Ben gathered up the fallen grapes and quickly ate them himself, then pulled a face at me when she’d gone. ‘Looks like I’d better go and deliver these,’ he said, picking up the flowers.
‘Can you come straight back once you’ve seen them? Tell Amber I have to see her. And the baby.’
‘Of course. I’ll pop right back.’ He pushed his chair away and saluted to the nurse as he left.
I lay back on my pillows, hoping the next person through the ward door would be my wife with our child. I must have dozed off, because suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I woke with a start to see Ben standing beside me, still holding his bunch of flowers.
‘Did you see her?’ I said. ‘Is she coming here?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘She wasn’t there.’ He looked worried.
‘Not there? Well, where was she?’
‘I’ve checked with the ward sister and the hospital receptionists. She’s not here in the hospital anymore.’
‘Are you sure? Then where is she?’
‘I don’t know, mate. All they could tell me was that she’d discharged herself yesterday.’
‘Could she do that? Was she well enough?’
‘I guess so,’ Ben shrugged. ‘They wouldn’t have been happy to let her go, otherwise.’
‘But where on earth has she gone? She can’t have gone back to Mountain Thyme.’ My mind was in a frantic whirl, thinking of every possibility, everyone she might turn to. ‘Her mother, you must call her mother. Maybe she’s gone back to the UK to recover. That’s probably what she’d do, isn’t it? Go somewhere she’d feel safe, to be looked after.’
Ben was still frowning. ‘Possibly. Do you have a number I can call for you?’
‘No, I’ve nothing in here. I’ve no idea where my phone is and all our personal effects are still up at the restaurant. We brought nothing with us.’
He stood there by my bed, the bouquet hanging limply from his hand, his thoughtful gift now looking less like a cheerful greeting and more like the sad offerings arranged on roadside shrines. He shook his head again and said, ‘But I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t she tell you where she was going? What happened to you guys up there?’
I knew I couldn’t tell him or explain, for I barely understood it myself.
Chapter Seventy-Three
August 2008
James
As I was due to be in hospital for another couple of weeks, Ben popped in as often as he could when he was in town on other business. I called my parents to get Amber’s mother’s number and that was a conversation I’d rather not repeat, with my father baffled by what had happened and my mother fussing. ‘What do you mean, there’s been a fire, dear? Do you want us to come out there, darling? Bring you and Amber some clothes? The baby’s due soon, isn’t it? Do you want us to come out and help you?’
‘No, Mum, don’t worry. There’s no need for you to come over here. I just can’t get back up to the house to get my stuff. We’re fine. I just need that number, that’s all.’
And the call to Amber’s mother was even worse. ‘Whatever made you think she’d be here? Why on earth don’t you know where she is? For goodness’ sake, you’d better find out fast. She could be suffering from postnatal depression. It does happen, you know. The poor girl, she must be struggling. It’s bad enough having the baby arrive early, but a fire as well, that’s terrible. I’d better arrange to come out immediately.’
I eventually managed to persuade her not to catch the next flight by promising to call her again as soon as I had more news, but I thought Amber would have every right to feel depressed. After all, I’d destroyed everything we’d come here to achieve.
In two years we’d gone from finding the right location for our home and restaurant then launching the business and acquiring a fast-growing reputation to facing utter devastation – our home was nearly destroyed, our business in tatters for some time to come and our marriage on the rocks. The only good thing salvaged from this awful mess, thanks to Amber and Greg and with no thanks to me, was our baby, who I had only seen briefly on that first day and who I hadn’t even seen being born.
Ben tried to make me feel optimistic, saying, ‘Amber’s a sensible sort of girl. She won’t have done anything silly. I’m sure she’s just taken herself somewhere quiet to think things over.’
‘You’re probably right, but I’d still like to know where she is and whether she’s all right.’
‘Eleni says Amber probably just wants a good rest. She says it’s hard enough having a baby under normal circumstances in hospital, with people who know what they’re doing, but the thought of having a maverick like Greg as your birth partner or whatever they call it, would be enough to send any woman into hiding for a while. She’ll get in touch eventually, you’ll see.’
But she didn’t. I left it a couple of days and then suddenly, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before, I remembered Inge and Marian. When Ben came that afternoon, bearing a pay-as-you-go phone and a DVD player for me, I said, ‘Can you go down to that beach shop, the Mill, you know, the one run by the two lesbians, and see if Amber’s there? She was very friendly with them before all this happened. I’ve suddenly realised that’s where she might be holed up or that they might know where she is. They came to visit a few times while Amber was pregnant. Well, Marian did. Inge wasn’t always up to it.’
‘Sure, mate. I’ll drop round and check it out on the way back.’
