Page 66 of Summer in Greece

‘More’s the pity,’ Perkins muttered, glancing at the goats

*

An hour later, Josephine, Perkins, and I were in the fishing boat with Manno and Yianni. I peered back at Kea as we sailed out of the bay and past the lighthouse. So much had happened on that island, and at that moment, somewhere below us, HMHS Britannic lay on the sea bed, along with Sissy’s watch. I glanced at Corporal Perkins’s foot, and wondered what he was thinking. He looked up, straight into my eyes, and I saw such sadness. I wished I could hold his hand for a moment.

Then Manno caught my eye and winked. My spine tingled as I tried to hide the thrill I felt when he looked my way. ‘You no worry, koukla. My boat, she is unsinkable.’

‘Isn’t that what they all say?’ I remembered Yiayá’s words. ‘Manno, what does: O engonós mou se agapáei, mean?’

His face darkened and his brow furrowed. ‘Who says these things to you?’

Alarmed by his attitude, I shook my head, ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No, you must tell me. Who said this, koukla mou?’

‘Yiayá.’

The aggravation left his face and he tilted his head back to laugh heartily. ‘Ah, this is good.’

‘But what does it mean?’

I glanced over to Josephine, but as I did, the nurse turned away, smiling. I returned my attention to Manno. ‘Tell me.’

He let go of the tiller, cupped my chin and peered into my eyes. ‘O engonós mou se agapáei means: my grandson loves you.’

‘Oh!’ Heat rose in my cheeks. ‘And this?’ I slid my forefingers side by side.

Manno grabbed the tiller, stared at his fist, then, threw a challenging glance at Perkins, who seemed to understand more Greek than me.

‘Manno?’

‘Ah, it means – well, you saw the goats, yes?’

Horrified to realise why the old woman had blessed me. I returned my stare to Josephine who wore a sympathetic smile. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said.

I clasped my hands between my knees and stared at my feet.

Outside the bay, the little boat rolled and bobbed on the blue water.

‘Don’t you put the nets out?’ I asked Manno.

‘Not here, there are bombs down there. Is not safe.’

‘Bombs? My God, we’ll all be blown to bits!’

‘No worries, you’re safe with me, koukla, they’re fixed to the bottom with a long rope, but they’re for the bigger ships which are deeper in the water.’

The boat bobbed about as we chugged over the waves. Manno said something to his father who then pulled a box from under the seat. He emptied the contents into our laps, replaced the lid, and then set the top as a table. He laid fresh bread, a beautiful pink dip with a strong scent of fish, plump black olives, and lemon wedges, before us. Josephine clamped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. She shuffled to the front of the boat, a look of utter despair on her face.

The food was wonderful! ‘What was the pink dip, Mr Yianni?’ I asked. ‘It’s really delicious.’

‘Is taramasalata; is made from the raw eggs of the mullet fish and stale bread, all whipped up with lots of extra virgin olive oil.’

The information was too much for Josephine. Her face turned grey and she hung over the side. Yianni guided her to the back of the boat, which he said was a much better place for her to be, under the circumstances.

Soon, the little fishing boat approached a hilly, barren island. ‘What is this place, Syros?’ I asked.

‘No, it’s the cursed island of Giaros,’ Manno replied. ‘Nobody lives there. Giaros no have the water. They say if you step on the island, you will die a terrible death. In the old days, the Mediterranean pirates buried their treasure there, but then they all got sick and died because the well they dug was filled with seawater.’