Picasso's Envy, page 24
As I walked in the door, my father said, “Ah, here she is. We’re going exploring. See where our noses take us. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I looked at him with a new awareness.
“What’s up, Bellie?” he said.
Was he curious or just concerned for my reaction towards him?
“I spoke with Fahim.”
“Good girl. That’s out of your system, then. I’m surprised he’s still around.”
“He was throwing a party for the coastguard. He told me of the plans for Neills.”
“Okay, good … let’s get going then.”
“No, dad. The plans … your plans for Neills.”
“Oh … and what would they be?”
“You darn well know. Leaving him to die in the desert?”
“What?” said Pete.
“Don’t believe everything that man says, Bellie. He’s a born liar.”
“Fahim is carrying out your wishes in repayment for you not laying any charges against him with the Greek authorities.”
“Why are you so concerned? Think of what he was about to do to you.”
“So, you are admitting it. Neills is your son, daddy.”
My father did not reply.
“Fahim was not interested in hurting me. He was just playing along with Neills.”
This was one of my questions that remained unanswered, but I was going for it.
“It sounds to me like you’re believing that man over me, your own father.”
“Well, you explain, then. Why would Fahim go to all that trouble to be rid of Neills?”
“I’m disappointed in you, Bellie. I thought you would have more loyalty than that, considering I have come halfway around the world, at great expense, to save you. I suggest we do not discuss this again and we enjoy our trip back to England together. First, we’ll finish seeing Athens.”
The ground beneath me felt like quicksand. He was twisting my words and thoughts as Fahim had done. He still had a hold over me. A hold I hadn’t realised was so tight.
My father rang our mother before we left Athens. I’d spoken with her when the coastguard first brought me back to Piraeus. She’d wept with relief. This time she was bubbly and cheery. She said George was trying to persuade her to make the long trip to London, but she was having a grand old time with all her girlfriends. She sounded different. Carefree. I feared my father would not get the pampering he was used to when he returned. I was surprised she didn’t question me about my return to Australia and my betrothal to Clive. All she said on that matter was that Clive would like a phone call too. I didn’t get around to ringing him. The time wasn’t right for me.
We completed our sightseeing of Athens and, by order of my father, nothing more was said of my experience. Peter obeyed that order too. From Athens we took trains, staying two or three days in the big cities, en route. Travelling and sightseeing with my brother and the warmth of being almost a complete family unit, helped me pack away my ordeal into a cupboard and close the door. I hadn’t known, but my brother and father loved the buzz of cities. The bigger the better. Me? I didn’t mind and was happy enough to give over to their enjoyment. Although I’d visited some of the cities travelling in the Kombi, many places I had not visited. It had been too expensive to stay in cities with few, if any, camping sites, so we had stayed in smaller towns.
Once we arrived in Paris and I’d seen the sights with Pete and dad, I took the right-hand turn to Eva’s in Holland.
We were both excited to see each other. It was time together, to have fun, laugh and explore. She showed me all her favourite haunts in Holland and, by the time we finished, there was no time to travel further afield. Eva had a job to get back to, and I had to return to London. My father said he’d stay in London until I arrived. He would then decide whether to stay on before returning to Australia. He intended to again ask Lucy to join him, now that my troubles, as he called them, were over.
My father met me at the train station in London. I’d sent a telegram to Pete’s work, letting him know of my arrival. Dad had moved out of Pete’s tiny bedsit and was staying locally in a small hotel. He said the accommodation was big enough for both of us.
Something in my gut told me the games had just begun.
Seventy-two
During the time I’d been with Eva, dad had become the local character at Pete’s drinking hole, The Swindlers Alms. Peter had always been popular, but now there was a double act. The proprietors of the pub where Pete worked, the Ferret and Fox, complained they were losing business to Swindlers. Where was the lad’s loyalty?
My father had by now learnt Pete was not working as some high-flyer in London’s square mile, but as a simple barman. Dad shrugged and said a lad has to do what a lad has to do. He didn’t tell my mother, all the same. Perhaps it was better my mother didn’t make the trip.
My father managed to drag himself away from the pub long enough for the two of us to experience London, with Pete joining when he could. There was a lot I hadn’t seen. It was all happening at that time. Music, clothes, attitude; a brand-new culture. Dad enjoyed it as much as I did, and I feared he might delay his return.
As had become our routine, the three of us walked to the Swindlers for lunch, before Pete started his afternoon shift.
“How come you drink at The Swindlers Alms, Pete?” I asked, having meant to ask months ago. “You frequent one and work at another up the road. What’s the story?”
“Nothing special. When I arrived, I thought the easiest way into the city was through the pub. If I became a local, I’d find work. The Ferret and Fox took me on. By then I’d been chatting to a few blokes at the Swindlers, locals mostly and some out of towners. I’d made friends, so I kept it as my local. I wanted to be in London, mixing with Londoners. I didn’t want to just swim on the surface and sightsee.
