There was delayed laughter in response to Maria’s translation.

‘But his real name – his Greek name – is Georgios Andreas Charalambos,’ Judith said, clearly proud of her perfect pronunciation.

But rather than the mild applause Judith had anticipated for her efforts in Greek, a shocked silence descended. And then a collective mumbling stirred around the table. Except from the children, who had more important things to think about, like how to snaffle another helping of mahalepi when no one was looking.

‘Sorry, can you say the name again?’ Maria asked.

‘Yes – Georgios Andreas Charalambos. Actually, I’ve got a photo of him here,’ she said, taking out the photo-booth picture of herself and George that she always carried in her purse. ‘It’s from about ten years ago – we were on a daytrip to Dan-yr-Ogof Caves.’

The family passed it round, accompanied by gasps of shock, followed by a sequence of fiery exchanges amongst them; concerned looks, raised voices, shaking heads and car keys being sought. One of the women started crying, and was comforted by another, who crossed herself and handed the photograph back to Judith.

The girls looked at each other, confused.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Lana, sensing that whatever it was, wasn’t good.

Nobody answered her, everyone still lost in the chaos of their reaction.

‘Look, maybe we should go,’ she said, more to Judith and Catrin than to anyone else.

‘No,’ said Maria. ‘Wait. Please.’ And her husband, who was now getting into his car, shouted something back to her.

‘Entáxei! Naí!’ she replied, and turned to Judith. ‘We think …’ Maria looked around the table, at the family – all waiting on tenterhooks for Judith’s response to what she was about to learn. ‘We think that your father, Georgios Charalambos, may be the brother of a friend.’

The three girls tried to process what they were hearing.

‘What?’ asked Lana, Judith clearly too shocked to speak.

Maria continued, ‘My husband Nico, he has a friend, Iannis, who has a wife. She is called Sofia.’ Maria paused, allowing the information to sink in. ‘Some years ago, Sofia’s brother – Georgios – he left Kakopetria to go to England for one year. But he never came back. We think—’

And Lana finished the sentence, ‘You think that Sofia is Judith’s aunt!’

8

Judith

Fifteen minutes later, a woman in her thirties – with the same straight nose and kind brown eyes as Judith’s father – got out of Nico’s car, followed closely by two confused and awkward children, along with a man who Judith presumed was the woman’s husband. Neither of them could say anything at first, so Nico stepped in, his faltering English not as good as his wife’s but certainly good enough. ‘This is Sofia, sister of Georgios,’ he said quietly.

Judith stared at Sofia and fought the urge to laugh. Was it some kind of hysterical reaction? In contrast, Sofia – Aunty Sofia – was shaking and weeping like a baby.

‘Hello – I’m … I’m Judith,’ she said, unsure of what to do next. Her world had just been turned inside out. Her father wasn’t who she thought he was and she’d inherited an entire Cypriot family in the space of ten minutes. Nervously she held out her arms to Sofia, who needed no encouragement to return the embrace. Judith had never been hugged so tightly in her life and there followed a long sequence of tight embraces, face-holding and loud weeping, until eventually Sofia calmed down. The unsuspecting family who’d only come out for a regular Sunday lunch had found themselves spectators to a real-life drama, applauding from their ringside seats. They were joined by Catrin and Lana as the happy-ever-after unfolded before their eyes.