Summer in Greece

by Patricia Wilson

  I hurried around the deck until I reached the side furthest from the quay, hidden from the port. There, I examined the ring, a silver dolphin that curled itself around my finger.

  ‘Hello, Delphi,’ I whispered. ‘You precious creature of the sea.’

  CHAPTER 41

  SHELLY

  Greece, present day.

  LATE AFTERNOON, SHELLY IRONED HER white linen pants and a matching shirt. Apart from a little mascara and lip gloss, she abandoned the idea of make-up, but then fumbled with buttons and smudged her eye make-up while fretting about Elias’s remark. He’d been moody and begrudging all day and she hoped he wasn’t going to try and embarrass her in front of the dive team, though she wouldn’t put it past him. Had she understood correctly, that Harry had an endless string of girlfriends? The man was, after all, good-looking and surrounded by beautiful, half-naked women for much of the year. She would be naïve to think he lived like a hermit. Also, she wondered if Elias was perhaps a little jealous of her receiving most of Harry’s attention.

  At the dive centre, she found a long trestle outside the building, overlooking the sea. Petros was setting out thirty places with notebooks, pencils, upturned plastic glasses and bottles of water.

  She found Harry inside, on his tablet and knew better than to speak to him.

  Outside again, she noticed a place set with a label bearing her name. Feeling Petros’s eyes on her, she looked up and gave him a smile. ‘Thank you, Petros. It feels good to be an official part of the team.’

  ‘According to my father, you’ve got more qualifications than several of the main dive team.’

  Shelly felt him on her side, unlike his brother. She pulled out a chair and lifted a notebook and pen from her bag. The first papers were about the dedicated commercial dive support vessel; DSV for short. A solid hulk of ship that would show up well on any ship’s radar, which was important as they were diving in a busy shipping lane. She started memorising the vessel’s layout.

  Once Shelly had the layout of the ship firmly ingrained in her mind, she found a sheet detailing the medical facilities on board. Then, she went through a ‘worst case scenario’ exercise in her head. Her local paramedic leader in Dover had given her the number of the Air Sea Rescue team nearest to the island of Kea, so she made contact and introduced herself and confirmed that they knew about the dive. Engrossed in making notes, she hadn’t realised some of the dive team had arrived and felt herself blush when she looked up to see half a dozen men watching her.

  Harry came out of the dive shop and introduced the team as they arrived, twenty-four men and five women besides herself covered every aspect of the dive, including technicians, boat crews, and dive management teams. They all settled down to the excitement of the pre-dive meet. For most of the team, using the bell for decompression was a new experience and, like Shelly, they had all studied the Standard Operating Procedure intensely. Several emergency scenarios were considered including oxygen toxicity, air embolism, and loss of consciousness. Everyone knew these were real dangers, and all those who would be in the water went through an unconscious diver drill. When Harry asked if there were any questions, Shelly raised her hand.

  ‘I know it seems overly cautious, but as I’m assistant medical officer, can I have everyone’s blood group, age, and any medical conditions before you leave this table?’

  Elias piped up. ‘Oh, come on! These are all very experienced divers, even those who are not going down. Don’t you think you’re being a bit over-dramatic?’

  Shelly felt the heat of a blush rise in her cheeks and was determined not to look at Harry. ‘No, I don’t think you can be too careful. Don’t forget, two very experienced divers have already lost their lives in the last decade here. Also, we must take into consideration this will be the first time we’ve all worked together, and accidents do happen.’

  He tutted, took a beer from the fridge, and banged the edge of the cap against the edge of the table to remove it. Their eyes met and she saw nothing but hostility.

  *

  ‘That all went very well,’ Harry said when they were alone. ‘I must apologise for Elias, again. I’ll have a word with him later. The problem is, he’s very loyal and misses his mother, but won’t admit it.’

  Shelly shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but in fact, she was still smarting.

  An early night was the order, although sleep would be difficult with so much excitement bottled up for the next day.

  ‘You must go home, Harry,’ Shelly whispered, at the door of her apartment. ‘We both need a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Ten minutes?’

