Chapter 5

By ten-thirty I was in bed, compared to other night which was after midnight. I was up from the crack of dawn the next day. It was before Father Petrou arrived, with breakfast prepared for two. It was a full English breakfast, consisting of sausages, eggs, beans and toast. I was preoccupied over the cooker when Father Petrou startled me.

“I hope you haven’t prepared anything for me, Tony? I am fasting,” he said.

With two plates in my hand, I turned around. “Nativity Fast, right?” I said.

He nodded his head.

“Forgive me. I forgot,” I said. I made him a cup of tea and poured myself some coffee. We both sat at the table, while I nibbled at the beans and egg. “Sorry, Father I’m going to half fast today.” I pushed the sausages to one side of the plate. He smiled, as he watched me bury my face in the food.

“Tony I wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s up, Father.” I was gathering the last of my beans with a piece of toast.

“I found an envelope, in my office a few weeks back. Under the Bible, I keep on my desk.”

I nodded my head. I knew where he was going with this.

“It had a stack of twenty-pound notes inside. If my memory is correct, it was the day after your mother-in-law came to see you. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

My hand froze in mid-air, with the toast between my thumb and index finger. “How much money are you talking about, Father?” I asked.

“£2, OOO.”

“Wow that is a lot of cash, Father.” I quickly got up. I started gathering the plates and cups to wash them up.

He squinted his eyes while he looked at me. He was about to say something.

“Hello is anyone here?” The female voice said from outside.

I sighed, “Saved by the bell,” I said to myself.

We both stepped outside. A woman stood there. She was in her late fifties, dressed in black. The only contrast was her grey hair. Father Petrou recognised her, straight away.

“Sophia, what brings you to church, this early?”

“I need your help, Father. It’s Chris. I don’t know what to do, Father. Ever since his release from prison, he’s depressed. He won’t go out and doesn’t want to speak to anyone.” She put her head down and began to cry, covering her face with her hands.

I rushed inside and got a glass of water. I took it over to the woman, putting the glass into her hand. I recognised her at once. She was a distant relative of mine. I only met her a handful of times when I was a teenager. I knew her son more. We use to go out when they visited Cyprus for their holidays.

She lost her husband ten years ago. He had a heart attack. Without a father figure in the house, her son Chris lost his way. He went to rob a snooker club with some friends. They hit the manager of the club on the head with a bottle. The man died in the hospital a few hours later. He gave the police a description of Chris before he faded away. It was a quick trial. He got ten years, that was seven or eight years ago. He must have got out earlier by showing good behaviour.

I promised my mother I would go and see him when I came to Britain. Visited him once, when I mentioned it to my in-laws, my father-in-law went ballistic.

“You go and visit your friends in prison? You know what that will do to my business if people find out!” he screamed. I didn’t go again. Kind of regret it now.

“Aunt Sophia,” I said. I put my arm over her shoulder to comfort her.

She looked at me, the cut on my cheek made her pull away. I released her at once, not to frighten the woman. “Who are you?” she asked.

“It’s Tony, Helen’s son. I use to live in Cyprus.”

She looked at me again. It took her a moment or two to recognise me. “What has happened to you, Tony?” Raising her hand, she put it near my injury. Not touching the cut, like she was afraid she might hurt me.

I made us some hot beverages. The three of us sat in the kitchen. Sophia explained to me what had happened to Chris. Father Petrou listened to every detail. He had probably heard it all before like I had heard it from my parents when it occurred. When the person that lived it tells you, it is different. You feel their pain.