Hearts of Stone (19 page)

She looked at the other two. ‘You have no idea how it was for girls then. You have so much more choice than I knew in those days.’

Anna smiled. ‘We still have some way to go, Yiayia.’

Eleni waved a hand. ‘Oh, I know all about that. Women’s rights and things. Bra burning and that sort of nonsense . . . But it was different then. A girl had to fight for what she wanted. Really fight. As I found out soon enough. But I get ahead of myself, no? I was talking about life with the Italians. Bastards. We hated them, and they ruled over us with their fists, boots and guns. Even so, we had no idea that worse was to come when the Germans took over the island when Italy turned on their allies two years later. Some of us tried to fight back against the fascists, but what could we do without modern weapons? We needed help . . .’ She paused, a strained expression on her lined face. ‘I will talk more of this another time, after we have eaten and I have slept. In the morning.’

The meal was accompanied by the constant flow of light conversation that Anna had delighted in when she was a child growing up in the house. It all seemed so easy, so comfortable and familiar. After a moment she began to think about the handful of men she had had relationships with. Some she had loved. But none with the passion that it seemed Eleni and Andreas had found at a time when the world was in flames around them. Anna found herself almost envying her grandmother. Then she frowned. Perhaps she was projecting a romantic aura over the past and reading more into Eleni’s experience than she should.

After dinner they made some coffee and moved to the living room to continue the conversation against the backdrop of a soap opera. Eleni appeared to grow weary of talk and her attention drifted to the television set. Once the programme was over she slowly rose to her feet and Anna helped her back to her room while Marita made her a cup of hot chocolate. With the old woman safely in bed, Anna said good night to her mother and took a glass of water up to her old bedroom. Once she had cleaned her teeth and put on her pyjamas, she took out her laptop and settled back against her pillows. She powered up and went on to Facebook.

As she had hoped, Dieter Muller was online and she messaged him a brief greeting.

>
Hi Dieter. How’s it going?

There was no immediate response and she scrolled through her news feed and saw that an old university acquaintance was celebrating her son’s second birthday. Anna smiled slightly at the images of the boy’s cake-smeared face, feeling an ache of longing for the day when she too would become a mother. Then a window popped up with Dieter’s name.

>
Hi Anna, I am fine, thanks. You?

>
Good. I am visiting my mother. I have spoken to Eleni.

>
And?

The German’s response seemed abrupt and Anna felt a flicker of irritation as she typed in her reply.

>
My grandmother’s account of her early years was very interesting. She seemed to have liked Peter, before the war at least.

>
The war changed people. Wars always do. Did she say anything about the work my grandfather was carrying out on the island?

>
No more than you already told me.

>
A pity. I had hoped to discover more. I have been uncovering some very interesting material here in Germany. My great-grandfather’s personal notebooks give a very different account of his work to the logbooks of the excavation. I think he had made a discovery he did not want to share with anyone else. That’s why I need to speak with Eleni. Did you mention my request to her?

>
Not yet. It did not seem like the right time.

>
Why?

>
Because her memories seem very painful to her. If I am going to mention you and your research then I’m going to need to do it carefully. Your work might seem very important to you, but she is my grandmother and I care about her. I won’t upset her.

>
I understand. I would not expect you to upset her. However, if
>
I am right, then I am close to discovering something very important and Eleni can help me with that. Not just me, but everyone who shares an interest in the ancient world. It’s important.

>
So you say. What could be that important?

There was a lengthy delay before his answer appeared.

>
I can’t tell you. Not yet. I will as soon as I can. I give you my word. Until then I ask you to trust me.

Anna gave a frustrated hiss.

>
Why? You are asking a lot of me, and more importantly my grandmother. You said you could tell me something of her story in return. So far I have had nothing.

>
All right. I am in London again this week. Let’s meet and I will tell you what I know. In confidence. You understand?

>
Yes . . . Where shall we meet?

>
Easiest for me is the British Museum. There is a restaurant up the stairs behind the old library. Do you know it?

>
Yes.

>
Then shall we say Tuesday at 1pm? Is that acceptable?

Anna thought a moment. That would be during half-term. She nodded to herself and typed back.

>
I can do that. I’ll talk to her again tomorrow and see what else she can remember. But I will want something from you in return. Or I won’t share any more with you. Sorry, but I have to look out for her.

