A Selection from the Catchfire Press book... 'CAUGHT IN THE LIGHT:
You Can't Eat A View 'A panoramic vista, Mr Cominos,' Sean O'Donnell said to Vassili as they stood together on the balcony. ‘Newcastle Beach, the Ocean Baths, Nobbys, Stockton, the stretch almost up to Crescent Head.' He lowered his voice in deference to his next pronouncement. ‘And the great advantage is that it can never be built out.' He paused now to let his client ponder his meaning. ‘Your unit's in good hands, Mr Cominos. I can guarantee you an excellent price.' Vassili had been determined to sell. He was eighty and it was time to give his sons part of their inheritance but, as Sean O'Donnell's eulogy moved to its climax, something quite extraordinary happened. For years Vassili had dismissed his wife's complaint that their house in Hamilton lacked a view. ‘You can't eat a view,' he would say to her. He didn't want to move. They were perfectly comfortable in their three-bedroomed cavity-brick house in Beaumont Street, walking distance from their fish and chip shop. And he refused to look at houses at Bolton Point and Merewether Heights with views of lake or ocean. They had a good sized backyard where the children could play. They were close to town and the beach. What need was there for a view? But when the children had left home and he had sold the shop, his wife had persuaded him to move right into Newcastle. The view was her pride and joy and she delighted in bringing relatives and friends home to admire it. Vassili was resentful about the visitors and disdainful of the view. Even his wife's death eight years ago had not shaken the scales from his eyes. Now as he stood on his balcony long after the estate agent had gone, he could see the view with clarity, even with poignancy, as the scene was transformed with the evening light. Vassili was overwhelmed. His chest grew tight with emotion. He knew that the view from his balcony was truly awesome. It wasn't that he hadn't appreciated Newcastle before. This city had given him work, a place to raise his family in comfort, a good income, a good old age and he had stubbornly refused to go back to visit Cyprus in spite of his wife's wanting them to travel after the boys had finished university. ‘Why won't you come?' his wife had pleaded. ‘You have brothers, nieces and nephews. Surely you want to see the place where you were born?' ‘It's a village, a poor country village. Why should I go back?' © Zeny Giles |
