Page 92 of Summer in Greece

‘Take your time. We can leave it for now if it’s too difficult.’

‘No, I want to tell you before I go. I was floating on the surface with my face in the water, proud of myself for learning to breathe with the snorkel. It was a bit scary at first, but I guess that’s the same for everyone.’ DJ nodded. She smiled, uplifted that he understood. ‘Anyway, your father dived to the seabed and picked a little white seashell off the bottom. He held it up. I stretched my arm down to take it, but as I did, the bracelet slipped off and fell right in front of his face. He tried to grab it but missed. I couldn’t believe my precious bracelet had come off. We were snorkelling over a sunken rowboat. The water was unbelievably clear, and the boat must have recently gone down because it still had a great bundle of fishing net in it, and I could see the oars in the bottom. It’s difficult to judge, but I guess the water was only around two and a half or three metres deep there, but I hadn’t learned to dive yet. I saw where the bracelet went and begged David to get it for me. I was wearing my mask, so I could see him clearly. He was showing off, and I was laughing inside.’ She paused, felt the danger of tears pricking again. This was the first time she had recounted those events for almost twenty years and she remembered how difficult it was then. The police, the vice-consulate, her father, the social workers, they had all insisted she go over the tragedy again and again. Saying the words was like ripping open old injuries.

‘That was our last joyous moment together. Our very final spark of happiness, locked in my chest forever.’ She didn’t have to close her eyes to see him, his face turned up towards her, laughter in his eyes.

She put her elbow on the table and her hand over her mouth. ‘As he reached for the bracelet, it seemed to scud along just out of his reach. He kicked his fins hard and made a grab for it, but his forward momentum disturbed the fishing net and it mushroomed up like an atomic explosion. His eyes were fixed on the bottom, looking for my bracelet, so he didn’t realise and . . . swam . . . right under it.’ She gasped. ‘Sorry.’ She held her hand up in a halting gesture – to stop DJ speaking – then she took some deep breaths. ‘When he turned to swim up, he got tangled in it. I could see . . .’ She had to stop again. ‘Sorry, do you think you could get us another coffee?’

He nodded and without speaking, took their mugs for a refill. By the time he came back she had composed herself.

‘He was tangled in the net and couldn’t come to the surface for air because, they discovered later, there was also an anchor and chain in the bottom of the boat. I tried to dive down to him but I didn’t know how and kept bobbing up. I just . . . touched . . . his fingertips.’ She sobbed, stiffened her jaw, and struggled again to steady. ‘Excuse me.’ After a gulp of coffee, she bit her knuckle until it hurt so much she feared she would draw blood. ‘I spat out my snorkel and screamed and screamed for help.

‘Your father’s friend, Simon, and two water-sports guys were on the quayside. They jumped on a couple of jet skis but by the time they got to us, cut David free and got him back to land . . . Oh, God.’ Shelly hiccuped with grief. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Difficult to . . . you know.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘I was only sixteen, and two months later, I discovered I was pregnant with you.’ She reached forward and touched his hand, smiling into his face. ‘It was only the night before the accident that we, you know, for the first time. David was my only boyfriend, you understand?’ She managed to flatten a rising sob, relieved now that the ordeal of telling him was over. ‘You’re his double.’

They sat in silence for a while, then DJ said, ‘What about my father’s parents?’

‘David told me his mother had lost a battle against breast cancer ten years earlier, and his father had worked on the oil rigs. He was living in Scotland somewhere but I never met him and had no way to contact him. David and his father weren’t the best of friends. Both parents liked a drink by all accounts, and he’d had a rough childhood. Anyway, he’d left home and they’d lost touch. The British Consulate in Greece took care of everything; getting David back to Britain and making all the arrangements . . . you know. Wonderful people!’

She glanced at her lap where the napkin that came with her coffee was in shreds. ‘Tsk! Silly me.’

‘Thanks for telling me all this. I can understand why you were reluctant. It can’t have been easy.’

‘There’s more, but time’s going by and I ought to go through to Departures. Give my love to Dad. Feel free to take my room. Have a nice time.’

‘You too.’

They both stood, then Shelly slung her arms around him and hugged. ‘Thanks for bringing me in.’

‘Safe journey, Mum.’ They smiled at each other, hiding the heartache of lost years, and still enjoying the novelty of their new-found relationship.

CHAPTER 38

GERTIE

Greece, 1917.

THIS WAS IT. THE ONLY reason they would want us both back in England would be to take part in an inquiry related to the sinking of the Britannic.

Walking along the main road towards HMS Gabriel, it occurred to me that, as far as I knew, the only person who survived Lifeboat 1, and therefore knew it was I that opened the portholes, was Corporal Perkins. Before we left for the port, I hurried to the mail room and explained I wouldn’t be distributing the letters and parcels anymore.

There were letters from home for me and Josephine, so I gathered them and hurried to catch up. With our pillow-bags slung over our shoulders, we marched boldly towards the port. Several battleships were moored to the quayside, and many more were anchored out in the bay. We were ten minutes early arriving at the ship, so we sat on the quayside and read our post before boarding. My letter was from Victoria Pimlet, a fellow VAD I’d met while training. I hadn’t seen her since the evening before the sinking and feared she had gone down with the first lifeboat. Therefore I was shocked to get a letter from her, which told me of events that affected the Britannic survivors.

Dear Gertie,

I hope this letter reaches you, as nobody seems to know where you are. All the medical staff, and the wounded, picked up by the battleships stayed in Athens until 27 November. We were ordered to write an account of the sinking. I was lucky to survive Lifeboat 1 after being pulled under by the propeller and hit on my head. The doctor said my long hair saved me, because it was braided and piled up, then pinned down by my veil. I came up in the turbulence, and some firemen rescued me. I still get headaches, but I am alive. Athens was amazing. We saw all the ancient sites then we worked in the Russian hospital in Piraeus. Eventually, they shipped us home. We docked at Southampton on Boxing Day. How happy we were to get off that ship!

I went to see your mother to see if they had heard from you. They made me terrifically welcome. They thought you had drowned and were pleased to get your telegram.

I met the very dapper Corporal Perkins from our ward. He’s here now, walking very well with his new leg and flirting with everyone in his gentlemanly way.

An investigation into the loss of the Britannic took place on the flagship, Duncan, on 24 November, just before we left for Malta. Apparently, they couldn’t get all the survivors together for the inquiry. More than thirty people died, but God knows how many were injured, at least twice as many. They say the Britannic hit a mine, but sank before reaching land because someone went against orders and opened the portholes on E deck. Can you believe that? Our own ward, Gertie!

I’m shocked, but I can’t remember who was on duty when we went to our breakfast meeting, can you? There’s talk they should be hanged, not only because of the thirty killed, and the many injured, but also for the thousands that will die on Lemnos for lack of transport back home.

I could not get my breath, and leaned against the harbour wall.

‘Trouble?’ Josephine asked. ‘Your parents?’

I shook my head, unable to speak.