Black Butterflies Read Free

and opens her mouth to speak.
    ‘No, no! Eleni’s your eldest, just a minute. Artemis! How could I forget such a pretty name! Any children yet?’
    Marina shakes her head sadly.
    ‘Darling, the boat’s going to leave. Come on.’
    ‘ Bill! Will you take a photo of Marina and me? I cannot believe we have met up again. So lovely to see you.’
    ‘ Darling, there really isn’t time.’
    ‘ Oh come on, Bill. They haven’t even tied up yet. The people haven’t even got off, and there’s a huge queue to get on. We have loads of time.’ The lady begins to search through her rucksack.
    Marina looks over to the hydrofoil. It is pulling alongside the quay. There is a girl on board throwing a rope to a man on the shore. She wears a black uniform, a peaked hat and high heels. Marina tuts. She finds it hard to imagine her elder daughter, Eleni, doing the same job, taking herself off to Piraeus at such a young age to join up. But then again, this girl might work on the Flying Dolphin, and not for the port police – that might be something else. She is not sure. But either way, when Eleni is stationed here she will work alongside this girl, in her unsuitable high heels.
    ‘ Come here, next to me, Marina. So what are you doing here? Take it with the café in the background, Bill. Oh yes, didn’t you say your eldest daughter was coming to work here? Smile. Thanks, Bill.’
    ‘ Come on, dear, we really must make a move.’ Bill stuffs the camera into a bag around his waist. ‘Marina, it has been a delightful surprise. I wish you all the best.’
    ‘ I loved your shop, Marina. We have such good memories of that holiday. What with all your goat bells and shepherd’s crooks and fresh bread, and those amazing village eggs, so fresh – it was a regular cornucopia. I wish there was such a well-stocked store near where I live. You must come to the States one day.’
    ‘ Darling …’
    ‘ Well goodbye, Marina. Can’t imagine why you would want to be here, when your village is so perfect and unspoilt by tourism. This is all a bit much, isn’t it? All the best.’
    The noise of people embarking and disembarking reaches a pitch and the woman has to raise her voice. Marina smiles. The girl in the black uniform takes the Americans ’ tickets, tears them in two, and they disappear into the shadows of the boat, leaving Marina alone.
    The growl of the engine as the hydrofoil reverses its way out of the port brings the noise to a climax. It swings through the harbour entrance and disappears round the corner. The din subsides and a peace returns. The cafés are all but empty now, and the waiters loosen their gait in the comparative calm, now that the tourists have gone. They chat to each other from their territories about the football last night, the new Mayor, what they will do this evening, after work. Marina picks up her bag and wonders what to do now she is here. She knows why she has come, but how to go about it?
    The harbour is roughly three sides of a square, with a jutting-out pier all but closing the fourth, seaward side. The harbour is not very big and the really big boats are obliged to moor on the outside in the deeper water, or so the programme had said. Marina feels quite the expert. There are no boats there now. She walks slowly up to the first corner where the donkeys wait to take bags and tourists, furniture and water bottles, anything that needs transporting with more than a handcart. There are no roads here, nor cars or motor bikes, only foot and donkey on little cobbled lanes; unspoilt, lost in time, a slower pace of life, even for Marina. She sighs with pleasure at the thought of slowing down.
    ‘Hello, lady – you want a donkey to take you and your bag to your hotel? It’s either donkey or legs – there is no other transport here, you know?’
    ‘ Yes, I know.’ Marina remembers trying to stroke the donkeys the last time she was here, and Aunt Efi hurrying her to keep walking. She doesn’t suppose it could