After that shameful parade in the main square in the relentless heat, the frightened people are at last able to sit or lie down. They are tired, they are hungry, and the Germans offer them nothing to eat, nothing to drink but a few buckets of water shared between hundreds.
There can be no escape for any of them now they have been marched into this barren place. To one side is the towering bare rock face leading to the fort’s highest point, on the other, beyond the ancient low battlements, a sheer drop to the rocks and the sea. A baby and an old man have already met their fate in the waters below, and more may join them soon if exhaustion, hunger and the bored guards claim victims.
Within this arid, open ground, the Germans can see their captives clearly and there is no shelter. Everyone is exposed to the heat of the sun and the occasional shower of summer rain. As the sun moves across with the waning day, some people receive a little shade from the fort’s ramparts and some have been crammed into the damp tunnels below, but the majority are fully exposed to the burning rays until evening approaches.
Rebekka sits cross-legged, her finger tracing a circle in the dry dust of the pebbled enclosure, studded with tufts of parched grass and weeds. The clean smell of hay is now overlaid with the tang of urine and stale sweat. She buries her face in her mother’s sleeve. ‘I’ve eaten all my bread,’ she whispers. ‘But I’m still hungry.’
‘Try not to think about it. We have some more hidden, but we must make it last. Who knows how long it will be before we have proper food?’
‘I hear they are waiting for boats,’ Papa says. ‘They are taking us to the mainland. There will be adequate supplies there, for sure. They are taking us away to work. They need strong, healthy workers, so I am sure they will feed us well.’
Rebekka clutches his hand. ‘And what about Matilde and Anna? My little sisters are always hungry. Will they be given plenty to eat?’
‘They will have the best,’ Papa says. ‘They will fatten up like little bunnies. Our friends will feed them well and they will grow big and strong.’ Then he hugs his eldest daughter close to his chest, his greying beard brushing the top of her dark head, and she can’t see his eyes filling with tears.
Chapter Thirty-Two
January 2007
Amber
‘What did Dimitri want with you today?’ James was home before me that evening and was already busy in the kitchen. I could smell crushed garlic and frying onions and there was steam from something simmering on the stove.
‘Oh, nothing much,’ he muttered, chopping carrots into tiny dice with rapid sweeps of the enormous sharp knife from his chef’s collection. He was so proud of his expensive professional knives. His artillery, he called it. Then he looked up with a big smile on his face and laid down his tools. ‘But the good news is, Dimitri thinks we’re going to be able to move in very soon.’
‘That’s wonderful. When? Do you have a date?’
‘Dimitri says a couple of weeks should do it. Isn’t that exciting?’ He returned to his chopping then scraped the diced vegetables into a pan.
I frowned. ‘That’s not far off. We’d better confirm the furnishings from the Mill. I don’t want to get caught out.’ I picked up my mobile phone to find Marian’s number.
‘Hang on a minute,’ James said. ‘I wanted to talk about it first.’
‘But I thought we’d decided on what we wanted.’ I was confused. We’d spent a lot of time visiting the Mill, measuring and photographing the furniture stocked there, and I’d felt our visit today had finally confirmed that the characterful pieces we’d selected were absolutely right for the project.
‘Yes, but…’ James was wiping his hands on his trousers. I had bought him a striped apron which he never used. He said chefs never wear aprons, so his normal clothes always needed an extra rub with washing-up liquid or stain remover before I did the laundry. And it was always me who did it.
I handed him a tea towel, which he left crumpled on the worktop. ‘But what?’ I said.
‘I’d just like to think it over before we finally commit ourselves. All the basic stuff – the mattresses, the bedding, the bed frames and so on – you can go ahead with. That’s all bog standard. But the more expensive key pieces, well, I’d like to think about them a bit more.’ He turned to the large fridge and began sorting through the drawer where we stored the salads.
‘But James, those special individual items are our most important pieces of furniture. They are crucial to the look of the whole place. I can’t begin to take photos for the website without things like that lovely carved chest. Those pieces are the essence of Mountian Thyme – it’s the basics, as you call them, that can wait. They’re not hard to source. We can get those any old where. It’s the signature pieces we need sooner rather than later.’ I was confused by his prevarication. It seemed obvious to me that we had to have them as soon as possible.
‘Listen, Amber,’ he said, ‘I do understand how you feel. You’re absolutely right, of course. And I’m as anxious as you are to get the website up and running.’
‘It’s not a question of being anxious, it’s about being ready in time. You’ve had your fun playing around on the building site and toying with your menus while I’ve been working on the promotional material, but I can’t launch it without good pictures. The sooner I get the right shots, the sooner we have a chance of getting solid bookings this coming year. You do see that, don’t you?’ I put my mobile phone down on the worktop and stood facing him, hands on hips.
‘Of course I understand. I know how efficient you are. You’ll do a great job.’ He wrapped the chicken breasts he’d just taken from the fridge in cling film and began hammering them with a wooden mallet to flatten them into thin escalopes. I couldn’t continue the conversation with that noise, so I turned away from him and went upstairs to look at the partially constructed website and other material I had been writing and developing for the last month or so.
