Page 58 of Summer in Greece

‘Eight this evening.’

He blinked at her. ‘That’s in twelve hours. What are you going to do until then?’

She tapped her camera, which was slung around her neck. ‘I’m going to photograph the city. Never had time before.’

He stuck his thumb and forefinger into his mouth and made the most enormous whistle. ‘Right then, I am going to show you the Athens you wouldn’t otherwise see, all right?’

It was her turn to appear shocked. ‘You mean you’re coming with me?’

‘I certainly am. If you like? I’ll show you an Athens that isn’t in the tourist guide, then get you to the airport and stay on the bus to meet the ferry back to Kea. What do you think? If you are comfortable with the plan, I’ll just nip over there and get a ticket.’

‘That sounds amazing, actually. I would love it.’

Harry entered the ticket office just as Elias raced up on a scooter. ‘Did I hear my dad whistle?’

‘Yes, actually. He’s just gone to buy a ticket. He’s coming with me to Athens,’ she said, beaming with happiness.

‘What! I don’t believe it. Where is he?’ He glared around. ‘The ticket office, you said?’

‘Look, Elias, I don’t want any trouble, OK? It was his idea. Why are you so angry?’ Surely he wasn’t still hungover from his twenty-first celebration?

‘Why? I’ve got a basketball match; he was supposed to come – he always comes.’ He stormed over to the ticket office and barged inside.

Bugger!

Two minutes later, he reappeared and raced away on his Vespa. Harry came out of the office, stood for a moment, following Elias with his eyes and grinning. ‘My son needs to grow up, I’m afraid,’ he said with a chuckle in his voice. ‘He’s had everything he’s wanted all his life, my fault. Consequently, he considers nobody but himself.’

‘Look, Harry, I really don’t want to come between father and son.’

‘Tough. I have wishes too. Come on, it’s an adventure! I’m really looking forward to it.’ He grinned, hooked my arm, and marched me onto the ferry. ‘Quick, up to the top deck so you can get some pictures of the lighthouse as we pass. Then, we almost go over the Britannic. You need to imagine how it was. Well, no you don’t because the lighthouse and little church next to it were exactly the same, just the port itself was sparse in those days, but you have the old postcards, yes?’

She nodded, looking out over the sea. ‘I’m trying to imagine the Britannic, on the bottom. The sheer size of her is mind-blowing. I mean, nine hundred feet long! I can’t get my head around it.’

‘OK, try to imagine ten of these ferry boats end to end, heading for this island while it’s bow ploughed ever deeper into the Aegean. The captain, Captain Bartlett, must have felt sure she would make it, and perhaps he would have, if the portholes hadn’t been open.’

Shelly’s thoughts snapped to her great-grandmother with an urgent wish to change the subject. ‘Tell me, how come your English father ended up here?’ she asked.

‘Ah, that’s quite a story. I’ll tell you shortly, but take a note of all the windmills on the island as we pass.’

They stared at the landscape as Kea disappeared into the distance. In the lounge, Harry ordered eggs on toast and fresh orange juice.

‘It all started just after the Second World War,’ he said. ‘My grandfather, Gerrard Dennis, was working for the British government.’

Shelly’s eyes widened. ‘He was a spy?’

Harry laughed. ‘Nothing so dramatic. Britain feared they would run out of coal, even then, and were searching for alternative energy. Kea had the largest windmill complex in the Cyclades.’

‘So your grandfather came to work on a project and fell in love with the island?’

‘He did, but it was more than that. He fell in love with my mother and married her. He became good friends with another man who was half English and helped him with the language. Then, one day when they were working on a windmill, tragedy struck.’

‘What happened?’

‘A massive beam fell from the roof, my father’s friend ran forward and pushed him out of the way, but unfortunately, his friend caught the end of the beam on his head and was badly hurt with a fractured skull. He was in a coma for a long time, everyone thought he would die, but eventually he made it.’ Harry stared at the window. ‘My parents sort of adopted him. I forget his real name, but we called him Theio, which is Greek for uncle. The blow left him with poor vision, and not a lot of sense.’ Harry smiled fondly. ‘He was a simple soul, always fun, and good-humoured too. We all loved him.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘When my parents got older and couldn’t look after him, they paid the monks at the convent, on Syros, to take care of him. Theio loved the churches. Sometimes we’d take him to one and he’d just sit there, smiling and gazing at the candles and the gold chandeliers, but most of all he loved the icons, especially the virgin and child. He would kneel before it and gaze up with the most adoring expression.’