Hearts of Stone (9 page)

‘I swear it, Eleni,’ Peter agreed at once.

Andreas looked at them both indulgently and then shrugged. ‘Why not? Together again one day. I swear it.’

Chapter Eight

Norwich, 2013

‘And did it happen?’ asked Anna.

Eleni glanced at her. ‘Did what happen?’

‘Did you ever go back to the cave?’

‘No. Not that cave at least. Nor did I end up seeing much of the world. We did meet again, but not in the way that I had hoped we would, my dear.’ She smiled thinly. ‘It was foolish of me to even suggest it. But you will know how impulsive young girls can be.’

An image of her year nine class flashed through her mind, with Amelia casting a forlorn look at Jamie. ‘Oh yes. I know that well enough.’

They shared a smile across the generations before Anna spoke again. ‘It sounds like you had both of those boys eating out of your hand.’

Eleni nodded. ‘I knew that Peter had feelings for me. But as good a friend as he was –
then
– I never felt the same about him. I did not wish to tell him, and hurt him. It was Andreas who had won my heart. Tall, handsome and perhaps a little too serious, but the first man I ever loved.’ Eleni gave a dry cough. ‘I’m thirsty, my girl. Could you make us some more coffee?’

‘Of course, Yiayia.’ Anna rose from her chair.

‘And there’s some biscuits there too.’

‘Yes, Yiayia,’ Anna paused at the door. ‘Anything else?’

Eleni shook her head. She waited for her granddaughter to leave the room and the door to close before she gazed down at the faded photograph album in her lap and began to leaf slowly through the early pages again, pausing to stroke one of the pictures with a trembling finger.

Out in the kitchen Anna filled the cafetière, turned the kettle on and then pulled out a stool and sat at the counter. She began to think over what her grandmother had told her about her early life in Lefkada. Anna already knew a little about her early childhood, but very little of the war years, nor the years immediately before and after the catastrophe that befell Greece. It had been fascinating to hear Eleni’s recollections, and to get some sense of the characters of Dieter’s forebears, as well as some further description of Andreas. Clearly there had been a tension between the three of them all those years ago. Had that been the catalyst for whatever had followed? Anna wondered.

The urge to know more was tempered by a little guilt. Eleni was old and frail, despite the strength of her spirit and the sharpness of her mind. Anna would need to be careful not to distress her.

When the coffee was ready Anna took down a plain china mug from the shelf beside the cooker and poured the dark liquid. Eleni drank coffee strong and black, with two heaped spoonfuls of sugar – ‘as dark as the devil and as sweet as an angel’s kiss’, as she used to say to the young Anna when she used to make her grandmother’s coffee. It had always made Anna think she was brewing something special, something magical.

Taking down the sugar pot she dropped in two spoons before giving the mug a good stir. The biscuits, as ever, were in an old Quality Street tin and Anna placed a selection of custard creams and chocolate digestives on a side plate before returning to her grandmother’s room.

Eleni hurriedly closed the photograph album and set it down beside her chair, leaning it up against a dark varnished leg.

‘Thank you, my dear.’ She smiled as Anna set the mug and plate down on the table beside her. ‘You’re not having any?’

‘Not today. Only when I am teaching and need to have all my wits about me. That’s when I hit the caffeine.’

Eleni tutted. ‘Is it so hard to be a teacher? In my day, we feared them. If we could not answer a question or, worse, answered back, then . . .’ she made a quick slapping gesture with her hand.

‘Yes, well, that sort of discipline is a thing of the past.’

‘A pity.’ Eleni nodded, missing the point. ‘The world always changes, and not often for the better.’

Anna saw the chance to further her line of enquiry and cleared her throat lightly. ‘Speaking of change, what happened after Peter and his father left the island? Did they manage to return, before the war began?’

‘No. It was the last time I saw Dr Muller. A pity. I always thought he was a good man, for a German.’

‘And Peter?’ Anna already knew the answer but wanted to glean as much additional information as she could.

Eleni was still briefly before she nodded. ‘He came back to the island. But he was not the same Peter by then. That is a lesson life needs to teach us. Some people, even those you consider friends, are never what you think they are. Or at least they become something you no longer recognise. Anyway, my dear, I’d rather not think about him.’