>
Look out for her?

>
English expression. Means making sure you act in their best interest. Do you understand?

>
I see. Tuesday then, agreed?

>
Yes. See you then.

His message window closed and Anna lay staring at the screen for a little longer. She felt as if she was misleading Dieter. When she had first decided to speak to Eleni it had been mostly to help him, but now she was doing this for herself. To discover more about her family’s history. There was little chance of arranging any interview with her grandmother for Dieter, that much was clear. Some old wounds never healed. But perhaps there was something she could get from Dieter and his research. More information about her grandmother, from Peter’s perspective. That would be worth knowing.

Closing down the computer she shut the lid and tucked it under her bed before lying back and staring up at the ceiling. There was a chink in the curtain and every so often a pale beam of light would sweep across the Artex as a car passed in the street.

Her thoughts drifted back to Eleni’s tale and the picture that she had shown her before dinner. Anna sensed that Andreas’s story was only just starting to get interesting and she found that she was anxious for morning to come so that she could learn more.

Chapter Seventeen

‘The most difficult part of working for the
andartes
was that it was important that as few people as possible knew what I was doing,’ Eleni explained as she brushed the crumbs off her lap into the palm of her other hand and flicked them on to her plate. Anna had gone out to the bakery early in the morning to bring back a selection of croissants to share over breakfast. Her mother had already gone off to work at the university library after a hurried breakfast of cereal.

Anna swallowed her mouthful of pain au chocolat and cleared her throat. ‘
Andartes
? What does that mean?’

‘I thought I’d told you. That’s what we called those who fought in the resistance. We were a mixed group.’ She smiled fondly as she remembered. ‘Most of the men came from the hill villages. Some were shepherds. But there were also a few from the towns. One was a teacher. Another man had owned a share in a cargo ship. But that was sunk by the Italians and it ruined him. And there was me. Because I used to visit the Katarides house I acted as a go-between for the resistance in the town and the hills. I also spied on the Italians. They had an eye for the island’s womenfolk so it was easy to play them along and get them to reveal bits of information that might be of interest to the
andartes
.’

‘Wasn’t that dangerous?’

Eleni looked at her granddaughter as if she was a complete idiot. ‘Of course! If they had discovered what I was doing I would have been thrown in jail. Or worse. And perhaps they would have punished my mother and father as well.’

‘Did they know what you were doing?’

‘Not at first. I did not want them to get involved. In any case, they would have tried to stop me. At least, that would have been true for the two years when the Italians were in charge. Then, in nineteen forty-three. Italy surrendered and joined the Allies. The Germans had been expecting it and had made their preparations. They crushed those Italian troops who tried to resist and took the rest prisoners. That’s what happened on Lefkas. The Italians gave up their weapons and marched into captivity on the mainland, leaving us to the Germans. And then we discovered what true tyranny was.’

Her expression became strained for a moment. ‘But I am getting ahead of myself . . . Let me tell you about the early days of the resistance. One of the first demands the Italians made of us was to hand over all our firearms. Some people did, but most did not. They chose to hide them. Most of the guns on the island were antiques. Blunderbusses, shotguns, a few old rifles dating back to the previous century. But our men were good shots, as the enemy began to learn to their cost. Of course, what we needed were good weapons, explosives and so on. And also radios. The few that were on the island were soon confiscated and we felt cut off from the rest of the world. What we craved above all was news of the war. To know if the fascists were telling us the truth about their progress, or whether they were lying and we could live in hope of their defeat.’

Eleni leaned forward to pat Anna’s hand and chuckled. ‘These days, you and your friends can look everything up on the internet, no? Press a few keys and find out everything. Just like that!’ She gave a feeble snap of her fingers. ‘But in our time, it was easy to cut people off and starve them of information. It is strange how much you miss the news when you cannot get it . . . Anyway, we felt left to ourselves. If no one else could help us then we’d fight the Italians on our own. It started with small acts of sabotage. Some of their lorries were set on fire. Then a supply depot. In retaliation they arrested the local prefect and seized all the private vehicles on the island. In compensation for the burned lorries, they said. We also noticed a change in their attitude. They had been arrogant at first, but nothing is more ridiculous than an arrogant, puffed-up Italian and we laughed at them behind their backs. After the first attacks they began to treat us more harshly. Early the following year they nearly beat to death a boy I knew who they caught painting anti-fascist slogans on the walls of the prefecture where they had chosen to establish their headquarters. It was the boy’s father who took the next step. He lay in wait for a patrol marching through the hills above Lefkada and shot dead a sergeant. The colonel in command of the Italian garrison reacted at once. He rounded up ten men and had them bound and placed against the wall of the prefecture and announced that unless the man responsible for the death of his sergeant was handed over by the end of the day then all ten of his captives would be shot.’

