Hearts of Stone (4 page)

‘He and his followers, my great-grandfather amongst them, searched Ithica for years, finding few ancient remains, never anything large enough to be the palace of a king. So he considered the possibility that the ancient sources might not provide enough information. Ithica is a small island. If it had a king then it is possible that his realm extended to other islands nearby. So, my great-grandfather, Karl Muller, was sent to carry out excavations on Lefkas, while another colleague searched on Kefalonia.’ Dieter raised his hands. ‘It was, as the phrase goes, a long shot, but Karl accepted the challenge. I think, maybe, he hoped he would find something that would make his own reputation. I have his diaries of those years. His diaries, his notebooks and his photographs.’

‘And did he discover anything?’

Dieter hesitated an instant. ‘Not really. No. Just the remains of a large building. There was never enough evidence to identify it as the palace of Odysseus.’

‘Oh.’ Anna could not hide her disappointment. ‘What a shame. So what’s your interest? Do you hope to continue where he left off?’

The German smiled. ‘Nothing like that. No. There’s barely any trace left of the excavations. Just fragments. My interest is more, ah, ethnographic. I want to provide an account of the relationship between my great-grandfather’s team and the local people at the time. My research is a comparative study between invasive and sympathetic archaeological methodology with respect to indigenous populations.’

Anna nodded slowly and Dieter caught her expression and laughed. ‘It is really much less complicated than it sounds.’

‘I should hope so.’

The waitress brought their wine on a tray and set the glasses down. They waited until she had walked away before Dieter resumed.

‘So, I have my great-grandfather’s records, and what I need is the other side of the story. The memories of those Greeks who worked alongside him at the excavations on Lefkas. That’s where your grandmother enters the story.’

‘Eleni? How? She was only a young girl at the time. I’ve never heard anything about her being involved in any excavation.’

‘But she was there. She is mentioned in the diaries. Eleni Thesskoudis. There are several references to her being present. She was a friend of my grandfather, Peter, who was also there on the island, accompanying his father.’

‘What proof do you have that it was her, my grandmother?’

‘I have checked the records in Lefkada. I have traced her to England. That is how I found your mother’s name also. And yours.’ He reached down into his rucksack and pulled out an iPad. ‘Look. I will show you.’

He swept his fingers over the glass surface and then turned the device towards her to reveal a black and white image. Anna leaned closer and saw that it was a scan of an old photograph. Three teenagers, two boys and a girl, arms on each other’s shoulders, sitting on a bench in front of several long tables piled with fragments of pottery and pieces of stone, some of which looked to have been sculpted. Beyond lay a patch of open ground dotted with shrubs and trees before the slope of a hill rose up in the distance. The boy on the left of the picture was darkly featured with wavy hair, a solid build and wearing long trousers and boots. To his side was a girl, also dark-haired, with similar Greek features, and to her right sat a taller boy, blond-haired and wearing glasses. All three were smiling and were clearly friends. She looked more closely at the girl and gave a slight start.

‘That’s her! That’s Eleni.’ She raised her eyes and saw that Dieter was smiling at her.

‘Your grandmother. You see, I was right about her.’

Anna tentatively touched the screen with her fingertips and spread the tips apart to enlarge the image for a closer look at her grandmother. The grain of the image increased but it was still clear enough to identify Eleni from the similarity to a handful of pictures that Anna had seen when she had visited the house Eleni had lived in before she moved in with Anna’s mother. In fact, she had a vague feeling that she had seen this particular picture before and strained her memory to try and place it. Questions tumbled through her mind.

‘Who are the others? Where is this, and who took the picture?’

‘One at a time, please!’ Dieter edged back from her intent gaze. Anna took a breath to calm herself and let him continue. Dieter pointed to the taller boy.

‘That is my grandfather. Peter Muller. He was sixteen at the time. Your grandmother was a year younger. The other boy. Andreas Katarides, was the oldest, seventeen. They were friends of Peter, from Lefkada. That’s where the expedition rented a house while they conducted the search for the palace of Odysseus. Your grandmother was the daughter of the town’s police inspector, and Andreas the son of a poet who had come to live on the island. Spyridon Katarides. He came from a wealthy family in Athens, but eloped with one of the servants. They had a child, Andreas, but his mother died giving birth to him. The family were angry and disowned Katarides. All except an uncle who sent him a comfortable allowance to live on, and raise his son. As to who took the picture, that was my great-grandfather. He took it at the site of the main excavation on the island. Here, I’ll show you some more.’

