‘You can say it,’ Augi said. ‘After Georgio’s death.’
‘Yes. But it was more than that.’ She leaned forward, dark eyes intent. ‘They felt guilty. About the blame they laid at your feet. It took time for them to grieve — and to understand.’
‘They blamed Augustini for her husband’s suicide?’ Dan said sharply, speaking for the first time. Augi loved how indignant he sounded. She placed a hand on his arm. He just stared at her and shook his head.
‘It was hard for them to understand why he killed himself,’ said Augi. ‘Why he could no longer continue to live.’
‘So they blamed you. And you refused to defend yourself, because doing so would point the finger of blame at Georgio,’ said Sofia quietly. ‘We found out, little by little, the mistakes Georgio had made. And why,’ she added quietly. ‘And what you’d done to try to put things right.’
‘It was the only thing I could do for him. The thing he couldn’t do for himself. Give his death some dignity. But I had not imagined how his family would blame me.’
‘They did,’ Sofia replied. ‘And they died regretting it.’
Augi swallowed down a lump of sadness and something more… knowledge that she’d never be able to make good the past.
‘After my father died, I returned to Australia to be with someone I met on my first visit.’ Sofia continued. ‘His family are also Greek and he followed me back to Greece where I cared for my mother in her final years. But he wanted to return to Australia — to his family. Now we have a child of our own.’
Augi reached out and gripped her hand. ‘I’m glad for you.’
‘And I’m sad for what happened to my brother,’ she said quietly. ‘And to you.’
Augi straightened instinctively, bracing herself. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said.
‘But its consequences are still felt — especially by you,’ Sofia replied.
‘It was hard.’ She turned to Dan to whom she owed an explanation. ‘When I discovered what had happened to his business I tried to sort it out because it would only have been a matter of time before everyone knew of my husband’s shame. He killed himself because of the shame.’
‘But you tried to put things right. You paid off the debtors. And you stayed silent to protect him,’ Sofia said.
She nodded.
‘That silence cost you everything,’ Dan said.
‘The price Georgio paid for the economic collapse and his mistakes cost him more.’
Dan pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m not saying you were wrong. It was a noble thing to have done. A compassionate thing to have done. I’m just so sad that it cost you so much. It cost you your life in Greece, and it made you retreat from the world for so long.’ He shook his head. ‘It was too high a price to pay.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Sofia. ‘I’d hoped that you’d forged a new life for yourself.’
‘I have.’ She pressed her lips together as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. ‘And I am.’
Augi was saved from saying anything further by the arrival of Lucy with a cake and coffee pot. ‘Thought you might like some sustenance,’ she said, glancing at everyone, her gaze lingering on Dan. ‘Everyone OK?’ She stood back, hands on hips, as if all they had to do was ask, and she’d sort out everyone’s problems single-handedly. Augi thought she probably could.
‘We’re getting there, thanks, Lucy.’
Lucy gave a short nod. ‘Well, if you need anything just shout.’
Augi, anxious to move things on from her past, decided to take a different tack.
‘Tell me, Sofia, how do you know John Kowalski’s relative?’
‘She married a Greek relative of my husband’s. As you know, the Greek community in Melbourne is large and close. And we help where we can. She is old and poor, and she was worried that someone had got her details and was about to rob her. People are concerned about technology these days.’
‘I didn’t think of that,’ said Augi.
‘And, yes, she is John’s great niece.’
‘Ah,’ said Dan, sitting back, ‘the “closest relative” then,’ he said, looking at Augi with meaning.
