There were also a number of portraits, including several of the same woman at different stages of life. In one, she was young and attractive, perching coquettishly on a garden table in a silk floral dress, with a nipped-in waist and pussy bow. Dark curls peeked out from beneath her felt hat, set at a jaunty angle, and her red mouth curved upwards in a teasing little smile.
Next door, there was another painting of her in middle age, and a third when she was much older. Her hair, though still curly, was now white. Deep wrinkles encircled her eyes and she had sagging skin on her neck, around which hung a string of pearls.
She was wearing a pale-yellow twinset, typical of the 1950s, when Stella guessed the portrait had been done.
This time, however, there was no smile. The woman looked composed but tired, perhaps even a little bit sad. She had an air of quiet resignation, as if life had dealt her a disappointing hand, but she was determined to endure it with dignity.
Stella suspected she was the former lady of the house, though she couldn’t confirm it. Elsewhere, she noticed two paintings, clearly done by the same artist, of a handsome, distinguished-looking man, who was probably the woman’s husband. From his confident, upright, commanding demeanour, she guessed this was Leo Skordyles, the former mayor of Sfakia.
To her surprise, hanging in a prominent position on one of the walls, there was also a portrait of a young Katerina, who’d evidently been quite a beauty. Stella wondered who’d commissioned the painting and why. It struck her as unusual to have a picture of a servant on display. The previous owners must have been very fond of the housekeeper.
They had also amassed quite a collection of pots, including a strange terracotta vase in the form of a bull’s head, which sat on top of the piano.
Another of the anterooms was filled from floor to ceiling with books. Stella couldn’t read the Greek titles, but stopped to look at some of the covers.
Her gaze fell on a large, handsome hardback, which she pulled out.
She blew on the spine several times to clear away the dust, which went everywhere, including up her nose, making it itch. Her eyes watered, too, and she wiped them with the back of her arm.
The tome was very heavy and had a picture of an eagle on the front and a handwritten inscription on the first page. Her interest piqued, she settled on a red leather chair and quickly flicked to the middle section, which was filled with black and white photographs.
Soon, she was poring over images of Crete in years gone by: two elderly men with big, twirling moustaches sipping coffee outside an old-fashioned café, enjoying the passing scene; a peasant woman in a white headscarf on a donkey, with a baby in her arms and an older child behind, trudging into town, laden with baskets.
Although Crete had obviously changed enormously since those times, Stella couldn’t help thinking life for folk like Katerina and her neighbour, Eleni, the old woman who kept the chickens, perhaps wasn’t so very different.
After all, there weren’t any trains or buses, let alone cars, and they both had to walk up and down the steep mountain to fetch food, or keep livestock and cultivate their land so they could feed themselves.
Likewise, there were no cinemas or theatres nearby and socialising mostly took place, as it always had, in local cafés or people’s homes.
On turning to the next page, Stella noticed a small, loose, black and white photo, which she picked up. It must have been placed there for a reason, she mused, examining it with curiosity.
It was quite a casual-looking snap of two women.
There was nothing written on the back to identify who they were but that didn’t matter, as Stella recognised them instantly anyway.
The lady in the paintings she’d just seen was sitting on a garden bench smiling, her head resting comfortably on Katerina’s bosom.
Although the housekeeper was considerably younger, the way she was posing gave the impression that she was the mother, with an arm round the other woman’s shoulders, giving her a protective hug.
How Stella wished Katerina would appear right now and tell her the story behind the image! She popped the photo in an empty vase on the little table beside her, telling herself it would be quite safe there. She’d show it to the housekeeper next time they met, before returning it to its original hiding place.
Having seen enough of the books, she rose and strolled into the study area. Small and dark, it contained a mahogany bureau with a folding lid and brass handles, more chairs and an antique wooden table with a chessboard on top.
Intrigued by her photograph find, she walked straight over to the desk and opened the lid. A furtive glance over her shoulder confirmed no one was watching, so she eagerly turned her attention to what was inside. Anticipation soon turned to disappointment, however. The six pigeonholes were empty, as were the drawers beneath.
If the desk had once been in use, it had clearly been emptied and was now there just for show. It even smelled of lavender polish, rather than the slightly musty scent she associated with workspaces piled high with old books, pens and stacks of paper.
Closing the lid, she turned away in disgust. She’d done enough investigating for the day. Jon or no Jon, she wanted a swim, some lunch and a couple of hours in the sun. She deserved it; she’d paid for it, after all.
Her swimsuit and beach towel were on the back of one of the garden chairs, where she’d hung them last night to dry. As no one was about, she dodged behind a bush to change, plonking her clothes on the table to pick up later.
It was almost 2p.m. and the heat was so intense, she found herself hopping along the path leading to the pool to stop the baking flagstones from burning her bare feet.
Louise had moved her lounger into the shade under a tree and was reading a magazine. Meanwhile, Jon was spread-eagled on his seat by the water’s edge, still apparently sleeping after all this time.
‘D’you think he’s okay?’ Stella whispered to Louise when she was close enough to be heard. ‘I hope he’s wearing sunscreen.’
Louise put down her magazine and glanced at Jon disapprovingly.
