by Kate Hewitt
“With a bit of bread?”
Alex’s white teeth flashed in his tanned and weathered face. “We are very hungry.”
Sophia blushed, glad for the cover of darkness. What about this man unsettled and affected her so? It was utterly foolish, she knew, to think that anything might happen between them. He was English, a soldier, and after they blew up the bridge—or failed in trying—she would never see him again.
And yet she’d never met anyone who made her laugh and blush, who made her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest, and not from fear. She had never felt this way before, and it both frightened and thrilled her.
Keeping her gaze averted from Alex, she began to unpack the provisions. “It is not only me,” she told him as she took out the loaves of psomi and rounds of cheese. “Many people from the village provided food. I could not provide this all on my own.”
“You must thank them for us.”
She looked up at him, shaking her head with a smile. “But I do not know who they are!”
“Then I hope they learn somehow how appreciated they are.” Alex looked down at the food she’d unpacked. “What do we have here?”
“Very simple. Bread and cheese. Olives, some dried plums.”
“A feast.” Alex looked up, and his gaze seemed to linger on her, his smile so warm that Sophia felt her own body heat. She looked away quickly, unsettled and almost ashamed by her own reaction. She was being as brazen and reckless as Angelika in her own way, and with a man whom she could never marry.
“May I take it to the others?” Alex asked, nodding towards the other Englezoi sitting around the fire. Sophia nodded, still unable to look at him.
She watched him, covertly, as he distributed the food, knowing she had no real reason to stay any longer, yet feeling strangely, stupidly, reluctant to leave. After he’d distributed the food, Alex turned back to her. “Come eat with us.”
Sophia shook her head. “No, there is not enough—”
“There is,” Alex said firmly. “And you must be hungry. It is at least three kilometers back to your village.”
Still Sophia hesitated, because she had never sat down with strange men before, not even to eat. Then Baba Niko, the old goatherd who had become a guide and cook for the soldiers, beckoned her over. “Come, little maid. There is enough.”
Smiling shyly, she joined them, sitting down next to Alex and accepting a hunk of bread and cheese.
He smiled back at her. “That’s not so bad, is it?” Sophia just ducked her head in reply. “Tell me about yourself,” he invited. “Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
“One sister.”
“Is she is as brave as you?” Alex gave her a teasing smile. “Or as pretty?”
Sophia stared at the smoking fire, her cheeks hot. She could not think of a thing to say; no one had ever spoken to her so.
Alex laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you.”
She shook her head, still tongue-tied. Despite her embarrassment, she felt a flicker of pleasure that he thought she was brave—and pretty. Of course, she told herself quickly, it was just foolish talk; it meant nothing. Yet it still warmed her from the inside.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Alex said, and from the corner of her eye she saw him smile crookedly. “I just wanted to say how I… I like you.”
As if her skirt had been singed by the fire, Sophia sprang up, tucking her shawl more firmly around her. She could not look anywhere, it seemed, and so her gaze darted wildly around. “I must go—”
“Of course.” Alex stood too. “Of course. You will come again?” Sophia just nodded and Alex rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve made it worse, haven’t I?”
She stared at him rather miserably. “I am just a simple Greek girl.”
Alex took a step closer to her. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said, his words slow and halting. “You—you don’t know how special you really are.”
She felt a smile bloom across her face before she turned away, embarrassed yet again to have shown so much to this man. What did it even mean that he liked her? What did it even matter?
She hurried from the little camp, making her way through the forest as quickly as she could, heedless of the snow that wet the hem of her skirt and soaked her boots. As she emerged from the trees, she realized she’d gone too far and was coming out on the main road into the village, rather than behind the house as she had hoped.
“Stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head. It was after dark, and dangerous to be out at all, much less alone. “Stupid.”
She turned down the rutted road towards the village, huddling under her shawl as the wind swept down from Mount Oeta and the stars twinkled coldly above. She kept her head tucked low and shock blazed through her as she suddenly collided with another person, who from her gasp seemed as surprised as she was.
“Sophia! What on earth are you doing out at such an hour?”
Sophia blinked in the darkness, and saw Parthenope blinking back at her. Silly, nosy Parthenope Atrikes, who just like her brother could not keep her tongue, or even a thought, in her head.
“I could ask the same of you, Parthenope,” she said tartly. Although Parthenope was Dimitrios’s sister, Sophia had never seen her among the guerrillas or SOE agents. Did she know what was happening? Judging by her question and her curious stare, she did not.
Parthenope bit her lip and looked away. “I was just… visiting. The hour got away from me.”
Visiting, Sophia wondered. Who could Parthenope be visiting at such an hour? The answer came quickly, obviously: a man. Parthenope was a stupid girl indeed to risk so much for a man.
And aren’t you as well?
Everything in her stilled at the thought. “We should hurry back, then,” Sophia said, trying to sound cheerful instead of afraid. “It’s foolish to be caught out so late.”
Parthenope let out a high laugh, the sound half wild. “Oh, I’m not afraid,” she said almost defiantly. “Not any more. Not of blackshirts, anyway.”
Sophia just kept walking; she had no wish to reveal anything to Parthenope, and if the girl had secrets, it was surely better not to know them.
