Page 87 of The Greek Café

‘Where are you heading?’ he asks as another thunderclap sounds overhead.

‘Kato Petres Beach. My husband needs our help,’ says Rita. ‘He has fallen. Please let him be okay,’ she cries.

Takis freezes for a moment. ‘Kato Petres?’

‘Yes. It isn’t too far from here,’ she says, panic in her voice.

‘What happened?’ he asks.

‘He slipped on some rocks. It’s all my fault,’ says Rita with a loud sob. ‘He wanted to head back earlier, but I insisted we carried on to the beach. Then the storm came.’

‘You cannot blame yourself,’ says Phoebe. ‘It was an accident.’

‘Yes, but if we had headed back when we were supposed to…’

Takis is silent as we walk, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

‘You don’t have to go any further,’ I tell Takis, placing my hand gently on his arm. ‘I know what happened here with your brother.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. Athena mentioned it to me. We can manage without you, if it is too much.’

‘I will be okay.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I have to help.’

I instinctively find his hand and give it a squeeze.

Suddenly, Rita points to her husband, who is lying on the ground in a rocky footpath overlooking the beach, so we break into a jog. She calls his name, but he doesn’t respond.

‘Please let him be okay,’ she says in a panicked voice as we head closer.

Thankfully, he is conscious when we reach him, and lets out a little groan.

‘Where does it hurt?’ I yell over the sound of the rolling sea, and a sudden thunderclap overhead.

‘My lower leg. I can’t move it.’ He groans.

His leg is wedged between two rocks, and we struggle to set it free. Takis is watching us for a second, as if in a trance.

‘Are you okay to help?’ I shout to Takis.

‘Sorry, yes of course, of course.’

He swiftly springs into action and within a few seconds, we have freed John’s leg and he yelps in pain. His ankle is already badly swollen and purple coloured. I also notice that he is bleeding.

I ask Phoebe for her scarf and tie a makeshift tourniquet around his lower limb, although, thankfully, the bleeding is more of a steady trickle.

‘We need to try and get him on a stretcher,’ I say, pulling out the thin blanket that was tucked inside my jacket, in a vain attempt to keep it dry.

‘Takis, can you help me lift him? Takis?’ I ask for a second time, noticing he is lost in his thoughts once more.

‘Of course.’

We lift him onto the blanket, and carefully taking a corner each, we make our way up the incline of forest, although with the continuing rain, the path is quickly becoming hazardous.

‘If we can get him onto the road. I could go and get my car,’ offers Phoebe.

Between us we manage to carefully climb onto a flat footpath, which makes moving along a lot easier.