“It’s not a posh pub, as you know, but I think it has atmosphere. And it’s very old, as so many are. I meet all sorts, from top businessmen and creative types, to ordinary mums and dads, and low life. They’re always interesting. I never did find that other job. But I never really looked. I like drinking here and I like working at the pub up the road … easy. I get invitations to stay in England and all over Europe.”
Dad nudged me. “This son of mine might never come home. Not that I blame him. Though when you meet the love of your life, Peter my boy, you might change your mind.”
By then we’d reached the Swindlers.
The usual routine was to go to the bar first, order drinks and food, catch up on the latest from the bar person, then move to a table and wait for lunch.
“Someone’s been waiting for you,” the barman said.
He nodded his head to the left. We turned.
“Nice to see you again.” A hand was offered.
The three of us stood, mouths agape, too stunned to move.
“Well, if you won’t shake my hand, let me buy you all a drink.” Neills nodded to the barman, “I’ll get this round and make mine a lime and soda.”
We watched the barman pour the drinks so intensely, he said, “Everything okay?”
“I’ve booked a table, over in the corner there. Private, can’t be overheard,” Neills said. “You all seem shocked. Were you expecting never to see me again? The end of a chapter?”
We continued to stare at him. “An answer would be good.” He waited. “Okay, grab your drinks and I’ll fill you in.”
We crossed the room like robots, taking our seats like they were red hot coals.
“You … got out of the desert?” I said.
“Fahim never had any intention of dumping me in the desert. In fact, he was shocked at your cruel suggestion, George. Fahim said he could never do that to one of his sons. He did ask me to pass on his thanks for not bringing charges, though. And of course, he thanked you, Annabelle, for the same. He gave me a handsome commission for getting you on board. He has plenty of photographs and movies to paint from.”
My father finally found his voice. “What do you want from me, Neills?”
“Recognition that I’m your son.” Without waiting for my father’s answer, he said, “Hold that recognition for the moment. That will come. I’ve upped the price. But first.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Our expectant silence darkened.
“I want another form of recognition.” Neills raised his hand and waved someone over.
A tall, striking, slender woman glided across the room. She smiled. The room lit up. Although older, she was beautiful.
Seventy-three
“You remember my mother, George? … Kirsten,” Neills said. He nodded to Pete and me, “my mother.” He turned to his mother. “Mor … this is my half-sister Annabelle and my half-brother Peter.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
Still so stunning, I wondered what she had been like back then. My mother was also beautiful, but there was a calmness about Kirsten. Maybe my father preferred my mother’s more scatty, excitable and energetic ways. I looked at my father. He looked engulfed in awkwardness and anger.
“George, it’s been such a long time,” said Kirsten. “I’m glad you agreed to see me.”
Agreed? Underneath the calmness, she was no fool.
“What do you both want?” my father said.
I sat mesmerised by this woman and my father’s reaction, after more than a quarter of a century. I found it hard to imagine what that must feel like. He must have thought about her and his son. The energy around my father felt ready to explode.
To break the impasse, Pete stood, reached across and offered his hand to Kirsten. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Was my brother deliberately trying to annoy our father, or was he being diplomatic? A brief chat ensued as Pete enquired after their trip to London.
Instead of relaxing the situation, my father galloped towards breaking point.
“You’ve tried to belittle me, but it hasn’t worked,” my father said, venom in his tone.
There was a sharp group intake of breath at his outburst.
“You think you’ve cornered me, but I have news for you. Especially now. You will get nothing from me. Not only because of this affront to me, but because you tortured my daughter. Yes Kirsten, you may not know, but he terrified my daughter to extort money out of me. She was in fear for her life. You have raised an evil son.”
He glared at both Kirsten and Neills. There was no reaction from either.
“Come, kids,” he said to us, “we’re going.”
“Sit.”
Neills’s tone was equally strong. I didn’t know he had it in him. We stayed seated.
“You owe my mother, you owe me. As you won’t give us recognition any other way, I’m giving you twenty-four hours. Twenty thousand pounds sterling. Not a lot for you, George. It will go to my mother. Something to set up her retirement. A small amount of what you should have paid towards child support. Twenty-four hours … come mor.”
To us, all Neills said, “Back here same time tomorrow.”
“Sit.” My father’s turn. “Or what? You really think I’m threatened by your demands?”
“Have you forgotten your past George? The one you ran from all those years ago. Many haven’t.”
“Rubbish. What past? Something you’ve made up in that evil mind of yours,” said my father.
“You probably wish that were true. Maybe you even have regrets? Somehow, I doubt it. Your actions never show any remorse … Kristos Aristos Pagonis.”
My father’s tan drained to white. Pete and I looked at him.
“What?” we said in unison.
“Ah … I can see you do remember and have not mentioned it to your children.”
“What is he talking about, daddy?” I said.
