Sheila's Epiphany - a cozy short story

Sheila woke to sunshine streaming in through the window of her rented room. It illuminated the white sheet that covered her, making it glow. If only it could do the same to her life.

She rolled over and pondered getting up. Was there any point? Tomorrow would be just as sunny, as would the day after. She could lie in bed the whole day, and life would continue in Crete as if she didn’t exist. No-one would miss her. She had arrived for this holiday alone, would stay here alone, and when the week was up, she would leave alone.

She gave a snort of laughter tinged with contempt. She had put herself in this position by refusing to marry Ian because she didn’t want to go through another divorce. He had been clear it was marriage or nothing for him. So here she was. Alone by her own choice due to fear of being alone.

She sighed and threw off the bedsheet. No point lying here feeling sorry for herself. The sunshine always cheered her. That’s why she’d decided on the village of Sivas for this holiday of recovery. The southernmost island in Europe and she was firmly in the south of the island. She’d come a long way for sunshine so better get out there and enjoy it while she could.

Up and dressed in her brightest yellow dungarees and a deep blue blouse, she pondered what to do with her day as she wandered into the centre of the village. The kafenio was open and the smell of coffee tempted her briefly. Children ran and laughed in the playground in front of the school, enjoying their time before the bell called them inside. She paused to watch them, remembering when her own two were little. So long ago.

Giving herself a mental shake, she turned off the main square and headed north. She would visit Fotini. The old woman lived alone but seemed happy enough. Sheila had met her a few days ago while exploring a track heading out of the village. She had been sitting beside a low wall making lace, and Sheila had stopped to admire the delicate fabric.

Beside her was a second chair, quite obviously meant for visitors, and Sheila had happily sat when it was offered. If she had examined her motives, she might have said it was pity that prompted her to do so. Fotini was obviously alone and looking for company. But as they talked, it became clear that the old woman wasn’t lonely at all.

Her mind made up, Sheila walked briskly up the track until she arrived at Fotini’s house. But both wooden chairs were empty. Sheila stopped, unsure. She had visited a few times now and always Fotini had been sitting there. Sometimes making lace, sometimes drinking iced tea. But always there.

She paused, unsure. Should she go in? Maybe Fotini was unwell. Or had fallen. She had almost made up her mind to investigate when she spotted a black-clad figure coming slowly out of the house.

“Fotini,” she called. “I wondered where you were.”

The old lady laughed and waved to Sheila to come closer. “Were you worried about me?”

“Well, yes, actually. I was.”

“My niece is coming. I have to clean my house.”

Sheila made her way down the path towards the house and glanced at the walking stick standing just inside the door.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“No, no. You sit here.” She gestured towards a table and chairs sitting to the right of the door in the shade of a pergola. “We can talk as I clean.”

“But I can help,” insisted Sheila. She couldn’t just sit as Fotini struggled.

But Fotini shook her head. “You are xenos. Guest.”

Sheila frowned. “I thought xenos was stranger.”

“Neh, neh. Stranger and guest. They are the same.”

Sheila was pondering that when a voice called Fotini’s name from the top of the garden. A man who looked positively ancient, with widely bowed legs, was making his way down the path. He carried a bottle of water in each hand.

Fotini greeted him and gestured to Sheila. Introducing her she supposed.

“This is Panayiotis,” she said.

The man put both bottles on the table and held out a hand to Sheila. But when she took it, instead of shaking he covered her hand with both of his and squeezed, smiling warmly.

“Welcome to our village,” he said.

Sheila couldn’t help but beam back at him. She felt the warmth of his welcome more strongly than the warmth of the morning sun as she thanked him.

Fotini gestured at the bottles and said something in Greek. Panayiotis shook his head as he replied and then turned and made his way back up the path. It was at this point that Sheila noticed the donkey waiting patiently on the track. Baskets hung on each side of the animal, and she could see the tops of more bottles of water poking out of both of them. The old man walked back up the track as the donkey followed obediently alongside.

Fotini made to take the bottles, but Sheila was having none of it. “I may be a guest, but I’m also a friend,” she said. “And in my culture, friends help each other when it’s needed.”

The old lady smiled again and nodded. “Endaxi. You are right, my friend.”

Sheila picked up the bottles and followed Fotini into the cool of the house. The door led directly into a kitchen with an old wooden table pushed against one side of the room. Looking around curiously, Sheila could see the thickness of the walls. They must have been at least a foot thick. In one corner was a large chimney place with room enough below to roast a small pig. However, the unmarked tiled hearth and modern electric cooker standing alongside suggested it was no longer used.

Crockery, a glass, and two saucepans sat on a worktop beside the sink, and Sheila, without giving Fotini time to argue, rolled up her sleeves and started washing up. Her friend looked as though she might say something but then smiled, shrugged, took a broom out of a tall cupboard and began slowly sweeping.

As the two women worked, Sheila could feel herself getting angry. A woman of Fotini’s advanced age and infirmity shouldn’t be cleaning her house for a visit from family. They should be coming to clean it for her!