  ‘Definitely not.’ Her body temperature rose as he pulled her towards him. Dusk slipped toward night and the darkening shadows seemed to intensify the salty-spicy fragrance of him. Her heart beat faster as his face came inescapably close and for a moment, urgent feelings of desire almost overpowered her resolve.

  She longed to tell him how much she wanted him at that moment, but she resisted. People’s lives depended on a clear head tomorrow.

  His sweet mouth covered hers. Her hips pressed against his. She wanted him so fiercely that for a few seconds, she couldn’t breathe – then she was panting. Her determination weakened; they were almost swaying in the erotic dance as old as mankind. ‘Stop!’ she said quietly. ‘Not now . . . you really must go. We both need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow night, I promise we’ll more than make up for this abstinence.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he growled, tugging her against his body one last time, before walking away.

  ‘Tomorrow night, I swear you can hold me to anything you like.’

  *

  The next morning, everyone scuttled about doing their individual jobs. Little was said, no one wanted distractions, yet tension and excitement mounted with every passing minute. Although there had only been two deaths on the wreck in the past hundred and fifteen years, everyone feared another on their watch.

  Divers would be on the Britannic for forty-five minutes with the remotely operated vehicle’s camera watching and relaying its video to the dive boat monitors. The ROV would also keep check that the decompression bell did not shift in the current.

  The ROV relayed images of the divers which were illuminated by the super powerful lights of two one-man submersibles. ‘Look at that! The visibility’s exceptional – it must be over a hundred feet!’ Harry said. They all leaned closer to the monitors as one of the world’s most magnificent liners loomed up out of the blue.

  The Britannic lay on its starboard bow, facing south.

  Shelly watched a pair of divers glide along the open and covered promenade deck. She recalled Gran Gertie’s description of the area in a violent storm when a diver, swept off his feet by a giant wave, was saved by his lifeline. Difficult to imagine that squall while looking at the peaceful wonderland of the marine gardens, with colourful fish and delicate coral-encrusted railings. Powered by diver propulsion vehicles, the men moved effortlessly over the vessel towards the stern.

  Like pairs of long-necked dinosaurs frozen in time, the gigantic lifeboat davits loomed above the divers. She imagined the lifeboats, each with seventy-five frightened passengers, swung out over the side of the ship, then lowered by the ropes. Would they see one? Or had all the lifeboats disintegrated? It was, after all, a hundred and five years since His Majesty’s Hospital Ship Britannic went to the bottom of the Aegean Sea.

  ‘I’ve never seen so much wildlife on a wreck,’ Shelly said.

  ‘That’s because they’re using rebreathers. There’re no noisy bubbles to frighten the shoals of fish away. The only noise you hear is from the motors of the propulsion vehicles, which the divers use as little as possible, in order to save the batteries and also because they enjoy the silence.’

  ‘Look at that. The divers appear so small against the propellers.’ She remembered Gertie’s description of the carnage they caused. ‘Amazing marine life growing on the blades too. Saddle oysters, marine crustaceans, yellow sp
onges, they’ve all taken up residence, just how big are they, Harry?’

  ‘The propellers? Twenty-four feet across and weighing thirty-eight tons,’ Harry said. ‘Can you imagine the noise, and the turbulence? They must have been a terrifying sight for those who saw them close up.’

  ‘Look, we’re seeing E deck from the outside. Those portholes are all open,’ Elias said. ‘Nobody was ever brought to justice for going against orders, were they?’

  ‘What’s going on there?’ Shelly pointed to a screen where the dive camera was clearly deep inside the wreck. ‘I thought there was only one video diver.’

  ‘There is,’ Harry said. ‘What you’re seeing is relay from an underwater drone. It’s operated by the one-man sub. There are two. He’s checking the watertight door between boiler rooms five and six. According to inquiry statements from the firemen, this door was jammed half open. Clearly, we can see it was all the way open. Nothing could have saved the ship with that open.’

  ‘Even if the portholes had been closed, the Britannic was doomed when that door jammed,’ the screen operator said.

  Shelly wished her great-grandmother could have heard that statement.