The restaurant name had been the catalyst for the design of the whole project, and I had been liaising with Lorna, a graphic designer friend back in London, on the logo and layout. We had incorporated images of the island, the views, the plant life and the local livestock, but pictures of the actual premises were still missing. We didn’t even have a photograph of the exterior yet, let alone the interior showing the rooms where guests would sleep and eat. I couldn’t make any further progress until at least some of the rooms were furnished and I knew that the website was the vital spearhead for our promotional drive.
I went back downstairs to find the kitchen was quieter, with only the noise of frying and simmering. James was stirring a sauce and looked up as I came in. ‘Won’t be long now. I’ve made pollo cotoletta with melanzane alla parmigiana.’
‘I just had another look at the design for the website. Lorna and I have really gone just about as far as we can. It can’t go live without photos of the rooms and I can’t even begin printing business cards or leaflets until we sort out the interiors. I don’t mean we need to have every single room finished, but I simply have to have a couple of them fully decorated and furnished as soon as possible.’
He stood beside the stove, leaning back against the worktop. ‘Stop worrying. I promise you we’ll make it a priority. Just bear with me and let’s look around just a little bit more before we finally place the order. Just to be absolutely sure.’
‘If you really think we must, okay, but I don’t understand why you’re suddenly so reluctant to go ahead with the Mill order. What’s brought all this on?’
He turned back to his frying pan and was quiet for a moment as he lifted the cooked chicken out and slid it onto kitchen paper to drain. ‘Oh, it was just something Dimitri said today, that’s all. He’s got a good contact in the furnishings trade who might be able to save us some money. So I said we’d go and take a look. You can’t object to me wanting to watch the bottom line now, can you?’
I huffed. ‘We’d better go there damn quick then. But I suppose if Dimitri thinks it’s worth us
going, then we should do it.’ I was well aware of how helpful his advice and support had been. He had encouraged us and calmed us throughout the project, in fact, ever since I had stumbled on our first visit to the village early the previous summer.
‘Great, I’ll call him after dinner and fix it as soon as.’ James lifted the baked aubergine out of the oven, then turned to mixing his favourite salad dressing.
‘I had a funny conversation with Marian today, after we left you,’ I said as I gathered cutlery for our meal. ‘It seems she and Dimitri may have crossed paths before.’
‘Really?’ James was distracted, holding the glass jug up to the light to check how much vinegar he’d added to the mix.
‘Dimitri didn’t say anything to you, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t. We were too busy talking about the work schedule and a completion date.’
‘Well, she doesn’t seem to like him very much. But you don’t think we’ve got any reason to feel worried about him, do you? He’s been such an asset, hasn’t he?’
‘I have no qualms about him whatsoever,’ James said, drizzling his concoction over a variety of green leaves in the olive wood bowl. ‘I think we’ve got a lot to be grateful for and I’m not going to listen to any gripes from either of those two old dykes.’
‘Don’t talk about them like that. They’re good friends and they have some wonderful stuff in their shops. But if you really feel we must weigh up the options, then of course we can go along and see how this other place measures up.’ We carried our plates to the table and as we sat down I said, ‘But it’s going to be rather embarrassing if we let Marian and Inge down after all the interest we’ve shown, and they’ve both been so helpful. We’ve virtually promised them a substantial order. I wonder if I ought to let them know we might have to rethink. I’ll ring after we’ve eaten and say we need to hang on for a couple more days, say we’re checking our finances.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,’ James said, his mouth full of chicken. ‘I’ve already told Marian.’
‘What do you mean, you’ve told her? When?’
‘Earlier. While you were upstairs.’
‘You mean Marian rang you?’
‘No, she rang your mobile, so I answered and said you were busy. She said she has to take Inge to the clinic tomorrow, so if you wanted to discuss the order and reserve some of those pieces, could it wait till the following day. So I said that’s not a problem, we’re having second thoughts anyway.’ He took another large mouthful of food.
I dropped my fork onto my plate with a clang. ‘You said what?’
Wolfing his food, he took a second or two to answer. ‘She was fine about it. I told her it wasn’t personal. She’s a businesswoman. She understands how these things work.’
‘But you had no right to do that.’
He frowned at me. ‘I only answered the phone, for God’s sake. Since when did that become a crime?’
‘I can’t believe you did that. You shouldn’t have answered my phone, for a start. And you shouldn’t have told her we might not be placing an order when we hadn’t even discussed the possibility at that stage.’
‘But we have discussed it. And you’ve agreed to look elsewhere.’
‘I’ve agreed to look, but that doesn’t mean I’m cancelling the order we might be giving to the Mill. How dare you assume it’s not going to happen?’
‘Well, what’s the problem? So now she knows we’re weighing up our options. There’s no harm done. We can still go back to her and give her an order, if we change our minds.’
I was silent. I cut my chicken into small chunks and stabbed at a piece with my fork. It scooted off my plate and onto the tiled floor. As I bent to pick it up with my fingers, James said, ‘You don’t have to throw it all over the floor, if you don’t like it.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, putting the fallen chicken on a side plate. ‘I’m just not very hungry anymore.’ I laid down my knife and fork. ‘I think I’ll go up and take another look at the website. I need to work out exactly how many photos we still need.’
