going to be okay and not start to—'

'Shut up, David!'

For God's sake, don't tell the world I sleepwalk, she thought. It was true, though. The island and then that odd man, Manolis, had really unsettled her.