This girl, with her pale pink complexion, even looked as if she was made from sugar, he reflected.
The landlady took a bunch of keys from her pocket and jangled them.
‘What’s your lucky number, agápi mou?’ she asked.
Since childhood, Manolis had always felt that good fortune watched over him. But today, he no longer believed it. Luck had deserted him and its loss made him feel empty.
‘Well, if you can’t think of one,’ said the landlady cheerily, ‘we’ll put you in Room 9. It’s a nice one. View of the alleyway. And close to the bathroom. I think you’ll be happy.’
Anna had been born on the ninth of the month. It would have been the number he chose.
Another woman passed them on the stairs.
‘Kalispéra, Kyría Agathi,’ she said breathlessly, giving Manolis a cursory glance before continuing on her way.
‘We have one or two like her here,’ whispered the landlady when she was out of earshot. ‘But they don’t bring rough types back. And they mostly only work in the day. So don’t worry, it’s quiet at night.’
It was what Manolis would have expected for the price, and he had no objections. In the past, he had spent plenty of time in the company of prostitutes and did not doubt he would do so again.
The landlady unlocked a door at the end of the corridor and threw it open. The mattress was covered in stained ticking and there was a blanket hanging over the bedstead. In the corner stood a dark mahogany chest of drawers, and a jug and basin sat on the floor beneath the window. There was a broken wooden chair. It was just a place to throw some clothes. Manolis had stayed in many places worse than this, and it was no more spartan than his home in Elounda, even if his bedroom there had been bigger. He did not seek luxury.
‘So, five hundred and sixty drachmas a week including laundry and lighting. Any other extras are . . . extra. Payment is due at the end of each week. I know what happens when you men get your wages. You have none left by Sunday morning,’ she laughed. ‘So, you give me what I am owed first, and then you go out on the town!’
This Kyría Agathi was no fool. The cost had already risen, but Manolis forgave her. He had enough.
‘I’ll make sure to do that,’ he reassured her.
‘I don’t want to know anything about you except your name,’ she said.
‘Manolis,’ he answered plainly, not imagining for a moment that she meant what she said. Within a day or so, the name Vandoulakis might be in the newspapers even here on the other side of the Aegean, and he had no wish to be asked questions by this kind-hearted but no doubt gossipy type.
‘Manolis,’ she repeated with a smile. ‘I suppose you did just step off the boat from Crete.’
Manolis nodded.
‘No women in your room. And no animals – I had someone in here with a monkey last year and it stank. So I’m strict about that.’
‘What about those?’ Manolis had just spotted a small creature dart across the room. It was now quivering in the corner.
‘Oh yes. You are allowed a pet mouse. I make an exception for them.’
Manolis laughed good-naturedly. He liked this woman. She was quick-witted and clearly happy that he appreciated her joke.
‘Well, I’ll just find you some bed linen. Then we’ll be done for now.’
She returned five minutes later, singing under her breath, with some grey-looking sheets and a second, even rougher-looking woollen blanket, and made up his bed. While she was busy, Manolis gazed down into the alleyway below. It was empty but for some stray dogs.
As soon as she had done her work, she fiddled with her bunch of keys and handed over the one for Manolis’s room. Then she gave the rather lifeless pillow a final plumping and straightened the blanket now lying across the bed. However uninviting it looked, he could hardly wait to be in it. Fatigue was beginning to overwhelm him.
‘Thank you, Kyría Agathi,’ he said politely.
‘No doubt I’ll see you in a few days,’ she said, standing by the open door. ‘I sweep your room once a week.’
Manolis nodded. His landlady left.
He sat down on the bed, pulled off his boots and then stood up again to remove his clothes. As he took off his trousers, he heard the tinkling of something falling to the floor. He stooped to retrieve Anna’s earring and rested it in his palm for a moment. The photograph was still in his shirt pocket, and only now did he allow himself to take it out and gaze at the face of the woman he had loved.
With his hand closed around the aquamarines, he slid the photograph under his pillow and climbed, exhausted, into bed.
Sleep overwhelmed him immediately, but in the airless room, he spent a haunted night. He was constantly pursued but never caught: by Andreas, by Antonis, by his uncle, by Giorgos, and by people from the distant past who still lurked in his subconscious. Wherever he hid, someone found him. He ran and ran, panting and screaming, only just keeping ahead of the chase. He turned into a hunted animal, a creature with matted fur and bloodied paws. He was weighed down by mud and rotting leaves as he tried to find refuge.
When he eventually woke, sweating and crying, his pillow damp with tears, his sheets with sweat, Kyría Agathi was standing by his bedside. The sun was streaming through an open window.
‘I thought someone was attacking you, Kýrie Manolis,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I was sure a murder was happening under my very own roof.’
Manolis sat up, rubbing his eyes. Where was he? Who was this woman holding out a glass? It took him a moment to emerge from the leafy undergrowth of his dream.
‘Even the girls were complaining. And it’s a mighty strange thing when they moan about noise. What a sleep you’ve had.’
Manolis sat up, took the water from Kyría Agathi and gulped it down. He was aware of her watching him, head tipped to one side.
‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ she said, taking the glass from him. ‘You must have needed that rest. I’ll be off now.’
Kyría Agathi had not looked at her new lodger closely the previous day, but she did now. In all her years of running this establishment, she had not taken in such a good-looking man.
Manolis was aware of her gaze. He was well used to the stares of women.
‘Thank you for the drink, Kyría Agathi,’ he said. It was beyond him to smile.
‘A pleasure,’ she replied. ‘And don’t worry about the “Kyría”.’
As soon as she had left the room, Manolis got up. He tried to forget his nightmares and hoped that the next time he slept, Anna would appear. He needed to see her.
He washed and dressed and then went out into the street. The day had more or less gone and birds were gathering on nearby buildings, some of them preparing to fly south for the winter.
He strolled for a few kilometres along the waterfront. Loading and unloading at the docks had finished for the day, and the shipbuilding and repair yards were silent. Everyone had stopped working, but there were still plenty of people standing about, discussing what they would be doing the following day. The tables outside the kafeneía were filling up. The whole of the promenade was lined with places to eat and drink and there were already very few spare tables. Thousands of workers stopped at once and all had the same idea. After a hard day’s work, hunger and thirst had to be sated.