“A good question Annabelle,” Neills said. “George was your father’s best friend. During the Second World War, as George lay seriously injured in a ditch, your father, Kristos, swapped his identity with George. Who knows if he died of the Germans’ gunshots or if his death was hurried along by Kristos. Your father was wounded too. I bet you still have those scars on your back, eh Kristos?”
Oh my God. I had seen those scars. Dad told me he got them when he first arrived in Australia. He’d been injured working on a building site. When I was little and we were at the beach, I’d trace them with my tiny hands.
“You thought you could just walk away, didn’t you, Kristos? You didn’t realise the Germans, who had aimed to kill you, watched with amazement. They then captured you. Admittedly you were probably tortured, just enough for you to agree to spy for them. How wonderful to find someone with no moral compass to do some dirty work for them. They allowed you to keep your new identity. Your family and the real George’s family thought you were both dead, though they never did find your body. Eh, Kristos? The other body so mutilated, it could have been anyone.
“You were sent deep into Europe to spy. What a prize for those nondescript German soldiers outposted on a Greek Island. When the war ended, your superiors fled, leaving you to your own devices. You’d supposedly married my mother by then and I’d been born. You, my mother and baby me joined the queues and hiked it to Australia, before truths of the war started to surface.
“And here’s another important fact, Kristos. The marriage you told my mother was fake, in fact was legitimate. I’ve checked the Dutch records. Even though the war years were chaotic, the Dutch were good record-keepers. And my birth in the Netherlands was also recorded. Marriages took place quickly in those times. Who knew how long anyone had to live? You loved that fact, didn’t you Kristos?”
Pete and I looked at one another. At least Neills was born legitimately, which must have important in those days. I wondered when daddy got divorced.
Neills wasn’t finished.
“All that aside, something else puzzles me, George … why you needed to get a new identity at all? What had you done before the war? Or even at the beginning of it? Maybe if I continue to dig, I’ll find out.”
I looked across to Kirsten. She obviously knew the story and sat patiently awaiting its outcome.
My father gazed at Neills as though not seeing him. He sat very still. Not even a flicker crossed his face. Ghost white. The air from his body already discharged. He’d visibly shrunk. With a sudden gasp, his reflexes took in air. No one spoke. All eyes were on my father, though after a minute I had to look away. It was too dreadful, too painful, to see his unspoken admission.
“Okay, George. We’re leaving now,” said Neills. “As I said, same time tomorrow with twenty thousand pounds in cash. It’s possible, so don’t tell me otherwise. And to the … or what. The News of the World licks its lips for a story like this. It would go across the world, of course. To Australia, to all your business colleagues, your social circle, not to mention your wife. And your daughter? What of her chances for a good marriage? So important to her mother and probably, deep down, to her too.”
Neills looked to me and smiled.
Patronising shit.
“Then there’s Peter’s reputation here in London. He’s well liked, as you know. He mixes well with people, from the very rich to the very poor. The upstanding and the dodgy. He also has a good heart. You’ve probably observed that. Not sure where he got that, perhaps his mother? He’s started making his way here in London. He has an excellent reputation, which of course would be ruined if the newspaper got hold of this. The world loves nothing better than a scandalous war story. Fairly common in Europe and England, but perhaps rarer in Australia. They’re going to love it over there.”
Seventy-four
My father recovered his composure. His chest involuntarily filled with air. His spine uncurled. The body programmed to survive.
“You have no proof of anything,” he said to Neills.
Neills and Kirsten were standing, ready to leave. Neills turned.
“Oh … but I do.”
Our food arrived.
“I’ve been to the island, your island,” Neills said. “I spoke with the parents of Kristos Aristos Pagonis. Only your very old mother and your brother live on the island. Your father died some years ago, in case you didn’t know, Kristos. He died of a broken heart, they say. Your brother takes care of your mother. His wife has passed, and his children have left the island.
“The family of Kristos received their son’s broken and mutilated body. All these years they felt that body wasn’t their son. George’s family lived in hope that one day their son would return. He never did, did he?
“The war was just ending. The Germans were still stationed on Amorgos and one of them gave away the truth. This German was a chatty type of fellow and liked to be friendly with the locals. He made a special effort to hand over the real George Lagoudakis’s personal items, few as they were, to his family. The son believed to be missing but not killed. The locals felt this was strange. Had he run away? Had he defected to the Germans? They could never believe he would do that.
“The Germans then made a hasty retreat, to the Fatherland.
“Your poor friend, George Theodore Lagoudakis. What of his family? A question always hung. In time, young people have their own lives to live and most of them have left.”
“We went there,” I said.
The words tumbled out before I could control them.
“We went to Amorgos. Is that where you’re from, daddy?”
Neills jumped in. “No. We were so near to your father’s island. But Amorgos is not it. Though that’s where the capture and killing took place.”
I opened my mouth, about to express my shock. I was there. I was on that island of Amorgos. The island I found so beautiful. The island that held such a grisly secret. And Neills had been with me, knowing all the time about my father’s duplicity. My father must have seen me about to speak.
