Burning Island: Absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical fiction

by Suzanne Goldring

  ‘Please, we take you now.’ The man from the air ambulance was gesturing to the harness, which had been lowered again, and offered his arm to help me stand up.

  As he tightened the straps, I said, ‘There’s another injured man nearby, over there. He might still be alive.’ I pointed across the road to the splintered wood around the pit where Greg had fallen. ‘Can you check and see if you can help him as well?’

  The crewman ran across and peered down into the vault, then radioed his colleagues. ‘I stay here and you go up,’ he said, tugging on the hoist which then began lifting me into the air. I watched him as I rose higher and higher. He was sitting on the edge of the hole, his legs dangling, and then he jumped down into the cellar.

  As I was hauled up, I found myself praying that Greg would still be alive, that he would survive and that I’d have a chance to forgive him and thank him for all he had done for Amber and the baby. And all around and below me I could now see the full extent of the disaster that had engulfed the village. No more lemons, oranges, olives or walnuts grew here; their groves were charred graveyards of fallen fruit and twisted trees. As far as I could see, we were the only living creatures to have survived the conflagration and if Greg hadn’t been there to help Amber, there might have been only two lives to lift to safety.

  When I was pulled aboard, wincing and groaning, I was lifted onto a stretcher and strapped down, then a needle entered my arm and with it came the relief of oblivion. As I started to drift into a painless sleep, my head lolled to one side and I saw Amber staring at me. She was holding the baby tight to her breast, her face grim and fierce. She looked at me hard, stared at me unsmiling, then looked down at her child’s dark head, cooing with softened features as she stroked his cheek, and I knew she would never smile at me with affection again.

  Then her final words in the cellar came back to me, and even as I fought the drugged sleep that was now claiming me, I could not stop myself from hearing them echo in my head again and again: ‘If you could have told me everything from the start, we might have seen the truth for ourselves together. But you thought only of yourself and your reputation.’ She shook her head in disappointment and added, ‘You are not the man I thought you were.’

  Her words haunted me and her stern face stared at me as I lost my hold on wakefulness, and in the dreams that followed I was falling down stone staircases, chased by flickering flames, calling to Greg and Dimitri to quench the fires, while Amber was lifted into the air with our baby, leaving me completely alone in the ruined restaurant for ever.

  Chapter Seventy

  July 2008

  Amber

  I didn’t see or speak to James again after we reached the hospital. He was sedated during the flight and was still groggy when we landed. We were both transferred to an ambulance and once we arrived, James was taken away for X-rays and I was wheeled to the maternity ward, where my dreams of a proper bed with clean white sheets and plump pillows soon became a reality. My torn and bloodstained nightdress was cut away from my body and, after a short examination, I was allowed to enjoy a long shower, while Theo was checked, weighed, bathed and wrapped in a clean nappy and gown.

  I lay in my bed, in a fresh but unflattering hospital robe, watching other new mothers in the ward being kissed and hugged by husbands and relatives, all bearing colourful cards, balloons and bouquets. My bedside table was empty apart from a glass and a half-empty flask of water. I had no gifts and no visitors, but I had my healthy baby boy, sleeping in a bassinette beside my bed. Every time he snuffled I had to check he was breathing properly. I had already examined every tiny finger, toe and limb and could hardly believe that he was so perfect after the dramatic circumstances of his arrival.

  And as I rested in my bed, I closed my eyes and found myself trying to re-examine all the events that had led to this disaster. How much had James really known about Greg and Dimitri’s plans? When had they decided to clear the land and why on earth had they started the fire at the riskiest time of year, in the middle of summer?

  I also tried to think clearly about what should happen next. Mountain Thyme, although it hadn’t been destroyed like so many other buildings in the village, would not be habitable for months to come. And the restaurant could not open again for business this year, if ever. My home and my livelihood were both gone and so too, I suspected, was my husband. I could return to the UK and my mother would probably welcome me back with her first grandchild, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to the kind of life we’d had before coming to the island. If I even could return to my old career, I’d be working long hours, leaving my baby in a nursery for most of the day. I could turn to Ben and Eleni, but Ben was more James’s friend than mine and I wondered whether he would feel he should remain loyal to his old schoolmate – I would find the situation with him too awkward.