‘All right. What about Andreas? Did he go and join the navy?’

‘He did. Early the next year. That was nineteen thirty-nine. I didn’t see him for several months. There were letters. But he seemed distant, and just told me the details of his training, never anything more.’

‘More?’

‘About how he felt. I missed that. Before, he had talked to me, looking me in the eyes, and he made me feel . . . good.’

Anna chuckled. ‘You had a crush on him.’

‘Crush?’ Eleni’s expression hardened. ‘Yes, I understand the term. No, it was not a crush. That’s too light a word for what I felt.’ She paused and smiled at the unintended pun. ‘You youngsters lack the quality of feeling my generation once knew.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Anna challenged her.

‘Of course. I see the newspapers. And some of the programmes on television! Like your mother watches sometimes.
Big Brother
, I think.’ Eleni’s features wrinkled with distaste. ‘Bare bodies and stupid, shameless fools.’

‘Oh, it’s not that bad. Just a little harmless entertainment.’

‘Really? Your generation seems to surround itself with such rubbish. Not just on television. All those magazines in the supermarkets. Those small computers and telephones that you carry around like tiny shrines. Always twittering and such.’ She raised her hands in exasperation. ‘You no longer know what is important in life. You no longer know what it is to care enough for the big things that really matter.’

‘Such as?’ Anna was no longer smiling. She felt irritated by her grandmother’s dismissal of the world that had left the old woman behind. It was such a trite response to change that she almost felt embarrassed by Eleni. ‘What are the big things that matter then, Yiayia?’

‘Your family, marriage, children and respect for the traditions in which they live. That’s what matters, Anna.’

‘And you think I don’t care about that? And neither does anyone else my age?’

‘Not enough. Not any more. Look around you, Anna. How many of your friends are married? How many have divorced? How far would they really go to protect their loved ones? Do they have any respect for their country? What sacrifice would they make for anything that did not involve their selfish interests? Eh? Answer me that honestly.’

‘We still care for the things that matter. If we ever had to face danger, like your generation did, then I am sure we would do our best to overcome it.’

‘How do you know that, unless you are put to the test? You have life so easy. You have never known hunger. Never been in fear of your life. Never seen your loved ones killed before your eyes . . .’

‘I can’t deny that. But there is plenty of suffering elsewhere in the world. And many young people do what they can to help.’

‘Oh?’ Eleni eased herself forward. ‘What is it that you do then? What sacrifice do you make?’

Anna took a calming breath. ‘I support charities . . . I am a member of the Green Party.’

Eleni cackled and clapped her thin bony hands. ‘Such a noble creature! Do you really think those are sacrifices worthy of the name, my girl?’

‘They’re all I have time for. Life is busy these days. But I like to think that I would do what was right if I ever had to be tested, as you were. In any case,’ Anna continued in a lighter tone, ‘your generation had few distractions. You had more time than my generation does.’

‘Did we though?’ Eleni sat back and seemed to sink into her chair so that she almost seemed to be little more than a crumpled throw hastily slung on to the piece of furniture. She reached for her mug and the hand trembled as she raised it to her lips and took a cautious sip. She held the mug in both hands for a moment to savour its warmth, then returned it to the side table. Fixing her gaze on her granddaughter, she spoke again in a strained tone. ‘When I was young every minute of life was precious. Every morning I woke I felt like it would be my last. I never expected to live to this age. To have children, or grandchildren. Every breath I took was a gift, Anna. That’s how I regarded time.’

She fell silent and after a moment reached for her mug again and began to blow gently across the surface. As Anna watched her the only sound in the room was the intrusive rhythmic ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece. At length she steeled herself and spoke again.

‘You are talking about the war.’

Eleni’s brow knitted. ‘Of course I am. Those who lived through it are cursed to never forget. Even now, I can close my eyes and see it all. Sometimes I go back there in my dreams. I live it again . . .’

‘Would you tell me more about it?’

‘Why?’

Anna leaned forward and took her grandmother’s hand and spoke with real feeling. ‘Because I am interested. I want to know you better.’

‘Before it is too late, and all my memories are gone?’

