SNEAK PREVIEW
The Unspeakable Acts of Zina Pavlou is out November 9th.
Here’s a taster…
PROLOGUE
They have told so many lies about me.
It’s a terrible thing to be accused of a crime so dreadful. To be told every day that you’re lying, when you are almost certain that you’re not.
Their stories spin above my head, their words snagging in my hair. I dig my fingers in to pull them out. This morning I found black strands on my pillow. I must have tried to untangle the lies as I slept.
I don’t speak their language and they look at me wary-eyed. Everything they ask me is kneaded into Greek through an interpreter and whatever I reply she twists back into English. She’s young and I can tell by the set of her shoulders and the pull of her mouth that she regrets taking this work.
Today, again, she asked me if perhaps I’d committed this crime when I wasn’t in my right mind. And I repeated what I’d told the doctor. I did not do this unspeakable thing. I may be uneducated, I may be poor, but I’m not mad. I’m a respected woman in my village. And, yes, it’s true I didn’t like the deceased, but it is also true that her disregard for me was well known. Even my son – who has abandoned me, but I’ll save that for another time – even he will tell you that.
During her visit, the interpreter girl caught me off guard. She said she’d come to see how I was, but I keep forgetting she works for them and now I’m worried sick because I said too much. Before I could stop myself, I mentioned the first time, years ago, when they said I’d killed the other one.
Her face went white and I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. But if she asks again I’ll press my lips together to stop the story slipping out.
I’d like to see Anna but they say I can’t. What have they told her? Does she wonder where her yiayia is? Or worse, does she believe what they say about me? She may be eight, but she’s clever, that granddaughter of mine. She’s here, always. A pebble of joy, held tight in my pocket, her imprint on my palm.
All I do now is wait – for their questions to stop, for the visitors who never arrive, for the officials to decide when I’ll go to court. And then, once the jury’s heard everything, I’ll wait for their decision: will they set me free or will I be hanged?
The verdict will be translated through the girl. She’ll know everything before I do. At times she cannot look me in the face. I don’t think she can bear it.
Copyright Eleni Kyriacou
Hooked? Read about the main characters