As she considered Eleni’s description of the early days of the German onslaught, the analytical side of Anna’s brain cautioned her. This was Eleni’s account of what Andreas had told her, many years ago. It was bound to be compromised by being told second hand, so many years after the events concerned. It might not be a reliable version of what had really taken place. Then again, what version of events ever was? As a lecturer had once pointed out to her at university, what people understood by ‘history’ was made up of what had actually happened, what historians said happened, what people thought had happened and, increasingly, what film, television, novels and the internet represented as having happened. Given that, anyone who sought an accurate historical ‘truth’ was doomed to frustration at best and complete misunderstanding at worst. And yet, Eleni’s words carried the conviction of truth in them and she had depicted the characters, their feelings and the settings so vividly that it was hard not to accept the veracity of her recounted experience. Perhaps history belonged to whoever could tell the best story, Anna mused.
The sound of the front door opening interrupted Anna’s thoughts and a moment later her mother entered the room.
‘Anna, love, will you give me a hand with the shopping?’
‘Of course. Do you mind, Yiayia?’
Eleni shook her head. ‘You go and be a good girl. Besides, I am tired. I will rest a little before dinner.’
She gave a brief smile and nodded towards the door and Anna rose from her seat and followed her mother into the hall and out on to the path leading to the street. The sun had dipped below the roofline of the terraced houses opposite and the street was washed in blue-tinted shadow. Anna shivered at the cold and realised how hot her grandmother’s room had become over the last few hours. Her mother’s Vauxhall Astra was parked just outside the small gate and she lifted the tailgate to reveal several shopping bags stuffed with groceries. They took two bags each and turned back towards the house.
‘Have you had a good chat?’ asked Marita.
‘Very interesting. We’ve been talking about her childhood all afternoon.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, not really childhood, I suppose. It was more to do with the war years.’
‘I see.’
Anna picked up on her mother’s strained tone at once and glanced at her as they approached the front door.
‘You first.’ Marita stretched out a hand and held the door open. They placed the bags down in the hall and went back for the rest. As she closed the front door, Anna’s mother raised her eyebrows and spoke softly.
‘She’s never really told me a great deal about what went on at that time, you know. It was never spoken about when I was a kid and it seemed too late to raise the subject again when I grew up. Seems she’s been more forthcoming with you.’
‘I guess.’
‘I wonder why.’ Marita frowned.
‘Does it upset you, Mum?’
‘What? No. Of course not. Just seems a bit strange that she should open up to you rather than her own daughter, that’s all. Now, let’s get these bags into the kitchen and put the shopping away. Then you can help me prepare dinner.’
A short time later Marita stood over the stove frying onion, garlic and browning some minced beef while her daughter chopped tomatoes and courgettes.
‘How was she when you were talking?’ asked Marita.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s not been very well in recent months. Had a cold a while back that took her a long time to shake off. Mum isn’t as strong as she was. It’s funny, I knew the time would come, but it feels too soon, somehow. Like neither of us is quite ready for it. She seemed to be the same person for so long. But now she’s very old. Oh, she’s in great shape for her years. Or was. But now I’m worried about her.’ She looked up from the large frying pan and smiled at her daughter. ‘I expect you’ll feel the same when my time comes.’
‘That’s a long way off yet!’
‘You think so, and then . . . there you are. I never thought I’d be middle-aged and now I spend more and more time worrying about what I eat, dyeing my hair to hide grey roots and doubting I’ll ever find another man to be with. Now that I have Mum to look after I doubt that any man will be interested in me, beyond a quick pint and a one-night stand.’
‘Mother!’ Anna stopped cutting and stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘It’s true enough. I’m getting to the age when men stop taking any interest. I’d better get used to it.’
‘That’s rubbish. You’re still an attractive woman. And there are plenty of fish in the sea.’
‘But I don’t want a fish, I want a man.’
They both laughed and continued their preparations for the meal for a while before Anna spoke again.
‘I’m envious of Yiayia. She’s experienced so much in life.’
‘That’s because she is older.’
Anna ‘No, it’s more than that. She has lived through great changes. The war, the struggle afterwards. Things we’ll never know. And I think it has given her an understanding of what really counts.’
‘Maybe, but we all see great changes. Look at how much the internet has altered the world. My goodness, I’d never have imagined a fraction of the things that people would be able to do with computers in my lifetime.’
‘But none of it feels very real,’ Anna responded. ‘I spend more time than I should on Facebook and Twitter, and before that playing Angry Birds and The Sims, but none of it feels real to me. I have never met most of my “friends” on Facebook and most of the time the only thing they have to talk about is who they are having a coffee with. That and posting dumb pictures of pets doing cute things. It’s not life-enhancing stuff, is it?’
‘And perhaps you should be thankful for that. Would you really prefer to go through what your grandmother had to endure?’
