Burning Island: Absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical fiction

by Suzanne Goldring

  Marian was smiling at them and bent to stroke their skinny backs and tails. She shook her head as she petted them. ‘I will have to get them all neutered. There’s two boys and two girls, so there could be trouble ahead. But I think four cats should be enough to deal with all the mice around here.’

  We left them to their breakfast and crossed to the barn. Marian lit the wood-burning stove and we sat on wooden stools, close to the heat, drinking more coffee. ‘Right,’ I said, ‘now tell me what’s going on. You’re obviously bothered about something.’

  She sighed and put a heaped spoonful of sugar in her cup. ‘They’re very keen on family ties on the island, and even keener on hanging onto what they consider to be family property. Has Inge ever told you how she came to own the Mill à la Mer?’

  ‘No, she’s never said anything.’

  ‘It was left to her by the old couple who gave her a job when she first came to the island, many years ago. They didn’t have any children of their own and Inge not only worked for them, but she also cared for them in their old age. Apparently, they said she was like the daughter they never had and she was very fond of them too. In the end, they rewarded her devotion by leaving the entire property to her, both the shop and the house.

  ‘Of course, the original business wasn’t quite what it is now – in those days it was just another beach shop. It’s Inge’s talent that has made it so successful and so original. She is so clever.’ Marian smiled and sipped her coffee.

  ‘That was a real stroke of luck for her, inheriting the property.’

  ‘Yes, very lucky for her, but not so lucky for the handful of distant relatives. They weren’t at all happy about her good fortune. They tried to get the will declared invalid, but didn’t succeed. At first, they made life rather unpleasant for Inge, but in recent years they’ve been quiet and we thought they’d forgotten about her.’

  Marian paused, as if wondering how to proceed with her story. She put down her cup then continued, ‘But now I’m wondering if perhaps they or someone else has decided to rekindle their resentment.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  She looked thoughtful, then said, ‘About a year after we opened the mountain shop we got an offer.’

  ‘You mean someone wanted to buy it?’

  ‘So they said. But I think it was more that they didn’t want us to succeed. You’ve heard of constructive dismissal? Well, it was more along those lines.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

  Marian was smiling a little, but it was not the warm smile of pleasure and delight, it was the smile of one who is weary, tired of worrying, tired of fighting. ‘We had such high hopes when the second shop opened. Inge wasn’t sure about it at first, but I’d persuaded her that because so many people were buying properties on the island, we needed premises that could offer more for their homes than we could stock in the shop by the beach. We were getting such a great demand for the rugs and pottery there and people were always asking where they could buy furniture and larger pieces. That was what made me confident we could make a success of it.’

  ‘But you’re saying Inge had her doubts?’

  Marian shook her head. ‘No, I’d just say she was a little more cautious. But when we found this old place and saw the huge millstone in the courtyard, with the oregano growing through it, she was as committed as I was. But then,’ Marian looked sad and sighed, ‘back then, Inge was well. She was so strong, so healthy when we first met. And now,’ she sighed again, ‘now she is but a shadow.’

  I put my hand on her shoulder and patted her. ‘But she’s having treatment, isn’t she? There’s every chance she’ll get better?’

  Marian shook her head. ‘Not a chance.’ She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. ‘And I don’t want her to know how worried I am, so please don’t say anything to her.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’ I wasn’t sure where all this was leading, so I said, ‘But the business here, the Mill of the Mountains, has done well, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It has.’ Marian was smiling properly now. ‘We were absolutely right to expand up here. We had steady sales during our first season and we have had every year since. We advertise it with posters in the beachside shop and also with local estate agents, who are keen to support their new clients and convince them they can easily find lovely pieces to furnish their properties.’

  ‘You must have found yourselves stretched, running two shops at the same time.’ I was full of admiration for Marian and Inge’s enterprise and in awe of their industry.

  ‘Obviously we needed extra help in the season. So from the start we decided we would employ another person during the busiest time over the summer. That first year we hired Joanna. She was in her second year at Exeter, studying Classics and Ancient History, and she left at the end of the summer to visit the Roman ruins in Turkey. We’ve never had a problem finding bright kids to manage the beach shop, while we came up to the mountains.’

  ‘It sounds like you had everything under control,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, I think we did. That first season went well and we both enjoyed coming here to take delivery of new stock and arrange displays. It was such a refreshing contrast to all that burnt flesh on the beach.’

  I couldn’t help laughing at that. ‘I know what you mean.’

  Marian laughed too. ‘But then, after a year, with Inge not feeling well, she didn’t want to come up here so much. She preferred to stay at home. She pottered around the beach shop and spent some of her time talking to customers, but she was no longer fit enough to come up here and haul heavy pots into cars. So I’ve been managing the Mill of the Mountains on my own for the last four years.’

  ‘And you said you received this offer about a year after you’d opened?’

  ‘That’s right. It was summer, but it was early in the season. I’d left Inge rearranging sunhats and sandals down by the beach and I remember joking about it as I left. She’s always been very particular about how she displays them.

