Claimed For The Greek's Child

It wasn’t as if Anna had ever really imagined her wedding day, what she would be wearing, or how—even—she would be choosing the dress, but it had never involved the overbearing stepmother of Dimitri Kyriakou. In fact, Anna had thought that perhaps she might spend the day in Athens and pick something from a retail store. But the names in gilt lettering on the covers of these dresses were some of the most expensive designers she had ever heard of. And then there were names of designers she hadn’t heard of, whose clothes were guaranteed to be priceless.

Within seconds she was being manhandled out of her light clothes, and standing before her soon-to-be mother-in-law in little more than her underwear. Anna knew that her body had regained her pre-baby figure fairly easily after a diet of sleepless nights and hard working hours at the bed and breakfast, but still she seemed only just to pass muster.

The dispassionate assessment of her physique made her feel like a mannequin, as gown after gown was relieved of its covering. The sheer number of dresses and styles almost overwhelmed her, although some called for instant dismissal, especially the one that made her think of Little Bo Peep. Taffeta was discarded as impossible, tulle too heavy for the heat and, although Anna was surprised to find herself quite liking the shorter, nineteen-fifties-style skirt, Eleni Kyriakou dismissed it with a flick of her red nail-polished finger. Finally one of the younger stylists timidly brought forward her offering while the others were distracted. She cast one quick glance in their direction, before pressing it into Anna’s hands and shooing her off behind the screen that had been erected in the living room for what little was left of her modesty.

As her fingers reached out to the exquisite lace detail of the plunging bodice, a thread of excitement wound through her. The skirt was long, and pure oyster-coloured silk, flaring out into a seamless fishtail. Exquisite lace detail was sewn onto the barely visible material of sleeves that would cover her arms down to her wrists. Anna almost groaned out loud when she saw the hundreds of little buttons at the back but was pleasantly surprised to find a concealed zip hidden beneath them. She stepped into the cool, silky skirt and lifted the bodice over her breasts, realising that she’d have to discard her bra.

As she pulled the zip, she cast a glance at her reflection in the window—the nearest mirror was in the hallway. The bodice lay flat against her stomach, and the plunging neckline revealed enough to be sexy but hid enough to be respectable. Her sun-bronzed skin glowed against the oyster colour of the silk. She swept her hair up in a band and a spark of excitement ignited within her. This was the one. She knew it. She could feel the rightness of it settle about her as the silk skirts swirled about her bare feet.

Tentatively she stepped out from behind the screen, just in time to see Flora, returning to the house with Amalia, stop dead in her tracks. All conversation in the room halted midsentence. For a second Anna worried that she’d made a huge mistake, until everyone started talking at once, oohing and aahing after the gown.

Anna felt a smile spread over her mouth, and even Eleni appeared to be satisfied.

After the assistants had removed all the dresses from Dimitri’s house and Anna was back in her own clothes, she sat at the table to have coffee with Flora and Eleni. Anna had expected Eleni to leave with the magic she’d summoned that morning, but she hadn’t.

‘Your mother?’ Eleni asked her, slightly uncomfortably. ‘She is not able to come?’

‘No, she’s...she’s having medical treatment.’

‘And your friends?’

Anna didn’t really want to explain how she couldn’t have asked the few friends that had survived her job and her child to pay for the extraordinarily expensive air fare to Greece in the summer months. Nor how she would have explained to them the events of the last few weeks.

Eleni nodded as if she somehow understood. ‘Nella, Dimitri’s cousin, told me that the English have a tradition in weddings. I’m not sure if it’s the same for Ireland...’ Anna was too busy wondering when her English had got so good to try to understand where this was going. Eleni looked to Flora. It was the first time that Anna had seen her anything less than poised and, well, rude, frankly.

‘Something old, something borrowed...’ said Eleni, producing the most exquisite pearl-encrusted bracelet. The colour of the pearls matched her dress perfectly, and Anna felt the stir of emotion within her breast.

‘New and blue,’ Flora said, less articulately, placing a beautiful blue lacy garter beside the pearls.

Anna was overcome in an instant. She felt tears pressing against her eyes. It was a silly tradition, one she hadn’t even given a second thought to, but that these two women had made such an effort to make it happen... She felt so grateful to Nella for thinking of such a thing, and somehow managing to convince Eleni to be part of it. Around the table sat three generations of women, all brought together by Dimitri, and Anna, who had not once felt that kind of female solidarity or emotional support before, was so very touched.

‘Not all weddings...start the same way,’ Eleni said, still not quite able to make eye contact with her. ‘But Dimitri, he is a good man. He will care for you and your child.’ Her words soothed Anna’s unspoken fears, just a little, and made Anna wonder at Eleni’s own marriage. ‘We do what we have to, for our children, nai?’

Eleni’s burst of honesty made Anna bold. ‘Does Dimitri know that you think he is a good man?’

Eleni paused before continuing, clearly wondering how much to reveal of their relationship.

‘Dimitri’s childhood with us was...not easy. His father is...not easy,’ she said honestly. ‘It may have been easier for Dimitri to see me as...as...’ she seemed to be struggling, whether with the English language, or something far harder ‘...very different to his own mother. And when he came to us I was worried about my own son, Manos. And now with what has happened...’

Flora’s tutting interrupted Eleni, who shot a dark look at the older woman. No matter what her son had done, and how he had done it, Eleni was still his mother. Anna knew that bond. Knew what she would do for her daughter.

‘But there is a goodness in Dimitri. I know that.’

Anna could only hope that Eleni was right. Because she was about to commit her life and her daughter to Dimitri Kyriakou.

CHAPTER SIX

Dear Dimitri,

Today I wore your ring.

THE CHURCH WHERE they were to be married was like something out of a film. It was on a small jut of land rea

ching out to the sea, accessible only during low tide. The small building’s roughly hewn hunks of blondstone melted into the sand behind it and were surrounded by sea and sky.

The late afternoon sun still providing a pure golden light and heat, the way it never did in Ireland, made Anna feel as if it were something from a dream rather than the day that she committed her life to Dimitri.

Because the church was so small and the number of guests so large, the wedding was held outside, in front of the old building. A large erected awning provided guests with shelter from the blaze of the sun. Rows and rows of chairs had been placed in the courtyard, and numerous pots of bay trees, shaped small and round, bordered the aisle. White silk bows had been tied to the backs of chairs, and Anna was grateful to Eleni for all the work she’d put into the wedding. Since the day she had brought the wedding dresses to the house, the two women had found a balance. Eleni was still formidable and not a woman to be crossed, but Anna had found respect there.