Once he’d left, Maya lit a lantern which glowed dimly in the darkness. Then the three women huddled together as they ate, sharing soup and stories, their shoulders brushing. Around them, the camp murmured with exhausted voices.
At last, Cleo stood up stiffly and stretched.
‘Come on. We’d better get some rest.’
As she climbed into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes, she remembered the strange conversation with Marina and shuddered. If only she hadn’t promised not to tell a soul! Maya and Tash would undoubtedly have had some helpful things to say on the subject.
Tash yawned loudly. It was catching, and Maya soon followed suit.
‘Night,’ Maya said. ‘Sweet dreams.’
‘Night,’ Cleo replied.
She was afraid she’d toss and turn, but exhaustion engulfed her and she drifted off with the artist’s words swirling round her troubled brain.
14
By noon the following day, the mountain air shimmered with heat again.
Helicopters whirred overhead, ferrying more supplies to the camp and the stranded villages beyond Porto Liakáda.
The sound had become a constant now, like a mechanical heartbeat pulsing through the region.
Cleo shaded her eyes as one passed low, sending a spray of dust across the lawn.
‘It feels like they’re finally getting on top of things,’ she said.
Maya, who was beside her, nodded. ‘They’ve set up a command post on the ridge. A full relief team – medics, engineers and so on. They say the main roads might reopen within a week.’
‘That soon?’ Tash looked startled. ‘I thought we’d be stuck here for ages.’
‘We still might be,’ Maya replied. ‘But at least we know things are moving in the right direction.’
They were sitting on the grass, with tin mugs of coffee in their hands. Around them, Cleo noticed the camp had a different rhythm now. The frantic urgency of the first few days had been replaced by a steady throb of rebuilding. Men were carrying timber down the mountain and women were sorting clothing. Meanwhile, children darted between tents, their laughter bubbling through the air.
Beneath it all, though, was a weariness that went deeper than muscle or bone. Cleo felt it in her whole body. The adrenaline had largely worn off, leaving her with a strange hollow feeling. Yet she still kept moving, patching blisters, fetching water and offering smiles.
Tash, on the other hand, seemed to have blossomed. She had colour in her cheeks and her eyes were brighter. Earlier in the day, she’d organised a small group of children to paint pictures on the backs of Villa Ariadne’s broken roof tiles – flowers, suns, clumsy blue waves and wonky goats. Their giggles seemed to swirl round the campsite like confetti.
‘It’s good therapy – for them and me,’ she’d said when Cleo commented.
But Maya seemed to be becoming more tense and wound up. The more control she gained over logistics, the more restless she became.
She was hardly eating or sleeping and was constantly checking her lists, correcting and refining them.
Cleo watched her now, frowning slightly.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘the world won’t fall apart if you take an hour off.’
Maya gave a humourless smile. ‘It’s already fallen apart. I’m just trying to keep a few of the pieces upright.’
‘That’s not your job alone, there are plenty of people here to help.’
‘I know, but it gives me something to do.’
She glanced towards Villa Ariadne, where a group of engineers were inspecting a cracked wall.
‘If I stop, I’ll start thinking and I’d rather not.’
