Who Pays the Ferryman Read online

  Spiridakis shook his head. 'No longer a child, Leandros,' he said. 'She is a woman now. Married and with a son of her own.'

  'Where does she live?'

  'In Elounda. She and her husband, Nikos, run a taverna there.'

  'I must see her,' said Haldane.

  The lawyer's face took on an expression of alarm. 'No,' he said sharply. 'No, Leandros. Leave it. Perhaps I should have said nothing. But then I thought you already knew. Please though, do as I say. It can do no good. Besides, what would be the point? As far as Elena is concerned, Stelios Papadakis was her father. After all these years you cannot turn up, a stranger from England, and tell her otherwise.'

  Haldane shook his head. 'Of course not. I just want to see her. That's all.'

  'Don't,' pleaded Spiridakis. 'It would be a mistake.

  Believe me.'

  'But you don't understand, Babis. Earlier I had to say that I have no children. But I was wrong. I do have a child. A daughter. Here on Crete.' Haldane nodded thoughtfully. 'I have to meet her. Talk to her. That at least.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  Haldane stopped the car on the top of the hill and looked down on Elounda. He had taken the motorway from Heraklion and had turned off at Aghios Nikolaos to approach the village from the east on the narrow, asphalt road which undulated along the coast.

  As he had driven through Aghios Nikolaos he had seen how it had changed from the quiet and remote fishing port which he remembered into a busy and sophisticated tourist resort. Not unlike St Tropez, he had reflected, just before the final rot had set in and while it had still retained some of its charm and character. But the writing was on the wall for Aghios Nikolaos and he had seen plenty of evidence of it; new hotels, pizzerias, superior arts and crafts shops, boutiques, discotheques and, where once there had been simple taverna's there were now smart, new restaurants and bars. Most of these attractions were closed, shuttered and desolate now but all would soon be opening their doors as the present trickle of tourists swelled to a river at Easter and then finally burst over the town to flood it with marks, dollars, francs, kroner, yen and pounds sterling throughout the height of the season.

  And the tentacles of commercialism, development and exploitation reached out beyond the town. The road to Elounda was littered with a straggle of holiday villas and only a short distance from the village a private road branched off to a luxurious hotel and bungalow complex which clearly catered for the upper price bracket of the package tour market.

  Looking down from the hill, though, it seemed to Haldane that Elounda itself had, so far anyway, escaped the worst effects of the tourist invasion. Its white house’s rose in steps up the slope of the hill behind the village which faced a wide and sheltered lagoon, at the northern end of which loomed the island fortress of Spinalonga, once a Venetian and then a Turkish stronghold and finally, early in the present century, a leper colony which had only been cleared of the last of its wretched exiles in the late nineteen fifties.

  He put the car into gear and drove down the hill and into the village where he parked on an already dusty, tree dotted open space, one side of which was open to the sea and served as a quay and moorings for the local fleet of fishing caiques, three of which had been hauled up out of the water for repainting or minor repairs.

  Haldane got out of the car and looked around. There were few people about, only three men sitting grouped around the foot of one of the trees close to the water's edge mending fishing nets and, beyond them, some children playing on a spit of sand. Otherwise the place appeared deserted. Then he glanced at his watch and saw that it was ten minutes past two and he remembered how, even during the winter months, the majority of Cretans and certainly those in the villages retired to their homes for a three-hour siesta at one or two o'clock in the afternoon.

  To his left was an ugly, two-storey concrete building. It was obviously a taverna and it was open for business. But it was not the taverna he was looking for. Then, from Spiridakis' description, he spotted it across the open ground and facing on to it and separated from it by the road. It was an old, attractive building flanked and backed by a large garden and an expanse of orange, lemon and olive trees. Outside the entrance was a small forecourt on which there were three or four tables shaded by a canopy of bamboo.

  Haldane moved slowly away from the car, crossed the road and entered the taverna.

  Stepping in out of the broad sun, he paused just inside the doorway to adjust this eyes to the shuttered twilight of the place. He found himself in a medium-sized bar with tables and chairs ranged along two sides of it leading down to a counter at the far end. In front of the counter stood a half dozen or so tall stools and to one side of it there was an archway hung with a beaded curtain.

