The Girl Under the Olive Tree

by Leah Fleming

  Then came that first glimpse of archaeologists in pith helmets unearthing ancient treasures, brushing the sand and dust, washing the pots. Girls in shorts, not much older than I was, sketching details of the discoveries. There were piles of wicker baskets full of finds ready to be labelled up and catalogued. Scenes from the tops of mountains, picnics by caves on Crete. Shots of the party all laughing and the men doing strange dances, and I felt the jealousy fired up inside me for their freedom to be out there doing something of such importance. It looked a wondrous place. But a place that was so far away from my humdrum life, it could have been the moon. It was boys who got to tramp round Europe, to travel without chaperones, to learn foreign languages. I’d hardly been down the street on my own. There was always someone by my side, giving me orders, checking the seams on my stockings. I’d never been on a bus or train alone, gone into a public house or hotel, or been allowed to stay out late. Permission would never be granted for a girl like me to go on such a risky expedition, even if Greece was in my father’s ancestral homeland and I did possess a little nursery Greek.

  A burning sense of injustice seized me at the unfairness of our childhood, privileged as it was, and now I laughed out loud.

  But you did it, old girl. You did it in the most roundabout way. Oh, the single-minded arrogance of youth. This was going to be your destiny and you flew towards it like Icarus to the sun, regardless of others or the danger.

  I sighed, shaking my head. If only youth knew and age could, went the saying. How true. Little did I know then that such a flight would demand a lifetime of service to pay back its dues.

  The brochure for Crete was still lying on my bedside table, unread. Now I was going to return to that special place, perhaps to gather up the scattered bits of myself that had been left behind there, if they were still to be found. Perhaps only by facing the past would I find answers to the mysteries that still lay hidden on that island of heroes and dreams.

  Stokencourt Place,

  April 1937

  Evadne’s wedding had taken months of preparations. The fact of the King’s shocking abdication and the coronation of the new King George in his place were merely minor events in Mother’s calendar. Nor did rumours of war in Germany ruffle her determination to make this the wedding of the year. There was to be a grand reception in the grounds of Stokencourt Place, with London catering, after a service in the parish church.

  Effy’s dress was being made by the society couturier Victor Stiebel, whose team demanded endless fittings, making trips to London a regular occurrence. This gave Penny a chance to explore the capital with the help of Effy’s chief bridesmaid, Diana Linsley.

  Diane, as she preferred to be called, had just been ‘finished’ in Munich and kept the George girls in stitches with stories of her escapades in Hitler’s Germany. She described the Führer and his ardent followers strutting down the streets like cocks in a barnyard. She’d been sent home early after speaking out too loudly at a party, making a joke about the Hitler Youth camp she’d attended with her hosts.

  ‘It’s not like our Boy Scouts, I tell you. I saw a nasty side to them: kicking old men off the street, chanting abuse at anyone forced to wear a yellow star on their coat, knocking their hats off and tormenting their children. My hosts tried to apologize for their behaviour but I could see they were worried too. We’ll have to face them one of these days,’ she warned, but no one was interested in such gloomy news, chattering instead about corsages and the wedding trousseau.

  Diane was a kindred spirit with Penny’s own sense of adventure, and she covered for Penny while she browsed in bookshops and spent her allowance on anything she could find that might help her to become an archaeologist. And it was Diane who sparked something in her when she kept reminding them that they ought to be doing something useful in case war came.

  ‘The Red Cross are holding lectures and training sessions, we ought to sign up,’ she announced, while they were being fitted for their bridesmaid’s dresses, which were slinky slub satin, cut on the bias, in the latest shade of eau de nil.

  Their mother was horrified to see Penny being fitted too. ‘She should be in organza with puffed sleeves and a sash,’ she insisted, but Effy stood firm.

  ‘She’s taller than Diane and Clarissa. This style is perfect on her. I want all six to look alike, not have one standing out like a sore thumb.’