Dieter flicked his finger across the screen and Anna saw more black and white images, some of which showed the landscape of the island, some the inhabitants, roughly dressed peasants, townspeople, fishermen, some images of ruins and then a handful of pictures of German soldiers wearing mountain caps, with a white flower pinned to the side. One picture caught her eye.

‘Wait!’ Anna intervened. ‘Isn’t that him? Your grandfather. Go back one. There.’

He stood, one boot braced on a rock, striking a pose, hands on hips. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a white collarless shirt beneath. At his feet was a backpack and a belt, attached to which was a leather pistol holster. Behind his glasses he was squinting into bright sunlight. But his face was largely unaltered, slightly more filled out perhaps, Anna mused.

‘Is this during the war?’

Dieter nodded. ‘After he joined the army. His father was forced to leave the island when the German authorities ordered him to return home and abandon the excavation. That was in nineteen thirty-eight. He had hoped the crisis would pass and that he could resume his work. He never did. He was killed during an air raid in nineteen forty-three.’

Anna felt uncomfortable and muttered, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It was nothing to do with you. It was the war. Anyway, my grandfather, like nearly all young men, was conscripted. He was selected for officer training and served with an artillery regiment. That picture was taken in Greece – Lefkas actually. He was posted there for a while, to act as an interpreter.’

Anna’s eyes widened. ‘He returned to the island? Did he meet Eleni and,’ she thought back a moment, ‘and Andreas again?’

Dieter seemed to wince, then smiled sadly and gave a single nod.

‘That must have been difficult, for all of them.’

‘They had become enemies, though they did not wish it.’ Dieter stared at the image of his grandfather. ‘It was a terrible time, for Greek and German alike. My grandfather’s diaries do not make for easy reading. He never spoke about the war to me or my father. I knew nothing of his record until after he died and I went through his papers and the Wehrmacht archives.’ He flicked back through the images to the first one. ‘This is how I prefer to remember him. And, in his diary, he says it was when he was happiest. I would like to find out more about that time. Even though, strictly speaking, my research is more concerned with the earlier period. And that is why I would like to interview your grandmother. To see what she remembers of the excavations. Particularly, where this picture was taken. I have tried to locate it when I explored the island, but so far, no luck.’ He turned the iPad off and returned it to his bag before he addressed Anna again.

‘I would ask you to talk to your grandmother and see if she will let me speak with her.’

Anna pursed her lips. ‘I’ll ask. But I must tell you that she still looks back on the war in a very unforgiving way.’

‘I understand. But I am not my grandfather. My generation looks back on that time in horror. And shame for the stain it left on the reputation of Germany. Please explain that to her. My great-grandfather was the same. He despised the National Socialists. And he loved Lefkas and the people, and most of all the history of Greece. If anything, it is his reputation that I wish to restore when I finish my thesis. He could have become one of the greatest archaeologists of his age, or any other time. I believe he was on the verge of great discoveries. If he had only lived long enough to return to his work on the island . . .’ Dieter suddenly gave a shame-faced smiled. ‘I am sorry. It is a burden for me. I should not impose it on you. I have asked enough of you already. Now!’ He sat back and picked up the menu. ‘We shall eat. You are my guest. Our business is over. We shall talk of other things over the meal, unless you wish to ask me more?’

Anna laughed, touched by his sweet politeness. ‘Perhaps. Let us see.’ She raised her wine glass. ‘How about a toast?’

Dieter smiled and raised his glass. ‘To what?’

She thought a moment. ‘To healing old wounds. And uncovering the past!’

