14
Paris breeze
Thessaloniki, July 1992
It was the third time Leonora had come to Eleni’s room in the last few days, having obviously stayed up to wait for her eventual return well after midnight. She would sit by the end of her bed and massage her feet, a ritual they had occasionally engaged in for as long as Eleni could remember.
‘Your ankles are swollen. Have you been walking for long?’
‘Yes, and we ended up in a crowded bar, we had to stand up. I don’t like this new standing-up trend, it’s silly.’
Leonora paused, seeming lost in her thoughts and then, out of the blue: ‘Are you on drugs, Eleni?’
Eleni recoiled her legs and drew the light linen blanket higher towards her neck. ‘What?’
‘You heard what I asked you.’
‘Mum, if your job gets under your skin so much, just change it. I
