Page 121 of Summer in Greece

‘Look, I may be entirely wrong, if so, pardon me, but you may need this.’ She handed me a little parcel wrapped in white linen.

‘Thank you, but what is it?’

‘Forgive me. You are probably intact.’ Her eyes flicked down, then back to my face. ‘I’m sure you are. But as you rode a motorbike in Mudros, such activities can rupture a woman’s hymen. Do you understand?’

I nodded frantically. ‘I think it did . . . I’ve been so worried.’

‘Then, to save the tedium of explanations, use this gift and we’ll say no more.’

‘But how? I know nothing.’

‘You will find a phial of fresh rabbit’s blood and a small sponge. Saturate the sponge with the blood, and place it as high as possible in your secret place. Remove it and wash yourself as soon as possible after. All right?’

I need not have worried. For all Johnathan’s flirting, I realised he was not experienced in the art of lovemaking. Clearly it was his first time, and he was as anxious about the event as I, until mother nature gave him a delirious shove in the right direction.

*

The broadsheets picked up on our union and the opportunity arose for my new husband to keep his word and exonerate me from any part in the sinking of the Britannic.

Three days after our marriage, Johnathan left for France. The press forgot me, and I personally visited the families of the lost and injured men. I talked about those brave fellows to their parents and wives which seemed to bring the mothers in particular some relief from their torment. I cried with them, genuinely moved by their grief.

With a heavy heart, I wrote to Manno and told him I knew about his family and I had found a father for his baby. I told him how heartbroken I was. He had betrayed me – but maybe I had betrayed him too, by marrying Johnathan. I tried to put it out of my mind but that was impossible. Now, I understood true love. No matter what he did, I loved him to the depths of my soul. There was no question, one day I would go back to that small Greek island and find the fisherman. I would feel his arms around me, and taste his lips on mine one more time. It seemed the saddest of tears were trapped in my heart, and would stay there until the day I met my one true love again.

I took work in the local hospital and saved every penny I could towards my trip back to Greece. When my pregnancy became obvious, I broke the news. Father congratulated my husband when he returned from France on leave.

Johnathan was thrilled and begged me to give him a son. He was such a dear man who clearly loved me. I tried to be the wife he deserved and kept my deceit to myself. I had made these two men, my father and Johnathan, very happy.

It was only in those darkest hours before dawn that I lay in my lonely bed and cried for my one true love.

As my girth expanded, so my mother’s health deteriorated until she passed away in her sleep a month before I gave birth.

*

While my husband was away, I gave birth to a beautiful, blue-eyed son. I’m sure my father read all the signs that my baby was at least three weeks late, yet I claimed he was almost a month early. Johnathan came home for three days special leave, and was thrilled that we were now a proper family. We decided to call our baby Adam, after Johnathan’s father.

‘You’ve made me the proudest man, Gertie. Thank you. I love you both so much,’ he whispered in my ear the night before he returned to the war. ‘In an odd way, I am not so afraid of being killed now, knowing a part of me lives on, here.’

CHAPTER 49

GERTIE

Dover, 1917.

ADAM WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL baby, and with his birth all the powerful instincts of motherhood were born too. When his eyes found mine, I became lost in the wonder of him. This perfect little baby seemed to glow with love as he grasped my little finger.

My father doted on his first grandchild, buying him the best perambulator in the country.

With Father’s encouragement, I took Adam out for a turn along Lighthouse Lane every morning after breakfast, once his thirty days of confinement was over. His eyes were already changing colour, and his porcelain pink skin had gained a golden hue. I saw Manno in every glance of my baby’s wonderful eyes. As the weeks passed, I’m sure my father realised the dark-haired, brown-eyed baby was not the Corporal’s child, but he said nothing.

My husband was due home in a fortnight. On several occasions, I feared he would see Adam’s likeness to his Greek antagonist. I strolled along Lighthouse Lane, towards home, when I noticed a stranger walking towards me from the direction of The White House. The man stopped, staring in our direction, then suddenly, he tore off his trilby and started running towards us.

‘Gertie! Is that you, agapi mou?’

‘Oh, Manno! Manno!’ I couldn’t believe it. Overwhelmed, I longed to be in his arms, yet I remained frozen to the spot, remembering the woman and two children he had in Kea. I pulled the brake lever on the perambulator and turned towards him.

‘Please, Manno, we can’t be seen together. At any moment, someone might come down the lane. Go through the gate just ahead and wait for me in the field, behind the hedge.’

As usual, the fresh air had put Adam to sleep. Once Manno had disappeared through the gate, and there was no sign of traffic, I headed in his direction.