Page 51 of Summer in Greece

I reached over and took it. Was this fate showing me how I should live out my penance, doing whatever Corporal Perkins wanted for the rest of my life? Would that be such a bad reparation? I imagined children, chickens, the smell of freshly baked bread, wildflowers on the table, me serving Corporal Perkins his dinner.

‘You feel hot,’ I said.

His eyes didn’t open, but he smiled widely. ‘It’s you, nurse, sending my temperature up.’

‘Soldier! I hope you’re not going to give me any trouble.’ I tried to sound stern, but honestly, I wished he could put his arms around me for a few minutes. Quite an outrageous thing, yet I needed to absorb some strength of spirit, because mine was well and truly depleted.

*

A groan woke me in the night. I turned my head in its direction and looked into Perkins’s pale face. His eyelids fluttered, then he was returning my stare.

‘How do you feel after the operation?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know . . . my ankle hurts, but not as bad as it did,’ he slurred as if drunk.

I pushed myself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, but then gasped and had to slap my hand over my mouth to avoid crying out. Perkins’s sheet had slipped to the floor. His leg was off at the knee. I hadn’t realised the extent of his amputation, and I felt sure he hadn’t either. Oh, the poor man!

‘What’s wrong?’ he muttered urgently, screwing his eyes as the pain kicked in.

‘Nurse, please! Corporal Perkins is conscious,’ I called towards the desk.

The nurse came over. I lay down and watched my neighbour receive a morphine injection. In minutes, Perkins’s face relaxed and he gave me a slow wink. ‘Promise you won’t leave me, nurse, promise.’

I melted under his gaze and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. The man was a cripple for the rest of his life – because of me.

*

I dozed in the makeshift hospital, losing myself to the heat and the boredom, when a knock woke me. ‘Food!’ somebody called.

Nurse Josephine waited a moment before opening the door to find three trays on the floor. She brought them into the school room, slipped a mask on and then brought one over to my bed.

‘I’m really not hungry, nurse. It seems I’ve lost my appetite,’ I told her. ‘It’s the disappointment of not being allowed on the ship.’

‘No, it’s because you’re coming down with the influenza. It’s important you keep your strength up, Gertie, so do try to eat something. Come and sit with me for a while.’ She placed the tray on the teacher’s desk, alongside hers. ‘Egg lemon soup and fresh bread. A most delicious meal.’ She glanced at Perkins. ‘I’ll let him sleep while we eat.’ Her spoon was halfway to her mouth when she became aware of her mask. She hesitated.

‘Look, it’s foolish to put yourself at risk. I’ll go and eat at my bedside,’ I told her, and stood up.

The soup had no taste, and I had no appetite. Just getting out of bed had made me feel weak and shivery. I was coming down with the dreaded influenza. Reminding myself this illness had killed my sister, I ate most of my meal, then returned to my cot. When Nurse Josephine came to collect the tray, I asked for an extra blanket.

She accommodated me, then turned her attention to Perkins who, by this time, was awake.

‘I’m just going to prop you up with some extra pillows, Corporal,’ she said. ‘You’ve been on your back long enough, and we don’t want bed sores, do we? Then I’ll feed you.’

‘I can feed myself, nurse. I’ve lost my foot, it’s not that big a deal.’

Josephine took pillows from the empty beds and brought them over. ‘Right, put your arms around my neck and I’ll pull you up.’ She heaved and he came halfway up into a sitting position, then Perkins let out the most bone-chilling screech.

‘Where’s my leg?!’

CHAPTER 21

SHELLY

Greek island of Kea, present day.

HARRY TAPPED HIS WATCH AGAIN and signalled they only had another two minutes on the wreck. Now running out of air, they had to start their long ascent. Around the other side of the fishnet, they saw the problem. A turtle weighing more than two hundred pounds struggled in the net, caught by its back flipper. Harry moved forward to deal with it, but Shelly nudged him aside and withdrew her dive knife.

The net had cut deep into the flesh. Shelly didn’t know how long the poor turtle had been trapped. She knew it needed to surface and breathe at least every four hours. Maybe it was heading towards land to lay its eggs. She pulled off her dive gloves, knowing the operation needed a delicate touch and, even with her veterinary skills, the operation would take some time.