Page 94 of Summer in Greece

I woke in my cabin at dawn, contented, having fallen asleep with a full belly for a change. Low sunlight streamed through our porthole and I heard much louder clangs and the clattering of sailors going about their jobs. This made me want to investigate on deck. We washed and dressed quickly, enjoying the luxury of warm water and clean clothes. Up top, we discovered the ship was approaching Ermoupoli, the capital of Syros, and I remembered Manno and my first kiss on the quayside.

A pale sun, huge on the horizon, floated above the mist-covered sea filling the sky with shades of orange and pink, then every colour of the rainbow mingled and merged, radiating the hope and fresh start that came with a new day. Great cathedrals topped the hills of Syros, overcrowded with colourful, cubed buildings that appeared like a jigsaw tipped onto a table. Yet, as the light increased, parts of the vista made sense and fell into place, gathering its surroundings, until the scene was a complete picture. Just as I remembered it. The mountains behind the island’s capital were last to reveal themselves from the grey dawn. In a rising glow of tangerine light, the barren mastiffs made a perfect backdrop for the resplendent city. The sky had poured her tints and hues onto the buildings, and became herself nothing but a sheet of bright blue above the kaleidoscope of coloured dwellings and churches. Soon, all was as flamboyant as it should be in a proper Greek landscape.

‘We’re waiting for the next water tanker,’ our orderly, who had introduced himself as ‘Michael but Mike’s fine so it is’, in an Irish accent. ‘These Greeks have a terrible water shortage, so they do. The tankers’ll come and fill the ships with drinking water, so they will.’

Josephine and I proceeded to the mess for an amazing breakfast that consisted of great wedges of nutty brown bread sprinkled with rich, dark green olive oil and crunchy sea salt, then plain biscuits and solid blackcurrant jam. Strong, sweet tea and a glass of watered-down lime juice accompanied the meal.

‘That was so good,’ I said, rubbing my full stomach.

‘So it was,’ Josephine added, and we both laughed.

The ship’s Matron, was a stick-insect with gaunt features, a whispery voice, and hair pulled into a long, grey-streaked bunch more reminiscent of an old nag than a pony tail. She found us in the dining room. ‘Ah, here you are. As you’re both experienced, from tomorrow you’ll work on wards two and three – that’s intensive care – until we dock in Southampton.’

We both nodded. ‘Thank you, Matron.’

‘However, the ship won’t be leaving until after dark, nurses, so you’re permitted to go ashore. Make the most of a last day of freedom, but be sure you’re back on board by eight hundred hours.’ She walked away, but then turned sharply. ‘Oh, and if you find any loukoumi, I’m very partial.’ She flashed long, narrow tobacco-stained teeth in the semblance of a smile, then disappeared in a flurry of nurses.

I blinked at Josephine, she shrugged. ‘What’s loukoumi? ’ I asked.

‘Turkish delight,’ she said quietly.

‘Why don’t they just say “Turkish delight”?’

‘Shhh. Keep your voice down! You’re not allowed to use the word’ – at that point she resorted to miming Turkish – ‘in this country unless you want your throat cut. They’re arch enemies.’

‘But that seems completely mad when they’re neighbours; why?’

Josephine looked over each shoulder dramatically. ‘I’m not saying. Not too sure, perhaps because they’re on opposite sides. There’s even an issue around who invented “Turkish” delight. Apparently, it should be called Greek delight. Anyway, if we see some loukoumi we should buy it for Rapunzel there. Get on her good side so we’re not allocated dysentery duty or the syphilis ward.’ She nodded towards the group of nurses that had surrounded Matron.

‘Syphilis ward?’

Josephine glanced at me and rolled her eyes. ‘Not now, Gertie.’

*

The cassette tape is nearly at its end, dear listener, but I want you to know that I’m telling you these things in the hope you’re hearing them long after my death. I pray you’ll appreciate my feelings, not judge me, and know that through all my adventures I was always doing my best for my departed siblings, my beloved parents, and my country. However, love has a mind of its own, and I am going to be frank. Cupid may or may not have pierced your heart with his mischievous arrow by the time you listen to these meanderings. I want to be completely honest, and will leave nothing out. So, listen on if you dare, and perhaps you’ll understand.

CHAPTER 39

SHELLY

Greece, present day.

FOUR HOURS LATER, SHELLY STEPPED outside Athens airport into the warm sunny day. So much had happened since the last time she’d stood outside this airport. ‘I’m here, Harry,’ she spoke softly into her phone. ‘I’ll be leaving for Kea on the seven o’clock ferry; can’t wait to see you.’

‘The same here,’ he said. A pause while they both enjoyed the moment. ‘How do you feel about going straight to the Beach Taverna for a light dinner?’ Harry asked, his heavy accent almost growled the words.

‘Gorgeous man with hungry woman, sunny Greek island, good food at the edge of the sea, amazing sunset?’ She almost giggled, intoxicated by happiness. ‘Now let me think . . . mmm, yes, it sounds quite perfect.’

There was a pause and she knew he was grinning too. ‘Then I’ll meet you off the ferry, we’ll go to Popi’s to eat, drop your cases off, then take it from there.’ The warmth of all he promised, and everything that was left unsaid, resonated in his voice.

‘Lovely, I can’t wait.’ She sighed into the phone. ‘See you later.’ She ended the call, turned her face towards the sun and closed her eyes.

When she arrived on the quayside, he was there, and slipped his arm around her waist. She wanted to kiss him, but knew such public behaviour was frowned upon in Greece, and the restriction only heightened her excitement. He turned his face to hers as they walked.

‘You didn’t forget me then?’ he asked.

‘How could I, silly?’ They stopped for a moment, peering into each other’s eyes, the moment so intense she held her breath.