Page 71 of Summer in Greece

Josephine and I exchanged an alarmed glance.

‘Manno, the Corporal doesn’t know what he’s saying, it’s the morphine,’ Josephine said. ‘Take no notice. He’s had a really bad time lately, and don’t forget, he came to your country to defend it. If he hadn’t been fighting for Greece’s territory, he wouldn’t have lost half his leg. He’s on your side, Manno – and he’s made a great sacrifice. You should be thanking him.’

Manno’s father spoke quietly to his son in Greek.

‘Look, there are people on the quayside waving at us,’ Josephine said.

To my relief, Manno’s tone softened. He studied the port and then explained his theory.

‘You see, sport? They are loading mules. So, you are going to Lemnos. This is for sure. They bring tired mules back from Lemnos – they take fresh ones to Lemnos – this is how you say; a fact. You understand now, my friend, your word: logic, it comes from the Greek word, logiki. You are leaving tonight, going to the island of Lemnos where the wounded of the world wait for nurses like this koukla and her friend.’

Josephine rolled her eyes again, a trait to which she seemed prone in Manno’s presence.

CHAPTER 29

SHELLY

Dover, present day.

SINCE UNIVERSITY, AND SETTING UP the veterinary practice, Shelly had spent neither time nor money on herself, never feeling the inclination to make the most of her looks. She ignored glamorous Eve’s constant invitations to accompany her to the hairdresser’s or nail salon. What was the point? She was thirty-seven, why pretend to be younger?

‘What you’re not realising,’ Eve said, ‘is that you’re a very attractive woman, if you would only . . .’

‘Only what? Come on, spit it out.’

‘Well, take a little pride in your appearance. If you’re going to meet this Harry again, don’t you think you should at least get used to wearing a little mascara and lipstick; and get a professional haircut instead of hacking at it when it’s getting on your nerves?’

‘Why?’ Shelly said, shaking her head.

‘It’s just par for the course. At least give it a go, please? Humour me.’ She studied her nails and then polished them on her thigh. ‘You can come with me after work on Wednesday for a manicure.’

Shelly huffed and squinted at Eve. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea. At least it would distract her from DJ’s letter. She planned to phone him again, but it never seemed to be the right moment.

‘Now if you’ll excuse me,’ Eve said with her bossy-triumphant look that always made Shelly laugh. ‘While it’s quiet, I’m slipping down to The Beauty Beyond to book us both in. What’s your budget?’

Shelly thought she might as well push the boat out as this was a one-off occasion. She certainly wasn’t going to turn it into a regular occurrence. ‘Fifty quid?’

‘Right then, a hundred and fifty quid to knock you into shape. Wednesday straight after lunch as it’s your half day.’ She ripped off her surgical gloves and tossed them. ‘I’m off to book.’

‘What? I’m not paying out all that for a haircut and nail job. Are you mad?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take it out of the petty cash. That’s how I usually pay for mine.’

Shelly nearly choked. ‘What! You’re kidding me!’

‘Yes, I am.’ She laughed. ‘But I had you for one tincy, juicy second, didn’t I? Anyway, you’re worth it, Shelly. So no more nonsense.’ Shelly stood there stunned while Eve headed for the high street. ‘Back in thirty with Pot Noodles and doughnuts, all right?’ She was gone before Shelly could protest.

*

With Eve out of the way, and the practice closed for lunch, Shelly saw an opportunity to speak to DJ with no interruptions. She had to deal with it. She snatched her handbag, hurried over to the phone, and before a minute had passed, she had punched in the numbers and heard the ringtone.

‘Hello?’ he said.

Time and distance contracted. Her heart squeezed and she felt slightly spongy inside. She hesitated, took a breath, then lunged on. ‘Hello, it’s . . . erm, Shelly. I got your letter, DJ.’ She heard him exhale and a little spark of fear went off in her gut.

‘Good. So, will you come to the café? Or is there somewhere else you’d rather go?’ His voice was distant, not giving anything away. For the first time, she wondered if he was as nervous as her.

‘No, the café’s fine. Look, this is difficult for me. It’s been nineteen years, and, well . . .’