It was none of her business of course, but she was determined to stay and help until Fotini was satisfied she was ready for the visit. And if this niece should arrive before they were done, she might find herself getting a piece of Sheila’s mind.

As she finished drying the last cup, another voice called from outside. This time a young man appeared in the doorway. He looked to be younger than her grandchildren, but she could still appreciate his dark good looks and shy smile when he spotted her.

Fotini introduced him as Nikos. He gave her a brief “yassas,” but couldn’t offer her a hand as his arms held sheets and a blanket.

Sheila watched in disbelief as Fotini led him further into the house. She followed them into a bedroom and quickly stepped forward to help Nikos make up the heavy, wooden double bed. So the niece was staying over. And expecting her aged aunt to have a bed made up when she arrived. If her grandchildren had treated an aging relative with this cavalier attitude, you could bet your bottom dollar that she would have had something to say about it.

After Nikos had left, shaking his head when Fotini offered him a drink of the water Panayiotis had brought, she decided it was time to speak out.

“Could your niece not stay in rent-rooms?” she asked. “Mine are very comfortable and not expensive.”

“Oxi! She is family. What would the village think?”

“That she was saving you a lot of trouble perhaps.”

“Oxi. No. No.”

The old woman seemed quite upset at the idea, so Sheila reluctantly decided to drop the subject. “Well, then. What’s next?” she said.

Fotini smiled and gestured at the bottles of water.

A good idea, Sheila decided. She watched Fotini open a cupboard and take down two of the tiniest glasses imaginable. It must be hard having to carry things around when you find it difficult to even walk. Before the old woman could reach for her cane, Sheila took the glasses from her friend. She transferred both to one hand so she could pick up a water bottle in the other and took it all outside to the little table.

She filled both glasses as full as she could. It would take quite a few refills to quench her thirst, but she didn’t want to embarrass Fotini by suggesting larger glasses.

She was just about to take a sip when there was yet another call to Fotini. A comfortably-built woman with wild hair was making her way down the path carrying a large, cloth-covered plate while, behind her, a tall, balding, somewhat familiar-looking man carried two small casserole dishes, one in each hand.

“Ah, Melani,” called Fotini in evident pleasure. A string of Greek followed until Sheila caught her own name mentioned.

“Hello, hello,” said the wild-haired woman. “Welcome to our village. I’m sorry I can’t take your hand. Let me put this in the kitchen and I’ll come back to you.”

The man gave her a quick smile and followed Melani into the house. Fotini called something after them and when they re-emerged, Melani carried another small glass.

Fotini gestured at the man, obviously inviting him to join them too, but he smiled, waved and started back down the path.

Sheila filled Melani’s glass and was surprised when the other woman raised her glass and said “Yamas.” She knew this to be the Greek version of ‘cheers’ but decided it would do nicely even if they were only drinking water.

“Yamas,” she said and took a large mouthful of water. It was then that she realised that, despite what the label on the bottle said, this was definitely not water. She coughed to clear her burning throat while tears fell from her eyes.

The two women laughed at her, but not in a malicious way. Melani leapt to her feet and gave her a thump on the back. It didn’t help, but she appreciated the thought. She appreciated the water brought swiftly from the kitchen even more.

“We reuse containers as much as possible here,” said Fotini. “I should have told you. I thought you would know – you live on an island too.”

“We do have recycling, but it’s not as direct as this,” said Sheila, somewhat huskily. “Raki, yes?”

The two women nodded enthusiastically.

“You haven’t tried it yet?” asked Melani, a somewhat suspicious look in her eyes.

“Oh yes, I’ve eaten at most of the tavernas in Sivas, and it’s been offered at all of them. I’ve generally sipped it until now.”

“Ah, good.” She nodded, seeming satisfied.

“Melani has the Taverna Ketrakis,” said Fotini.

Shiela thought back to the village square for a moment. “The one with the bougainvillea climbing over it? On the corner?”

Melani’s smile widened. “That’s right. Have you tried us yet?”

“I have indeed. I thought I recognised the man you arrived with. I had some of your wonderful moussaka on my first evening here.”

“You must come again,” said Melani decisively. “You have to try my briam. Oh, you could try some now. There is enough I think, Fotini.”

“Neh, neh,” said Fotini, rising from her chair.

“Oh no, please don’t trouble on my account,” said Sheila, also rising. “You’ve had a hard enough day as it is.”

“Is no trouble,” said Fotini and shuffled back into the house.

“Oh, now I feel guilty,” said Sheila, torn between giving Fotini her way and insisting on helping.

“Don’t,” reassured Melani. “She will be pleased to offer you hospitality. And she likes to do what she still can.”

Sheila wrestled with her conscience briefly, then taking her seat again asked in a low voice, “Why doesn’t her family help her? She’s doing all this work for them to visit. They should be looking after her, not the other way round.”

Melani gave her a long look, and Sheila wondered if she’d overstepped the mark. She was about to apologise and take back her questions when the other woman finally spoke.

“We all have our pride. Sometimes more so when we’ve had to admit we need help.”

“But they’re not helping… Oh. Yes, of course. I’ve seen the villagers coming.”

