At seven Naomi went down to the port to meet Carissa on the ferry. She dressed in black like a young widow, with sunglasses and red lipstick, and sat at the cafe closest to the dock where the boat would arrive. Carissa saw her at once as she came down the gangplank: healthy-looking, slightly plumper, having gorged on mama’s cooking for a few days. She wore a new dress and looked, to Naomi’s eyes, completely different—suaver and less demoralized. It was the effect, too, of not having to endure Phaine’s bullying and Jimmie’s priapic antics. She had gone back to her people and she had thrived. Perhaps it would make her more difficult to deal with.
It was the first thing that occurred to Naomi, and it turned out to be true. They rented a donkey to carry Carissa’s lone bag up to the villa, and on the way they stopped in leisurely fashion at a bar. The employer-employee relation had disappeared completely. They had always liked each other and had always been complicit. But now that the Codringtons were dead the pivot had shifted and Carissa had lost her mild subservience.
Her Greek was rough and obscene now, and she bawled with laughter when the barmen made jokes that were directed at the two single girls. Naomi was ruffled, but she held her own. She thought she might as well broach the difficult subject at once, and she asked Carissa if she really wanted to carry on working at the house now that it served no purpose.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” the girl said without even blinking. “You know I’ve been with your family for seven years. But I saved up some money.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Now that the master and madame are gone, it would feel awkward carrying on there. You don’t need a maid.”
“No, I don’t,” Naomi said.
“So I don’t know about staying on with you. But I have the feeling you’ve made that decision already.”
“I have?”
“I think you have, Naomi. What do you want me to do?”
“I hadn’t thought about it as me wanting you to do something.”
“You want me to disappear, though. It would be better for you.”
“I’m grateful that you did what you did.”
“I’m grateful for the money. But it won’t be enough, I’m afraid. I can go away tomorrow if you like. You see, I want to buy a shop in my home village. I found the place. I figure the master must have been worth several million.”
They were in a narrow alley, the cafe tables pressed hard against the walls. The air was thick with stupefied wasps attracted to the unremoved alcoholic glasses standing on the tables. Naomi lowered her voice and leaned in a little so that absolutely nothing she said would be heard.
“Maybe we should discuss this up at the villa?”
“As you like. I really don’t mind where we discuss it.”
“But you know, Carissa—I didn’t do anything for money. It was all an accident.”
“Yeah, whatever it was. But it came in handy anyway.”
“It’s not really as simple as that, is it?”
“I don’t know how simple it is,” Carissa said. “Why don’t you tell me? For all I know, you wanted them dead.”
They were silent as they climbed up to the house. Once there, Carissa made them tea and they sat on the terrace in the shade.
“If you can pay me tomorrow,” the maid said, “I can just leave right away and go back to my mother. My mother won’t ask any questions. What do you think?”
“It depends how much you want.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I know the estate won’t be settled for a long time and until your family decides what happened to your father. Maybe they won’t settle it at all. But I’m sure you can access the money.”
“How would I do that?”
“You can do it, Naomi. I know you.”
Naomi held her tongue, because maids always knew more than they let on. They knew everything, in fact.
“It would be pretty dangerous to take out any large sums,” she said. “Don’t you think?”
“You can pay in installments, I don’t mind. There’s no hurry. I was thinking—you could do fifty thousand euros. It’s not too much to ask. I know what the bank balances are and it’s not too much. It wouldn’t be a burden on you.”
“You have it all worked out, don’t you?”
“I didn’t sign up for being an accessory to murder, you know. It’s not fair to me. Not at all. It’s your fault it happened that way.”
“Yes,” Naomi said bitterly, “you’re right. It is. In a way, it is.”
“I know you couldn’t have foreseen it. But it was a stupid plan that was bound to go wrong. Now I’m ruined by it.”
“You’re not ruined.”
“If the police show up, I have to disappear. And I want that shop when I disappear. But I need money to do it.”
“All right, I understand. I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re just selfish. You always were selfish, Naomi. It wasn’t about helping the migrant, it was about you and your father and Phaine. I know, they were cruel to you. It’s not entirely your fault.”
“But I can’t give you fifty grand just like that. If I get you five, will you go back to the mainland? You’ll have to trust me for the rest.”
“No, Naomi, you’ll have to trust me. But I know you’ll send it, because it would be pretty bad if you didn’t.”
Naomi sipped her tea and decided to be as cordial as she could.
“You’re a very good blackmailer,” she said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you had it in you. But I understand. It’s nothing personal, is it?”
“On the contrary. It’s very personal. I wasted seven years of my life here slaving for you. I’m not letting it go to waste. Five thousand and I’ll leave tomorrow.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Of course it’s a promise. Don’t be silly. I don’t want to be here anyway.”
“You’ll go back to your mother’s village?”
“I’d be happier that way. I told you I found the perfect shop to buy.”
Naomi got up and went to the kitchen to look for some honey to spoon into her tea. She found the honey, took out the spool, and dripped a small amount into the center of a saucer. She then opened the rackety utensils drawer and saw her father’s cooking knives laid out in their rows, some of them large and serrated. She picked one out, turned it against the opposing palm. The girl had half turned in her chair on the terrace, gazing out from the shade at the mountains, but her ears twitched with feral intuitions. Naomi replaced the knife and closed the drawer. When she returned to the coffee table she scooped the honey into her cup and her unstable hand immediately caught Carissa’s attention.
“Are you upset?” she asked Naomi.
“No. I’m just trying to think everything out. I can’t sleep at night, too—you should give me some of your hemlock tea.”
“But I left it here for you.”
Naomi blinked, and a faint redness appeared at the tops of her cheeks.
“I didn’t notice. But speaking of that, I did want to ask you something. I can’t understand how he could have woken up like he did. After you gave him the tea—”
“It can happen.”
“Maybe it can. But did you give them the full dose?”
“What are you saying?”
“I mean, did you give them the full dose, Carissa?”
“I told you I did.”
“Then he couldn’t have woken up.”
Carissa’s fingers had dug into the arms of her chair and her teeth had set. There was a short tussle of words, the mutual anger rose, and then Naomi gave up on it and said that in the end it didn’t matter. What was done was done. But now, regardless, she didn’t believe that Carissa had given them a full dose. The girl had employed a considerable cunning to get her way.