  I was lying there on my second day, just after feeding and changing Theo once more, when a flurry of turquoise and gold entered the ward. It wasn’t another eager visitor for one of the other occupants, it was Pam. Her lipstick was patchy and her eyes were red and rimmed with black smudges. She had obviously been crying.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ she exclaimed, rushing across to my bed. ‘Let me see the little mite. Oh, thank goodness you are both all right.’ She looked down at the cot, pulling the top edge of the sheet away with a long scarlet fingernail so she could see my baby’s sleeping face, her jangling gold charm bracelet cascading down her wrist as she did so. ‘Oh, what a perfect little darling. And he’s such a lovely colour, not as dark as you, but still lovely. You must have been so relieved to get out of that dreadful place in one piece with him. What a nightmare for you.’

  She pulled a metal chair from the other side of the ward towards my bed, scraping it across the worn lino floor, then threw herself down on it and reached for my hand. ‘My dear, I’ve just come from seeing Greg.’ Tears began to well in her eyes again but she shook her head and sniffed a little to chase them away.

  ‘Greg? Is he all right? James wasn’t sure…’

  ‘He’s black and blue and plastered from head to foot, but he’ll live. He’s tough as anything.’ She smiled through her tears. ‘He managed to tell me all about you and the baby.’ She stopped and fumbled for a tissue in her gold handbag, dabbing at her eyes and nose before she could continue. ‘I’m so proud of him. Just fancy, Greg of all people delivering a baby, all on his own. I would never have believed it.’ She sniffed again, then laughed. ‘I don’t think he ever changed so much as a single nappy when Lavinia was a little one.’

  ‘I’m so grateful to him,’ I said. ‘Really I am. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t turned up when he did. And I’m so relieved to hear he’s going to be all right. Please thank him for me and tell him we are both doing well.’

  ‘Oh, I will, you can be sure of that. It was the first thing he wanted to know when he finally regained consciousness. “Where’s Amber,” he said, “and where’s the baby?” I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. I thought he was still dopey from the anaesthetic.’

  She leant forward and clutched my hand. ‘He was in the operating theatre for five hours, you know. Can you believe it? His back, his leg, a shoulder, just about every bone in his body.’ She dabbed her eyes again.

  ‘Poor Greg. But he will recover, won’t he?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about him, dear. He’s strong as an ox. It would take more than a little fall like that to finish him off.’ Pam was really smiling now. ‘Lavinia’s on her way over to see him. She’ll be here later today, so I can’t stay long. She said she had to see her daddy as soon as she could, now she’s made it up with Vladi.’ She tucked her tissues away in her handbag and stood up, ready to leave. ‘Oh, and Greg was asking after James as well. Do you know how he’s getting on? I understand he had a bit of a fall too. They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?’

  ‘I haven’t been able to see James since we got here,’ I said. ‘Did Greg say anything about him and how the accide
nt happened?’

  ‘Nothing that made any sense, dear. Something about what total chaos it was up there and how it was a blessed wonder you all got out in one piece.’ She shook her hair back and repositioned her sunglasses on top of her bleached hair. ‘I must dash. I’ve got to make sure everything’s ready for Lavinia. She’ll want to drop in and see her daddy as soon as possible.’ She turned towards the door, then surveyed the other new mothers in the ward and said, ‘I’ll tell her to bring you some flowers, shall I? Can’t have you being the only mummy in here without flowers now, can we?’ Then, with a fluttery wave of her hand and a waft of Opium perfume, she was gone.