“Ach, this? It’s nothing. We look after our own here. We all know one day, God willing, we will be the ones in need.”

“So it’s not just today then?” Sheila couldn’t decide if she was surprised or not. She’d never seen anything like this before, but somehow it seemed only natural given the warmth of the reception she herself had received.

“Someone comes most days. We bring a meal, a little bread or fruit. And conversation of course. I’d heard about you being here recently. It’s good of you.”

“Oh nonsense. It does me more good than it does Fotini.” She realised as she said it that it was true. She’d been feeling sorry for herself this morning but hadn’t thought about her troubles once since she’d arrived at Fotini’s gate.

She took a careful sip of raki and sat in contemplation. No wonder Fotini didn’t seem lonely. She was surrounded by friends. People who cared about her welfare as she cared about theirs.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of an engine. She looked up and saw a large, black car reversing carefully down the track. She wouldn’t have thought the track big enough to allow vehicular access but clearly it was. Just.

Melani called out to Fotini who appeared in the doorway, a small plate of food in her hand and a wide smile on her face. Sheila looked back to the car as a young woman climbed carefully out of the driver’s side and waved enthusiastically.

So this must be the niece.

The young woman reached into the back of the car and brought out a small picnic box. At least she’d thought to bring something to help out. Little though it was.

Fotini embraced the young woman then introduced her to Sheila as Maria.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Sheila, coolly.

“A pleasure to meet you too,” said Maria. “Welcome to the village. My aunt has told me how good a friend you have become in such a short time.”

“Oh,” said Sheila, momentarily nonplussed. “Well, I hope so.”

“Excuse me while I get these things sorted.” The young woman picked up the picnic box again and disappeared inside.

Fotini put down a plate containing some sort of vegetable stew in front of Sheila. “Now that Maria is here, you can stay for dinner, yes?” she said.

“Not me,” said Melani. “I have more dinners to prepare for my customers.” She stood and embraced Fotini. “Take care of yourself,” she said. “And always remember you have friends here.”

Sheila was surprised to see tears in Fotini’s eyes. What on earth was going on? Why was Melani reminding Fotini about her friends? Did her niece abuse her somehow? She braced her shoulders. She would stay here until she knew for sure that her new friend was safe. “I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said, firmly.

The meal progressed without incident. Maria gave every impression of being a loving niece and was unfailingly polite and friendly to Sheila. Indeed, she seemed fascinated by Sheila’s stories of her various travels and even invited her to visit her own home on the mainland, which Sheila thought was a little odd from so short an acquaintance.

Finally, the delicious food was eaten, coffee was drunk, and Sheila could find no further excuse for staying. Reluctantly she took her leave, giving Fotini a hug.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” she promised. She would worry about her friend all night but could think of nothing else to do but check that all was well in the morning.

“Come for breakfast,” said Fotini with a smile that looked a little sad.

Sure enough, Sheila slept badly. Her brain kept turning over one disastrous scenario after another for what might be happening in Fotini’s house. She rose early, calculating just how early she could get to Fotini’s without appearing rude.

When the time came, she was pleased to find her friend sitting in her usual spot by the wall. Fotini looked as well as ever, but her smile when she spotted Sheila approaching looked relieved as much as welcoming.

“I’m so glad you came, Sheila,” she said. “I thought I might miss you.”

“Miss me? What on earth do you mean?”

Before Fotini could respond, Maria came out of the house carrying two large suitcases. It seemed rather a lot for an overnight stay. She opened the back of the car and put them inside. Sheila could see the back seat already held yesterday’s cool box, another large suitcase and a small holdall which looked plenty big enough on its own for one night.

Fotini stood and embraced Sheila.

“Take care, my friend. Remember me.”

“Oh, Auntie,” said Maria, shutting the rear car door and opening the front passenger one. “We’re not so far from Crete. Only a short ferry ride. I’m sure many of your friends will visit.” She helped Fotini into the car and settled a blanket around her knees.

“Visit?” said Sheila, weakly.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” asked Maria, straightening up, car key now in hand. “It should only take a little while to get Auntie settled. I have her rooms all ready for her and there’s room for visitors too.”

“You’re taking her to live with you,” said Sheila, understanding dawning at last.

“This house has been a good home, but it’s too much for her now. Even with the help of her friends in the village, she needs more care than they can give. She needs family. Don’t worry. I’ll look after her.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will. And of course, I’d love to visit.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Maria looking relieved. She took a business card from her pocket and handed it to Sheila. “This has all my contact details. Just let me know whenever you’d like to come.”

“I will,” she said, thoughtfully. She watched as Maria got into the car and put on her seatbelt. Then, on a sudden impulse, she bent down and addressed both women. “What about the house?” she asked.

Maria glanced at Fotini who avoided Sheila’s eyes. “We will have to sell it, I think,” she said, quietly.

“I see. Would you sell it to me?” she asked.

Fotini’s head swung round to meet Sheila’s gaze. “Oh Sheila, that would be lovely. But… you’re just on holiday here. You have a home in England.”

“Oh, that. That’s nothing permanent. I have a feeling I could be very happy here in Sivas. Very happy indeed.”