THE INVISIBLE THREAD

FIRST PART Through the ashes

CHAPTER ONE

Athens, 2014

It's the last time, she thought, as she pretended to be studying her scientific book—she had been swearing to do that for three whole months. As soon as she realised that the woman at the opposite table let go of her mobile phone for a while, and gave her an abstracted glance, she fixed her false short-sighted glasses, and took to copying a sentence from the book in her notebook, pretending to be taking notes, deeply engrossed in her work.

Now she's going to order her sweet.

True to form, the impressive brunette across the room signalled to the waiter, who hastened to come to her table with a broad smile. Tips were always generous, and the beautiful customer was given priority, even if the place was teeming with people, especially on wintry days like that. Those standing usually waited patiently for a table to become available, adhering to order of priority in a civilised manner.

In a while, a toothsome profiterole and a glass of water were served next to her cup of cappuccino, and the beautiful brunette—whose name, as the girl had found out, was Phaedra—placed her ultramodern mobile on the table, and gracefully got hold of the bowl with one hand, while with the other she brought the first spoonful close to her blood-red lips.

For wonderful refined Phaedra, sweet time was a rite. A few morsels, then a short break for a cigarette and some coffee, then water and tinkering with the mobile, finally gulping down the rest of the sweet into the pit of her flat belly. Whatever she wore, it fit her like a glove. She didn't seem to pay the price for all those calories she consumed.

The gaze of sated Phaedra fell on her again; this time, it was far from abstracted, and the girl was gripped by an inexplicable sense of panic. She couldn't have seen through her real intentions, right? She played the role of the bookish student just fine, which fooled even cunning Stratos who, although he had never learnt the whole truth about the unlucky moments of her life, knew deep down that she wasn't so innocent as she was cracked up to be. Stratos and his fox-like intelligence were a totally different kettle of fish. Just like their short, almost fleeting, love affair when she worked there as a waitress. Fortunately, they hadn't gone too far, so they both bragged of being two good friends who could sip beer out of the same bottle, while watching a football match at her or his place—this didn't really matter.

Her heartbeats, which had long been erratic from agony and remorse as to her imminent act, went back to normal. For beautiful Phaedra wasn't looking at her anymore, and once again took an interest in her mobile, holding the cigarette between her delicate thin lips.

Half an hour later, at seven sharp, as always, the dark-haired woman left her generous tip on the table, strapped her elegant leather bag around her shoulder and, after propping the one hundred and seventy or one hundred and seventy-five centimetres of her height on top of her high heels, she held her car key, and walked away, smiling cordially at the waiter.

That was it. Crunch time. It's the last time, I swear!

The girl was a dab hand at it. Her uncle—God rest his soul—had taught her at a tender age. For a short period of time, it was the only thing she had been doing in order

to make ends meet and lead a decent life, away from illicit affairs and all-nighters spent at the police station, where her young age, her heart-wrenching entreaties, and cute face struck a chord with the policemen, who finally let her off without tarnishing her criminal record. They always let her off with only a reprimand, which she listened to contritely, letting out heart-rending sobs, her head bowed, her wretched life evident in her gaze which, at will, was like that of a beaten up puppy.