by Jo Thomas
Just as I reach out to try and close the lid, there’s another bang and a huge crack of lightning rips across the sky. ‘Argh!’ This time I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’m standing on top of a mountain and I could be electrocuted any minute. I’m not sure if that’ll send the bees into hiding or make them angrier, but I’m not waiting to find out. I glance back down the way I came up. It looks a lot steeper and rockier than I remember. There’s another rumble in the sky – or could it be buzzing? I’ve got no option. I have to get away from here. I put my head down and run forward, grabbing a rock on either side and starting to climb, higher and higher.
There’s another crack of lightning, followed quickly by thunder, and the air is thick with anticipation of the rain that’s going to follow. I need to find shelter, fast. I can feel my chest tightening and I tell myself to stay calm. I shouldn’t have come. It’s not my responsibility to solve everyone else’s problems. I look up and spot another plateau. It’s a steep climb, but I’m pretty sure I can see the opening of a cave. I have to push on. I screw up my face against the wind. Any minute I could be struck by lightning. Who would tell Demi? How could I have put myself in danger like this? I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. I can’t die on a mountaintop; I have to get into that cave. I reach out to pull myself up. The muscles in the backs of my legs and shoulders are screaming, but I have to keep going.
I take another quick look behind me. There is a dense black cloud heading straight for me. It’s moving fast for a cloud . . . a noisy cloud . . . It’s not a cloud! It’s the bees! Forgetting my aching limbs, I catapult myself forward, grabbing at any bit of rock, heedless of sharp edges, stones falling away from under my flailing feet as I scramble frantically upwards, waving my arms around my head.
The buzzing is loud now, and really angry. My heart is hammering just as loudly and angrily. I swish my arms at them and they retreat momentarily before whooshing back towards me as one, this time even closer. ‘Go away!’ I shout, but it’s no good, they’re not going. They’re right over me. I can’t move forwards or backwards. Instinctively I throw myself to the floor, screwing myself up into a ball, my hands protectively over my head, bracing myself for what’s to come.
Suddenly I’m lifted off my feet and dragged by my waist over the final lip of rock. I land with a thump on the plateau, just as there’s another massive flash of white light overhead, accompanied by a colossal bang. Then suddenly the heavens open and big fat drops of rain start to splatter on my face. Huge drops, like water bombs. I’m soaked in an instant. I turn to see the bees retreating, no match for the downpour beating down on them. They’re clearly very intelligent creatures. Relief floods over me, but it’s short-lived. As I watch the bees disappear, I hear a familiar voice.
‘Follow me! Quick!’
And I’m not sure which I’m more terrified of: the bees, the violent storm playing out above me or, with an expression even more thunderous than the sky, Georgios.
‘In here, quickly!’ he barks, the rain lashing against his dark, angry face and bouncing off the rim of his hat. His eyes are screwed up against the stair rods coming down like spears, stinging my arms and legs. I wish I’d worn something other than these stupid denim shorts.
There’s another almighty bang in the sky right above us, and this time I pick myself up off the ground, where the dust is quickly turning to mud, and throw myself towards the mouth of the cave, where Georgios is standing, his khaki shirt sticking to his arms and chest. Water is pouring off the rim of his hat like a rivulet rushing down the mountain towards the sea.
I fling myself against the cold, rough wall of the cave, gasping for breath, my heart thundering from exertion and terror. Noisily I drag in huge gulps of air. The muscles in my legs and the tops of my arms are cramping from pulling myself up the rocks. My hair is stuck to my wet face and I’m soaked through, my clothes sticking to me like a second skin. As I straighten up with my back to the cave wall, my eyes start to adjust to the darkness and I can make out Georgios’s outline standing in front of me.
‘What the hell do you think you were doing? You scared me half to death!’ I fire the first shot, lashing out before I get stung.
‘What was I doing?’ he splutters. ‘I told you to stay off the mountain. It’s not safe. You nearly got yourself stung to death, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you could have been struck by lightning.’
