The Thread
Copyright © 2011 Victoria HislopThe right of Victoria Hislop to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN : 9780755377770
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
Victoria Hislop read English at Oxford, and worked in publishing, PR and as a journalist before becoming a novelist. She is married with two children. Her first novel,
The Island
, held the number one slot in the
Sunday Times
paperback chart for eight consecutive weeks and has sold over two million copies worldwide. Victoria was the Newcomer of the Year at the Galaxy British Book Awards 2007 and won the Richard & Judy Summer Read competition. Her second novel,
The Return
, was also a
Sunday Times
number one bestseller, and her books have been translated into more than twenty languages. Her short story collection,
One Cretan Evening
, is available as an ebook.
To find out more, visit
www.victoriahislop.com
.
The Island
The Return
The Thread
One Cretan Evening and Other Stories (ebook)
daskalos
Praise for
The Island
:
‘A page-turning tale that reminds us that love and life continue in even the most extraordinary of circumstances’
Sunday Express
‘This is a vivid, moving and absorbing tale, with its sensitive, realistic engagement with all the consequences of, and stigma attached to leprosy’
Observer
‘Passionately engaged with its subject…the author has meticulously researched her fascinating background and medical facts’
The Sunday Times
‘The story of life on Spinalonga, the lepers’ island, is gripping and carries real emotional impact. Victoria Hislop…brings dignity and tenderness to her novel about lives blighted by leprosy’
Telegraph
‘Hislop’s deep research, imagination and patent love of Crete creates a convincing portrait of times on the island… Moving and absorbing’
Evening Standard
‘A beautiful tale of enduring love and unthinking prejudice’
Daily Express
Praise for
The Return
:
‘Powerful stuff’
Daily Mail
‘Aims to open the eyes and tug the heartstrings… Hislop deserves a medal for opening a breach into the holiday beach bag’
Independent
‘A vivid portrait of a country in upheaval… Sibling rivalry, thwarted love and an exotic Mediterranean setting’
Tatler
‘What sets Hislop apart is her ability to put a human face on the shocking civil conflict… Stirring stuff’
Time Out
‘Brilliantly recreates the passion that flows through the Andalusian dancers and the dark creative force of
duende’ Scotland on Sunday
‘This atmospheric novel beautifully evokes the minutiae of traditional Spanish life’
Psychologies
Ian, Emily and Will Hislop
My aunt, Margaret Thomas (1923–2011), for her bountiful love and encouragement
David Miller
Flora Rees
Konstantinos Papadopoulos
Evripidis Konstantinidis
Minos Matsas for his inspiring music and for permission to quote from
To Minore tis Avgis
.
The cast and crew of
To Nisi/The Island
for everything they taught me.
The Benaki Museum Photographic Archive, Athens.
The Hellenic Centre, London.
The London Library for providing the tranquil surroundings in which to write this book and to all my silent companions therein.
T
his story is about Thessaloniki, Greece’s second city. In 1917, the population comprised an even mixture of Christians, Muslims and Jews. Within three decades, only Christians remained.
The Thread
is the tale of two people who lived through the most turbulent period of the city’s history, when it was battered almost beyond recognition by a sequence of political and human catastrophes.
The characters and many of the streets and places they inhabit are entirely fictional, but the historical events all took place. Greece still carries their legacy today.
Thessaloniki
‘
W
hat I would like you to do, my dear, is to imagine you are a child again. I hope it won’t be difficult, but you need to get the style right. I want you to embroider one picture that says
“Kalimera”
in big letters – you know the sort of thing, with the sun rising and a bird or a butterfly or some such creature in the sky. And then, a second one with
“Kalispera”.’
‘With the moon and the stars?’
‘Yes! Exactly that. But don’t make them look like the work of a clumsy-fingered child,’ she said smilingly. ‘I’ve got to live with them on my walls!’
Katerina had done very similar pictures many years ago, under her mother’s instruction, and the memory came back sharply
.
Her
Kalimera
was filled in with big loopy stitches, in a glossy, yellow thread, and
Kalispera
was in midnight blue. She enjoyed the simplicity of the task and smiled at the result. No one would be suspicious of something that was found on the wall of every Greek home. Even if they got stripped out of the frame, the precious pages they had to conceal would be encased inside a calico backing. It was normal to hide the untidy mess on the reverse side of the stitching
.
Although there were a dozen people in this small house, there was uncanny silence. Their concentration was absolute, their clandestine activity urgent. They were saving the treasures that connected them with their past
.
May 2007
I
T WAS SEVEN
thirty in the morning. The city was never more tranquil than at this hour. Over the bay hung a silvery mist and the water beneath it, as opaque as mercury, lapped quietly against the sea wall. There was no colour in the sky and the atmosphere was thick with salt. For some, it was the tail end of the night before, for others it was a new day. Bedraggled students were taking a last coffee and cigarette alongside neatly dressed, elderly couples who had come out for their early morning constitutional.
With the lifting haze, Mount Olympus gradually emerged far away across the Thermaic Gulf and the restful blues of sea and sky shrugged off their pale shroud. Idle tankers lay like basking sharks offshore, their dark shapes silhouetted against the sky. One or two smaller boats moved across the horizon.
Along the marble-paved promenade, which followed the huge curve of the bay, there was a constant stream of ladies with lap dogs, youths with mongrels, joggers, rollerbladers, cyclists and mothers with prams. Between the sea, the esplanade and the row of cafés, cars moved at a crawl to get into the city, and drivers, inscrutable behind their shades, mouthed the words of the latest hits.
Holding a slow but steady path along the water’s edge after a late night of dancing and drinking, a slim, silky-haired boy in expensively frayed jeans ambled along. His tanned face was stubbled from two days without shaving, but his chocolate eyes were bright and youthful. His relaxed gait was of someone at ease with himself and the world, and he hummed quietly as he walked.
On the opposite side of the road, in the narrow space between the little table and the kerb, an elderly couple walked slowly to their usual café. The man set the pace with his careful steps, leaning heavily on his stick. Perhaps in their nineties, and both no more than five foot four, they were tidily dressed, he in a crisply ironed, short-sleeved shirt and pale slacks, she in a simple floral cotton frock with buttons from neck to hem, and a belt around her middle, a style of dress that she had worn for perhaps five decades.
All the seats in every café that lined the promenade on Niki Street faced out towards the sea so that customers could sit and watch the constantly animated landscape of people and cars and the ships that glided noiselessly in and out of the dockyard.