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slim as ever, something she took care over with regular visits to the gym at the university’s sport centre. She had taken early retirement from teaching the year before and commenced a part-time Masters degree to give a focus to her life. Then as her mother passed out of sight on the landing, Anna approached the dining-room door and knocked lightly on the dark stained wood.
    A reedy voice called out, ‘Come in, girl! Come in.’
    Anna turned the handle and entered. The room had been sparsely furnished when it had been a dining room. That had been her mother’s taste in decor. But now Eleni’s stamp was on every aspect. A bed sat in one corner with a crocheted coverlet spread neatly over the top blanket. There was a small walnut table beside the bed with a pink fabric lampshade atop a carved wooden stand. There was a bookshelf filled with books, mostly in Greek, a sewing box, long since abandoned as age took its toll on her joints, but kept all the same. Two armchairs were either side of a side table by the window which overlooked the small garden at the rear of the house, and was framed by long velvet curtains. A large patterned carpet covered most of the wooden floor and a mock wood-burner fan heater sat in the fireplace, beneath a mantel laden with framed family pictures. There was a stale smell in the room, a reminder of the days when she had smoked before her daughter had told her to stop and refused to buy any more cigarettes for her.
    Eleni was standing in the middle of the room, one hand clutched about the handle of her walking stick while the other was extended towards Anna. Her hair, once long and jet-black, was now a dirty-looking grey and shoulder-length, tied back to reveal the heavily lined skin stretched over her skull. She wore a navy cardigan over a white blouse and a long dark skirt and thick stockings that disappeared into a fluffy pair of slippers. Her thin lips parted in a smile.
    ‘Anna . . .’ There was a breathless coarseness to her voice that came from many years of smoking. ‘My dear Anna.’
    Anna crossed the room and took the old lady’s hand, feeling the tremor in the stick-like fingers. Eleni gave a quick squeeze and presented her cheek for a kiss, which Anna gave willingly before she stood back half a pace to look over her grandmother.
    ‘How are you feeling?’
    ‘Feeling? I am feeling as an old woman should. Stiff and delicate. What do you think someone of my age feels, hah?’
    Anna smiled. ‘As up for it as ever. Good for you, Yiayia.’
    ‘Up? What? Never mind. Come, we go to the kitchen. Your mother prepares coffee for us.’ She released Anna’s hand and tapped her ear. ‘Still good.’
    She paced slowly across to the door with the aid of her stick. Anna went to help her, supporting her arm, but the old lady shook her off at once with a brisk jolt of her shoulder and Anna raised her hands in mock resignation. They made their way through to the kitchen where a long counter extended against one wall, with a gas cooker dominating the centre. On the other side of the room was a large wooden table surrounded by chairs with leather backs. It was a warm room, and light flooded in through the tall sash window beside the table. Anna’s mother rejoined them as Eleni eased herself on to the chair at the head of the table. She rested her stick against the wall and settled down, straight-backed and imperious as her dark eyes looked over her granddaughter.
    ‘Are you eating well, Anna? You look thin.’
    ‘I’m eating properly, Yiayia.’
    ‘Pshhh!’ Eleni turned to her daughter. ‘Look at her, Marita. Thin as a rake. You need to find a good man and settle down and eat properly.’
    ‘There’s a few things I want to do before I do that,’ said Anna. ‘Quite a few things actually.’
    ‘We all say that, my dear.’ Eleni leaned forward a fraction. ‘You should get married.’
    Anna had become used to such comments, and had endured them with regard to the two previous serious