As if confirming what he’s saying, there’s a huge crash of thunder and flash of lightning at the same time, making me leap out of my skin and my breath catch in my throat. I push the small of my back harder against the cold wall, shoving my hands behind my backside in an attempt to stop them shaking.
‘Looks like trouble has a habit of following you around,’ he practically growls.
‘Sorry?’ I glare at him. Did I just hear him right? How dare he? ‘You don’t know anything about me!’ I snap. He’s right, of course. I could have died out there. I turn my head to stare out of the mouth of the cave, knowing I can’t get away from him until this storm passes. Even then, will the bees have forgiven me?
Neither of us speaks. The crackling atmosphere between us is as highly charged as the lightning ripping across the sky. It’s like the gods have gone to war, lobbing spears between the mountaintops at each other. There’s a thick white fog curling around the mouth of the cave, and I can’t see further than the ledge I was unceremoniously dragged up, let alone the farm or the town below, or the mountain and sea beyond. I feel like I’ve been cut off from the outside world. Like I’m in limbo, waiting for the pearly gates to open. I’d be furious if Demi put herself in such danger. How did I think I would get away with it?
Eventually Georgios turns and moves into the shadows at the back of the cave. I can see that his limp is a little more pronounced now. I turn to face the storm again. I’ve gone from hot and shaking to cold and shivering. The dark clouds are tumbling and swirling around out there as though they’re rolling round a glass bowl looking for a way out. I feel safe in this cave.
After a while, I smell something. It smells a lot like . . . burning! I sniff again and snap my head round to see that Georgios has lit a fire behind me. The smoke is tumbling and twisting its way up to the cave rooftop, and spilling out to mingle with the thick mist and fog outside.
‘Here.’ He holds out a metal mug towards me. ‘Take this.’
‘What is it?’ I ask. I feel like he’d poison me at the first opportunity he got.
He sighs with irritation. ‘Raki. Take it. It’s good for shock.’
I’m about to argue that I’m not in shock, but instead I bite my lip, take the mug and hold it to my chest, reminding myself that I’m on top of a mountain in rural Crete, in a massive electrical storm, having almost been stung to death by a swarm of angry bees. I think shock is pretty much where I am at actually.
‘Efharisto,’ I manage to croak, before dropping my eyes and looking into the mug. The smoke plumes up around me, reminding me of the factory fire, and of the dreams that have rolled into my head every night since; where Demi is on one side of the blaze and I’m on the other, unable to get to her. My throat tightens and my eyes sting, and I blink a lot. Then, to stop both the stinging eyes and the tight throat and to push out the nightmare that keeps turning up like an uninvited visitor, I tip the clear liquid up to meet my lips. It makes my eyes smart again before it’s even reached them, and I wonder what harm this drink might do me, but considering the risks I’ve already taken this afternoon, I part my lips and let it slide into my mouth. It has a clean, clear taste and it burns its way down my throat and wraps itself around my heart and belly, leaving me feeling like I’ve had my first lesson in fire-eating.
I look at Georgios, who is crouching by the fire, his head on one side. His dark brown forearms are covered in droplets of water, which catch the light like crystals as he leans in to blow on the flames. He looks up at me, the flecks of gold in his g
reen eyes sparkling.
‘You’re wearing black,’ he says. ‘Bees hate black.’
He continues to tend the fire, breaking up more twigs and sticks and adding them to the blaze. Meanwhile I look around the cave, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. I think about the bees in those boxes, and wonder who put them there. Is there someone out there now, watching me? Waiting with a gun? I strain to listen, but can’t tell if it’s gunfire or thunder banging around the mountainside. Looks like I’m stuck here for the time being.
I glance down at my watch and feel Georgios looking up at me.
‘I have to be somewhere,’ I inform him. But he doesn’t respond, just adds what look like herbs to a pot that is boiling merrily on the little fire. ‘I’m helping out at the restaurant this evening. The Wild Thyme? You know it?’ I have no idea why I’m asking him this, trying to make conversation when he clearly doesn’t want to.