24
Now
Loneliness was a strange thing. One day Ava would feel cheerful and fine and maybe even happy, and then in a sudden moment the loneliness landed on her with a thud, enveloping her with an emptiness that left her breathless and near tears.
She was tired of the seesaw her emotions had been on since the stillbirth and separation, and yet she also realized that this loneliness was different to the endless, aching sorrow she’d felt before. This loneliness had a specific, single source: Simon.
She missed him.
She missed his dry sense of humor and the way his mouth quirked upwards on one side when he smiled. She missed the way they’d stretch out on the sofa after dinner, their feet propped on the old coffee table, while they exchanged sections of the newspaper and pointed at the articles that interested them. She missed having someone there to talk to and laugh with and hug, and it wasn’t just having someone she missed, but having Simon.
The only problem was, she was more and more afraid that he did not miss her, at least not in the same way. He’d said he missed her, but he’d also said he was having dinner with Julie. He hadn’t called in a week, and she hadn’t either.
It was so childish, Ava thought, this to-ing and fro-ing, wondering who should call first, an absurd kind of power play after over a decade of marriage. She wanted it to stop.
One evening after a busy day of visiting Eleni and teaching at the school, she sat on the sofa in her little living room and stared at her phone, willing for it to ring. She wished she had the courage to dial his number and tell him all the crazy thoughts that were swirling around in her mind. Once she would have; once it would have been easy and simple. Now every move, every word, felt loaded and fraught with danger, the possibility of getting hurt.
She thought of
Helena still regretting her parting from Andreas, even though so many years had passed. Would she be the same? Would she live the rest of her life in grief and regret because she’d been too stubborn or too afraid to tell Simon how she really felt?
I miss you. I need you. I love you. I know I haven’t shown it, I’ve been more or less impossible, but it’s true all the same.
Taking a deep breath, Ava punched in Simon’s contact. Her fingers trembled, and she took a deep breath. She could do this. She needed to do this. And then to her surprise, the phone rang before she could make the call, its tinny trill seeming to echo through the room. She stared at the glowing little screen on the phone and saw that it was Eleni, felt a stab of disappointment that it wasn’t Simon.
“Eleni?”
“Ava?”
Ava frowned, for in just the single word she heard a surprising anxiety in her friend’s voice. “Is everything all right?”
“No, it’s why I am calling. It’s my mother, Parthenope. She lay down this afternoon—she was tired and when I went to wake her up she… she wouldn’t.” Eleni’s voice trembled. “She is still breathing, she’s not…” She stopped, gulping, and then said, “I called the ambulance and they’re coming to take her to hospital in Lamia. But I wondered if… if you would come? With me?”
Ava’s heart twisted and she swallowed hard. “Of course, Eleni,” she said. “I’ll come right away.”
An hour later Ava and Eleni were both sitting on hard plastic chairs in the waiting room of the hospital’s emergency department.
Eleni knotted her hands together, stared down at her lap. “I know she is old. No matter what happens now, the end for her is near.” She looked up, her face looked almost ghostly under the hospital’s fluorescent lights. “I will grieve, of course, but it isn’t that.”
“What is it, then?” Ava asked, for Eleni had been barely able to contain her distress as they waited for the doctors to examine Parthenope.
“I told you she has been anxious lately,” Eleni said, her voice low. “Something—some memory of the war has distressed her.”
“Yes—”
“What I didn’t say was that she has wanted to speak of it,” Eleni confessed, her voice thick with misery. “She would speak of it, saying your grandmother’s name, tugging on my sleeve. I always put her off. I didn’t want her to tell me.”
“You didn’t want to distress her,” Ava said, covering her surprise at this admission. “That’s certainly understandable, Eleni.”
“No—it’s not just that. I didn’t want to distress myself.” She bit her lip, tears pooling in her eyes. “I am a coward, Ava. A selfish coward. I am afraid of what my mother might tell me. I am afraid it might change things, make me think differently of her. Of myself.”
Ava stared at the older woman and wondered what she suspected, or even knew. “How could something from so long ago change things now?”
But Eleni just shook her head, pressing her lips together, and didn’t answer.
Another cup of lukewarm coffee and an hour later, the doctors emerged to report on Parthenope’s condition. After they’d left again, Eleni turned to Ava.
“It’s not good,” she said wearily. “But my mother is over ninety. How could it be?”
“What did they say?”
“She had a—a what do you call it?” Eleni closed her eyes as she tried to remember the English.
“A stroke?” Ava suggested gently, and the older woman nodded.
“Yes, that is it. She wakened, but is not speaking, and she cannot move on one side. They say they will know more tomorrow. She is sleeping now.” Eleni reached out to touch Ava’s hand. “Thank you for coming with me.”
Back in her house Ava dropped her keys on the table and stared round at the home she’d patched together for herself. Except it wasn’t a home, not really. Not for her. It was a sofa and table and a couple of chairs, a huge fireplace she hadn’t even used. It was a bolthole, a stopover, a lay-by in her life.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for her phone and pressed Simon’s contact. The phone rang and rang, trill after trill, and then switched over to voicemail. Ava felt disappointment like a leaden weight inside her. She’d been gearing up for a big conversation, even if she hadn’t actually thought of what she would say. A message felt like a poor substitution, but she was still going to try.