‘And can you phone me and let me know if she’s there?’
‘Of course. Can do.’
It was a couple of hours later when he came back to the ward, instead of phoning. ‘You were right about the Mill,’ he said. ‘She’s fine and she’s staying there at the beach shop with her friends.’
‘So, did you see her then?’
‘No, but I spoke to the older woman, Inge. She was sitting at the desk out the front when I got there. She said she would find out if Amber wanted to come down and see me. She took her time about it, but when she came back she said Amber was feeding the baby and didn’t want any interruptions. I asked if she had a message for you and Inge just said there wasn’t one.’
‘What? Nothing? Nothing at all?’
‘Apparently not. I asked how long she’d be staying there and Inge said they were happy for her to stay as long as she liked. Then I asked if she needed anything and was told that Amber and the baby had everything they wanted for now and Amber could get in touch if she needed to. It was pretty much an eff-off, really.’
I was stunned. This wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I’d started to think Amber might have calmed down by now and that she might at least have given Ben a message for me. ‘Didn’t she even want to know how I was?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Afraid not. You’re still in the doghouse for some reason, mate.’ He turned to leave, then said, ‘Whatever you did, it must have been pretty bad for her to be digging her heels in like this.’
I couldn’t bear to tell Ben why Amber was so pissed off with me, and let him leave. Once he’d gone, I began to brood on the situation. Amber was my wife and she was preventing me from seeing my first-born child. What right did she have to do that?
I was lying there on my bed, despondent and bored, knowing that the next event in my day would be the dreadful tea round (dreadful because the hospital could only offer limp Lipton’s teabags, not strong English tea), when I was surprised to see a familiar but unwelcome face through the doorway to the corridor.
From my bed in the far corner of the eight-bed ward I had a good view of all the staff and visitors coming and going. Most were intent on reaching their destination, bearing baskets of fruit and bunches of flowers for patients, or pushing trolleys; some hovered at the entrance, wondering if this was where their friend or relative was recovering. But none of them stood on the far side of the corridor staring into the ward with such undisguised contempt. Like Dimitri was doing.
Chapter Seventy-Four
20 June 1944
> ‘Matilde, Anna, come here. I have something to show you.’ The girls come running indoors when Agata calls. ‘We are going to play a game. I am going to show you a wonderful new hiding place.’
Their smiles fade and they look fearful. ‘Are the bad men here?’ Matilde asks. Anna sucks her fingers and looks as if she might cry.
‘No, you mustn’t worry, they aren’t here. Don’t be afraid. But remember how we had a safe hiding place before? You are used to hiding if need be, so if they were to come here and I told you to hide, this is where you must go.’ Agata pulls back the table in the kitchen, then slips the rug to one side, uncovering a trapdoor with an iron ring handle. She lifts it open, revealing wooden stairs, then takes the lit lantern from the table and steps down. ‘Come with me and see how comfortable it is in here.’
Matilde kneels down and hangs her head through the trapdoor opening, peering into the dim void. But Anna scrambles down the steps after Agata without hesitating, and her sister soon follows.
The cellar smells of the goods stored in its depths in the past: wine, oil and olives. One day it will be filled with these goods again, but for now it mostly smells of straw, as Agata has made a bed of stuffed sacking covered with a blanket, set on wooden planks supported by bricks. She has also swept the floor clean of dust and wiped the cobwebs from the walls. ‘Look what a cosy bed there is for you. And here,’ she takes the lid from a squat, bulging tureen, ‘there will always be good things to eat. And you shall have water in a big flask as well.’
Anna reaches into the dish, takes out a dried fig and begins to munch it. Matilde is cautious and walks around the cellar, looking into every corner and up at the small air vents which allow a little light to filter into the gloom. She points at the old chute, once used for deliveries. ‘Can we get out through there?’
Agata takes her lamp to look. ‘Maybe,’ she says. ‘I’ll have to see how it’s shut outside. Would you be happier if you knew there was another way out?’
Matilde nods, then joins her sister, who is eating another piece of dried fruit. ‘We shall see if we can find a ladder, so you can get out that way if you need to,’ Agata says, thinking Georgiou could make one if they can’t find one somewhere in the ruins of the village.
‘I like it here,’ Anna says, munching her fruit. ‘Can we play in here?’
Agata thinks for a moment; it would be good if the children were used to the cellar and came to see it as a friendly rather than a fearful place. ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘We could leave the trapdoor open all the time under the table. Then you can pop down here whenever you like. It would be a good idea for you to get out from under my feet when the bad weather comes.’
‘Can we have a light down here?’ Matilde asks.
‘We’ll see,’ Agata replies. In time there may be flagons of oil, casks of wine and other vital goods stored here and she can’t risk fire. ‘If we can find a very safe oil lamp we might be able to let you bring down a light.’
