Aphrodite's Island

by Hilary Green

  I scrambled to my feet and seized the dead pine branch that had clearly been used as a broom to wipe out tracks last night. In a frenzy of haste, I began to brush away my own footprints. It was only when I reached the passageway in the rock that I realized I must obliterate them all the way through to the far chamber, so that when the others returned to collect their cache they would not know someone else had been there. I swallowed and tasted bile. It was harder this time to force myself into that dark hole than it had been before but somehow I half stumbled, half crawled to the entrance of the second chamber. Then, working backwards, I wiped out all traces of my presence until I was once more crouching by the cave mouth with the dappled sunlight on my back.

  I had only just finished when I heard a step on the path outside. I scrambled to the edge of the cave, pressing my back against the wall. A man’s shadow fell across the sandy floor. Then the branches were pushed aside and Stephen stepped through. Without thinking, I cried out in relief and he stopped short, his hand going to his revolver. Then he recognized me and held out his arms.

  ‘It’s all right, silly! It’s only me. Who did you think it was?’

  I clung to him, trying to hide my shaking voice in laughter. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you so soon. You took me by surprise.’

  ‘I’m early, I know. I didn’t think you’d be here. Were you as impatient as I was?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I couldn’t wait to see you.’

  ‘Me, too. Oh, darling, I hate every moment I’m not with you! I think of you all day and dream of you all night.’

  He kissed me and drew me down onto the ground. He had brought drinks, beer for himself, Coke for me, and I drank greedily. My throat was parched from nerves as much as from my exertions. Afterwards he began to make love to me but this time I was unable to give myself up to him as unreservedly as before.

  He felt my tension and said softly, ‘What is it, my love? You’re all wound up. Is it the usual monthly thing?’

  I blushed at the mention of such a thing but nodded and muttered, ‘Probably.’

  He stroked my hair. ‘We don’t have to do anything, if you’d rather not. I can be patient. We can just cuddle and chat, if you’d rather.’

  I felt on the edge of tears. ‘Yes, please. I’d like that.’

  So for the first time we talked in the intimate way of lovers. He told me about his unhappy boyhood, sent away to boarding school by his adoptive parents who, he said, must have decided after a year or two that the adoption had been a mistake and wanted him out of the way. He told me how he had been bullied, until he had learned to fight back, and how later he had discovered that he was cleverer than most of the other boys and had achieved some self-respect. He spoke of the relief and delight of his time at Cambridge University and the misery of being cast back into the brutal atmosphere of army life.

  ‘Thank God I got a deferment until I had my degree! At least that meant I could apply for a commission. I don’t think I’d have survived two years as a squaddie!’

  I asked him what he would do when he left the army.

  ‘I thought of becoming a teacher but I realize now it was for all the wrong reasons. I’ve always loved to travel and to write, and I thought the long holidays would give me a chance to do both.’

  ‘So have you changed your mind?’

  ‘I think so. While I’ve been here I’ve seen so many things that – well, things that ought to be brought to people’s attention, so they can understand what’s really going on. And I’ve seen the correspondents from the various national papers hanging round the bars and hotels, trying to make sense of the situation. I can’t write about how things are here, of course, not while I’m in the army, but once I get out … How do you fancy being the wife of a journalist – a foreign correspondent?’

  My breath caught in my throat. ‘Here? You know my father would never permit it.’

  ‘How could he stop us, once you’re over twenty-one?’

  ‘You don’t understand. Age makes no difference here. We could never live here as husband and wife.’

  ‘Then would you come away with me? To England or wherever else in the world I happened to be sent? I know it’s asking a lot, for you to leave your family and the place where you grew up. But it seems as though it’s the only chance for us. Would you do that, Ariadne?’

  I should have hesitated. I should have been afraid but I only felt complete certainty. ‘Yes. If you will come back for me, when you leave the army, I will come with you to the end of the earth.’

  He kissed me then, and very soon I forgot my fear, forgot even the guns hidden at the back of the cave, and we made love.

  There has been a battle at Soli, the first real face-to-face engagement between our people and the British. How can I still think of them as ‘our people’? I have cut myself off from my father and my brothers as surely as if I was already married to Stephen. Iannis and Demetrios disappeared for three days and returned filthy and exhausted. Demetrios looked sick and distressed but Iannis was wild-eyed with excitement and fury. Two of our men have been killed, Zakos and Michael, and Iannis can talk of nothing but revenge. I dare not point out to him that the British have good reason to feel the same. Only a week ago there was a shocking incident at the Ledra Hotel in Nicosia. Two of the regiments serving here are from Scotland and there was a Caledonian Ball at the Ledra. In the middle of the dancing, when everyone, I suppose, was enjoying themselves and trying to forget all the trouble, a grenade went off. Four people were injured and later, after the place was evacuated, an unexploded grenade was found under the table reserved for the governor, Sir John Harding. When we heard the news Iannis banged his fist on the table and called the men who had planted the grenade incompetent fools. I asked him what good it would have done if it had gone off, because Sir John was not even there at the time. He just glared at me and called me a stupid girl. All I could think of was thank God Stephen was not invited to the ball.

