by Beryl Darby
‘Suppose they ask what the results were?’
‘They’re hardly likely to. They all assume they’re still contagious. Do you have individual results with you.’
‘No, there was no need to bring them.’
‘Then you can tell them honestly that you don’t have them.’ Father Minos smiled at the worried man. ‘I’ll ring the bell to announce a meeting. Compose yourself and speak convincingly. They have a great respect for you as a doctor.’
Nikos could not agree with the priest’s opinion, but he saw no other way to carry out his instructions. Reluctantly he rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his suit. His mouth felt dry. ‘Could you speak for me?’ he asked.
‘No. You’re the doctor. I’ll support you, but I’ll not speak on your behalf.’
Gradually the people emerged from their houses, leaving their morning duties and gathering before the church. At a signal from the priest Nikos held up his hand.
‘My friends,’ he began, hearing his voice squeak with nervousness. ‘I am pleased to be able to visit you yet again, but I wish it could have been under other circumstances. I have consulted with Father Minos and he and I feel you have a right to know why there have been the delays from Athens.’
An angry murmur ran through all of them.
‘The first tests I took were sent to Athens by sea. There were the inevitable delays and the doctors were not happy with the samples. They were unable to find cultures of leprosy cells amongst most of them, and decided they were too old. I had to take new tests from all of you and this time they were flown to the city. I thought that would be the end of the matter, but then I was told Athens required a second set of samples to prove the results of the previous tests.’
‘Don’t they know what they’re doing over there?’
‘They want to be quite certain.’
‘So when are we getting our treatment?’
An expectant silence settled on the gathering as they waited for Nikos’ answer.
‘I can’t tell you that, but I’m sure it won’t be very long now.’
‘You ought to know. You’re a doctor.’
Nikos looked pleadingly at Father Minos who held up his hand. ‘The doctor has told you the truth. He cannot make promises on behalf of Athens. You have to be patient.’
‘We’ve been patient long enough.’
‘I agree with you. I know very little about medicine or drugs, but I do know that no doctor or hospital likes to make a mistake. That’s why you have to bear with them a little longer, so they can study the results and decide on the best course of treatment for you all.’
‘By the time they decide we’ll all be dead.’
‘How long is it going to take this time?’
‘Just a few days.’
‘So the first samples are going to be old when they reach Athens.’
‘They’ve arranged to have them despatched directly from Aghios Nikolaos to Athens each day as soon as I return. They’ll be completely fresh when they receive them,’ Nikos tried to reassure them.
‘How do we know that?’
‘Trust the doctor,’ interposed Father Minos. ‘I will guarantee his integrity.’
‘It doesn’t matter to you.’
Yannis, annoyed and displeased with the news as he was, would not let the slight to the priest go by. ‘If Father Minos says we can trust Nikos then I believe him. To prove that I have faith in him I’ll give him my samples first.’
They grumbled, but if Yannis and Father Minos said they could trust the doctor half of them said it must be true, the others were undecided and rebellious.
‘I’ll be second,’ shouted Spiro.
Yannis smiled gratefully at him for his support. ‘Would it speed things up if we came up to the hospital?’ he suggested.
Nikos nodded. His confidence was returning now and he felt annoyed that so much of the morning had been spent in gaining their co-operation and good will. Slowly the islanders made their way up to the hospital and stood waiting to be called. They were either sulky or garrulous and Nikos brought all his professional etiquette and natural charm into play whilst he explained again and again why Athens was asking for more tests.
Whilst with Doctor Stavros he once again read the notes the doctor had made on all the patients on the island, noting when the doctor considered that all outward signs of the disease had halted. He compared them with the list he had from Athens of those whose tests had returned a negative result and in all but two cases they agreed with Doctor Stavros’s observations.