  Penny could have hugged her, but the George family didn’t go in for shows of affection. She wanted to look grown-up and glamorous just in case a certain New Zealander was on the guest list. Since that meeting in Scotland she was hoping to see him again and tell him how much she was studying, but their paths never seemed to cross.

  She’d not forgotten his encouragement, and dreamed he would be waiting for her to catch him up somewhere. It was a silly sort of infatuation, but she would never forget how he’d helped her. She was not going to let him down.

  The ceremony was held on a perfect Cotswold spring day, the elm trees lining the route to the church decked in bright green foliage, and the new lambs prancing in the fields. Papa looked smart in his tails and Zan in his army officer’s dress uniform. Mother had chosen to dress in a concoction of the palest of crocus-coloured silk.

  Later, Walter made a half-decent speech of thanks. The best man, Angus Balrannoch, toasted the bridesmaids whilst making eyes at Clarissa. Penny heard someone say Bruce Jardine had gone off on another dig in Egypt or Greece somewhere, and she tried not to let it spoil the occasion for her. Trust him to be out of the country, she sulked.

  The bombshell came later when Walter announced that after a honeymoon tour to a secret destination, he would be taking Evadne abroad for a new posting in the Balkans, to Greece.

  Mother nearly fainted at this news, while Papa smiled and clapped him on the back. ‘Wonderful place, well done, young man.’

  Diane burst into tears. ‘Oh, Evadne, so far away!’

  Evadne looked sheepish. It must have been hard for her to hold onto this secret. ‘I’m not going for ages yet. There’s the coronation, and the house there must be prepared for us, but you can all come on the Orient Express to see me whenever you want to.’

  Penny didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough losing her big sister to London, where she’d imagined all sorts of schemes to foist herself on the Jeffersons so she could begin studies in earnest, but to Athens? She barely knew where it was on the map.

  As the sun set over the lake and the clinking of glasses fell silent, couples retired to inspect the gardens and walk off the splendid feast. Penny and her parents sat on the bench by the lake, Mother disconsolate at the news of Effy’s departure.

  ‘How can he do this to us, take my daughter away like that?’ she sniffed. ‘Now Zan is at Sandhurst, he’s just as likely to spring an unsuitable girl on us, one of his giddy types. Why are our children so disobedient?’ she sighed. ‘Evadne was so sensible, so reasonable, not with dizzy ideas like this one,’ she added, glancing in Penny’s direction. ‘It’s your turn next, young lady. Let’s hope you can cast your net closer to home.’

  ‘I’m more worried about things in Europe hotting up . . . Wouldn’t like her caught up in anything nasty out there,’ said Papa, gazing out over the water. ‘Athens is no place to be if there’s war coming.’

  ‘Oh, I hope not. I don’t want Penelope missing out on her due if all the boys enlist. Must get her out well before that. I shall speak to Lady March about renting her house for the season.’

  We’ll see about that, Penny smiled to herself. Mother might hatch her plans but she’d got ideas of her own. Diane’s words at the dressmakers were still racing through her mind. Surely no one would deny her the right to do something useful, should the emergency arise.

  As she looked around at all Evadne and Walter’s friends relaxing in the sunshine, the flash of gold braid on Zan’s uniform glinting in the light, she prayed there’d be no war, no more slaughter and heartache. No one talked much about the Great War but the village memo
rial had a long list of local names on it, including two of Papa’s cousins. She hoped it wouldn’t start up again, but what if it did and it affected where the newlyweds were going? Walter wouldn’t risk bringing Effy into danger.

  Yet even with this shock news there was a flicker of excitement coursing through her. That handsome New Zealander in the borrowed kilt had presented a memorable slide show, and he’d told her that the British School of Archaeology in Athens took girls. If Evadne was safely housed in that city, she could travel there even though a million objections would be lodged. Maybe her dreams were now beginning to find some reality at last.

  But first she must gain some independence, and signing on for the Red Cross lectures was a start. Who knew where that might lead?

  2001

  It wasn’t worry about the trip that had disturbed my sleep. It was the thought that I was returning to a place I’d deliberately shoved to the back drawer of my mind like a forgotten garment. How would I feel to see it all changed, like the face of a once-young friend ravaged by time?