‘Yes, I know it.’ He blows on the fire, and I’m sure he’s done it on purpose, as the smoke billows up and I have to put my arm across my face and cough.
‘They’re having a big party, a family party . . .’ My mouth goes dry and I brace myself and take another sip of the fire water in my metal cup. ‘It’s Yannis’s grandmother’s birthday.’
Georgios sits back on his haunches. ‘I know,’ he says, giving away nothing more.
My stomach twists in a knot. Today is the day! I’m going to finally see him. I still have no idea where he’s living, and I can’t believe our paths haven’t crossed yet. My mind has tossed around the various reasons why – perhaps there’s been some kind of family falling-out. Has Yannis taken his place in the restaurant and he feels put out? Or has he just been working away, supporting his family? I’m sure he’ll be there today for his grandmother’s birthday, though – I remember how much he adored her.
The storm outside seems to be quietening down. The thunder is rumbling off into the distance like a bad loser after a fight, complaining and threatening that they’ll be back for more. The lightning is doing celebratory flashes off over towards the sea, and the thick white clouds seem to be rounding themselves up to follow on behind. But the rain hasn’t finished yet. It’s still making its presence known, which I suppose at least keeps the bees away.
Georgios stands up and walks towards me, handing me another battered tin cup with a wide rim but no handle.
‘Here, drink!’ he says gruffly, and turns away, back to the fire.
‘Oh no, really, I haven’t finished this one.’
‘It’s mountain tea,’ he says with a flick of his chin.
I lift the cup to my face, inhaling the steam, breathing in the herbs. I inhale again, this time deeper. The whole cave seems to smell of it. I take a sip that turns into a noisy slurp, and then choke. I put the back of my hand over my mouth. Great! That’s all I need. Choking in front of Georgios. Then he’d have to save my life all over again, I never want to be that indebted to him. That would be just too much to bear. The coughing fit passes and I realise what a state I must look.
‘Sorry,’ I apologise, but he doesn’t say anything; just stands up and walks away from me, across the cave. Rude! I think.
‘Here.’ He’s coming back towards me carrying a log, which he puts down on the ground behind me. It’s covered in moss and is crumbling at one end, but I don’t care. Not so rude, then. My cheeks burn.
‘It’s fine. I’m fine really.’ I step away from the wall and find that my knees are trembling, presumably from the shock.
‘Sit!’ he commands, and I want to tell him I’m not a dog and that no, I won’t sit, but actually I’m really very grateful and know I need to just shut up for once.
With a cup in each hand, I hold them out in front of me and lower my backside down on to the log. Then I put the cups down and clear my throat. I realise I need to pay my debt of gratitude. I need to thank him and then, as soon as I can, leave and draw a line under this. I put the words in place in my head before I speak. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For what you did.’ I know he probably saved my life. If he hadn’t come along, things could have been very different for me indeed. I wonder what he was doing there to begin with.
He grunts and nods, but I can’t see his face under the rim of his hat as he sits on another log next to the fire, his hands wrapped around a tin mug too. He’s less confrontational now, almost softer. Was he there to look out for me or to warn me away? He obviously wants the storm to pass and to get out of here as quickly as I do.
I pick up and sip at the tea, but don’t touch the raki again. I glance outside. The rain is still pounding down, but the warring gods have finally returned to their respective caves. I look back at the tea and take another sip, and suddenly my mind is whirring. This is what the villagers depend on. This is why everyone is getting sick – because there is no mountain tea, no dittany. But if Georgios has it, why hasn’t everyone else?
‘How did you get these herbs? The dittany?’ I ask, more directly than I intended.
He looks up, staring at me from under the brim of his hat. His green eyes are darker in this half-light, but I still feel like they’re boring into my soul every time he looks at me; like I’m in his sights. ‘You have to know where to look,’ he says, ‘and where not to go.’
A shiver runs up and down my spine, disarming me. I can smell the woodsmoke weaving its way through my hair.
‘You could take your T-shirt off,’ he says abruptly, and all of a sudden I feel a rush of panic.
