She had been there. She had seen it all. And she’d failed to stop the unthinkable happening. And it had been her fault. And she didn’t think she’d ever forgive herself, just as her husband’s family had refused to forgive her.
But now she said nothing, her mind drawing a blank, only vague images — images she usually was only haunted with at night.
He shifted his head so he could see her face. But whatever he saw there made him want to explain further, rather than stop. ‘You know about the reactions to the government’s austerity measures. I must say I didn’t realise unemployment rates were so high. 50% for youngsters, I think I remember hearing.’ He paused, presumably hoping she’d add something, but she had nothing to say. She’d had nothing to say since she left Greece ten years earlier. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I thought of you when I saw it. I said, Marie, I said, that must be where our librarian is from. I’m right, aren’t I?’
She swallowed and managed a nod as she turned back to him, her face now the usual mask.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said automatically. ‘My family is from Thessaloniki, but I was living in Athens during the strikes and demonstrations.’
He nodded, relieved, and left soon after, the familiar squeak of the garden gate signalling his exit.
Augi stood very still.
For a moment she was back there — the chaos, the terror, the certainty that everything she had known had ended in a single, irreversible instant. She pressed her palms flat against the desk, grounding herself in the present. In the smell of paper and polish. In the soft murmur of voices outside.
‘Augi?’
Kate’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts.
Augi looked up.
Kate MacLeod stood in the doorway, concern written plainly across her face. She must have entered as Mr Gardner was exiting. Kate took one look at Augi and crossed the room.
‘Are you all right?’ Kate asked softly.
Augi opened her mouth to deliver the usual answer. Fine. Of course. Nothing to worry about.
Instead, something inside her gave way.
‘I… I need a moment,’ she said, and was surprised by how unsteady her voice sounded.
Kate guided her to one of the chairs and sat opposite her, hands folded, while she waited patiently for Augi to recover. That, more than anything, undid her.
‘It’s silly,’ Augi began. ‘Mr Gardner mentioned something on the radio. Something from… before.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘The economic crisis we had.’ She shook her head. ‘In Greece.’
‘You were in Athens at the time, if I remember correctly? You mentioned it once.’
Augi nodded, but words eluded her.
‘Was it terrible? I remember a little, but’ — Kate shrugged — ‘you know, when it’s so far away, we only hear the headlines.’
‘It was terrible,’ said Augi slowly, unused to talking to anyone about what had gone on before.
Kate reached over and placed a hand on hers. Augi looked up in surprise. Usually her cool demeanour put people off. But she should have known Kate would be different. She’d been different from the day she’d met her ten years ago. But still she’d managed to maintain a distance. Until now.
‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ said Kate, ‘not if it upsets you.’ Kate looked thoughtful for a few moments. ‘But if you ever want to talk to anyone about it, I’d be honoured if you chose me. I’ll keep your confidence, and it might make things easier for you if you talk to someone because I suspect you haven’t, have you?’
Augi shook her head. ‘No.’ She shot her a tight-lipped smile. ‘And thank you… for your understanding. I appreciate it, more than I can express.’
Kate nodded with a smile. ‘You’re welcome. And just remember, I’m here if you want to talk.’ She paused for a moment. ‘And don’t feel you’re imposing because our friendship is a two-way thing, and I’m about to impose on you, yet again,’ she said with a smile full of charm which Augi recognised was something Dan had inherited. ‘If you’re free to talk?’ She stood by Augi’s desk, bag in hand, expression anxious. ‘If you’re not too busy.’
‘There’s nothing that can’t wait.’ Augi was curious. Even if she had been busy, she’d have made sure she had time for Kate because this wasn’t the usual opening conversation from her friend. ‘Is everything all right?’
Kate shrugged and sat down on the sunny window seat, pulling off her cardigan and tossing it to one side on top of her fraying kete — the Maori woven bag had clearly been well loved. ‘Depends on your definition of all right.’
Augi stayed in her desk chair, angling it to Kate who was haloed by the morning sun. ‘My definition would be that everyone in my life was well and happy and that there was nothing unforeseen to disturb the future picture.’
Kate held up one finger with emphasis. ‘That. Your last point. It’s my future I’d like to talk about — my insecure future, I should say.’