Anna sucked in a breath. ‘What happened?’

‘The father gave himself up. He was a man of honour. At the time that counted for something. We had yet to learn how empty such gestures were in the kind of conflict that the island was caught up in. The colonel released his prisoners, and put the father up against the wall and gave the order for him to be shot.’

‘Were you there when it happened?’ Anna asked with a shiver of horror.

‘Yes. Like most of the townspeople. We stood in silence as they tied his hands and tried to put a blindfold on him. He refused it, twisting his head violently from side to side, all the time shouting, “God save Greece!” Again and again. Someone in the crowd tried to take up the cry but was instantly clubbed to the ground by an Italian soldier. So we stood and watched as they raised their rifles and fired . . . I remember it felt as if the sound had hit me like a blow. I clenched my eyes shut and when I opened them the father lay on the ground. He was not moving but the Italian officer in charge of the firing squad still strode to the body and stood over it, drew his pistol and fired into the man’s head. It filled my heart with hatred for the Italians and I resolved to fight them any way I could, until they were driven out or I was killed.’

Again, Anna stared at her grandmother in shock, finding it hard to reconcile the courage and determination of the younger Eleni with the frail old woman sitting in front of her. ‘Were you not afraid, Yiayia?’

‘I was. Only a fool would not be. But I knew I had to do what I could to put an end to the evil that had come to Lefkas. It was the same for many of us. In more peaceful times we would not have believed ourselves capable of standing up to tyranny at the risk of our own lives, or capable of doing what we did later on. War changes a person’s heart, Anna, my dear. It changes a person. Sometimes so much it is hard to recognise them any more.’

She let the weight of her words sink into her granddaughter’s mind before she continued. ‘The execution hardened the hearts of those who had decided to resist and in the weeks and months that followed the
andartes
grew in number and they became more bold. More patrols were ambushed, more soldiers killed. They tried to set their own traps for us but the local people nearly always found a way to warn our fighters of the danger and only a few islanders were ever lost that way. It was at this time that the first British arrived on Lefkas. They had been sent from Cairo to assess the situation on the island and see what could be done to help the resistance.’

‘How did they get to Lefkas?’ asked Anna.

Eleni drained the dregs of her coffee and winced when she discovered that it had gone cold.

‘By submarine. Not the
Papanikolis
, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Eleni smiled knowingly. ‘That would be a little too much coincidence. Ha. No, it was a British submarine. They landed their agents by night in one of the bays on the south of the island. There were two of them. An officer and a radio operator. The officer spoke Greek with a terrible accent and the radioman spoke no Greek at all. Since no one was expecting them they were taking a terrible risk. Luckily they ran into a shepherd before they stumbled into any Italian patrols and he was able to guide them to his shelter in the hills before going to fetch the leader of the local band of
andartes
. At first our man was suspicious of the new arrivals.’

‘Why?’

‘It was possible that they might not be who they said they were. They might have been German agents for all we knew, trying to infiltrate the resistance. So they were blindfolded and taken to a cave in the mountains while their story was checked out. That’s where Andreas’s father comes back into my story. Katarides could speak some English and he was brought to the cave to interview them. I was visiting his house at the time so I went with him. He was convinced that they were who they claimed to be. Even so, the leader of the band, an olive grower named Michaelis, demanded more proof. He had one of his men dress in an Italian uniform that had been taken from a soldier that had been killed in an ambush. The man was brought into the cave and thrown down in front of the British. Then Michaelis put a pistol in the hand of the officer and told him to shoot the prisoner. He said if the officer was who he said he was then he would prove it beyond doubt by executing his enemy.’

Anna was shocked. ‘What did he do?’