  Stop being fanciful . . . What does it matter, no one will know you or care. I flopped down, suddenly wearied, in my favourite armchair, gazing at a photo in a silver frame, a snapshot of Evadne and Walter smiling into the sun.

  ‘It’s all your fault, Sis,’ I whispered. ‘Little did we know Walter’s diplomatic posting would change my life for ever, tipping my secure little world off its axis, spinning it out of control. Oh, those were the glory days, Effy. If only we’d known how precious and short-lived was the time we had together . . .’

  Athens, 1937

  True to her word, Diane signed up herself and Penny for Red Cross lectures on first aid, and even persuaded Penny’s mother to grace the local committee with her patronage, organizing flag days and country excursions for sick children.

  The lectures were thorough and more interesting than Penny had expected. She learned how to stem bleeding from a wound, to make splints from anything to hand for broken bones, to bandage elbows, and how to give resuscitation after drowning. Penny was always a willing volunteer when it came to both playing the role of patient and administering to the sick. She took notes, passed tests and got her proficiency certificate. Soon, she was being measured for a uniform and proudly stood by their ambulance at the County Show, hoping someone would faint and require her services. She particularly wanted to test her squeamishness should something really nasty happen.

  There was talk of volunteering in hospitals as Voluntary Aid Detachments, giving extra support to local hospitals, should war come. No one could miss the growing sense that change was coming in Europe, unwelcome change that might one day affect their own country too.

  Evadne flew out to Athens to join Walter after a tearful farewell dinner where she made Papa promise that Penny and Diane would come to visit as soon as she and Walter were settled.

  ‘Knowing they’re coming will make me feel less cut off, ’ she pleaded, her big blue eyes directed imploringly at her father.

  As the weeks went by, Effy’s letters with colourful stamps arrived in the post with tales of diplomatic parties among palm trees and olive groves. There were snaps of them both reclining under huge sunshades, sipping exotic cocktails, riding on mules up into the hills outside Athens for picnics in the forests, on trips to the mountains and the sea. Effy’s new villa, the Villa Artemisa, looked as if it were straight out of a Hollywood film set. But no invite was extended, no dates offered. Had she forgotten her promise?

  Mother’s plans for Penny’s debutante season were well underway. ‘If there’s going to be a war, I want you out before the balloon goes up, so I hope Neville Chamberlain does something to stop that little Hitler man from spoiling our plans.’

  Penny saw a lot of Diane; a link to her much-missed sister. Diane’s new beau was joining the Royal Navy. Zan was on manoeuvres somewhere in Devon. Penny’s summer meant being dragged round all the places Society attended until it was time to decamp to Scotland for the shooting season.

  Just when she’d given up hope of ever getting to Athens a letter came that changed everything.

  Penny will love to be out here to see all Athens has on offer in case, come next season, well, there could be war. Diane is coming for a few weeks so they can travel together and I promise to look after her. Please, Mummy, I could do with a bit of cheering up as I’m a bit off colour, awfully sick, I’m afraid, but the doctor here assures me by December I’ll feel a lot better. Yes, a honeymoon baby is on the way! Don’t worry, I’ll be sent home to have it in England. Isn’t it wonderful news?

  The announcement sent Mother into a flurry of telephone calls and this invitation slipped smoothly into ‘We’ve decided to finish Penelope in Athens. She’s going to be supervised by Evadne, of course. Did I tell you they’re expecting a happy event in December? Penelope will be such a great comfort to her sister . . .’ It was as if the whole idea was her mother’s alone. There followed a rush of dressmaking appointments to kit out Penny with a respectable tropical wardrobe of cotton lawn dresses, linens and sandals, and a suite of smart leather suitcases.

  Evadne had also sent a list of must-brings, including a large jar of liquorice bonbons, for which she now had a craving.