  Built into the right wall, about two thirds of the way down the length of the bar, glass doors stood open revealing a tree shaded patio. The patio was ringed with more tables and chairs and there was a flight of steps leading up from it to the balcony and the rooms which overlooked it and which Haldane decided must comprise the en pension accommodation.

  The taverna was bright and clean and welcoming but sparsely furnished and with few frills. It clearly catered mainly for the local people and the few concessions which had been made for the tourist who stayed there were a display of replica Minoan pottery standing on a shelf, four original but amateurish paintings of local scenes hanging on the walls and a rack of picture postcards on the bar counter.

  The place was empty. The only sound was of a man and a woman arguing indistinguishably in Greek somewhere beyond the curtained archway. The argument was fierce and voluble.

  Haldane moved down the bar to the counter, looked around and waited. He realised that he was sweating a little and that he suddenly felt faintly sick. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

  The argument reached a peak of ferocity. The man shouted something and then the woman responded with equal vehemence. But both outbursts were unintelligible to Haldane.

  Then the beaded strands of the curtain in the archway were brusquely swept to one side and a woman flounced into the bar, looking backwards over her shoulder and shouting defiantly in Greek.

  'I don't care! Whatever they say! Whatever you say! I still say no,' she cried out in her anger and she was close to tears.

  She was slim and, despite a somewhat petulant mouth, attractive. She had uncharacteristic fair hair and she was the right age. Haldane knew that this had to be Elena; that here before him was his daughter.

  Elena swung round and saw the Englishman standing at the counter. She reacted with a start of surprise and then looked embarrassed.

  'Oh, excuse me,' she stammered in Greek. 'I did not know there was anyone here.'

  Haldane watched her as, struggling to regain control of herself, she moved behind the counter.

  'What would you like?' Again she spoke in Greek.

  He stared at her until, disconcerted by his gaze, she frowned.

  'A beer? An ouzo? What?' she asked.

  Haldane was suddenly aware of what she had said. He smiled. 'A coffee please,' he replied in Greek. 'Medium.'

  Elena nodded and began to prepare the coffee on the gas burner at the back of the bar. Haldane found that he could not take his eyes off her but she was too intent on what she was doing to notice. He abandoned his Greek. 'Do you speak English?' he said.

  Elena looked at him. 'Yes,' she replied haltingly and with a marked accent. 'A little. You are English?'

  'Yes. You are surprised?'

  The woman shrugged . 'I knew you were not Greek. French I thought. Or German perhaps.'

  'This is your place?' Haldane asked. She nodded. 'Then you are Elena,' he said.

  Her face took on a puzzled expression. 'Yes. I am Elena. But how did you know that?'

  'A friend told me about this place. And about you.' 'Oh! What friend?'

  'Babis Spiridakis,' said Haldane. 'You know him?'

  Elena nodded. 'Of course. Ever since I was a child. He comes here often.
He has a house here. He is a good friend of yours?'

  'I knew him during the war,' replied Haldane.

  ‘I see.’

  'Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?'

  Elena poured the medium-sweet coffee into a cup. 'At school.' she said. 'I did not want to.' She put the cup down on the counter in front of him. 'I wanted to speak French. French is beautiful, do you not think? But my mother said 'No, you learn English.' So I did. But it is not easy for me. I do not get much ... ' She groped for the word. 'How do you say it?'

  'Practice?' suggested Haldane.

  She nodded. 'Yes. Practice.'

  'Elena!' a man called angrily from beyond the archway.

  Elena frowned and her mouth hardened. Haldane paid for his coffee.

  The man called again. Louder this time. 'Elena!' And then he thrust his way through the curtain and into the bar.

  He was in his mid-thirties, tall, muscular, good-looking and deeply tanned. He had the appearance of someone who spends most of his time out of doors. He was carrying a letter in his hand and his bad temper showed in his expression. He saw Haldane and pulled up sharply, his scowl momentarily deepening, then he made a visible effort to check his temper, for the time being at least. His pride would clearly not allow him to continue the argument in front of a customer. And a stranger too.

