Carissa looked at her slyly. “I can get whatever you want—just ask me.”
Carissa eventually left the terrace to finish her duties in the kitchen. An hour later the house was empty. The heat had returned, the sun festering on the prickly pear along the walls. She locked the outer door as she always did and went down the long flights of steps into the village. Later in the afternoon she came back with the medications and herbs. The medicine woman had been at home and she had bought a dozen different kinds of plants, leaves, roots, and flowers. She had bought a sachet of hemlock leaves and root as well, because she could use a tiny amount to prepare a sedative useful in the treatment of anxiety and mania. The girl could use it, as far as she could see. It would calm her down and restore her balance. Konio—its name meant “whirling” in Greek, but its effect could be the opposite. She made rabbit for dinner and then went to her room and slept for an hour.
When she woke she heard the Codringtons bumbling around in the salon playing records and tinkering with the drinks cabinet. The service bell rang. She dressed hastily in her uniform and ran upstairs to find them seated in deck chairs on the terraces with vodka tonics that they had made themselves. It was a strike against her. But Phaine said nothing. Instead, she asked wearily for some small sandwiches impaled on cocktail sticks. The couple seemed relaxed after their excursion to Athens. Dusk came down with swallows and ships’ horns and distant cicada calls. A neighbor stopped by, one of the ancient Americans who lived in the hills like solitary crabs. There were a few rounds of salty laughter, and then he left. By nightfall the Codringtons were merry with drink. At eight dinner was served, and Naomi was there in a white summer dress like a high-society penitent, her hair scooped up around a wooden pin and twisted into a whorl.
“Get a bottle of the Santorini, will you?” Jimmie said to Carissa, barely looking at her.
She went back to the kitchen and waited for further orders. The meal was long, and they were talking heatedly. From time to time a half-shouted word flared up and then she went out, poured some wine, and they behaved themselves in front of her. Phaine at least had a horror of misbehavior in front of the servants. Soon, however, a full-blown argument blew up between Jimmie and Naomi. The English was so fast and confused that Carissa couldn’t understand a word. The girl began crying and then hurling insults at both Jimmie and Phaine. She calmed for a while and then it all exploded a second time. This time Naomi threw a glass. It shattered against the wall and the girl stormed off the terrace. Enraged, Jimmie ran after her and bawled something nasty into the hall as Naomi was pulling on her boots. He managed to stop her leaving, but she wouldn’t come back to the table. “For God’s sake,” he kept shouting, pacing up and down until he had exhausted himself and came back to the table where Phaine sat in icy silence.
The girl went up to her room and Carissa brought out the coffee. Phaine addressed her at once.
“You’re not to say a word about this to anyone outside of this house. Is that understood?”
“Yes, madame.”
“If I find that you did, you’ll be fired immediately.”
But in fact Carissa didn’t feel that the argument was disgraceful. She felt it was long overdue. The following morning, as she made the day’s first coffee, Naomi reappeared, refreshed by a long sleep and carrying a beach bag filled with bottled water and cans of tuna. She was going for another long hike in the hills. “I hope you weren’t afraid of us last night,” she said to Carissa, taking her hands for a moment and pressing them.
“I wasn’t.”
“It’s sweet of you to say. Tell my father I won’t be back for dinner. I’m going to eat alone in town. I think I need to be away from them for twenty-four hours, and they probably feel the same way. Just hang in there, sweet Carissa—I’ll see you’re all right in the end. I really will. We have to stick together.”
But Carissa was not sure who the “we” were. It was possible that, in the last resort, it did not include her.
SEVEN
Naomi went down to the port, met Sam there, and hired the same skiff she had taken the previous time. By nine they were at Palamidas, the waters still, the boats piled high with dejected-looking tackle. It took them less than an hour to climb up to Episkopi.
He must have seen them coming, because when the girls reached the first of the houses the shepherd-landlord was there waiting for them, a shotgun slung jauntily across the back of his neck and a dog seething at his feet. But he was cordial to Naomi; he called her despinis, miss.
“That friend of yours,” he said, looking her in the eye with a fearless condescension that didn’t retreat one inch or give any quarter, “he’s quite a character, isn’t he? You didn’t mention anything about single men sleeping up here alone.”
But Naomi brushed him off.
“It’s a favor I’m doing him. Did he do anything wrong?”
The man shook his head slowly.
“Not that I know of. But I’m sure it isn’t legal, him being up here. I’d say the rent I charged you is a steal.”
It was obvious what he was getting at, but she had to control her sudden anger.
“All right,” she muttered. “How much should it be, then?”
“He’s an Arab.”
The word he used was Arapis. Einai Arapis.
She concealed her slight shock—it was a crude old word.
“It doesn’t matter what he is.”
“Got nothing against them myself. But it’s illegal. If he’s an Arab it’s different.”
And the second time, as if registering her distaste, he had changed the word to the more normal Aravas.
“A hundred euros?” she tried.
It was an over-the-top bribe, and he seemed not to believe his luck for a moment. Perhaps he should push for more.
“I have fifty here,” she said. “I’ll give you fifty tomorrow.”
He took the notes and then stepped back a little.
“It should really be fifty a week extra for the risk I’m taking,” he said.
“It’s no risk.”
She wanted to snap at him, but it would get her nowhere and they both knew it. She gave him the fifty; he lowered the shotgun off his shoulders into the crux of his elbow and moved aside.
“If your boy steals anything, it’s you who pays,” he said as she walked away from him. “I’ll know where to find you.”
So you know who I am, she thought.
He watched her go up toward the hut.
“Remember that!” he called after her. “Even an egg.” Then he added, “Goustareis Araves?” Did she like Arabs?
The hut’s door was open and Faoud was sitting in the sun on the far side, out of view of her antagonist. He was drying his socks on flat stones and washing his face in a bowl of water. Naomi had brought him razors and shaving cream this time, and a small mirror from the pharmacy. He hadn’t asked for them, but it had seemed to her that it was the most expedient way to make him blend in with the Greeks. The shepherd now turned and walked away, the dog following him.