Summer in Greece

by Patricia Wilson

  I told Manno, ‘My father’s a doctor, but he keeps pigeons too. He used to race them, but now he works for the government.’

  ‘Your father works for the British government?’ He frowned and pulled in his chin.

  ‘Yes, his pigeons are taken overseas and return with messages for the military. Last year, one of his pigeons, Geronimo, saved the lives of fifty soldiers.’ I smiled, proud of my father and pleased to relate the story.

  ‘Holy Mother!’ Manno crossed himself again. ‘Tell me how a little bird could save so many men.’

  As I told the story of Geronimo, Manno translated it for the bystanders. ‘A platoon had advanced in France, pushing the enemy back faster than anyone expected, but they lost their radio equipment. Due to lack of contact, another detachment mistook the platoon for an enemy force. They set about firing on them with heavy guns.’ The villagers stared, wide eyed, at Manno while he spoke. I continued, ‘The platoon had no form of communication apart from a couple of my father’s pigeons. At dusk, they released Geronimo with the necessary information about their position.

  ‘By dawn, the attacking force had been informed of the situation by radio. Eventually the two sections came together and they organised a successful, unified attack on the enemy.’

  Manno’s audience applauded and patted me heartily about the shoulders calling, ‘Bravo! Bravo! ’

  ‘Very good! I like it. Walk with me,’ Manno said.

  Flustered again, I had to admit I needed guidance on these things. I’d never walked out with a boy before. ‘I have to take the crutches to the school first,’ I said. ‘Thank you for the help.’ I rushed away and barged into the quarantine room.

  ‘Nurse Josephine, please, can you help me? There’s a fisherman, the one who saved us, who wants me to walk out with him. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never walked out with anyone before, and there’s no chaperone. It’s not correct, is it?’

  Josephine laughed and stared at me for a second. ‘Gertie, it’s war-time. The rules have changed. If you like him, and you trust him, then there’s no harm in walking out together, alone. But stay close to the village.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know what koukla mou means?’

  The nurse laughed again. ‘Yes, get used to it. Koukla mou means my doll.’

  ‘Don’t go!’ Perkins called melodramatically from his bed. ‘You belong to me, Nurse Gertie. You can’t go walking out with some Greek fisherman who calls you his doll. Not when your own blood pumps around my veins! You have no idea of his intentions, and anyway, you’ll break my heart. Haven’t I suffered enough by your hand?’

  Did he know the portholes had caused the sinking? Would he tell them it was me who went against orders and opened the portholes?

  ‘That’s not fair, Corporal Perkins,’ I said. ‘Your words cut me deeply. You know very well that I saved your life on two accounts! First, when I got them to pull you out of the water, and second, when I gave my own blood to keep you alive.’ I rushed to his bedside. ‘So you must shush now! You seem to be doing so well. Look. I’ve brought you a pair of modern crutches which the fisherman brought all the way from the island of Syros, just for you. How are you feeling?’

  He gave me a sulky look. ‘I’m getting better. Nurse says I can get up for a while tomorrow. Promise you’ll come and visit, help me to walk with one leg. Don’t leave me to lie in an empty room wondering where you are, and who you’re with.’

  ‘I will, of course I will. We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we, you and I?’ I had to make him think well of me, not blame me for his loss of limb. ‘Really, Corporal Perkins, I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the sea and got them to pull you into our boat. You were almost gone at that point, you know? If I hadn’t insisted on your rescue, you wouldn’t have lasted another two minutes in the sea.’

  ‘It really was you?’

  I nodded. ‘You’d lost too much blood already. It’s quite remarkable the way you’ve recovered, despite the influenza and everything. You’re a very lucky man.’ Desperate to change the subject and not talk about the ship, or make any mention of his leg, I went on. ‘I’ve just sent a carrier pigeon home; well, not all the way to England exactly, but to Athens, so my parents will know I’m all right. The mayor attached a little note to its . . . um, wing.’

  ‘Wing?’ Josephine cried. ‘That’s unusual. They usually fix it to the . . . erm.’ We exchanged a startled glance.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Corporal?’ the nurse asked. ‘I’m just about to make one.’