  Elena looked at him and said icily in English. 'The kyrios is English. We were talking.'

  'Excuse me,' the man muttered.

  'My husband,' said Elena.

  So this is Nikos Vassilakis, thought Haldane. He smiled. 'Hello.'

  Nikos acknowledged the greeting with a curt nod and then looked at Elena and spoke to her' in Greek, trying hard to make his tone sound conversational. 'That cannot be the end of it. We must discuss it,' he said.

  'We have discussed it,' she snapped, uncertain as to how good Haldane's command of their language was and discomforted by the possibility that he might be able to follow every word of the exchange.

  Nikos shot a meaningful look at the Englishman. 'Further. Please!' he continued, tight-lipped and in Greek. 'And now. Come into the back.'

  Elena sighed and moved out from behind the counter. 'What is there to discuss?'

  Nikos held up the letter. 'This has to be answered.'

  'Well, answer it then,' said Elena. beginning to flare again. 'You know what to say.'

  Nikos took her arm and reluctantly she allowed him to hustle her back through the archway.

  Haldane watched them go. Then he picked up his coffee, crossed to one of the tables and sat down. He could still hear their voices but again indistinctly and within seconds Nikos and Elena were quarrelling again. Then a door slammed violently and there was a sudden silence.

  Haldane frowned and sipped his coffee. When, after nearly half an hour. neither Nikos nor Elena had put in an appearance again he got to his feet and slowly walked back out into the afternoon sunlight. he paused outside the taverna to fill and light his pipe and then. deep in thought, he crossed the road and strolled across the open space towards the three beached caiques.

  It was as he was standing alongside one of them studying it with a critical eye and admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into the building of it that the boy collided with him. He was playing a game and being chased by two friends who he had out-distanced and, head down, he had come round the bow of the caique and run full tilt into the Englishman.

  The boy stumbled and almost lost his balance but Haldane grabbed him so that he did not fall. 'I'm sorry,' the boy said in Greek, gazing up at Haldane abashed and repentant.

  Haldane smiled. He judged the child to be about ten years old. 'It's all right.'

  'Alexi!' someone called and both Haldane and the boy turned to look in the direction of the taverna. Nikos was standing on the forecourt and beckoning. 'Alexi,' he called again. 'It is time to eat.'

  The boy gave Haldane a grateful smile and then ran off towards the road.

  Nikos opened his arms to his son as he came near to him and, laughing, picked him up and swung him round. Then, side by side, they disappeared into the taverna.

  The Englishman, his eyes still on the building, gently tapped out his pipe on the hull of the caique and slipped it back into his pocket.

  'Yes, Leandros,' sighed Spiridakis,. 'Sadly they have quarrelled a great deal lately, I think.'

  Haldane had gone to the lawyer's office immediately on his return to Heraklion. 'Are they in some kind of trouble?' he asked.

  Spiridakis leant back in his chair. 'They have a problem,' he said.

  'Is it money?'

  Spiridakis shook his head. 'No. Or at least not the lack of it. They have the taverna and Nikos owns four fishing boats and some land which he farms very profitably. They make a good living.'

  'They are not happy?' pressed Haldane.

  'They were. Very happy. But now they disagree. And that perhaps threatens their happiness.'

  'What do they disagree about?'

  'The future; replied Spiridakis. He took a cigarette out of the box on his desk and lit it. 'You see, the taverna and the land around it belong to Elena, It was part of her inheritance from her mother. And she has kept the title to it. It is hers. Not theirs. Nikos has always been resentful of this. As you know,' he continued, 'in Crete it is usual for the husband to control everything.'

  Haldane snorted. 'So Elena struck a blow for Women's Liberation. Good for her. But that's in the past. You said they quarrel about the future.'

  The lawyer nodded. 'Yes,' he said quietly. 'Because now a development company is most anxious to buy the taverna and the land For them, it is the ideal site for a new hotel. They have made a very handsome offer.'