‘All right then.’ James reached across the table for my plate. ‘If you don’t want it, you won’t mind if I have it, will you?’
‘Eat the whole bloody lot, why don’t you?’ I stomped up the stairs and slammed the door, muttering, ‘And serves you right if you choke on it.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
January 2007
James
Greg rang again the following night. He wasn’t quite as drunk as the last time, but he was still triumphant. ‘I got one into the air con,’ he shouted. ‘What do you think of that?’
I couldn’t help laughing and said, ‘Well, that should cause a stink.’ Then I added, ‘Seriously, if you can possibly be serious for a second, are you free for a quick chat tomorrow?’
We arranged to meet for breakfast at a cafe Amber never went to in Corfu Town. I didn’t want to take her along, even though she knew Greg was taking an interest in the restaurant and would be backing us, so I told her I had to get there early to meet a potential supplier. ‘You’re welcome to come with me if you want, but I’m meeting him in the harbour where they land the catch and it will be very early.’
‘No, you go off on your own then. I don’t need to see loads of smelly fish. Lorna’s sending through another proof for the business cards, so I want to spend the morning dealing with that before we go off to meet your Costas guy.’ We had arranged to meet Dimitri’s furniture contact at his warehouse in Perivoli at two that afternoon. Amber had already grumbled again about it being a waste of time and she was still annoyed with me for speaking to Marian. She was also disgruntled about the location too, saying, ‘Why is he all the way down there, the tacky end of the island? It doesn’t give me much confidence this is going to be worth our while.’
It didn’t give me much reassurance either, but I’d arranged it through Dimitri and, even though he wasn’t coming along with us as suggested, I felt, having pushed Amber into agreeing to look at alternatives, that I had to follow through with the appointment.
I left our villa at seven thirty in the morning and parked in the car park on the harbour. In summer I always tried to be there early to grab a spot shaded by one of the oleander bushes, but today it was raining again and I splashed through puddles across the shining wet flagstones and up the steep steps to our rendezvous. Although the rain brought the promise of spring in the depths of winter, I detected the odours of sewage and rubbish lurking in the old alleyways.
Greg was waiting for me, already sipping from a small cup of strong Greek coffee. ‘You want one of these as well?’ he asked as I sat next to him.
‘No, thanks. I don’t need that kind of kick up the arse this morning. You feeling a bit the worse for wear today?’
‘Don’t ask. Pam’s already read the riot act.’ Greg shook his head in a weary way, then yawned and looked sorry for himself. ‘She’s a wonderful woman, but she doesn’t have our sense of humour.’ He yawned again.
I ordered eggs and bacon and milky coffee. Greg said he might eat something once the caffeine had worked its magic. ‘Don’t want to upset the old guts before they’ve woken up properly. So, what are you up to today?’
I told him about our afternoon visit to the furniture dealer Dimitri had recommended, saying, ‘I don’t know if it’ll be any good, but it’s a chance to check our options.’ And I didn’t say that Amber wasn’t at all keen, nor that we’d had harsh words about it.
‘I doubt he’ll offer you the genuine article,’ Greg said, ‘but there’s nothing wrong with having a look. Though bear in mind, you don’t want to go spoiling the ship for a ha’porth of tar, as they say.’
‘If it’s not right for us, I’ll be very diplomatic. I don’t want to go putting Dimitri’s nose out of joint.’
‘Good plan,’ Greg said. ‘Best to keep on his good side. He’s invaluable.’
‘Too right. I’m beginning to realise that. In fact, he made an interesting obs
ervation the other day, about the potential of the land around the restaurant. You know, the undeveloped areas we look out onto from the terrace at the back?’
‘Oh yes,’ Greg murmured. ‘I’d noticed that too. It’s a very attractive area. Pasture and orchards mostly, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, on the whole. There’s some grazing and a large number of old trees that haven’t been pruned in ages, so they won’t even be very productive now. It’s pretty rough land altogether. But a bit of development up there could be to our advantage. It could open up a whole new market.’
Greg took out a large white handkerchief and began blowing his nose. When he’d finished mopping up, he said, ‘You don’t think it would spoil your view?’
I shook my head. ‘I’ve been thinking about it. There’s plenty of space and loads of trees all around us. It could be very discreet. And,’ I was getting excited, because I’d been thinking about the idea ever since Dimitri had mentioned it, ‘if it was an upmarket development, it would bring us an equally upmarket clientele, wanting a first-class restaurant.’
Greg was looking serious and nodded in agreement. ‘Could be just the leverage you’d want by then. The jump from lowly bistro to fine dining, you mean?’
‘Exactly. There’s no point in aiming for a Michelin star if there’s no one to appreciate it, is there?’
‘You’re setting your sights high, my boy. Very high.’ Greg waved at the waiter and ordered scrambled eggs with chorizo, saying, ‘I need some spice as well as caffeine to pick me up today.’
Burning Island: Absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical fiction Page 12