‘Excuse me?’ I say indignantly, guarded once more.
‘To dry it.’ He points to the fire, and there is a tiny trace of a smile in the corner of his mouth.
‘It’s fine.’ I pull the wet shirt further round me, and feel like I’m sitting in a bath of cold baked beans. I try my hardest not to let the discomfort I’m feeling appear on my face. What is it about this man that I misread and overreact to everything he says? Why do I get the feeling he dislikes me so much? I reach for the raki and take a tiny sip to try and combat the baked beans effect.
He stands up. He’s tall for a Cretan man. Kostas is very short, as are most of the other men I’ve seen in the town. He unwinds the wet scarf from his neck and lays it by the fire. I can see the scar now that runs like a burn up the side of his neck and across his cheek. He lifts his hat to reveal dark curly hair. He seems a lot less intimidating without them, almost like they’re hiding him from the outside world. And the more I look at him now, the more I think—
‘I told you not to come up here.’ He cuts across my thoughts, looking up at me as he brushes the water from the rim of his hat into the fire, making it hiss and spit like a terrified wild cat. He’s back to scolding me and I’m back to feeling uneasy all over again. It doesn’t stop me arguing, though.
‘The whole town needs the dittany,’ I say. ‘If they have it, they won’t have so many aches and pains and the place will start to thrive again. The tourists will want to buy it.’
‘The messenger will deliver the dittany to those who need it. He . . .’ he pauses, ‘or she . . . always does.’
I almost laugh, but don’t. The messenger indeed! ‘Who is this messenger? Where do they come from? I need to get in touch with them, because Kostas really needs that dittany, now!’
‘Unless people stay away from the mountain, there will be no dittany left at all. No bees, no butterflies. No mountain.’
‘What? But why?’
For a few moments he says nothing; there is just the gentle pitter-patter of the rain outside the cave. Then, slowly, he starts to speak.
‘For years tourists have been coming up the mountain, helping themselves to the dittany to take home, ripping it out by the roots. Then there are the poachers. Dried dittany is big business in the shops on the coast. They strip one mountaintop and then move on to the next. If the dittany goes, the wildlife – the bees and all the other plants t
hat rely on them for pollination – will stop thriving. Understand? If tourists keep taking the plants, we won’t be able to feed our bees.’
I nod slowly. ‘But I don’t want to rip it out by its roots—’ I start to say. He doesn’t let me finish.
‘In future, just stay away,’ he repeats. ‘No good will come of you being here.’
I blow out an exasperated sigh. So much for thinking I’ve seen a softer side of him, helping me out, saving me from the bees. Looks like I’m back to square one, and I don’t think there’s any chance he’s going to help me look for a dittany plant.
From outside I hear a bark, and Georgios lets out a whistle by rolling his bottom lip inwards, a short, sharp, piercing note that makes my ears reverberate. His little black and white dog suddenly appears in the cave, and he smiles, bending down to rub its head. Not something I’ve seen Georgios do before, smile. I narrow my eyes. A memory is scratching furiously again at the back of my mind. There is something so familiar about that smile, and yet I can’t believe I would have forgotten meeting this bad-tempered, irritable and guarded man.
‘Have we met before?’ I blurt out before I can stop myself. So much for learning to be patient and think things through!
He says nothing; just rubs the dog’s ears once more, then reaches out for his scarf, tying it around his neck again, covering the scar as if putting his armour back on.
‘Georgios?’ I’m on a roll and can’t stop, my mouth running away without my brain. ‘What do you mean, no good will come of me being here?’ I get the impression he knows a lot more than he’s letting on. ‘Tell me!’ I push. Then I swallow hard. ‘Do you know Stelios?’
He snaps his head round. ‘Everyone knows Stelios around here,’ he answers coldly, fixing me with those eyes.
I cross my arms and stand my ground. ‘So is he married? Does he . . . does he have a family? I really need to know.’
‘There is nothing you need to know, other than that Stelios’s brother Yannis is working hard to keep the family business going. And it won’t help, you being here.’