  'And she won't sell.'

  'Exactly. And that angers Nikos. He is very ambitious.

  There are many things he thinks they could do with the money.'

  Haldane frowned. That had been his brother's argument he remembered when they had first discussed Aqua Plastics' offer for Haldane Marine and he had told David that he wasn't interested. 'And to hell with the village,' he growled. 'It's a beautiful place. Good God, if it's more cash in the bank Nikos wants, there's enough potential there as it is without spoiling it with yet another damn great hotel. Elena obviously cares about preserving the character of the place.'

  To be truthful I am not sure what her motives are,' replied Spiridakis.

  'Has she consulted you? Asked your opinion?'

  'Both of them have talked to me about it. But it is difficult for me to be objective. As you said, Elounda is a beautiful place. And I have a small house there where I spend some time each year. I do not wish to see the village changed any more than it has been already.'

  'Well, so long as Elena refuses to sell,' said Haldane.

  'I suppose so,' Spiridakis said with another sigh. 'But meanwhile life will go on being difficult for her. The quarrelling will continue.'

  'So what's the answer?'

  The lawyer shrugged. 'I think it is inevitable. Sooner or later she will no longer be able to resist the pressure.'

  'Maybe if she's stubborn enough the developers will give up trying,' suggested Haldane.

  'No. They see the profits that are to be made there.

  They are a big company. A Greek/German consortium.

  They will not be put off easily. They have the patience and they have the money. They have already twice increased their offer. And one day Nikos will forsake argument for an ultimatum.'

  'The taverna or me,' said Haldane, thoughtfully

  The lawyer nodded. 'Something like that. And Elena loves her husband.'

  'So she can't win?'

  'I doubt it.'

  'Maybe if she had some help?' said Haldane.

  'There is nothing one can do,' replied Spiridakis, with a shrug. 'It is a family affair.'

  Haldane turned and looked out of the window. 'Yes,' he said softly. 'You're right. It is. A family affair.'

  It took more than an hour for Haldane to get his
call to England. Twice he rang down to the hotel switchboard and asked what was happening and each time the operator told him tetchily that she was doing her best. At last he was connected and it was a good line.

  'David ... It's Alan ... No, I'm calling you from Crete. .. No, I'm fine... That's just it, I'm not. I'm staying on here ... I'm not sure, indefinitely ... Well, something's come up... No, business. I can't tell you much about it now. It's early days. The point is I may want to invest out here ... Exactly. That's why I'm ringing you. So get on to Jack Bainbridge at the bank for me, will you? Find out what the form is ... Everything I've got if that's possible .. , Well, it could be that big. And something else. Put my house on the market, will you? ... Well, the best price you can get for the quickest possible sale ... Yes, I understand ... Yes, I understand that. .. No, I'll phone you again in a couple of days. .. Of course, I've thought about it. .. Yes, I am. Very involved.'

  He hung up. And that night he slept soundly, confident that he had made the right decision. And not just about Elena.

  The following morning Haldane got up late, ate a leisurely breakfast and then checked out of the hotel. It was a beautiful day and he enjoyed the drive to Annika Zeferis' house. He was bitterly disappointed, however, when he got there to find that she was not at home. Still, no hurry, he consoled himself as he descended the terrace steps and returned to his car. Tomorrow. She'll probably be here tomorrow. I'll drive out again then.

  He negotiated the tight bends of the steep mountain road with care and once back on the coast again turned east on the motorway. He stopped at Mallia for lunch and then spent three hours wandering through the ruins of the Minoan palace just outside the village. The air of timelessness which hung over the excavations fitted his mood perfectly.

  From Mallia he continued driving eastward again but then, at the slip road sign posted to Neapolis, he turned off and took the tortuous but scenically much more attractive old road through the mountains to Elounda.

  It was early evening when he entered the taverna. There were several customers in the bar and his entrance caused a brief flurry of curiosity and interest. Elena and Nikos were both behind the counter and Elena, watching the Englishman approach them, first regarded him with a puzzled look on her face and then placed him. 'Kalispera;' said Haldane, returning her smile.