  ‘Then late in the morning, around the time the first tourists usually start arriving in the village, I’d just finished filling a large stone jar with stems of gladioli on that lovely old table’ – Marian gestured towards the piece of furniture in the middle of the barn – ‘when I heard steps on the gravel outside. I turned to see a large man with dark sunglasses holding his hand under the trickling water of the fountain, which we’d only installed in the courtyard that spring. I remember him looking up and smiling. Then he wished me good morning and asked if I was open for business.

  ‘So I asked him to come inside. It was already getting very hot and it was cooler in here. Then I asked him if he was looking for anything in particular.’

  ‘And was he?’

  ‘Well, he didn’t answer right away. He started wandering around, picking up bowls and pots and turning them this way and that.’

  I looked across to the tables displaying various pieces of pottery as she was talking.

  ‘Then, when he finally spoke, he said, “Actually, I’m looking for a house.” I can hear his voice now. It was soft and his English was good, but he wasn’t a native speaker. “I would like to buy a house just like this one,” he said. “Are you interested in selling?” Incredible.’ Marian shook her head as if she was still astonished at his audacious question.

  ‘So what did you say to that?’

  ‘I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing, so I said, “What, you mean sell this house, where we have our business?” And then he said, and I remember this so clearly, he said, “Yes. This one. It is a very attractive property. I like it very much.”’

  ‘But there was no harm in that, was there, if he said it politely?’

  ‘Oh yes, he was perfectly well mannered. So then I told him the answer was no. I said we had not had it all that long and we’d searched for quite some time to find the right place for our business. So the answer was definitely no.’

  ‘So how did he respond to that?’ />
  ‘At first he just smiled at me. He stood there’ – she pointed to a spot in the middle of the barn – ‘he stood there, rubbing the beard on his chin, staring at me. And then he said, “I believe you might want to think carefully about your decision.” I didn’t like that at all.’ Marian frowned.

  ‘That sounds rather like a mild threat.’

  ‘It was a bit unnerving. But I felt I could handle it. I said we didn’t need to sell and had no intention of selling in the near future. So, goodbye.

  ‘Then I turned away from him and started to walk to the back of the shop, to the counter where the phone is. I felt I wanted it near me, just in case. Then, behind my back, I heard some shuffling steps and I could feel my neck prickling. You know that funny feeling?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And then I looked round and he was standing right there in the arched doorway, his figure black against the bright sunlight of the courtyard. He stared at me for a few more seconds, almost as if he was waiting for me to change my mind, and then he finally walked away.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Oh, I rang Inge right away, just to hear her voice, but I couldn’t tell her about him. I didn’t want to worry her. But all morning I kept thinking I was going to hear the crunch of gravel again.’

  ‘But is that all that’s happened to worry you? That and your poor cat?’

  ‘Mmm, no, not quite all. There have been other petty incidents – broken pots in the courtyard, rubbish in the fountain, that sort of thing. But I suppose nothing major.’

  ‘And have you seen that man again?’

  She looked directly at me. ‘I think I’ve seen him hanging around from time to time. And I’m sure it was him when I was burying Tabitha. And then,’ she paused for a second, ‘I thought I saw him again today. In fact, I’m sure it was him. I knew his voice, too.’

  ‘You saw him today? Where?’

  ‘At the building site. At your restaurant.’

  ‘What, you mean one of our builders?’

  ‘No. Your site manager. Dimitri.’

  Chapter Thirty

  January 2007

  James

  I was more than happy to leave the women in the kitchen when Dimitri called me away. I rather enjoyed the muscular bustle of industry around the site as well as seeing how much progress was made each day. I hankered after helping with some practical task, like tiling or the fitting of new windows, but I’d absolutely no experience of any such handiwork and knew I would be a hindrance rather than a help, so I limited my input to making encouraging noises, offering regular cups of coffee and samples of any dish I’d been developing, and asking Dimitri how we were doing.

  ‘Two more weeks,’ he said. ‘I think paint, lights, plumbing, all finished in two weeks.’ He turned over a page on his clipboard, checking the list with his pen. ‘Yes, I am sure nearly everything will be done by then.’

  ‘That’s marvellous. We’re ahead of schedule. I wasn’t expecting it all to be completed until the end of February at the earliest.’

  He smiled, looking very proud of himself. ‘We have been most fortunate. The rain, it has not been so hard this year.’

  ‘So do you think we’ll be able to start moving up here at the beginning of next month?’

  He shrugged. ‘Probably yes. Maybe we shall have to deal with a little problem here, a little problem there, but I expect so.’

  ‘That’s great news. I can’t wait to start living up here. I’ve been wanting to move in for ages, but Amber wouldn’t consider it until everything was finished.’

  ‘Ah,’ he smiled, ‘the women, they like a home where all is in order.’

  ‘They most certainly do. And they like it properly furnished too, so we need to get all our orders and deliveries confirmed and scheduled very soon.’

  He looked down at his checklist again and finished making notes, then I heard Amber calling out that she was leaving with Inge and Marian. We watched the car rock its way along the bumpy cobbled street until they were out of sight. Dimitri stood next to me in silence until they were gone, then said, ‘The ladies here today, you are buying all the furniture for the restaurant from the two ladies?’