  Perkins nodded and I continued hurriedly. ‘Anyway, the bird’s flown off and my parents will receive the message tomorrow. Isn’t that amazing? What about you, Corporal Perkins, do you want to send a message to your family?’

  ‘No, I don’t want them to know anything, not yet. I’ll be out of the army soon. My arm’s healed, and the stitches come out of my head wound later today. Almost as good as new, aren’t I?’ he said cynically, before glancing down the bed. ‘When I arrive home, I want to walk through the door on two legs. They didn’t even know I was on the Britannic. My mother and father think I’m still at the barracks fixing army vehicles. Who knows, perhaps I’ll get that job back, I mean, you don’t need two good legs to be a mechanic, do you?’ He frowned as if thinking about it.

  ‘You’re right, of course,’ I said, realising the irony. He would free up another able-bodied soldier for the front line, too.

  CHAPTER 23

  SHELLY

  Greek island of Kea, present day.

  ALTHOUGH IT WAS HER LAST night in Kea, Shelly had decided to sleep alone. There were so many things she wanted to think about before she headed home.

  The turtle trapped in the fishing net had shaken her badly and brought the incident of her bracelet back with so much clarity she felt the tears run into her hair and then her pillow.

  Was she doomed to this punishment for the rest of her life? She couldn’t dive without the memory of that day, when everything went wrong. It crushed her heart; a lifetime of regret returning each time she went into the sea. Yet she had to dive, to understand why David was so addicted to it. In a way, she also did it for him. She told him about every dive, talking quietly, sometimes aloud – sometimes only in her mind – she recounted every sensation, not that he could possibly understand. It was far too late for that, and of course that was the very thing that broke her heart.

  She thought of her mother’s Christmas gift. If Mum hadn’t bought her the bracelet, she would not have been sitting at the bus stop that day. Mum would not have been killed. Shelly would not have gone to the jeweller’s that day and met David. If Shelly had not treasured the bracelet so much, she would not have kept it on all the time. It would not have slipped off in the sea. David would not have dived for it. So much had happened because of that one thing, the bracelet.

  These thoughts went around in her head, making sleep impossible. She reached out and turned the bedside light on, dazzled for a moment. The unsettled feeling simmered away inside her, then she remembered her final video of Harry. Oh, Harry. She was falling in love, and knew it. She had to look upon his face. In a moment, she was out of bed and turning on her camera. There he was in the pudding video, smiling at her. Alone in her rented room, she smiled back at the camera, melting, wishing she wasn’t alone after all.

  Moving her thoughts along to Gran Gertie, she must have been devastated when Sissy’s fob watch went spiralling down not two miles from where Shelly had just dived. But Gran Gertie was saved by the dolphin, a miracle in itself. If the dolphin hadn’t saved Gran Gertie, Shelly would not have been born. Shelly had gone on to save the lives of many animals, and as a stand-in paramedic, a few people too. As a nurse, she guessed her great-grandmother had also saved soldier’s lives.

  Rather odd, the way everything worked out, she thought. Feeling calmer, she relaxed in her hotel bed and allowed her thoughts to drift.

  *

  ‘Could you come here for a moment?’ She
lly whispered when Harry came to her room, the next morning. ‘I’ve had such a wonderful time, the best.’ She slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him. ‘Thank you, Harry. Now I’m going to take you for a wonderful breakfast.’

  At their usual café, they ate eggs and fresh bread at the water’s edge, and dropped crumbs into the sea for jostling fish. He touched the tips of her fingers. She peered into his eyes and sighed.

  ‘You will come back?’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘Definitely. You will let me know if an opportunity for a dive to the Britannic arises in the future, won’t you?’

  ‘Actually, there’s a dive scheduled for the end of August, organised for the Directorate-General for the European Environment.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s the European Commission’s department responsible for EU policy on the environment,’ he explained, making it no clearer. ‘There are a couple of TV companies bidding for the film rights too. We’ve been involved in the organisation over the past two years and now we’re almost ready to go.’

  ‘Oh, wow. I’ll be here then, to see my turtles hatch.’ She raised her brows and stared at him hopefully.

