Page 61 of Summer in Greece

But I feared Manno had stolen my heart. Perhaps this was my punishment, to relinquish the man I loved for the man I was indebted to.

Outside, on the quayside, the sun sparkled on the water. A black and white cat romped with its kittens. A seagull strutted across a boat canopy. Women rushed to and from the bakery calling their greetings to each other, loudly, with determined merriment.

In the bakery, the intoxicating smell of fresh bread made my mouth water. I greeted everyone, as was the thing to do, and bought three loaves. Villagers patted me like a child, touched my uniform and my hair. Their happiness rubbed off, and I gave a loaf to Yiayá, and the other two to Josephine.

Breakfast, which I ate with Nurse Josephine and Corporal Perkins, consisted of warm, creamy milk over a brown rusk, and strong, bitter-sweet coffee.

Josephine said, ‘Your pigeon will have arrived in Athens, and they’re probably sending a tickertape to England right now. It will arrive at your home town any minute, Gertie. I’m sure your parents will be relieved to hear you’re in good health.’ She spoke quietly, without her usual smile.

‘Thanks to you and your care, Josephine. I am beyond grateful.’

‘Just doing my job.’

‘What about your parents, do they know you’re safe? Where are you from?’

‘Tipton, north of Birmingham.’ She lowered her eyes for a moment. ‘My parents were killed in their beds by a Zeppelin bomb, in January this year.’

‘Gosh, how awful. I’m terribly sorry. I can hardly imagine what you’ve been going through.’

‘The raid was meant for Liverpool,’ she went on. ‘High winds blew the Zeppelin off track. My parents and sixty other village people perished that night.’ She lifted a napkin and revealed three apples on a dish.

‘A dolphin saved me,’ I said, the words coming uninvited, surprising me as much as Josephine. ‘I don’t know why I said that. It was the apple skin, it reminded me.’ I ran my thumb over the fruit. ‘Sometimes those terrifying moments come back so fiercely I want to cry. They are like . . . sobbing around my heart.’ I sighed. ‘That sounds awfully mad.’

‘Some doctors are talking about a thing called delayed shock. It’s a real condition,’ Josephine said. ‘When your brain tries to deal with something that is too awful, or too illogical for it to cope with. The anguish will fade with time.’

I looked into her eyes and saw she was talking about herself as much as me. ‘How much time?’

Josephine shrugged. ‘It’s different for everyone.’

Perkins interrupted. ‘Can we try the crutches yet?’

Josephine gathered herself with a stretch of her neck. ‘It’s early days, Corporal. We’ll adjust them for you after lunch. They have to fit perfectly, and we have to check your arm too, then we’ll move on to your mobility.’

‘Blimey, talk about the walking wounded, eh, nurse.’ The joke on his lips wasn’t reflected in his eyes.

The door banged open. The hall was full of people peering into our room. Pavlo rushed in with no regard for the quarantine sign. ‘Nurse Gertie, a pigeon has come! There is a message for you in English. The mayor, is coming to read it. A ship comes for you.’

‘Thank God. At last,’ Josephine muttered.

‘Let’s hope they’re taking us back to civilisation,’ Perkins said. ‘I’ll go crazy if I have to stay in this damn room much longer.’

‘No point speculating,’ Josephine said. ‘I’m hoping to get to Lemnos, my sister’s nursing there. There’s been no news for months. Every day I wonder how she is. I don’t even know if she’s heard our parents have died.’

She sighed so deeply I wanted to put my arms around her.

Poor Josephine, I’d been so wrapped up in myself, I hadn’t considered her.

‘They’ll probably want us back home,’ Perkins insisted. ‘There’s bound to be an inquiry.’

I sensed a hint of malice about him and with a jolt of fear, I turned and rushed out of the room, straight into the mayor. Panicked – I feared they had discovered the truth and were about to handcuff me. I tried to sidestep him but the teacher caught my arm. ‘Wait, we have news for you,’ he said, keeping a firm grip. Pointing at the QUARANTINE sign, he asked, ‘Is it safe to go in there?’

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. The teacher steered me back into the classroom. The three Greek men stared at us, unsure how to proceed with such important information. The mayor cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and made what sounded like a formal announcement. Pavlo started to translate but the schoolteacher placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder before giving us the news himself.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, HMS Redemption has arrived in Syros to embark the remaining British survivors. You will go to Syros with the mail boat in the morning.’

This is it; I’ll be in prison by Christmas, hated by those who lost loved ones, and my dear family shamed.

CHAPTER 25