  I watched her leave and thought that, much as I was grateful to Greg for his help with the birth, I would not be turning to his family for support once I was able to leave the hospital. And although I was now reassured that my husband was not a murderer, I could not rid myself of the knowledge that he was still a liar.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  19 June 1944

  As they return to the farmhouse after visiting Zenia and her livestock, Agata hisses at Georgiou, ‘So, she has a regular visitor when the ram is brought to service the ewes! He will see us, see the girls and maybe ask questions. I thought we would be safe here, now I am not so sure. When is Saint Michael’s Day?’

  ‘November the eighth. I know because it was my father’s name day. One month before the feast of Saint Spyridon. But calm yourself. She didn’t say anyone else would come before then. He only comes to bring the ram.’

  ‘But others may know he comes here. They may think there are rich pickings here if there is only one old woman to keep watch.’

  ‘True. If things get any worse, people may venture further into the countryside to find food. But we are a long way from the town; there are many productive farms further south that they will raid before daring to brave the mountain paths.’

  ‘Perhaps. But the Germans don’t only take our food. People are frightened as well as hungry. They may well be willing to face the harsher conditions of the mountains if they think they will be safer.’ Agata thinks as they walk, then says, ‘I must tell the girls where to hide, if they have to. We must have another place where they can be safe.’

  ‘Perhaps the cellar,’ Georgiou says. ‘I haven’t checked it properly yet. But it is dry and there is ventilation. We’ll look at it as soon as we’re home.’

  Agata squeezes his hand. There is so much work to be done in the house and she wants to sweep floors, wash windows and make beds, but the safety of the girls must come first. The children are holding hands, skipping along the path, singing in high voices, innocent of any threat to their well-being, until Matilde stubs her toe on a broken cobble and her song changes to a pitiful wail.

  ‘There, there, my dear,’ Agata says, bending over the wounded foot. ‘We’ll bathe it when we get home.’ Anna clings to her legs and adds her cries to those of her sister. ‘You’re not hurt as well, are you?’ She continues to cry until Georgiou picks her up and says he will carry her all the way back.

  ‘If only they had shoes,’ Agata says. ‘How will they manage in the winter, without shoes? And their father a cobbler too.’

  ‘Papa mended shoes,’ Matilde says.

  ‘He did, didn’t he? But he never made any shoes for you and your sister?’

  ‘Not for us, but he gave Rebekka shoes.’ Matilde takes Agata’s hand and they resume walking. ‘Rebekka’s our big sister. She had shoes so she could go to the bakery for Mama, to fetch bread.’

  Anna overhears this remark and begins wailing again. ‘Mama, I want Mama.’

  ‘Where’s Mama?’ asks Matilde. ‘When is she coming to take us home?’

  ‘She’s working hard so she can come back to get you soon,’ Agata says, blinking back her tears. ‘I’m sure she thinks of you every day and prays you are both good girls, eating all your food and going to bed when you are told. And she’ll be so pleased to know you have grown big enough to need new dresses, won’t she?’

  Matilde nods and says, ‘When can I have my new dress?’

  Agata thinks again of the many chores she must complete before she can sit down at a clean table and take up her sewing again, the sewing so suddenly interrupted by that unexpected and unsettling visitor. ‘If you and your sister can help me in the house, I will have the dresses finished very soon. So you must promise me you will do everything I ask of you.’

  Matilde nods solemnly. ‘And can I have shoes as well?’

  ‘We shall think hard how we can find you both some shoes for the winter. The mountains can be very cold. There may even be snow.’ And Agata wonders whether, within the ruined houses of the village, she may find some leather or even a little pair of forgotten shoes.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  July 2008

  James

  ‘I want to see my wife. Where is she? And the baby, where’s the baby?’

  I think those were the first words I said when I woke from the operation to set my leg and arm. I hadn’t expected to be knocked out for so long. I’d been in plaster once before years ago, but that was only a wrist fracture, caused by a stumble in the school gym. This time my leg was in traction and my arm was suspended too, because I was told there were complications with the elbow and wrist.

  ‘Where’s Amber? Where are my wife and baby?’ I asked the nurses these questions every time they came to check on me, when they smoothed my pillows, held water to my lips or adjusted my leg. But all they did was smile and nod, until finally a nurse who spoke good English was at my bedside. ‘I will find out for you,’ she said.