  Things are getting worse. First the attack at the Ledra, then the battle at Soli. Now the latest news is that two British soldiers have been gunned down in broad daylight while out window-shopping. Is it possible that Christmas might bring a time of peace? No, that is a foolish hope.

  Yesterday I met Stephen at the cave as usual. We have been meeting three or four times a week, although we know we are both taking a terrible risk. So that we can have more time together, I have been slipping away from school during the lunch hour. I tell them various stories: that I am unwell, that I have to visit a sick relative, that I am going to the library to do some research. The times are so disturbed, with the whole school in upheaval with meetings and demonstrations, that no one has paid much attention to my absences – yet, but I don’t know how much longer it can go on.

  After we had made love, Stephen said, ‘My darling, it is going to be difficult for me to meet you so often from now on. There’s going to be a crackdown on security. It’s not just the shootings the other day. Bombs have been thrown into three bars in the city. We’ve been instructed that from now on we have to go around in pairs for protection. I’ve managed to convince my superiors that I am following up some useful Intelligence contacts, who would be frightened off if I showed up with another soldier, but it’s getting harder.’ He sighed and sat up, running his hand over his hair. ‘The problem is, I don’t actually have any information to give them. I’m going to have to justify all the time I’ve been spending away from base somehow.’

  I thought of the weapons hidden in the back of the cave. He had never shown any sign of wanting to explore and I had begun to forget my anxiety. Now it struck me that I had the means at hand to provide him with exactly the kind of information that his superiors wanted. After all, I hate what the men of EOKA are doing. The loss of the rifles and grenades in the inner chamber might mean that lives would be saved on both sides. A word from me and Stephen would regain the confidence of his superiors and his freedom of movement. The temptation was so strong that it made me
tremble, but in the same instant I knew I had to resist it. It would be an act of betrayal that might lead the authorities straight to my own brothers.

  CHAPTER 5

  Demetrios is dead! No one will tell me exactly how it happened. Father will only say that he and Iannis were ‘on active service’. Iannis has disappeared, gone into hiding somewhere. Demetrios, my gentle brother who never wished harm to any living creature, is dead. Is this part of my punishment? I have betrayed my people and disgraced my family. I always knew that I should have to suffer for my wickedness – but why should my brother suffer too?

  Today I went to the cave, hoping that Stephen would come to find me. I have to speak to him! As soon as I left the main path I knew what had happened. There were footprints, broken branches, spent ammunition littering the ground. I understood then how Demetrios died. But I had said nothing! I never breathed the faintest hint to Stephen, and he cannot have suspected what was hidden in the darkness at the back of the place where we made love. So it must have been pure chance that someone else discovered the hiding place. Unless he was followed – or I was. Did I, after all, betray my brother?

  There was a sentry posted at the mouth of the cave and other men sitting inside. I suppose they were waiting to see if anyone else comes to look for the weapons. Fools! Every member of EOKA will have heard about their loss by now. But it means I can never meet Stephen there again and I do not know where else to find him. He no longer comes to have his lesson with my father on Sundays. That finished months ago, when the security situation got so bad. The troops no longer stroll around the streets of Nicosia as they used to. They drive round in their jeeps, rifles at the ready. It is impossible to arrange what might look like a casual encounter. Yet I must contrive some way of speaking to him – and soon!

  As if this isn’t enough, the school has finally become suspicious. The headmaster has written to my father, asking why I have missed so many lessons. I told my parents that I had lost patience with my teachers, who seem not to care about the struggle for independence, and was spending my time helping to write leaflets and organize demonstrations with other activists among my classmates. My father pretended to reprimand me but I could see that he was not really angry. I have been careful in the last few months not to speak against enosis and he is glad to think that I have accepted the error of my previous opinions. So, I have deceived him in yet another way and if he ever asks any of the real activists from the Gymnasium what I have been doing he will learn that. But what is that compared with the greater sin I have committed and for which my punishment is only just beginning?

  Demetrios is dead and I am pregnant!

  The guard at the gate of the British army camp did not want to let me in. I told him that I was a friend of Lieutenant Allenby, but he said it was against his orders to let anyone pass. I begged and pleaded. It went against my pride, but I was desperate. Then I had an idea. I told him that I had been acting as an informant for the lieutenant and that I had something vital to tell him. He made a phone call then, and I thought he was speaking to Stephen. When he told me to follow another soldier into the camp, I thought my problems were over. I would see Stephen and explain to him and he would look after me. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew he would take care of me.

  Instead of taking me to Stephen, the man led me to an office and I found myself facing a man in a colonel’s uniform. He had grey hair and a grey face with not a trace of kindness in it.