  They were to leave at the end of July before her parents departed for Scotland, and would be taking the Orient Express from Paris. Penny felt almost breathless with anticipation. At last, she felt, her life was finally beginning. She borrowed everything she could find to read about Athens and its history as well as asking Papa to help her with her rusty Greek. She wanted to be prepared for all eventualities – a new and interesting social life with Effy and Walter’s friends, the chance to study archaeology or at least visit the famous sights, and maybe even the chance of bumping into Bruce Jardine again so for once she took a keen interest in her packing.

  The journey from London was a blur of porters, steaming engines, the bustle of passengers and luggage. At the Gare de l’Est in Paris Penny looked up with awe at the deep-blue sleeping carriages, embossed with gold lettering. She felt like a film star, her heart leaping with excitement. Diane was still moping about leaving her new boyfriend, hoping his ship would anchor in Greece and they could meet.

  Then they gazed out over the battlefields of the Great War. She caught a glimpse of the cathedral at Rheims, and eventually the jagged outline of the Alps came in sight. Names on station platforms whizzed by – Strasbourg, Karlsruhe . . . It was fun dining in the restaurant car in their best dresses by evening. These were wonderful days of luxurious living as the picture-book scenes unfolded before them, while the train rattled them across Europe, far away from the restrictions of Stokencourt Place. It was like waking up each morning in some glorious dream in their little bedroom with its wood-panelled walls and beds that folded back to make sofas and a sitting room, knowing that soon they would be changing direction at Niš for the journey to Athens, where another world was awaiting them.

  Diane practised her French and German to great effect and was invaluable as a travelling companion. Penny continued to mug up on her basic Greek from the little Berlitz handbook she had purchased before she left. All the while the excitement kept bubbling up in her chest. Evadne had made it happen for her.

  As they stretched their legs at their final destination, Penny felt the first blast of heat as if someone was blowing a hot-air fan into her face. So this was what Athens felt like! For a moment she was thrown by the noise and bustle, the colour and smells, as her eyes searched for someone familiar. Then she saw Evadne and Walter waving, and then Evadne rushed up to hug them both, kissing their cheeks, taking Penny aback.

  ‘You have to get used to kissing in public. Everyone does it here. Oh, it’s so good to see you both. I know it’s the worst time of year. I daren’t tell Mummy how hot it gets or she’d not have sent you. Don’t get brown or she’ll kill me. You know how she is about staying pale and interesting.’

  Penny thought Evadne had never looked more sophisticated. She was wearing a whi
te linen dress with three-quarter sleeves and navy braid trim on the cuffs and collar. Her face was hidden by an enormous navy-and-white straw hat with the brim turned down. The outfit all looked very nautical and cool.

  It felt as if they’d never been apart and yet, as she looked more closely, Penny realized her sister looked pale and her cheeks sunken. Walter had stood aside to let them greet each other and now he shook hands formally. He was wearing a crumpled linen suit and a panama hat. He escorted them to an open-topped saloon car waiting at the station entrance as their luggage was strapped to the boot.

  ‘Did you bring the liquorice?’ Evadne turned to ask Penny. ‘You can go back and fetch it if you haven’t! I even dream about it now, I swear! We’re going to have a spiffing time. Can’t wait to show you the sights.’

  ‘Now you watch her,’ Walter warned Penny. ‘Make sure she rests in the afternoons and no going out in the heat of the day.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re both first-aiders, now,’ replied Diane. ‘Got our badges, haven’t we?’

  The first few days flew by as Penny and Diane gradually grew accustomed to the heat, strolling in the rosy glow of evening light and dining in the busy nightclubs, where all the foreigners chattered with their own cliques. There was an air of such wealth in these places, in contrast with the poorer quarters glimpsed from the back of the limousine.

  Athens was a small elegant city shimmering white in the sunlight, its wide boulevards punctuated with squares lined with cypresses, orange trees and pink oleander bushes. The cafés opened onto pavements around Constitution Square where they could sit watching the rush and bustle on the streets, or else enjoy the indoor opulence of the Hotel Grande Bretagne, watching the wealthy at their leisure.