Yannis waited, growing more and more impatient as there was no word sent to him from either Nikos or Athens. He wrote again and again asking for the results of the tests, but received no reply. He wrote to Andreas, pleading with him to visit the government and investigate the delay, but Andreas was as evasive as Father Minos and Doctor Stavros had been of late. He began to brood on the problem, growing morose and sullen, until he formulated a plan.
He chose his time carefully. A stiff breeze rose during the afternoon, blowing towards the mainland, and when most of the islanders were busy with preparations for their evening meal he hauled a bathtub down to the quay and pushed himself off.
The journey was more dangerous than he had anticipated. The breeze had the effect of tipping him forwards in the unstable tub and although he travelled faster over the stretch of water than he had done previously he was exhausted by the time he reached the safety of the shore. He made no attempt to salvage the bathtub, but plodded slowly and cautiously up to the farmhouse.
No light showed from the windows and Yannis bit his lips. It was not yet fully dark so it was unlikely they would have retired for the night. He tried the door, which did not yield under his hand, then threw a stone up at Anna’s bedroom window. The stone bounced back and Yannis threw it again without receiving any response. Hungry, tired and wet he made his way disconsolately over to the stable. He would at least get warm there, huddled up with the donkey. She objected to the intruder, grudgingly moving over a little on her straw to allow him room enough to lie beside her. He dozed fitfully, the donkey disturbing him as she moved her position and it was only by a sixth sense that he rolled away from her hooves as she lumbered awkwardly to her feet. The stable door opened and a shaft of light dazzled him. Instinctively he held up his arm to shield his eyes and heard a quick intake of breath.
‘Yannis! What the devil are you doing here?’
Yannis struggled to his feet. ‘Yiorgo?’
Yiorgo lowered the lamp. ‘Come inside.’
He followed his brother across the yard and into the kitchen. Anna looked up in surprise. ‘Yannis! How lovely to see you. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’
He sank into a chair and removed his shoes and socks, towelling his feet dry. ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m here. I’m not staying. I’m going to Heraklion.’
‘You’re staying here tonight at least. You couldn’t get anywhere at the moment. You look exhausted.’
Yannis smiled wanly. His determination for the journey was lessening as weariness crept over him.
‘Warm milk,’ announced Anna, ‘then to bed. We can talk in the morning.’
Yiorgo opened his mouth, but Anna frowned at him. ‘Anna’s right,’ he conceded. ‘You can tell us what you’re up to in the morning.’
Yannis slept late. When he awoke the sun was high in the sky and Yiorgo had long since departed for the fields. He dressed and crept timorously down the stairs. His sister emerged from the kitchen.
‘Sit down and I’ll get you some food and coffee.’
Yannis ate ravenously. ‘Where were you when I arrived last night?’ he asked. ‘The place was deserted.’
‘We’d gone to the taverna. It was Marisa’s birthday.’
Yannis nodded. ‘How old is she now?’
‘Twenty one.’
‘Twenty one,’ mused Yannis. A cloud came across his face. ‘I was that ag
e when I went to Spinalonga.’
Anna laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s turned into quite a beauty. What did you mean last night, Yannis, when you said you were going to Heraklion?’
‘I need to see the government.’
Anna’s eyes opened wide. ‘The government? Whatever for?’
‘To force them into telling me the results from Athens. We’re still not getting any treatment. I keep writing to them. I either get no reply or they say they are waiting for Athens to send them the results. Well, I’ve waited long enough.’
‘How are you going to get there? You can’t walk. It’s too far.’
‘I need to talk to Yiorgo.’
‘He’s in the far field. Come into the kitchen and talk to me. I’ve plenty to do and there’s no one around.’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I’ll go up to speak to him. I’ve wasted too much time already.’
Anna opened her mouth to reply, but Yannis was out of the back door and crossing the yard as fast as his misshapen feet would allow him. He reached Yiorgo and without pausing to greet him asked a question.
‘Do you drive? A car, motorbike, a van; anything at all.’
Yiorgo shook his head. ‘I’ve never thought about it.’
