Sixty Summers - Softcover

Chapter One

Oblivious to the golden morning awakening around her, the chorus of birdsong and the heckling of kookaburras in the ghost gums, Maggie swam laps of the pool. As she alternated laps of freestyle and breaststroke, beyond the pool the bay was a sheen of light, and white yachts bobbed gently at anchor. But her thoughts were focused on the day ahead. She was dreading this afternoon’s meeting with her husband, Kristo, and his three brothers. There was always shouting at these meetings, and today would be worse than usual.

As Maggie pulled herself out of the pool, she looked up towards the house and noticed that her mother-in-law, Yia-yiá, was already busy sweeping the deck. She was at war with fallen leaves and couldn’t understand why Kristo and Maggie wouldn’t see sense and remove all the offending trees. It was a month since Yia-yiá had moved in and already it felt like years. Maggie had only half-believed Kristo when he said it would ‘just be for a week or so’. Respite, he had called it. His mother had been in some sort of conflict with another resident at the retirement village, and they all needed time out. Privately, Maggie thought it was all part of Yia-yiá’s master plan. She’d never wanted to live in a retirement village, and Kristo, who craved his mother’s approval, didn’t take much convincing to bring her home.

Maggie sat on the edge of the pool and felt the rivulets of water trickling down her arms. Lately she’d had the strangest sensation that she was living someone else’s life and she couldn’t quite work out how she had got here. One minute she was a laughing girl with her life ahead of her, the next thing she knew, she had hurtled through time and arrived here. She looked out across the glittering bay to the open sky beyond and wondered for the hundredth time if it was all worth it. She already knew the answer. She could barely remember a period in her life when she had been so deeply unhappy.

In the years when they were establishing the family construction business, although stressful, it was also exciting, and she hadn’t questioned their direction in life. Family meetings were celebrations of new contracts won and projects completed; of money in the bank. In those days, the whole family would come together to eat and to talk. She got on well with her sisters-in-law and, within a few short years, there were cousins who played together. That was long before they lived here in Bayview in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Back then they filled a modest brick house in the inner-city suburb of Marrickville. But everyone knew that the Dimitratos family were a dynasty in the making, and Maggie believed herself to be an integral member of the team.

As the financial controller, Maggie liked to consider the business in terms of balance and buoyancy. In the beginning, it was like a rowboat with too many passengers and everyone trying to seize control. As the business flourished, the boat got bigger, more comfortable and stable. These days, she seemed to be the only one who fully understood that it could still sink. If a project the size of the one they would discuss this afternoon went under, it had the potential to take them all down with it.

Today, the only thing Maggie could look forward to was packing an overnight bag and getting into her car. She would then turn off her phone and enjoy an hour of peace while she drove to Rose’s place. As they did every year, Rose and Maggie would prepare a simple meal, and Fran would join them via a video call from London. They would celebrate forty years of friendship and, for a few sweet hours, become the laughing girls they once were.

Right now, that seemed too many hours away.

She wrapped a towel around her and wandered up to the house.

On the bedside table, her phone showed four missed calls from Anthea, and three from Elena, and she felt the familiar twist in her gut. It could be something quite small, she told herself. Elena was probably calling on Anthea’s behalf. It was a twin thing she had got used to; right from when they were babies, her daughters tended to wind each other up rather than calm each other down. She really wanted a shower before having to deal with whatever was going on but the phone rang again and she took the call.

‘Mum! Where were you? I’ve called you a thousand times!’ Anthea sobbed.

Now Elena was calling at the same time.

‘Hold on! Just give me a second.’ Maggie put on her reading glasses and messaged that she’d call Elena back. Her anxiety was diminishing by the second – they were both fine. It was just a fresh drama that would be resolved in either minutes or hours.

‘Okay, what is it, darling?’ Maggie asked in her kind, understanding voice. ‘Try and calm down . . . Could you blow your nose? I can’t really understand you.’

Anthea spoke between shuddering sobs. ‘I need to come home. I’m getting a divorce.’

Maggie wondered if there was any way that she could fob her daughter off until she’d had that shower. Unlikely. She switched to speaker and put the phone on the bed while she peeled her wet bathers off and put on a cotton robe. ‘All newlyweds have their ups and downs, Thea. You just need to talk things through with Aaron, calmly and sensibly. You can work it out. Why is Elena ringing me too? What’s her involvement?’

‘About the divorce, obviously! Are you even listening? Shit! ’

‘Darling, this is between you and Aaron. Please don’t involve your sister. He doesn’t need you two ganging up on him.’

‘Ganging up?’ Anthea screeched. ‘You haven’t even asked what he’s done.’

Maggie took a deep breath. ‘Do I really need to know? Think about this, please. I don’t really want to be involved in your marital disputes. I especially don’t want to know the details —’

‘He filmed us having sex and put it online.’ Anthea waited breathlessly for her mother’s reaction.

Only a year ago Anthea was radiant in a froth of white tulle, walking up the aisle of the Holy Trinity on her father’s arm. Now this. The little shit.

Maggie had never really liked Aaron, but having been treated as an interloper herself, she had made it her business to welcome him into the family. Yia-yiá always maintained that he wasn’t good enough for Anthea but Maggie dismissed this dislike of outsiders as un-Australian; a throwback attitude imported from the old country. Yia-yiá referred to him as a vlákas: an all-purpose Greek insult that in this context translated to an idiot. She was turning out to be right. What the hell was he thinking?

The horror of her beautiful daughter’s private moments being shared around the globe was overtaken by her realization of the widening circle of affected parties. Kristo would not deal well with this – and nor should he – but his brothers would go crazy. She heard herself whispering, ‘Shit . . . shit . . . shit . . .’ as each new thought occurred to her. How could they get the video taken down? Was this a criminal matter? Police or lawyer? Or both? Yia-yiá would blame Maggie, always insisting she was too lenient with the girls. Kristo would blame her too. They would all blame her.

‘Mum, say something! It’s disgusting and the comments . . . they’re so filthy . . .’ Anthea began wailing loudly.

‘Don’t look at the comments. Don’t tell your father. Don’t do anything. Just wait a minute and let me think, for goodness sake.’

Anthea...