Anna hesitated. ‘Yes. So much is lost if it is not shared. I am a history teacher. I appreciate the value of the past. You know things that are important to pass on to younger generations. Some things should not be forgotten.’

‘They should not,’ Eleni agreed emphatically.

‘I want to teach my students about what you experienced. I want them to understand what you went through so that they don’t take things for granted, like you said. Will you talk to me about it, Yiayia?’

‘Yes, of course. What do you want to know?’

Anna rested her elbows on her knees and leaned closer. ‘Tell me what you can remember of the war. You were describing what happened after Andreas left for the naval academy.’

‘Yes, that’s right . . .’ Eleni collected her thoughts. ‘That was in nineteen thirty-nine. A terrible year. At the time we were largely unaware of it. We carried on living as we always did. I finished school. There was little point in a girl continuing to get an education in those days when all that we were supposed to do was get married and bear children. So I helped my mother about the house and she in turn began to look for a suitable husband. Not that she told me. I didn’t need to be told. I knew. I also knew that I wanted Andreas, and that the longer he stayed away, the less he would remember the girl waiting for him back in Lefkada.’

‘Did he tell you that he had feelings for you?’

‘He never said it, but I was sure that I saw it in his eyes, the day he left. Which made it all the more painful for me when I imagined that Andreas would soon forget about me once he reached the academy in Piraeus.’ She paused for a moment, staring out of the window. Eleni suddenly looked round.

‘Sorry, my dear. I forgot where I was . . . Ah, yes. Nineteen thirty-nine. You’re a teacher, I’m sure you know the history of that year better than me. There was a radio in a coffee house by the harbour. We heard all about it there. The Germans had already humbled the Czechs and turned on Poland. As the months passed, war came to be seen as inevitable. We Greeks hoped to be spared any part in it. Even though General Metaxas had oppressed his people in the same way the fascists had in Italy and Germany, he had no desire to join their alliance. Perhaps he was shrewd enough to see what lay ahead for Hitler and that fat
kerata
, Mussolini, and wanted to spare himself and his people. I don’t know. Either way, Greece was not ready for war. We heard that Poland had been crushed between the Germans and the Russians and then it seemed that nothing happened over the winter into the next year. I remember praying in the church that the fighting was done and that there would be peace, just so that there was no prospect of Andreas being drawn into the conflict.’

‘What about Peter? Did you think about him?’

‘Of course . . . He was too young to be a soldier that year. All the same I worried about him and his father. I wrote them a letter but there was no reply. My father told me that it was because the postal service between Germany and the outside world was already tightly controlled by the Nazis. War made it impossible to communicate with Peter. Then, in spring, the Germans attacked France. Andreas was due to have leave them, but it was cancelled at the last moment and he was assigned to a submarine crew. The Greek government could see the way things were going and King Georgios gave orders to prepare for war.’ Eleni puffed her cheeks. ‘It is so different now. There’s no monarchy in Greece these days, of course. Some say that might be a good thing, but look at the state of Greece now!’ She frowned. ‘Where was I? Ah, yes. King Georgios. He was a weak man, and we Greeks knew it and despised him for it. Too weak to deal with the fascists. Mussolini wanted to win some glory for himself. Germany had conquered France, so he turned to Greece, determined to have a war with someone Italy could defeat easily.’

A defiant glint shone in her eyes as she continued. ‘At least that’s what he thought, no doubt. The Italians had occupied Albania and started to stage attacks on their own outposts, claiming our forces were responsible and that Metaxas was attempting to provoke a conflict. He stayed his hand, but began to mobilise our forces in readiness. Even the naval cadets. Then we heard the news that a Greek warship, the
Elli
, had been torpedoed in the harbour at Tinos. The ship sank, hundreds died, and even though everyone in Greece suspected the Italians, Mussolini claimed that it was a British submarine that had carried out the attack. And still Metaxas refused to take the bait. That was in August. Two months later, having tried everything, Mussolini told the Greeks that they must let his armies cross Greek territory to reinforce Albania. If we did not let him trample over our land, then he would declare war on us.’ Eleni shrugged wearily. ‘What could Metaxas do? He may have been a dictator but he was enough of a Greek to stand up to Mussolini and tell him “No!”’