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, two years in the planning – it’s all booked up, Shelly, even the reserve divers. Still, with your pedigree, if you’re here and there’s a last-minute drop-out, who knows, there might be room on the boat if you’d like to second-assist? But don’t get your hopes up. It’s highly unlikely.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She realised Harry wouldn’t have time for her that week with such a huge responsibility on his shoulders. Still, it would be great to help kit-up the divers and hear their first impressions when they emerged after.

  ‘Possibly dive marshal, second assistant at an outside chance. A very outside chance. Logging diver returns, checking equipment, assisting with emergency cylinders on the drop and shot lines. Though you’re dreaming. It’s highly unlikely to happen.’

  ‘How many actual divers?’ she asked.

  ‘Four.’

  ‘How many on the team?’

  ‘Twenty in total, plus the boat crew and the antiquities dive marshal. Thirty-two including me,’ he said.

  ‘Antiquities dive marshal?’

  ‘As if our expenses aren’t high enough, we have to pay for a Greek dive inspector and a remotely operated vehicle. The ROV operator’s job is to record that we don’t steal priceless antiquities. Jack Cousteau has a lot to answer for,’ he said flippantly.

  ‘He dived here, didn’t he?’

  Harry nodded. ‘Found the wreck in ’75 and dived it in ’76, long before there were any restrictions. He and his team made sixty-eight dives to the Britannic and rumour is he brought up some artefacts.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s been much speculation about those treasures, not least the ship’s bell. The main bell’s so special, it’s the heart of the ship. It would have rung out the alarm in the first place. Unfortunately, that makes it the highest prize for fortune divers, a real crown jewel to be hunted for.’

  ‘So you don’t think it’s still down there?’

  He shrugged again. ‘After almost a hundred dives, and everyone looking out for it, I doubt it.’

  ‘For a moment, I was thinking of that film . . . what was it? Ah, Raiders of the Lost Ark. You know?’

  Harry laughed. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but Cousteau was an amazing guy. A pioneer of scuba, or aqua-lung as it was called then; also sea-scooters, the diving bell, shark cages, and many things connected with deep-sea diving. Yes, an adventurer, but he was a brave and clever man who brought the underwater world into the home. The general public lost themselves in his TV documentaries about sea life. Cousteau said something like this: Once the sea casts its spell of wonder over a man, it holds him in those nets forever.’

  Shelly gasped, emotion exploding in her chest.

  ‘Are you all right?’ He lifted her chin. ‘You look upset.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m fine. It just took me back, you know, the fishing net? I’ll tell you more next time, promise.’

  He nodded and smiled. ‘Whenever you’re comfortable. No worries. Just come back soon, will you? By the way, what time’s your flight from Athens?’

  ‘Eight this evening.’

  He blinked at her. ‘That’s in twelve hours. What are you going to do until then?’

  She tapped her camera, which was slung around her neck. ‘I’m going to photograph the city. Never had time before.’

  He stuck his thumb and forefinger into his mouth and made the most enormous whistle. ‘Right then, I am going to show you the Athens you wouldn’t otherwise see, all right?’

  It was her turn to appear shocked. ‘You mean you’re coming with me?’

  ‘I certainly am. If you like? I’ll show you an Athens that isn’t in the tourist guide, then get you to the airport and stay on the bus to meet the ferry back to Kea. What do you think? If you are comfortable with the plan, I’ll just nip over there and get a ticket.’

  ‘That sounds amazing, actually. I would love it.’

  Harry entered the ticket office just as Elias raced up on a scooter. ‘Did I hear my dad whistle?’

  ‘Yes, actually. He’s just gone to buy a ticket. He’s coming with me to Athens,’ she said, beaming with happiness.

  ‘What! I don’t believe it. Where is he?’ He glared around. ‘The ticket office, you said?’

  ‘Look, Elias, I don’t want any trouble, OK? It was his idea. Why are you so angry?’ Surely he wasn’t still hungover from his twenty-first celebration?

  ‘Why? I’ve got a basketball match; he was supposed to come – he always comes.’ He stormed over to the ticket office and barged inside.

