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happened at all - since Alexis had talked to someone like this. Her university tutor had occasionally listened to her as though what she said really mattered, but in her heart she knew that was only because she was paid to do so. It wasn’t long before Alexis was confiding in Fotini.
     
    ‘My mother has always been terribly secretive about her early life,’ she said. ‘All I really know is that she was born near here and brought up by her uncle and aunt - and that she left altogether when she was eighteen and never came back.’
     
    ‘Is that really all you know?’ Fotini asked. ‘Hasn’t she told you any more than that?’
     
    ‘No, nothing at all. That’s partly why I’m here. I want to know more. I want to know what made her turn her back on the past like that.’
     
    ‘But why now?’ enquired Fotini.
     
    ‘Oh, lots of reasons,’ said Alexis, looking down at her plate. ‘But mostly it’s to do with my boyfriend. I’ve realised lately how lucky my mother was to find my father - I’d always assumed that their relationship was typical.’
     
    ‘I’m glad they’re happy. It was a bit of a whirlwind at the time, but we were all very hopeful because they seemed so blissfully content.’
     
    ‘It’s odd, though. I know so little about my mother. She never talks about her childhood, never talks about living here—’
     
    ‘Doesn’t she?’ interjected Fotini.
     
    ‘What I feel,’ said Alexis, ‘is that to find out more about my mother might help me. She was fortunate to meet someone she could care so much about, but how did she know he would be the right person for ever? I’ve been with Ed for more than five years, and I’m not sure whether we should be together or not.’
     
    This statement was very uncharacteristic of the normally pragmatic Alexis, and she was aware that it might sound rather nebulous, almost fanciful, to someone she had known for less than two hours. Besides, she had strayed off the agenda; how could she expect this Greek woman, kindly as she was, to be interested in her?
     
    Stephanos approached at this moment to clear the dishes, and within minutes he was back with cups of coffee and two generous balloons of molasses-coloured brandy. Other customers had come and gone during the evening and, once again, the table Alexis occupied was the only one in use.
     
    Warmed by the hot coffee and even more so by the fiery Metaxa, Alexis asked Fotini how long she had known her mother.
     
    ‘Practically from the day she was born,’ the older woman replied. But she stopped there, feeling a great weight of responsibility. Who was she, Fotini Davaras, to tell this girl things about her family’s past that her own mother had clearly wanted to conceal from her? It was only at that moment that Fotini remembered the letter she had tucked into her apron. She pulled it out and, picking up a knife from the next table, quickly slit it open.
     
     
    Dear Fotini,
     
     
     
    Please forgive me for being out of touch for so long. I know I don’t need to explain the reasons to you, but believe me when I tell you that I think of you often. This is my daughter, Alexis. Will you treat her as kindly as you always treated me - I hardly need to ask it, do I?
     
    Alexis is very curious about her history - it’s understandable, but I have found it almost impossible to tell her anything. Isn’t it odd how the passage of time can make it harder than ever to bring things out into the open?
     
    I know she will ask you plenty of questions - she is a natural historian. Will you answer them? Your eyes and ears witnessed the whole story - I think you will be able to give her a truer account than I ever could.
     
    Paint a picture of it all for her, Fotini. She will be eternally grateful. Who knows - she may even return to England and be able to tell me things I never knew. Will you show her where I was born - I know she will be interested in that - and take her to Agios Nikolaos?
     
    This comes with