  ‘You have information? Well?’

  I drew myself up and tried to speak with dignity, although my legs were trembling.

  ‘I need to speak to Lieutenant Allenby. My information is for him.’

  ‘If you have information which may be of use in the current emergency, then you must give it to me. If not, you had better be on your way.’

  It was no good! His coldness and his overbearing manner were too much for me. I began to cry. I told him that Stephen and I were lovers and that now I was expecting his child. I said that Stephen did not know this and that I must tell him.

  That man! He was a monster, not a human being. He sat behind his desk and looked at me as if I was a slut from the slums of Famagusta.

  ‘My dear girl, if you have been foolish enough to get yourself into this predicament that is something for you to sort out with your family. The British army cannot take responsibility for your bastard. Lieutenant Allenby has behaved very stupidly, and he will be dealt with accordingly. But there is no question of your being allowed to see him. I suggest you go home and make a clean breast of things to your parents. Good day.’

  A moment later I found myself being led back along the corridor. I was shaking all over and I could not control my tears, although I was ashamed for the soldiers to see me like that. At the gate the sentry jerked his head towards the road and told me curtly to ‘push off’. I understood that he had reason to hate my people, but still I wondered how he could be so callous when he must have seen my distress.

  Once out of the camp I walked for a long time without thinking where I was going, until I found myself on the beach. The sea was angry and the waves thundered against the shore. A fine rain was falling and I realized for the first time that I was wet through and shivering with cold. I looked at the sea and contemplated walking straight into the waves. How could I go home and tell my mother and father what had happened to me? It was bad enough that I had allowed myself to become pregnant out of wedlock but that the father was a British soldier, a representative of the hated enemy who were occupying our island, was unforgivable. Moreover, he was a man who had represented himself as a friend of the whole family. He and Demetrios had gone bird watching together. The thought of my brother dragged me deeper into my misery. Demetrios had been killed in an ambush outside the very cave that Stephen and I had used as our meeting place. When that came out, as I knew it must eventually, Iannis would immediately conclude that it was I who had betrayed them. I would be branded a traitor as well as a whore. I would be lucky to escape with my life. I looked again at the sea. I believe if it had been a calm day I should have walked into the water and let it take me but the fury of the waves terrified me. I remembered that my father was a good man and that he had always loved me. I knew that I had forfeited that love forever but I had to trust that his goodness would not allow him to have me killed, along with the child I carried. I turned away and began to trudge back towards the city.

  PART TWO

  LONDON, 1973

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘Stephen Allenby?’

  Stephen stopped short, feeling the familiar tingle down his spine that spelt ‘trouble’. His first thought was that this was the parent of one of his pupils, lying in wait for him to complain about the fact that his boy had been disciplined. He had heard plenty of stories from colleagues of being shouted at and even threatened by irate fathers. But a second glance dispelled that idea. Stephen had not lost his journalist’s eye for detail and ability to sum up and categorize people at first sight. The man standing by his car had close-cropped grey hair. His clothes were clearly intended to look casual – blazer and cavalry twill trousers – but only succeeded in giving the impression that he would have been happier in a suit, or in uniform, perhaps. There was something about the set of his shoulders that said ex-military.

  ‘Yes?’ he agreed cautiously.

  The man reached into an inner pocket and produced a card. ‘My name’s Warrender. I wonder if we could have a word in private.’

  Stephen looked at the card. It said, ‘Matthew Warrender, Personnel Solutions,’ and gave an address in the City. ‘What about?’

  ‘It’s not something I want to discuss standing in the car park. Suffice it to say that I have a proposal to make that I think will interest you. Is there somewhere we could go? It’s too early for the pub, unfortunately. Somewhere we could get a cup of tea, perhaps?’

  Stephen scrutinized his face. His expression was bland and friendly. ‘Look, if you’re trying to sell me a time-share or something, I’m afraid y
ou are wasting your time.’

  The stranger laughed briefly. ‘It’s nothing like that, I assure you.’

  Caution suggested that it would be wise to refuse the invitation but Stephen’s curiosity was piqued. Once upon a time, sensing a story, he would not have hesitated.

  ‘All right. There’s a café across the road. It’s a bit of a greasy spoon but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do round here.’

  Neither of them spoke as Stephen led the way through the early rush-hour traffic. In the café they found a corner table well away from the half-dozen or so elderly women and overalled workmen who made up the rest of the clientele. Warrender went to the counter and came back with two mugs of tea and a couple of bath buns.

  As he sat down Stephen said, ‘How did you know my name? And where to find me?’

  ‘We’ve had our eyes on you for some time. You see, we think you have the expertise and the background that we’re looking for.’

  ‘What sort of expertise?’

  ‘You used to be a journalist, didn’t you?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘And you have spent time in Cyprus.’

  The tingle was back down Stephen’s spine. ‘Many years ago, yes.’