Anna considered this for a moment and tilted her head slightly to one side. ‘Do you know, I think I might. After all, she lived through the greatest event of the last century. She found love when she was young. Real love. I’d trade that for the wave of trivia that makes up my life.’
Anna finished the last courgette, took the heaped board over to the cooker and carefully swept them into the pan. Her mother gave them a brisk stir to work them into the simmering ingredients already cooking.
Anna watched her for a moment, enjoying the aroma in the kitchen.
The door to Eleni’s door clicked and she emerged from her darkened room and entered the kitchen, walking stiffly with the aid of her stick. She lifted her nose and sniffed.
‘Moussaka? Or what passes for it in this house . . .’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ Marita responded with a shrug. ‘It won’t be ready for a while yet.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘We’ll eat at about eight.’
‘I can wait.’ Eleni crossed to the kitchen table and pulled up a chair and eased herself down stiffly before hooking the handle of her walking stick over the corner of the table. ‘A drink while we are waiting would be nice.’
Marita turned to her daughter. ‘There’s some white in the fridge. You remember where the glasses are.’
Anna nodded and a moment later set a glass down in front of Eleni, handed one to her mother and sat down with a glass of her own. Once the moussaka had been layered in a cooking dish and placed in the oven, Marita joined the others and raised her glass. ‘Eviva.’
Anna smiled as she joined in and took a sip. ‘Nice . . . It’s good to be home. Good to be sitting at this table with both of you again.’
Marita cleared her throat. ‘I hear you’ve been talking about your memories of the war. Anna said it was fascinating.’
‘I don’t know about that. It was the truth. It is all I have left from those times.’ Eleni took the glass in both hands and raised it to her mouth for a tentative sip and nodded approvingly. ‘Good . . .’
There was a brief pause before Marita spoke again. ‘You were talking about Andreas, the f
riend you had when you were young. I should like to hear some more about him myself. You’ve never said much before. Not to me at least,’ she concluded in a reproachful tone.
‘You never really asked, my girl. Besides I was younger then, and the memories were still too fresh in my mind.’
Marita caught her daughter’s eyes and mouthed, I told you. ‘I don’t think you should try to remember too much about that time if it distresses you.’
‘Pshhh! I am strong enough for that. It is only when I speak of Andreas that my heart becomes heavy. But I will feel better in the morning. I can continue telling Anna about him then.’
‘Of course,’ Anna agreed, hiding her frustration. ‘But what about the situation in Lefkada, Yiayia? After the Germans came. What happened then?’
Marita shot her daughter an irritated look but Anna pretended not to notice and smiled encouragingly at Eleni. The old lady took another sip of wine and set the glass down gently as she collected her thoughts.
‘Even though it was the Germans who arrived first, they did not stay long. Within a month they had handed the island over to their Italian allies. It seemed that the Germans considered that policing duties were all that the Italians were good for. Besides, they needed every German soldier that could be spared for the invasion of Russia that began later in nineteen forty-one. So the Italians took over. I remember it well. Our people were summoned to the main square to witness the Italian flag being raised over the prefecture. I can remember my mother crying and my father saying that our freedom had been taken from us. All I knew then was that Andreas had gone, and that I had no idea what had become of him. So I cried too. For myself.’
She breathed deeply and then chuckled. ‘Do you remember that film you showed me some years ago, Marita? The one about the Italian occupation of a Greek island? I cannot recall the title exactly. It made me laugh. You said you didn’t think it was supposed to be a comedy, and I explained to you that I was laughing at it, not with it, as the English say. I can tell you, there was nothing funny about the Italian occupiers. Nothing charming. They swaggered about the island as if they owned it. Taking the best of everything for themselves and beating up anyone who protested, and then throwing them in jail. My father was forced to work for them. He did his best to protect our people but was not thanked for it. As his daughter, I was insulted in the street and bullied by the local youths. The only place I felt comfortable, outside my own home was when I visited Andreas’s father. When the Italians came, he refused to leave his house. When they billeted some men there he shut himself up in a few of the rooms. I used to take him bread and milk from the town, and he continued my education. Taught me to read and write better, and gave me books from his library to help me improve myself. I think even then he saw that Andreas and I were meant for each other, and if his son survived the war then I would need to be more worthy of him. I did not resent him for that. I wanted to learn. To be more like Andreas.’
She looked at the other two. ‘You have no idea how it was for girls then. You have so much more choice than I knew in those days.’
Anna smiled. ‘We still have some way to go, Yiayia.’
Eleni waved a hand. ‘Oh, I know all about that. Women’s rights and things. Bra burning and that sort of nonsense . . . But it was different then. A girl had to fight for what she wanted. Really fight. As I found out soon enough. But I get ahead of myself, no? I was talking about life with the Italians. Bastards. We hated them, and they ruled over us with their fists, boots and guns. Even so, we had no idea that worse was to come when the Germans took over the island when Italy turned on their allies two years later. Some of us tried to fight back against the fascists, but what could we do without modern weapons? We needed help . . .’ She paused, a strained expression on her lined face. ‘I will talk more of this another time, after we have eaten and I have slept. In the morning.’