  I waited, I dozed, and I hoped Amber would suddenly appear, but it must have been more than an hour before the nurse returned. ‘Your wife and baby are doing well,’ she smiled. ‘They are in the maternity ward with all the other new mothers and babies.’ She looked pleased at this announcement. ‘Would you like me to give her a message?’

  ‘I’d like to go and see them.’

  She shook her head. ‘You are not allowed to move yet. You must stay here longer.’

  ‘Then please tell her I am sorry. And ask her to come and see me here, as I cannot go to her.’

  ‘Of course. I will do that for you.’ She smiled again. ‘Do not worry. They are both being cared for very well and you have a lovely baby boy.’

  But I was worrying. I wasn’t worried about their well-being, but I was worried about what Amber might be thinking; what she felt about me and all that had happened. I lay there, barely able to move, waiting for my next dose of painkillers and enduring the attentions of the nurses for my every intimate need.

  When, after another day had passed, I had still not seen Amber nor even received a message from her, I really began to fret. I looked out for the English-speaking nurse all morning and when I finally saw her, I called out, ‘Have you spoken to my wife yet?’

  She came across to my bed with her beaming smile, saying, ‘You have such a beautiful baby. You have seen him today?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Are you sure Amber realised I can’t go to her?’

  ‘Of course. She understood very well. I told her, Mr Young must stay in his bed, so you will have to go to him when you feel able.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  The nurse shrugged. ‘I don’t remember. I think she just thanked me. That is all.’

  I had no other way of reaching Amber. I was helpless. Then shortly after lunch, a phone was brought to my bedside. ‘Please. For you,’ said a nurse whose English was not so good, passing the receiver across to my functioning left hand.

  ‘Hi, mate,’ said the voice on the other end. ‘How’re you doing?’

  It was Ben, and I was so relieved to hear from him. ‘I’m strung up and going out of my mind,’ I said. ‘They won’t let me get out of bed to see Amber and the baby. It’s driving me absolutely mad.’

  ‘I’ve been holding off coming to see you. Thought I’d wait till you were feeling a bit more sociable. But I’ll come up and see you bot
h this afternoon if you like.’

  He turned up later, bearing a couple of James Bond novels, a large bouquet and a bowl of fruit. ‘Shaken, not stirred,’ he said, setting the bowl down on the bedside cabinet. ‘Thought you’d prefer that to flowers.’

  ‘Oh, so the flowers aren’t for me then?’

  ‘They’re for Amber. I’ll pop down to see her next. Thought I’d come and see the invalid first though.’ He ran an inquisitive finger down the traction wires, but caught my eye, my look warning him not to interfere any further.

  ‘I still haven’t been able to see her yet. Go and tell her I’m desperate, will you?’

  ‘Sure thing. And I gather Greg’s here somewhere too. Quite a family gathering, isn’t it?’ He laughed and pulled up one of the battered metal chairs that were all the general hospital provided for visitors.

  ‘Greg?’ My heart felt as if it had stopped for second or two. ‘I didn’t know he was here. I didn’t even know he’d survived.’

  ‘He’s a tough old bugger, that one. Pam says he’ll be in for a fair bit, but he’ll pull through all right in the end.’

  Ben ripped off the cellophane wrapped around the fruit and began picking at the grapes. ‘Don’t mind, do you?’

  I waved my good hand at him. ‘Go ahead, be my guest.’

  He ate a couple of grapes, then said, ‘What exactly happened up there in the village? No one seems to know how it all started.’

  I sighed. ‘No idea. It was just crazy.’ Then I added, keen to change the subject, ‘Toss me a grape, will you?’ And for a few minutes, it was like we were schoolkids again, with Ben attempting to throw grapes directly into my mouth. He succeeded a couple of times, but the rest rolled down my gown and onto the sheets. We stopped our game when one of the nurses walked past my bed and looked sternly at us both.