“Simon? It’s Ava. But you probably know that, since you have my number programmed in… if you still do, that is…” She stopped abruptly, knew she was wittering on in her nervousness. “Anyway I just wanted to call because—because I miss you and I never said. I mean, I really miss you.” She swallowed hard, forced herself to go on. “I didn’t want to say this in a message, but maybe it’s better this way because I never seem to say the right thing when we’re together. I get so angry, but it’s really just me being hurt and I just wanted you to realize that…” She stopped again; the last thing she wanted this message to be was more blaming. “So I guess I just wanted to talk to you. And know what you were thinking, if you’re thinking anything, I mean. About me. Us.” Another breath, and then she made herself say the words that she should have said a long time ago. “I lo—”
The message clicked off, and a smooth, imperturbable recorded voice said, “I’m sorry, but you’ve exceeded the time allotted for a message—”
With a groan, Ava disconnected the call and threw the phone on the sofa. Why hadn’t she started her message by telling Simon she loved him? Why had she waited—again?
She only hoped Simon would know what she’d been about to say.
Two days later Helena stopped by to tell Ava of the final interview with Lukas Petrakides. “I only heard about him recently. He lives in Lamia. He says he was in the Resistance.”
“In the Resistance? Really?” Ava felt a frisson of excitement mingling with all of her other emotions: worry about Parthenope, concern for Andreas and Kalista, and need for Simon. Simon still hadn’t called, and with every passing hour she felt her frail, fledgling hopes plummet a little further. Why wouldn’t he call, after hearing that message? She was afraid it could only mean one thing, that he really didn’t care.
“Do you think he knew my grandmother?”
“He might have. Of course, quite a few villagers helped the Resistance, especially with the bombing of the Gorgopotamos viaduct near here. They supplied the andartes and the British SOE agents with food for weeks while they planned the sabotage and hid from the Italians and Nazis.”
“And my grandmother might have been part of that,” Ava agreed, a note of wonder in her voice. “But why would the Nazis have had her name, and no other?”
“Perhaps Lukas Petrakides can help us,” Helena answered. “You can certainly come with me on the interview. And fortunately for you, he speaks English.”
“I look forward to it.” She made a slight face. “More than my trip to Athens tomorrow, I have to admit, with Kalista.”
Helena smiled in sympathy. “Teenagers can be difficult, but perhaps you’ll have fun.”
“She’s barely spoken two words to me, aside from on the night she ran away.” Ava had hardly seen Andreas or his daughter since that awkward conversation the day after Kalista’s attempt at running away, but they’d spoken on the phone and arranged this trip.
“We’re having lunch with her aunt, Iolanthe, and then visiting the shops. Andreas asked her to show me the Acropolis, but I have a feeling Kalista would rather spend the whole time shopping.”
“Understandable,” Helena answered with a laugh. “So would I!”
A knock sounded at the door, and Ava glanced towards it in surprise.
“Are you expecting someone?” Helena asked.
“No, but perhaps Eleni stopped by with some news about her mother.”
With that thought in mind, Helena followed Ava to the door, and then they both froze as Ava opened it and saw Andreas on the threshold.
He stared at them both, his eyes widening as he struggled for something to s
ay. “Helena,” he finally said, and nodded stiffly.
“Hello, Andreas,” Helena said quietly. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t quite look at him. Andreas looked equally awkward, and Ava felt a flicker of curiosity. Clearly these two were not completely immune to one another, despite the passage of time.
Andreas turned to Ava. “I just wanted to check on the arrangements for tomorrow,” he said, his voice still sounding stiff. “I was in Iousidous anyway, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“Of course.” And now she was sounding awkward too. “Won’t you come in?”
Andreas glanced again at Helena and then quickly looked away. “No… no, I should get home. I just wanted to say Kalista is very excited about tomorrow. I told her she could visit the shops after you’ve seen the Acropolis.”
Ava exchanged an amused glance with Helena; they both knew the shops would be the highlight of the trip for Kalista. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Andreas.”
“Thank you for taking her. I—I hope this will be a new beginning. For us. I mean…” His cheeks reddened and he glanced again, somewhat inexplicably, at Helena. “I mean for Kalista and me.”
“Of course,” Ava murmured. It seemed a lifetime ago that Andreas had kissed her, and thankfully it seemed to be something that neither of them wished to remember.
“I’ve said she could buy something… a dress, perhaps? You’ll make sure she picks out something suitable?”
“I’m not sure I’m an expert on teenage styles, but I’ll do my best,” Ava replied. She wondered whether her and Andreas’s idea of something suitable would be the same, never mind what Kalista thought.
“Thank you,” Andreas said, and then they both lapsed into silence. Andreas’s gaze once again swung, seemingly of its own accord, towards Helena. She gazed back at him steadily, saying nothing, although the tilt to her chin was proud. “You’re well?” he finally asked, speaking in English for Ava’s benefit, and Ava saw surprise flicker across Helena’s features.
