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The coastguard had come to her door in the middle of the night to say Dimitrios’s boat had been spotted ablaze, and as his family had arrived she had dashed to the bedroom to get dressed.
Dressed in whatever one wore wear when one’s husband was missing at sea.
Get dressed, Roula, she’d told herself.
She had walked into the bedroom and closed the door. The sound of a helicopter had been loud overhead and the wail of the sirens urgent as she’d glanced at the bed.
A couple of her long red hairs had lain on the pillow. She usually picked them off and then turned the pillow over. But that morning her hand had reached out and then pulled back...
She’d heard the wailing and sobbing starting up outside as she’d stood there and stared at her marital bed.
Please God, she had silently begged, may I never have to set foot in that bed again.
And to this very day Roula slept on the couch.