  ‘We’re planning to buy some of it from them. Amber’s very keen, and I quite like the goods they have in their shops as well.’

  He was looking down again at his clipboard and nodding.

  Sensing he had more to say on the subject, I said, ‘Are you familiar with their shops? The Mill of the Mountains and the Mill à la Mer? The mountain shop is further south, nearer Pantokrator.’

  ‘Yes, I have some idea of their business.’ He glanced down at his notes again. ‘May I ask, have you placed an order with these ladies yet?’

  ‘No, not quite, but we’re close to doing so. They know we’re very interested in their stock. That’s partly why they were here today, to help us finally decide which pieces would really work for us. Why do you ask?’

  He tilted his head and grimaced a little. ‘I just think perhaps you may find better prices elsewhere. I can put you in touch maybe with a very good man.’

  ‘I see… Well, I think we’ve more or less decided on what we want to buy from the Mill shops, but I suppose there’s no harm in taking another look around. Do you think we should go and see your chap?’

  ‘I will call him for you. I will personally take you there and make the introduction. He has much excellent furniture and very reasonable prices.’

  ‘Well, thank you. Cost is such an important consideration. This project is a huge investment for us, as you know, so I’ve got to keep my eye on every area of the budget.’

  ‘Of course, you must spend wisely. Some of these people take advantage and charge too much. My man, he is very fair. He is a businessman and so are you. I think you will prefer him. He is an honest man of Corfu.’

  I could have left it there. I mean, there was nothing wrong with us looking at another supplier, just as we had felt we should get more than one quote for the building work, but there was something about the way Dimitri spoke that made me wonder if he was holding something back. I wandered out to the terrace, where we would one day have our tables for lunch and dinner and where guests would breakfast on local yogurt and peaches on early summer mornings. Then I turned back and saw Dimitri was still standing in the doorway to the room where we would eventually have a reception area and bar.

  ‘Dimitri, is there something you’re not telling me?’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Not telling?’

  ‘Yes. Is there anything else I should know about the Mill ladies? What have you heard?’

  He shrugged and looked a little sorrowful before giving a slight shake of his head. ‘I hear things in my business. People talk to me. I meet many people who furnish their houses and many are not satisfied.’

  ‘Well, in what way? What do they say?’

  He shook his head again. ‘Some say it is the price, some the quality, some there is damage and some are unhappy that their purchases are not delivered in good condition and on time. But’ – he waved his hand in the air – ‘that is just what I hear.’

  ‘And is that all?’

  He frowned. ‘It does not matter to me,’ he said, tapping his chest, ‘but there are some who say it is because the older one, she is German. That is reason enough here. People do not forget what happened.’

  ‘That’s daft,’ I dismissed this comment with a wave of my hand. ‘I’m not interested in prejudiced gossip. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss before I go?’ I walked across the terrace to look at the view over the surrounding olive groves and orchards. Some of the almond trees were already dusted with a haze of green from the first buds of spring.

  Dimitri came and stood beside me, his clipboard closed and tucked under his arm. ‘You have chosen well here,’ he said.

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I love looking out on these trees, with the hills in the background on the far side of the valley. When people come to the restauran
t, they’re all going to want to sit out here on the terrace and enjoy this wonderful view when they’re eating.’

  Dimitri coughed, then said, ‘Such beautiful land should be shared. Then you would have many more visitors for your restaurant.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He swept his hand across the vista, now darkening as heavy black clouds began to gather over the hills. ‘Such an opportunity you have here. Top-class villas, here, here and here.’ He jabbed his index finger at points in the landscape. ‘Rich owners, high-paying guests, where do they go to eat in the evening? There is nowhere but this place. Your restaurant.’ His hand swept the imaginary customers towards us and he nodded his head in satisfaction at this pronouncement. ‘You will do very well here.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ I said, gazing at the empty pasture and the groves of trees as the rain began to fall around us. ‘I see what you mean.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  9 June 1944

  Rebekka is silent, but her mother is complaining. ‘They have herded us like cattle. There’s far too many of us here. One bucket of water and another for the business. It is not right to treat decent people like this.’

  ‘Shh, Perla,’ Papa says, keeping his voice low. Armed guards are watching, some move among the crowds – kicking a man in the back, tearing a bundle from a mother’s arms, hitting an old man over the head with a rifle butt. ‘Do not draw attention to us. We may not have to wait here very long.’

  The entire population of the Evraiki has been crowded into the vast open quadrangle of the Paleo Frourio, the sixteenth-century Venetian fort built on a promontory jutting out into the sea on the eastern edge of Corfu Town. This secure island citadel has been used as a prison for centuries, separated from the town by a deep-sea channel still known by its Italian name – the Contra Fossa. When the cowering community crossed over the drawbridge, the Germans demanded their jewellery and the keys to their properties. Anyone who could not offer them valuables was beaten. ‘I was afraid of this,’ Papa says after handing over the key to the shop and a gold watch. Mama’s hands were bare; her ring was sewn into the seam of her dress.