Frida didn’t appear concussed, but Cleo knew the symptoms could take hours or days to develop. She decided not to mention this right now, however, for fear of causing unnecessary alarm. It could wait till help arrived.
She was so busy tending to everyone, she didn’t notice Maya striding purposefully towards her, her eyes sharp and alert. Tash followed close behind.
‘Henrietta’s got through to the local news station,’ Maya announced when she was near enough. ‘It was a 6.9 earthquake, pretty big. It’s affected a wide area. I’m afraid there are likely to be deaths.’
Cleo shivered. Glancing up, she noticed the stars above were particularly brilliant, and the moon was casting a silver light on everything around. The garden looked beautiful and serene, almost mockingly so, given what had just happened.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint roar of water drifted up from the valley, shattering the peace. Cleo stood up and squinted into the darkness.
‘That’s not… right,’ she whispered to Maya, hoping Tash wouldn’t hear.
Maya stood stock-still, ears pricked. ‘I agree.’
A chilling silence followed, then Henrietta came towards them, still clutching the radio.
‘There’s severe flooding in Porto Liakáda,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Huge waves. They’ve all been told to evacuate and get to high ground. Help is on its way from Chania and the other big cities. In the meantime, we’ve been told to sit tight and try to keep warm.’
9
Mark returned from the villa, clutching a big pile of blankets and some torches, which he distributed round the group. Not long after, a shadowy figure appeared in the distance. As it grew closer, Cleo realised it was the old housekeeper, Katerina, with a thick shawl round her shoulders. Her white-grey hair was in two plaits, pinned to either side of her head.
Cleo sprang to her feet and hurried to Katerina’s side to check on her. She brushed off questions about her well-being impatiently, however, and told Cleo to expect many visitors.
‘Spread the word. The villagers are making their way here,’ she said. ‘It’s the safest, most habitable place.’
There wasn’t time to ask the old woman how she knew because soon the first villagers arrived, the quickest to make it up the mountain in their nightclothes. Their eyes were wide, and they were talking sharply and urgently in Greek.
Fortunately, Katerina was able to translate.
Roofs were partially submerged, it seemed, small boats trapped on former streets and paths washed away. Panic threaded through the air but there was also a sense of quiet, determined courage.
‘We came ahead, to tell you to expect us,’ one man explained. He was young – probably in his late twenties. Cleo thought he might have been one of the waiters from the restaurant last night.
‘Some people are very old and too weak to walk the whole way. They are being carried. It will take some time to get them here,’ he went on. ‘Also, many of the children are frightened and crying.’
Maya cleared her throat.
‘Right,’ she said firmly. ‘Mark and I will assemble a small team to go back to the villa to fetch more blankets, duvets, whatever we can lay our hands on. Also food – biscuits, milk, juice, that sort of thing.
‘I suggest everyone else stays here to welcome the arrivals and help with the children and elderly especially.’
‘Are you sure?’ Cleo asked anxiously. ‘I don’t think anyone should go back inside the building.’
Henrietta, who’d joined them, agreed, but Maya reassured them both.
‘Mark’s turned off the power now so there’s no risk of an explosion. It won’t take us long and we’ll be very careful.’
Soon, the rest of the villagers started turning up in dribs and drabs, some with children on their backs, others with their arms round loved ones.
Some had nasty injuries while most had only minor ones, but they were shivering and many were in shock, having watched the raging waters rise up suddenly and claim their businesses and homes.
Those from the original retreat group immediately offered their blankets. Lesley seemed reluctant to part with hers, but was shamed into doing so when Fran surrendered her own.
Cleo noticed Tash had risen now and was hugging a small boy and an even smaller girl. After a few moments, she took them both by the hand and led them to a patch of grass where they sat down. Their mother followed with a baby in her arms.
Among the last to arrive was an elderly fisherman with a broken leg. He’d half hopped, half been carried up the mountain by his family.
Cleo got to work immediately, kneeling beside the injured man whose leg was twisted at an odd angle. It had been hastily splinted with driftwood and string.