Chapter Four

T
he following weekend Anna took the train up to Norwich to see her mother and grandmother. The heavy leaden skies of the day before had cleared and the morning was bright and clear, with a chilly bite that presaged the arrival of winter. She felt a certain lightness to her spirit with the fine weather and the prospect of seeing her family again. As the train raced through the East Anglian countryside Anna put on her headphones to listen to her iPod. She smiled as she came across the Johnny Cash playlist. Her mother was a big fan and by default that made Anna familiar with the most popular tracks. She listened with delight as the deep, gravelly voice rekindled memories of her childhood spent in the kitchen as her mother cheerfully accompanied her hero while she prepared the evening meal. Like so many families where Greek traditions stuck hard, there was a pride in preparing food rather than reheating ready meals and Anna could almost smell the rich aromas of the family kitchen. Often Eleni had been there too, gossiping with her daughter in a mixture of accented English and native Greek, some of which Anna could follow.

As she listened to the music, her thoughts returned to the meeting with Dieter and his revelations, which had thrown a small light on her grandmother’s past and inspired Anna to want to know more. It would have to be handled sensitively, she told herself. Eleni was an old woman, a frail woman, though her spirit was strong. Anna did not want to upset her. There was little chance of Eleni agreeing to be interviewed by Dieter, but Anna was keen to discover her story herself. She would decide later how much of it she was prepared to share with the German research student.

It was nearly midday when she reached Norwich and took a taxi from the station to the road where her mother lived, an avenue lined with semi-detached houses dating back to the nineteen thirties. It was close to the university and many of the houses were owned by academics, or rented by students, who had always made interesting neighbours when Anna had been a teenager going out at nights for the first time. Now she felt a warm sense of remembered belonging as the taxi pulled up outside her mother’s house. She sat for a moment looking up the short path to the front door with its leaded glass panel, small coloured panes arranged in a floral pattern, and smiled. Home. That’s how it felt. Even now, eight years after she had left for university.

The doorbell still didn’t work and she instinctively reached for the brass knocker and rapped twice. A figure appeared beyond the glass, misshapen, moving quickly. With a metallic rattle the door opened and her mother beamed, then embraced her tightly, kissing her on both cheeks.

‘Anna! My dear. So good to see you again.’

‘And you, Mum.’ She could only lift one arm to return the embrace as the other hand was holding her overnight bag and, in any case, her arm was pinned to her side.

‘Come in, come in out of the cold. I’ll put the kettle on.’

Anna followed her inside and the door clicked shut behind them. The house had a long entrance hall with a staircase rising to the left. On the other side was a lounge, dining room, and a large kitchen at the rear. The dining room had been given over to Eleni and was her bedroom, on the same floor as the small bathroom beyond the hall and back door at the rear of the kitchen. Anna nodded down the hall and spoke in an undertone.

‘How is she?’

‘The same as ever.’

They shared a smile before Anna’s mother took her bag and made for the stairs. ‘Go and say hello. I’ll put this in your room. It’s rented to a student, but she’s away until after the New Year.’

Although the room had been rented out when Anna had got her teaching job, she still affected a pained expression. ‘It’s only been eight years and already you have replaced me with a stranger. That hurts.’

‘Hah! It’s a bedroom, not a shrine, my girl. And I need the income, teacher’s pay being what it is. Now go and see your grandmother.’

As her mother climbed the stairs, Anna stared after her, noticing there were more grey streaks in the hair tied up in a bun, but her figure was still as slim as ever, something she took care over with regular visits to the gym at the university’s sport centre. She had taken early retirement from teaching the year before and commenced a part-time Masters degree to give a focus to her life. Then as her mother passed out of sight on the landing, Anna approached the dining-room door and knocked lightly on the dark stained wood.

A reedy voice called out, ‘Come in, girl! Come in.’

Anna turned the handle and entered. The room had been sparsely furnished when it had been a dining room. That had been her mother’s taste in decor. But now Eleni’s stamp was on every aspect. A bed sat in one corner with a crocheted coverlet spread neatly over the top blanket. There was a small walnut table beside the bed with a pink fabric lampshade atop a carved wooden stand. There was a bookshelf filled with books, mostly in Greek, a sewing box, long since abandoned as age took its toll on her joints, but kept all the same. Two armchairs were either side of a side table by the window which overlooked the small garden at the rear of the house, and was framed by long velvet curtains. A large patterned carpet covered most of the wooden floor and a mock wood-burner fan heater sat in the fireplace, beneath a mantel laden with framed family pictures. There was a stale smell in the room, a reminder of the days when she had smoked before her daughter had told her to stop and refused to buy any more cigarettes for her.

