Daughter of the Winds by Jo Bunt Page B

a flourish. She brought a morning cup of tea with a beaming smile on her face. “Morning! Ceasefire! Thank God for that, eh? You can get back home now and get on with bringing that bairn into the world. Let’s get you packed up.”
    “ Right. Yes. Well that’s good, isn’t it?” offered Pru half-heartedly.
    Betty laughed . “You don’t sound too happy aboot it!”
    “ No, I am. It’s just... well, I’ve got used to being here now.”
    “ Ha! And you were such a sourpuss when you arrived here, looking down yer nose at us.”
    Pru coloured with embarrassment and looked down at her cup of tea intently.
    “Bless yeh. I’m only joking.” Betty pinched her cheek “I’ll never be far away! And just you try keeping me away from that bairn when it comes,” she chuckled, and together they packed Pru’s bag ready for home.
    Neither of the women knew that this would be the last time that they would see each other without the weight of tragedy on their shoulders.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter seven
     
    The sun was fleeing west by the time I arrived at the taverna. In the restaurant heads bobbed and bowed over plates of green olives. With rising panic I wondered whether I should have booked, after all, it was a Saturday evening. George did say to come by tonight, but how firm an arrangement had that been?
    “ Writer Lady. You are welcome!”
    A sigh of relief escaped my mouth too loudly. The swarthy man held my upper arms and kissed me on both cheeks.
    “ Good evening, George. Are you able to squeeze me in tonight?”
    “ Of course! Come. Your table is upstairs.”
    I followed George up the same stairs that I ’d noticed on my first visit. Three sides of the room were open to the gentle breeze and most people were sitting at these outside tables with natural air conditioning and beautiful views.
    I followed George past a couple holding hands across the table, gazing at each other with the fresh budding of love in their eyes. The next couple we passed were a more familiar sight to me. They sat in dense, foreboding silence. Both were looking in the vague direction of the sea and twisting the stems of their wine glasses. Their constricting wedding rings were choking the sensation out of fingers once used to cajole and caress.
    I almost walked into the back o f George as he stopped and motioned grandly to an oblong table set for four people.
    “ Oh. I will be dining on my own tonight, George,” I said with a touch of embarrassment.
    “ I know. But you need much space for mezze. No?” He laughed that warm, throaty chuckle that made me smile with him. “And, anyway. There must be two people for mezze. For you, Writer Lady, I allow it to be one person. But don’t tell the boss!”
    “ Thank you, George. That’s very kind of you,” I said as he pulled a chair out for me. “I am very much looking forward to it.”
    “ Drink?”
    “ White wine. Whichever you recommend, and some water as well, thank you.”
    “ Certainly. Would you like the fish mezze or the meat mezze or a mixture of both?”
    “ I’ll have the fish mezze tonight, George.”
    “ Of course, you can sample our meat mezze another evening, yes? My son, Stefanos , will serve you this evening.”
    George picked up the three unwanted wine glasses from the table as I laid the red paper napkin across my lap.
    “ And The Pleiades? It is nice, yes? Antheia is looking after you?”
    “ Yes, it’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much for fixing that up for me George.”
    “ You are welcome. I must see to my other customers. Enjoy your meal.” He nodded at me.
    “ Thank you.”
    I exhaled an d allowed my shoulders to drop away from my ears. The sea, still rich with the orange glow of the sun, was to my left and the hubbub of the restaurant was to my right. The sky was opulent with a pink haze the colour of Turkish delight, wisps of cloud powdering the confectionery.
    From my elevated position I looked down upon the deserted beach. The day’s