  The operator continued. ‘Anyway, better she went down when she did. Just imagine if she’d got to Lemnos and embarked four thousand sick and wounded soldiers.’

  ‘What’s he talking about?’ Shelly asked quietly.

  ‘It’s the minefield,’ Harry replied. ‘The full extent of it has only just come to light. Twelve mines were laid by German U-boat 75. The Burdigala caught the first mine, the Britannic caught the second, but if she hadn’t, she almost certainly would have caught one on her return. The ship would be lower in the water, transporting four thousand casualties, many of whom had lost limbs and wouldn’t have stood a chance. Add to them, over a thousand medical staff and crew. Can you imagine the carnage if she’d gone down under those circumstances?’

  As the information filtered through, Shelly realised her great-grandmother had been vindicated after a lifetime of self-blame. She didn’t understand why, but Shelly also felt she had in some way been released from a great weight too.

  She had always blamed herself for not being able to rescue David when he needed her. Now, it was as if she had woken from a nightmare and saw the reality of the day.

  If Shelly had been able to dive, and she had gone down to try and release David, she would almost certainly have become entangled too. She would have drowned and never known the tiny egg that was dividing and multiplying in the dark miracle of her womb. DJ would never have come into existence. She felt a tear slide down her cheek and, unnoticed, stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.

  *

  ‘What’s happening on the other two screens?’ Shelly asked. ‘It looks like a tight spiral staircase. Is that another drone filming?’

  ‘It’s drone 2,’ the operator answered.

  ‘My grandmother talked about a spiral staircase behind her cabin on F deck. She said the boilermen made a huge racket in their hobnailed boots, changing shift.’

  ‘Ah, no. This staircase is going up inside the mast to the crow’s nest. We’re looking for the ship’s bell. It would be easier if the Britannic had settled on an even keel, then the bell would probably be at the bottom of that staircase. Unfortunately, she’s on her side, so it could be anywhere. Look, the spiral’s blocked with debris where the mast’s bent. It may be in there, but he’s giving up and going back out.’

  ‘I guess it would be the icing if they found it?’

  ‘Certainly would. The bell is the ultimate treasure.’

  The drone came back into the open and took a 180 degree shot. The video diver appeared to glow in a great pool of light, like a giant radio-active spider. Attached to his body were six long, jointed legs, each carrying a powerful spotlight on the end. He was filming two divers collecting samples of marine crustaceans for analysis. The drone returned to the mast and travelled up its outside, then on an angle at the crow’s nest where the mast had almost snapped in two.

  A diver appeared and signalled he was going down to the sea floor directly under the mast. Shelly wasn’t happy. It was a long way, almost fifty feet from the mast to the sand, and he was alone. Everyone was watching the other drone, which filmed the captain’s bathroom with its beautiful Minton tiles, and roll-edged bath with four taps, clearly visible.

  ‘I don’t believe it. Is that the plug, still in the bath?’ Shelly said with astonishment.

  ‘It is,’ Harry said. ‘Remember, Captain Bartlett was about to take his bath when the mine struck.’

  The lone diver went out of shot. Shelly’s heart leapt.

  ‘Where’s he gone? The diver on screen 6. He was going to explore the sea floor below the mast. Now I can’t see him.’

  Then a pale light came into view. ‘He must be on the bottom because he’s kicked up some silt and it’s drifted up, over him, so we can’t see him so well,’ Harry said.

  Shelly thought of David and the fishing net, and felt sick.

  Suddenly an awful screeching sounded. ‘That’s him,’ Harry said. ‘What’s going on? Tell sub 2 to send his drone down.’

  The operator spoke into his headset. ‘He can’t, he’s running short of battery life. I’ll try drone 1.’ After a moment’s conversation with sub 1, he said. ‘He’s going to check. Also, it’s time to call everyone up for decompression.’ The screeching started again. ‘What the hell—’ the operator muttered. ‘Ah, got him on screen. Look, he’s either in great pain or very excited.’