The meal was accompanied by the constant flow of light conversation that Anna had delighted in when she was a child growing up in the house. It all seemed so easy, so comfortable and familiar. After a moment she began to think about the handful of men she had had relationships with. Some she had loved. But none with the passion that it seemed Eleni and Andreas had found at a time when the world was in flames around them. Anna found herself almost envying her grandmother. Then she frowned. Perhaps she was projecting a romantic aura over the past and reading more into Eleni’s experience than she should.
After dinner they made some coffee and moved to the living room to continue the conversation against the backdrop of a soap opera. Eleni appeared to grow weary of talk and her attention drifted to the television set. Once the programme was over she slowly rose to her feet and Anna helped her back to her room while Marita made her a cup of hot chocolate. With the old woman safely in bed, Anna said good night to her mother and took a glass of water up to her old bedroom. Once she had cleaned her teeth and put on her pyjamas, she took out her laptop and settled back against her pillows. She powered up and went on to Facebook.
As she had hoped, Dieter Muller was online and she messaged him a brief greeting.
> Hi Dieter. How’s it going?
There was no immediate response and she scrolled through her news feed and saw that an old university acquaintance was celebrating her son’s second birthday. Anna smiled slightly at the images of the boy’s cake-smeared face, feeling an ache of longing for the day when she too would become a mother. Then a window popped up with Dieter’s name.
> Hi Anna, I am fine, thanks. You?
> Good. I am visiting my mother. I have spoken to Eleni.
> And?
The German’s response seemed abrupt and Anna felt a flicker of irritation as she typed in her reply.
> My grandmother’s account of her early years was very interesting. She seemed to have liked Peter, before the war at least.
> The war changed people. Wars always do. Did she say anything about the work my grandfather was carrying out on the island?
> No more than you already told me.
> A pity. I had hoped to discover more. I have been uncovering some very interesting material here in Germany. My great-grandfather’s personal notebooks give a very different account of his work to the logbooks of the excavation. I think he had made a discovery he did not want to share with anyone else. That’s why I need to speak with Eleni. Did you mention my request to her?
> Not yet. It did not seem like the right time.
> Why?
> Because her memories seem very painful to her. If I am going to mention you and your research then I’m going to need to do it carefully. Your work might seem very important to you, but she is my grandmother and I care about her. I won’t upset her.
> I understand. I would not expect you to upset her. However, if > I am right, then I am close to discovering something very important and Eleni can help me with that. Not just me, but everyone who shares an interest in the ancient world. It’s important.
> So you say. What could be that important?
There was a lengthy delay before his answer appeared.
> I can’t tell you. Not yet. I will as soon as I can. I give you my word. Until then I ask you to trust me.
Anna gave a frustrated hiss.
> Why? You are asking a lot of me, and more importantly my grandmother. You said you could tell me something of her story in return. So far I have had nothing.
> All right. I am in London again this week. Let’s meet and I will tell you what I know. In confidence. You understand?
> Yes . . . Where shall we meet?
> Easiest for me is the British Museum. There is a restaurant up the stairs behind the old library. Do you know it?
> Yes.
> Then shall we say Tuesday at 1pm? Is that acceptable?
Anna thought a moment. That would be during half-term. She nodded to herself and typed back.
> I can do that. I’ll talk to her again tomorrow and see what else she can remember. But I will want something from you i
n return. Or I won’t share any more with you. Sorry, but I have to look out for her.
> Look out for her?
> English expression. Means making sure you act in their best interest. Do you understand?
> I see. Tuesday then, agreed?
> Yes. See you then.
His message window closed and Anna lay staring at the screen for a little longer. She felt as if she was misleading Dieter. When she had first decided to speak to Eleni it had been mostly to help him, but now she was doing this for herself. To discover more about her family’s history. There was little chance of arranging any interview with her grandmother for Dieter, that much was clear. Some old wounds never healed. But perhaps there was something she could get from Dieter and his research. More information about her grandmother, from Peter’s perspective. That would be worth knowing.
Closing down the computer she shut the lid and tucked it under her bed before lying back and staring up at the ceiling. There was a chink in the curtain and every so often a pale beam of light would sweep across the Artex as a car passed in the street.
Her thoughts drifted back to Eleni’s tale and the picture that she had shown her before dinner. Anna sensed that Andreas’s story was only just starting to get interesting and she found that she was anxious for morning to come so that she could learn more.
Chapter Seventeen
‘The most difficult part of working for the andartes was that it was important that as few people as possible knew what I was doing,’ Eleni explained as she brushed the crumbs off her lap into the palm of her other hand and flicked them on to her plate. Anna had gone out to the bakery early in the morning to bring back a selection of croissants to share over breakfast. Her mother had already gone off to work at the university library after a hurried breakfast of cereal.
Hearts of Stone Page 19