‘He refused. The British officer made to hand the gun back but Michaelis told him that if he did not shoot the Italian, Michaelis would shoot him, then his radio operator, and then the prisoner. Again the officer refused and said something that made no sense to us.’ Eleni paused and smiled at Anna. ‘The officer said that it would not be cricket to shoot an unarmed prisoner in cold blood. He tried to explain himself and Michaelis burst into laughter and pointed the gun at the prisoner and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He had loaded it with blanks. He embraced the officer and told him that he must be who he said he was. A German spy would have shot the prisoner without hesitation. The officer laughed in relief and everyone else joined in. After that we all sat around a small fire and shared bread, cheese and raki while the officer explained his mission.’

‘What was his name?’ Anna interrupted. ‘Did you find out?’

‘I was getting to that,’ Eleni responded with a trace of irritation in her tone. ‘He was Lieutenant Julian Carson. I discovered that later. At the time he told us to call him Manoli.’

Anna frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘My child, we were playing a very dangerous game. We all adopted false names which we used from time to time. We had to protect ourselves from being identified by the enemy however we could.’

‘Then what were you called, Yiayia?’

‘Me? I was Malia. That was what I was called the moment I left my home and family and worked for the resistance. So that is how I was known to Julian when we first met.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Anna frowned and then her eyes widened. ‘Julian Carson? My grandfather?’

Eleni nodded. ‘Of course.’

Anna shook her head and could not help smiling. ‘I had no idea that’s how you met him . . .’

‘Why would you? This is the first time we have talked about this in any detail.’

‘I just wish I had know some of this before.’

Eleni bowed her head apologetically. ‘Anna, you must understand, this is all a bit painful for me. Remembering those days opens deep wounds in my heart . . .’

Anna stared at her in concern. ‘Would you rather we stopped?’

‘No. Not now. I have begun my story and will finish it.’

‘You don’t have to, Yiayia,’ Anna said gently.

Eleni leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘It will not kill me to continue. Don’t worry. Now, where was I?’

‘You were telling me about my grandfather.’

‘Julian, yes.’ Eleni settled back in her chair. ‘To tell the truth, I did not care for him at first. He did not seem to take things seriously. He seemed to treat our situation as some kind of sport. His superiors in Cairo had sent him to Lefkas to see if there was any organised resistance and find out what we needed to help us in our fight against the Italians. Then report back. He talked to Michaelis and the other leaders who came to the cave. Michaelis told him how many Italians were on the island, and what kind of weapons they had and where their main forces were stationed. Once Julian had collected all the information he needed, he signalled Cairo that he was ready to return and the submarine came back for him. They picked him up from the same beach he landed on. The radio operator remained with us, and Katarides had to translate for him and try to teach him some Greek.’

‘I don’t understand. Why was he left behind?’

‘To train some of the local people how to use the radio equipment and also to keep open a line of communication between the resistance and our British allies in Cairo. It was a lifeline to the outside world. Sometimes the operator, Markos we called him, was able to pick up news and Katarides would listen and tell us what the allies were saying about the progress of the war. At the time we believed them as much as we disbelieved our enemies. Whatever the truth was, we just wanted to believe the opposite of what the fascists were telling us . . . When you are being force-fed, the food you choose to eat always tastes best.’

She looked out of the window for a moment, squinting into the bright daylight. Anna thought about the picture her grandmother had painted of the Italian occupation, and the implication that worse was to follow when she described the German occupation of Lefkas. Eleni seemed lost in thought; her eyes grew used to the glare of the clear sky and her face relaxed. Anna fancied she saw the glint of a tear, but then the old lady hurriedly dabbed her eye and turned back towards Anna and smiled self-consciously. ‘Sorry, I forget sometimes how it was.’

Anna stroked the back of her hands affectionately. ‘Like I said, we can stop if you like. Or change the subject. I mean it.’

‘That’s not necessary,’ she replied huskily and then coughed to clear her throat. ‘I’m fine now. What was I saying?’

‘You said that Grandfather returned to Cairo. What happened then? Did the resistance get the weapons and equipment they needed?’

Eleni nodded. ‘Yes. It was a month or so later. The submarine came back with a different officer and several cases of guns and ammunition and picked up Markos at the same time. There were also spare batteries for the radio and a charging machine, and even some mines and grenades. The new officer was much more serious. He had been sent to train the
andartes
and show us how to use the explosives. Though he spoke good Greek he did not respect us much and Michaelis soon grew to despise him. They argued frequently about the best way to fight the enemy and then, one day, it came to a head.