Eleni was standing in the middle of the room, one hand clutched about the handle of her walking stick while the other was extended towards Anna. Her hair, once long and jet-black, was now a dirty-looking grey and shoulder-length, tied back to reveal the heavily lined skin stretched over her skull. She wore a navy cardigan over a white blouse and a long dark skirt and thick stockings that disappeared into a fluffy pair of slippers. Her thin lips parted in a smile.

‘Anna . . .’ There was a breathless coarseness to her voice that came from many years of smoking. ‘My dear Anna.’

Anna crossed the room and took the old lady’s hand, feeling the tremor in the stick-like fingers. Eleni gave a quick squeeze and presented her cheek for a kiss, which Anna gave willingly before she stood back half a pace to look over her grandmother.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Feeling? I am feeling as an old woman should. Stiff and delicate. What do you think someone of my age feels, hah?’

Anna smiled. ‘As up for it as ever. Good for you, Yiayia.’

‘Up? What? Never mind. Come, we go to the kitchen. Your mother prepares coffee for us.’ She released Anna’s hand and tapped her ear. ‘Still good.’

She paced slowly across to the door with the aid of her stick. Anna went to help her, supporting her arm, but the old lady shook her off at once with a brisk jolt of her shoulder and Anna raised her hands in mock resignation. They made their way through to the kitchen where a long counter extended against one wall, with a gas cooker dominating the centre. On the other side of the room was a large wooden table surrounded by chairs with leather backs. It was a warm room, and light flooded in through the tall sash window beside the table. Anna’s mother rejoined them as Eleni eased herself on to the chair at the head of the table. She rested her stick against the wall and settled down, straight-backed and imperious as her dark eyes looked over her granddaughter.

‘Are you eating well, Anna? You look thin.’

‘I’m eating properly, Yiayia.’

‘Pshhh!’ Eleni turned to her daughter. ‘Look at her, Marita. Thin as a rake. You need to find a good man and settle down and eat properly.’

‘There’s a few things I want to do before I do that,’ said Anna. ‘Quite a few things actually.’

‘We all say that, my dear.’ Eleni leaned forward a fraction. ‘You should get married.’

Anna had become used to such comments, and had endured them with regard to the two previous serious boyfriends she had brought to the house. She returned her grandmother’s smile indulgently. ‘I will marry when I am ready to marry. If I decide to marry at all, that is.’

The old woman wafted a hand dismissively. ‘Young people think they will live forever. That is their tragedy.’

‘And old people think that they have lived forever,’ Anna replied. ‘That is theirs.’

Eleni stared at her for a moment and then her face creased as she cackled. ‘You have your mother’s spirit. And mine. That’s the Greek in you.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Marita nodded towards the cafetière, ‘the usual? Or are you still drinking that instant crap you started buying at university?’

‘The usual, please.’

Marita poured a generous amount of dark grains into the filter, topped up the reservoir and flicked the switch on. Soon the powerful aroma of coffee filled the kitchen, adding to Anna’s sense of well-being.

‘So, what’s the reason for the unexpected visit?’ Marita asked.

Anna thought quickly. She was wary of telling her about Dieter Muller and his research in front of Eleni. It might be better not to mention him. Not straight away at least. ‘I wanted a chance to see you both before Christmas.’

‘That’s nice. So will you be spending it with us?’

‘Of course.’ There was a beat, then Anna cleared her throat. ‘Also, I want to talk to Yiayia. About a history project I’m involved with.’

Eleni raised her thin eyebrows. ‘Talk to me? About what?’

‘When you were growing up. On Lefkas.’

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘But you remember it?’

‘Of course.’ Eleni wagged a finger. ‘I am old. Not stupid.’

‘I didn’t think that for a moment. I wouldn’t dare, Yiayia. Would you be happy to talk to me about it?’

‘Happy? I think, yes. For the most part.’