  Bugger!

  Two minutes later, he reappeared and raced away on his Vespa. Harry came out of the office, stood for a moment, following Elias with his eyes and grinning. ‘My son needs to grow up, I’m afraid,’ he said with a chuckle in his voice. ‘He’s had everything he’s wanted all his life, my fault. Consequently, he considers nobody but himself.’

  ‘Look, Harry, I really don’t want to come between father and son.’

  ‘Tough. I have wishes too. Come on, it’s an adventure! I’m really looking forward to it.’ He grinned, hooked my arm, and marched me onto the ferry. ‘Quick, up to the top deck so you can get some pictures of the lighthouse as we pass. Then, we almost go over the Britannic. You need to imagine how it was. Well, no you don’t because the lighthouse and little church next to it were exactly the same, just the port itself was sparse in those days, but you have the old postcards, yes?’

  She nodded, looking out over the sea. ‘I’m trying to imagine the Britannic, on the bottom. The sheer size of her is mind-blowing. I mean, nine hundred feet long! I can’t get my head around it.’

  ‘OK, try to imagine ten of these ferry boats end to end, heading for this island while it’s bow ploughed ever deeper into the Aegean. The captain, Captain Bartlett, must have felt sure she would make it, and perhaps he would have, if the portholes hadn’t been open.’

  Shelly’s thoughts snapped to her great-grandmother with an urgent wish to change the subject. ‘Tell me, how come your English father ended up here?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah, that’s quite a story. I’ll tell you shortly, but take a note of all the windmills on the island as we pass.’

  They stared at the landscape as Kea disappeared into the distance. In the lounge, Harry ordered eggs on toast and fresh orange juice.

  ‘It all started just after the Second World War,’ he said. ‘My grandfather, Gerrard Dennis, was working for the British government.’

  Shelly’s eyes widened. ‘He was a spy?’

  Harry laughed. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Britain feared they would run out of coal, even then, and were searching for alternative energy. Kea had the largest windmill complex in the Cyclades.’

  ‘So your grandfather came to work on a project and fell in love with the island?’

  ‘He did, but it
was more than that. He fell in love with my mother and married her. He became good friends with another man who was half English and helped him with the language. Then, one day when they were working on a windmill, tragedy struck.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘A massive beam fell from the roof, my father’s friend ran forward and pushed him out of the way, but unfortunately, his friend caught the end of the beam on his head and was badly hurt with a fractured skull. He was in a coma for a long time, everyone thought he would die, but eventually he made it.’ Harry stared at the window. ‘My parents sort of adopted him. I forget his real name, but we called him Theio, which is Greek for uncle. The blow left him with poor vision, and not a lot of sense.’ Harry smiled fondly. ‘He was a simple soul, always fun, and good-humoured too. We all loved him.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘When my parents got older and couldn’t look after him, they paid the monks at the convent, on Syros, to take care of him. Theio loved the churches. Sometimes we’d take him to one and he’d just sit there, smiling and gazing at the candles and the gold chandeliers, but most of all he loved the icons, especially the virgin and child. He would kneel before it and gaze up with the most adoring expression.’

  ‘What a moving story. Did they find his family?’

  ‘Theio wouldn’t allow it, he would rather they believed him dead than burden them. We should go to Syros one day and lay some flowers on his grave.’

  ‘He died?’

  ‘I’d think so. I haven’t seen him since I was a boy, and he was an old man then. I guess he’d be near a hundred now. My parents and grandparents are long gone. I mean, there are lots of hundred-year-old Greeks, believe me. You just have to go into any village kafenio to see them sipping their morning coffee – but come on, what are the odds?’

  *

  Before long, they left the bus in the centre of Athens. Harry’s excitement was contagious. In a taxi to the foot of the Acropolis, he muttered statements like: ‘The cradle of Western civilisation,’ and ‘The birthplace of democracy.’ On top of the great flat rock, Shelly stood in awe under the magnificent columns that skirted the Parthenon. She photographed everything. Harry led her around the walls where they looked down on the city and pointed out landmarks. She zoomed in, knowing the enjoyment she would get from her pictures later.