Page 46 of Summer in Greece

Night fell quickly, as if God had his fill of this terrible day and drew the drapes. I ventured onto the quayside and sat on the old chest. Moments later, Manno appeared.

‘Are you OK now?’ He dropped his head to one side and thrust his hands into his pockets.

I glanced into his eyes and then looked away. ‘Yes, thank you.’ I wanted to be bold, in control, yet in his company my insides quaked. He reduced me to something fragile and slightly frightened.

‘Come, walk with me around the harbour,’ he said.

Flustered, I hesitated. In my medical training, I learned that patients came with instruction labels pinned to their chest, telling the nurse what to do. Also, we were told how to behave in certain situations. At that moment, I thought all men should come with an instruction book. Young women of a certain age and class would benefit from hints on how to handle unpredictable behaviour. How to deal with the forward ones, the men who took liberties, and those who melted a girl’s heart. Life was difficult enough without having to analyse every word uttered by exuberant young men. Was Manno asking me to walk out with him in a formal manner, or simply being friendly? ‘Um . . . I . . .’

‘Ah, you are tired, no worries. I go home now. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow?’

I heard the question in his voice. ‘Where’s home? Do you live here in the town?’

He sat beside me and stared out to sea. ‘No, we live on another island over the horizon, Syros. My father and me, we are the mail boat. We trawl for fish from here to there, sell the catch on the quayside, deliver the mail, and sleep a few hours. Then we return, fish until we arrive here, sell the fish, deliver the mail, and start back again. We were just on our way to Syros when your ship sank. What’s your name?’

‘Gertie, Gertie Smith. Mrs Yiayá calls me Tee.’

He laughed, confusing me.

‘Tee means “what?” in Greek,’ he explained, ‘and, Yiayá means grandmother.’

I blinked at him, still trying to make sense of things. ‘It’s been a terrible day,’ I said. ‘Thank you for rescuing us.’

Manno shrugged. ‘Nothing. I will see you tomorrow, Gertie-Gertie, yes?’

‘No, it’s just one Gertie. My name is Gertie Smith.’

‘Why you tell me two?’

I shrugged. ‘My mistake, sorry.’ Then I dared another glance into his brown eyes. ‘Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I will walk you back to Yiayá,’ he said.

‘Really, there’s no need.’

‘But there is, I must protect the flowers . . .’

‘Oh, stop it!’ I cried, holding my belly and laughing.

At the cottage, he entered with me, and Yiayá exchanged a knowing smile with him, then said something that I didn’t understand.

Manno turned to me and said, ‘My grandmother says you must take all your clothes off immediately so she can dry them, or else you will become very sick. I will help you.’

‘What?’ I spluttered.

Although I was very sure Yiayá didn’t understand English, she seemed to know exactly what Manno had said. She snatched her knobbly walking stick and started swiping at him and poking him with all the force she could muster. She yelled at him in her high squeaky voice something that sounded like, ‘Fidget! Fidget!’

Manno backed towards the door with his arms curled over his head. Yiayá gave him a hefty poke in the stomach that winded him and as he brought his arms down, she walloped him over the head. He backed out, but lost his balance and ended up on his bottom in the dirt, outside.

Still yelling at him, Yiayá closed both door partitions and bolted them. As she turned towards me, all the anger left her face. She made a firm nod: that showed him not to mess with me, then she grinned with merriment.

The dear lady gave me a nightgown and indicated I should remove my damp clothes and hang them on a clothes maiden that she zig-zagged before the wood-burner. She clucked and huffed and shook her head when she saw the purple bruise that spread across my middle. After leading me to the bed, she indicated I should lay down. The next thing I knew, dawn light filtered through the window. The old woman was snoring softly in the only armchair.

*

I dressed quickly, delved in my pillow-bag for a letter, wanting a connection with home, then I slipped outside.

The sun pierced the horizon, sending golden shafts of light across the firmament, I stood on the shore, which connected with the curve of the port, and thought about my parents. I must put my name on the list, so they learn that I survived. So much had happened, I must write to them and tell them about being saved by the dolphin. I pressed below my ribs, feeling the heavy ache of my bruised abdomen. Perhaps I had a cracked rib. The creature had hit me with such force.