Leaning forwards and resting their elbows on the broken balustrade, the three women watched sunlight spill over the ridge while below that, the village started to stir.
Folk were already arriving in Porto Liakáda with buckets, wheelbarrows and shovels, and the faint sound of voices threaded through the morning air.
‘It’s starting,’ Cleo murmured.
Tash stood up straight and smiled, hugging her shawl tight.
‘What is?’
‘The end. This is the beginning of the end.’
A voice behind them made them all turn. It was Katerina, who’d come to tell them breakfast was ready.
‘We’ve got coffee, yoghurt and figs today – gifts from the gods for tired women.’
Maya, Tash and Cleo followed the old woman back to the kitchen area, where people were already sitting round tables, talking and eating. They found a large enough space for them all near Mark and Henrietta and pulled up some chairs.
The figs were bruised but sweet, the coffee was black and strong and to Cleo, everything tasted just perfect.
Maya put down her mug and looked round at the others.
‘It’s strange,’ she said. ‘Just after the earthquake, I could hardly bear the thought of staying here another day. Now, the thought of leaving makes me feel weird and a bit… untethered.’
‘That’s because you’ve found your anchor again here,’ Cleo said.
Tash nodded. ‘I think we all have.’
Not long after, the first proper aid convoys started to arrive both in the campsite and down below, in the village. Huge trucks trundled in, laden with tools, timber, cement and fresh food.
Uniformed engineers buzzed round Villa Ariadne, taking measurements, barking orders and scribbling in notebooks. Those who hadn’t left for the village rolled up their sleeves and set to work, too, their voices bright with determination.
At one point, Cleo stopped to look at the villa and fancied it gave a long, sad sigh. But why, when it was being brought back to life? It seemed to bear the weight of the whole world on its shoulders, she thought, before telling herself off for being foolish.Villas don’t think and they certainly don’t sigh. Get a grip on yourself.
Before long, she started helping to organise the medical tent into a more permanent clinic and began to train two local girls to clean and redress wounds. She moved about briskly but calmly. She was still exhausted, but a strong sense of purpose gave her the energy to keep going.
One of the girls, Sofia, asked her if she was a doctor.
‘A nurse,’ Cleo said with a grin. ‘A bossy one.’
Sofia giggled. ‘Like my mother.’
‘Then I approve of her,’ Cleo joked. ‘Bossy women get things done.’
The girl smiled proudly. ‘She says women keep our village alive.’
In the afternoon, Cleo went down to the village to help and saw Maya standing in the middle of a newly cleaned square, some way back from the main street.
Maya had thrown herself into rebuilding the village infrastructure and she’d been liaising with engineers and negotiating supply schedules. She’d also convinced the Coast Guard to prioritise a much-needed second water tank for the camp.
Now, she was holding a clipboard, squinting up at a damaged church.
‘They’re saying we can reinforce the walls without demolishing,’ she explained. ‘But they’ll need volunteers for the clean-up.’
‘Put my name down,’ said Cleo. ‘I’m good with rubble.’
Maya laughed – a light, unguarded sound that Cleo hadn’t heard before. ‘You really are unstoppable.’
‘Habit of a lifetime. When things fall apart, I tidy up.’