‘Then now is the time. You told me you were keeping some money for me. Do you still have it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Would there be enough for me to buy a small motorbike?’ asked Yannis eagerly.
‘You’d have to go to Aghios Nikolaos for that. There’s nothing round here.’
‘Then will you go, please, Yiorgo? Buy one and bring it back here.’
Yiorgo scratched his head. ‘I doubt I’d get there before evening. Better to wait until tomorrow.’
Nothing Yannis could say would make his brother alter his plans and finally he had to admit that it would not be wise for him to try to ride to Heraklion in darkness.
Yannis was up before the sun rose, shaking Yiorgo into wakefulness.
‘I’m coming with you and I can’t walk as fast as you.’
Yiorgo looked at his brother doubtfully. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Of course, provided we leave early. It will save you having to come back here for me. I’ll be able to go straight from Aghios Nikolaos.’
Yiorgo shrugged. He thought his brother’s trip to Heraklion a crazy idea, but he had agreed to help and there was no turning back now. Unresisting he dressed whilst Yannis brewed coffee for them both.
‘What about Anna? She’ll wonder what’s happened to us.’
‘I’ll tell her.’ Yannis was almost at the top of the stairs as Anna came from her room. She took in the scene at a glance.
‘You’re going with Yiorgo?’
Yannis nodded. ‘It will be quicker for me.’
Anna watched as Yannis stuffed packages of bread and cheese into his pockets. Her heart pounded as she kissed him goodbye and wished him luck. She watched, almost envious, as the brothers walked across the yard to make a slight detour over the hills before rejoining the road on the outskirts of the village. At first Yannis was able to keep pace with Yiorgo, but by the time they had climbed the low hills around Elounda he was limping badly.
‘How about a rest?’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I can manage.’
‘If we went up a bit higher you could rest a short distance from the main road and I could go down to Aghios Nikolaos.’
Yannis thought about the proposal. ‘It would be further for you to walk.’
‘I might be able to pick up a lift, besides, you’re tired. Even if I walk all the way I’ll be faster without you.’
‘How far is it to the main road from here?’
‘A couple of kilometres.’
‘And Aghios Nikolaos?’
‘About ten.’
Yannis sighed. Yiorgo was making sense. ‘Let’s go up towards the road. I’ll find somewhere to rest whilst you go down and buy a bike.’
Yiorgo smiled with relief. He would be able to make far better time without his brother. He left Yannis lying in a clump of gorse bushes a hundred yards from the road and began to hurry on alone. For half an hour he walked along the deserted road, until, with dust flying from its wheels, the bus from Heraklion nearly ran him down. He jumped onto the bank and waved vigorously as it passed. It slowed and he ran to board it gratefully.
He completed his journey and made his way to a taverna a short distance from the bus terminal. He felt in need of refreshment and also needed to ask where he could purchase a motorbike. The taverna owner advised Yiorgo to visit his brother-in-law; his son would show him the way when he had finished his meal.
The oily fingered mechanic looked up from the engine he was working on. He began to ask questions. What did Yiorgo want the bike for? Was it for work, over rough country, or just for pleasure, travelling on the roads? How big did he want the engine to be? Did he plan to use it every day or just occasionally? Would he use it for long or short journeys? How much did he want to spend?
Yiorgo was completely at a loss. ‘I just want a bike that will be reliable for me to make the journey to Heraklion.’ The man eyed his customer suspiciously, and Yiorgo decided it would be wise for him to enlarge a little. ‘I’ve had a message from Father Andreas. You may remember him. He lived here, son of Yiorgo the fisherman. He needs me in Heraklion as soon as possible – an urgent family matter.’
‘What’s wrong with taking the bus?’
Yiorgo sighed in exasperation. ‘All I want to do is buy a motorbike from you. Do you always question why people want them?’
‘People aren’t usually in such a rush. They like to look around, try one or two before they decide.’