  Shelly’s mouth had dried so much she couldn’t speak. The drone came around the diver’s shoulders to get a better view of him. They could all see his eyes were wild and Shelly’s first thought was that he was in pain. He lifted his gloved hand in front of the drone, then pointed it down to the sand. The drone operator in the sub manoeuvred the drone again. Then, they all saw it in the same moment.

  Three-quarters buried in the seabed, the graceful curves of Britannic’s bell.

  *

  ‘They’re starting their ascent,’ Harry called from the prow. ‘Unbelievable, after over a hundred years, to find the bell! I can hardly believe it myself. God forgive me and a dozen others for suspecting Cousteau might have had something to do with its disappearance. It’s been there the whole time! I feel ashamed.’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Yes, shame on us all!’ Excitement resonated in his voice. Shelly’s grin widened. He swept her into his arms and kissed her fervently on the lips.

  ‘Dad!’ Elias shouted. ‘You’re embarrassing me!’

  They broke apart, breathless and laughing.

  ‘Divers’ lives are at risk if we make a mistake up here.’ He tore off his white cotton crew-neck and knotted the sleeves around his waist. Although he had a golden tan, Shelly could see his mother had been fair-skinned and Elias was destined to always be cautious of the sun. For a second, he glared at Shelly and she sensed his animosity gathering again.

  ‘Let’s prepare for the divers – we want to be ready when they surface,’ he said angrily. ‘They’ll be exhausted after five hours in the water. Energy drinks, bottled water, and chocolate are top of the list.’

  ‘Of course. What would you like me to do?’ she asked.

  ‘Just stay out of the way. Make us all an iced coffee while we wait.’

  Shelly reminded herself that she was lucky to be on this monumental dive, and the trip was still full of excitement. She could hardly wait for the divers’ return. Taking shite from Harry’s son was little price to pay. Just a bit of jealousy, and actually, good to know Harry’s son was so loyal. She descended to the galley and made frappé for everyone.

  *

  Carlos, descend-ascend team leader, called, ‘All four divers are in the wet dive-bell! Oxygen particle pressure’s confirmed. We’re clear to raise the decompression bell to the next stage. Estimated time of arrival on deck, two hours from now. Elias, prepare to retrieve the shot lines and marker buoys. The sooner we clear the dive-site the better.’


  ‘What’s happening?’ Shelly asked.

  ‘Carlos is watching the ascending divers and checking the gas levels. Spiros is controlling the remotely operated vehicle.’ Harry nodded at a serious man who stood before another series of screens.

  ‘The diving bell’s an advantage,’ Harry said. ‘Great for the divers to remove their mouthpiece for a while, and good for us to be able to communicate with them.’

  ‘They’ll be exhausted,’ Shelly said, ‘but it must be satisfying to see so many months of hard work and planning come together this smoothly. And, they’ve found the Britannic’s bell. Will they have it with them, Harry?’

  ‘Absolutely not, it’s against the law.’

  They were all grinning, staring at the screens, when chaos erupted.

  CHAPTER 42

  GERTIE

  Dover, 1917.

  I ARRIVED BACK AT SOUTHAMPTON on a bitterly cold day. The wind whipped our cheeks, and the sting of salt chapped our lips. Matron Merriberry waited for us on the quayside. Josephine and I walked with a strange lolloping gait, the ground rocking and rolling under our feet. My stomach could not quite keep up.

  ‘Land sickness,’ Josephine told me. ‘It will fade in a day or two.’

  Matron escorted us to the Grand Hotel in Portsmouth where they would question us about our Britannic experience.

  ‘Do you know, Gertie, I hardly remember anything from before the rescue,’ Josephine said to me in front of Merriberry. She turned to Matron. ‘Is that normal, do you think, Matron?’

  ‘Absolutely. Even I cannot remember the minutes before we struck the mine . . . if that was indeed what happened. Some say we were torpedoed.’ She stared pointedly at me, her face creased with worry-lines, and in a moment of panic I began to wonder if she knew what I had done. ‘However, I was in the mess eating brown bread and jam. I remember that clearly.’ She turned to me. ‘Smith, do you remember eating brown bread and jam for breakfast in the mess that morning?’

  ‘I do, Matron. Clear as day.’