‘Good. Then, let’s have coffee, and we can talk.’ Anna turned to her mother. ‘If that’s OK with you?’

‘No problem. I need to go out to buy a few things for dinner.’

‘Thanks.’ Anna took her hand and her grandmother’s. ‘I can’t tell you how good it feels to be home again.’

Anna closed the door behind her mother and returned to the dining room where Eleni was already settled in her armchair beside the window. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the sun had already dipped below the roofline of the houses backing on to their garden and the room was bisected horizontally by the glow of the sun high up on the walls, while the rest was in shadow. The room felt cool and Anna gestured towards the fan heater.

‘Would you like that on?’

Eleni nodded. ‘I feel the cold more and more.’

The heater hummed in the background as they faced each other each side of the low table. Anna was not certain how to begin the conversation. There was a short silence before Eleni spoke.

‘You want to know about my childhood? You have not asked me about it before. Why now?’

‘I never felt comfortable about it. Mother said that times were difficult and that it would only upset you.’

‘Marita worries too much. I am old. All I have is memories. If I do not use them then what is left to me? It is true that the old times were . . . difficult. But it was not always so. Before the fascists came, life was good. We did not live as comfortably as you do, but we had enough to make us happy.

‘Your father was a police inspector, I think.’

Eleni nodded. ‘A fine man. Strong and respected by all. But you know this.’

‘Mother told me. But not much else. For example, I never knew if you had any friends.’

‘I played with the other children in my school. I counted some as friends.’

‘And were there any others? After you left school?’

Eleni hesitated. ‘A few. Why do you ask me this?’

Anna chewed her lip and then took out her mobile phone. ‘I think it’s simpler if I show you something.’

She tapped the screen and then, warily, rose from her chair and knelt down beside her grandmother, offering her the device.

‘I can’t see this,’ the old woman complained. ‘I need my glasses. Over there, by the bed.’

Anna fetched them and her grandmother fumbled to get them on, balancing the middle over the bridge of her long nose. She picked up the phone again and stared at the screen, and gave a sharp gasp.

‘Where did you get this?’

‘It’s a picture someone sent me. An historian. He said it would be of interest. That’s you, isn’t it, Yiayia?’

She watched the rigid expression on the old woman’s face and then saw the corners of her mouth begin to tremble.

‘How is this possible?’ Eleni demanded quietly. ‘How? Tell me.’

‘As I said. It was sent to me.’

Eleni stared at the image and then thrust the phone back towards her granddaughter. ‘No. It’s a trick. Who would do a thing like this?’

She was trembling now and Anna felt alarmed by her reaction. ‘It’s just a picture of you with two friends. That’s what I was told.’

Eleni closed her eyes tightly for a moment and her wrinkled hands balled into fists.

‘Yiayia? . . . Yiayia, are you all right?’

Tears pricked out at the corners of the old woman’s eyes and Anna felt a stab of fear and compassion. ‘What is it? Tell me. What’s the matter?’

Eleni wept in silence and Anna took one of her hands and eased her thumb into the palm and rubbed soothingly.

‘I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have shown you that.’ She was angry with herself. Angry with Dieter Muller for sharing the picture with her and bringing this all about in the first place. ‘Yiayia, I’m sorry . . .’

At length Eleni swallowed and raised her spare hand to dab away the tears before she opened her eyes, and Anna could clearly see the pain there. Eleni pointed to the bookcase.

‘Over there. Top shelf. You see the large brown book? There, at the back.’

Anna glanced round and nodded.

‘Bring it to me, girl.’

Anna straightened up and did as she was told, easing the dusty volume from the bookcase. The leather cover was cracked and flaking away in places and Anna held it carefully as she carried it back to her grandmother and set it down on the table. Eleni leaned forward and tentatively stretched out her hands to touch the cover, and stroke her fingertips over it. Then, with a little nod to herself, she eased the cover open and began to carefully leaf through the thin card pages. There were letters, photos and a few pressed flowers. At one time they had been stuck down but over the years many items had come loose and she had to take care to prevent any slipping free of the book. At length she turned another page and there lay the same picture that Dieter had shown Anna two days before. It was an original photograph, not a scanned image.