‘All I want is a reliable machine.’
The mechanic shrugged. ‘Try that one.’ The bike was cumbersome and heavy.
‘How much?’
A crafty look came over the garage owner’s face. He quoted an inflated price and Yiorgo peeled off the notes without demur. ‘I want it filled with petrol.’
The owner cocked his head towards the boy who dutifully ran to get a can whilst Yiorgo began to look at the bike. ‘How do I start it?’
‘Haven’t you ridden before?’
‘Never.’
He pursed his lips. This man was mad. Never ridden before and planning to make a journey to Heraklion in a hurry. ‘You’d be better by bus.’
Yiorgo’s lips set in a firm line. ‘Just show me what I have to do.’
He spent half an hour, listening intently and questioning the use of gears, finally nodding that he understood the principles. ‘Have I enough petrol to get all the way?’
‘Probably.’
‘Then I’ll take a spare can.’ He handed over another note and waited for the change, which was not forthcoming. Gingerly he mounted the machine, kicking it to a start and nearly falling off as the engine roared into life.
‘Take it slowly,’ called the garage owner over the noise, doubting that his advice would be heeded, and he watched as Yiorgo departed in a wobbly line down the road.
It was not as difficult as Yiorgo had imagined. He crunched the gears as he changed them, skidded dangerously around the corners, but did not fall off as he had envisaged. He met few other vehicles on the road and as they approached him he used his horn vigorously, hoping they would give him a wide berth. By the time he reached the spot where he had left his brother he was beginning to gain in confidence and enjoy himself. He pulled the bike off the road onto the rough ground and called. Yannis emerged from the gorse clump and Yiorgo scanned him anxiously.
‘It’s very heavy, but not difficult to drive. The garage owner was a rogue. He took nearly five hundred drachmas off me, but I’ve got a spare can of petrol on the back.’
Yannis nodded. He was not interested in the cost. ‘Show me what I have to do.’
Yiorgo ran through the intricacies of the gears, showed him the various gauges and their meaning, how
to brake without shooting over the handlebars and finally the kick-start.
‘Thank you, Yiorgo. I couldn’t have managed without you. I’ll try to let you know what happens.’
‘Where are you going in Heraklion?’
‘To Andreas.’ Yannis smiled with quiet confidence. ‘He’ll give me shelter.’
Yiorgo thrust the remainder of the notes into Yannis’s hand. ‘You may need this.’
Yannis placed the notes in his pocket and himself carefully astride the machine. He kicked the starter until the bike sprang into life and Yiorgo watched as he wobbled down the road to become a speck in the distance. The speed with which he was travelling meant nothing to Yannis, but he was surprised to come upon Neapolis so quickly and half an hour saw him in Malia. He was hungry and thirsty, but he dared not stop, partly through fear of being accosted and partly because he was not sure if he would be able to start the bike again.
The outskirts of Heraklion were unfamiliar to him and he dared not try to take a short cut. He followed the main road until he reached Eleftherias Square and he knew exactly where he was. He swung inwards to the centre of the town, nearly losing control as he did so, and earning the wrath of a baker who had spilled his rolls as he moved rapidly from Yannis’s path. Throwing all caution to the winds he continued on through the mean back streets until he reached the tiny church and adjoining house that Father Minos had occupied when he had lived in Heraklion. Slowing the bike to a halt and switching off the noisy engine he propped it against the wall and hammered on the door. A young girl answered his urgent banging and he pushed his way roughly past her before asking for Andreas.
‘He’s out.’
‘I’ll wait for him.’
‘He could be gone a long while. You’d be best to come back tomorrow.’
‘I’ll wait. I know he’ll see me.’ Yannis made to go through to the living room.
‘You can’t go in there. It’s private.’
Yannis dropped his head. ‘Show me where you’d like me to wait,’ he spoke wearily. ‘And I’d be grateful for a glass of water.’