‘We’ll be ever so careful. Promise.’
‘I’ve said we’ll see. Now come upstairs with me. I want you to help me finish cleaning the house. I can’t make dresses in that dusty room with a dirty table.’
‘I want to help,’ shouts Matilde, scrambling back up the steps.
‘Me too,’ yells Anna, running to the steps then rushing back to the tureen to grab another dried fig, which she holds in her teeth as she grasps the rail at the side of the stairs.
Agata cannot help laughing at their eagerness. She hopes the cellar will always be a playroom and not a prison, but she knows she is wise to prepare, just in case. And now the girls are calling to her, telling her she must hurry, she must finish cleaning so she can complete their dresses.
Chapter Seventy-Five
August 2008
James
I was shocked to see Dimitri standing in the corridor, looking into the ward. From his confident stance I could tell he wasn’t casually passing through, like the many other transient visitors with their gifts and expressions of concern; he was standing there opposite the ward doorway deliberately staring straight at me. It was quite obvious to me, from the intensity of his glare, that he wasn’t searching for another old friend, he wasn’t lost or unsure which bed to visit: he had come to find out where I was and how I was doing.
After what seemed an age, he gave a slight nod, then with a lift of his chin and a half smile, he walked off, not hurrying or scuttling away with guilt, but with a slow, arrogant swagger. And then I knew without a doubt that he had come to the hospital solely with the intention of looking for me, so he could see how I was recovering. And when he saw how disabled I was, laid up in bed with my plaster casts and with crutches by my side, he was satisfied that I couldn’t possibly be any kind of a threat to him, at least not for quite some time to come.
I remembered our last encounter, the night of the fire, how I had thrown his car keys as far as I could. I’d barely thought of him since then, but now I recalled my empty promise to deal with him later. He must have scrabbled around in the brush searching for those keys – maybe he’d found them while I was running to the village in my desperation to find Amber. Or, more likely, he knew how to hotwire a car. Yes, of course, a man like Dimitri, with his many skills and underhand ways, would know exactly how to do that. The mere loss of keys wouldn’t stop him in his tracks.
I wished I had dealt with him then and there, but my priority had been to reach Amber. And now what chance did I have of ever fulfilling that feeble promise? I’ll see to you later. He was on his feet, looking fit and strong, and I clearly wasn’t. And he could see that I wouldn’t be back to full strength for weeks, maybe months. No, there was no chance he would be worrying about retaliation from me in the near future, if ever.
For the rest of the afternoon and into early evening I could barely take my eyes off the doorway, hoping he might decide to pass by again. It certainly took my mind off the tea trolley and its disappointments, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of the books or DVDs Ben had brought. I’d scan just a few words and not remember what I’d read, or half watch a scene then find myself glancing at the door, expecting to see Dimitri’s mocking, self-satisfied face staring at me again.
But finally, my vigilance paid off, though not in the way I had hoped. I was being helped back into the ward by one of the nurses after a visit to the bathroom when I heard the screeching tones of Greg’s dreadful daughter, Lavinia. ‘Sweetie,’ she squealed, ‘poor you, all in plaster, hopping around. You’re nearly as bad as Daddy.’
‘How is he?’ I continued my lame progress, hoping she would soon go away.
‘In agony, of course.’ She pouted. ‘It was such a terrible shock, seeing him laid up there like that. I couldn’t sleep for at least a week.’ Then she forgot her distress and smiled, saying, ‘But he’ll be back to normal by Christmas, the doctor says, so Mummy and I are planning a big welcome home party for him. You’ll have to come. It will be such fun for all of us!’
‘Thanks,’ I muttered. ‘I’ll have to see what I’m doing around then.’ And then it occurred to me that Greg might have had other visitors, as well as members of his family. ‘I haven’t been able to go and see your father yet,’ I said. ‘Do you think he could cope with a visit from me now?’
‘Oh, sweetie, he’d simply love to see you. I know he would. He’s only had me and Mummy fussing over him all the time he’s been here. We’re driving him simply mad. Do go and see him. He hasn’t had any boy talk to cheer him up for ages.’
‘You mean he hasn’t had any male visitors while he’s been here?’
She shrugged. ‘No, I don’t think he has.’ She looked vague, fluttering her false eyelashes. ‘Oh, wait a minute. Mummy said Daddy’s assistant, or whatever he calls him, came round the other day. Mr Barberis, isn’t it? But I don’t think he went in to see Daddy, he just chatted to Mummy. She says he’s Daddy’s right-hand man and will do anything for him, or her, while Daddy’s laid up.’
‘I bet he will
,’ I muttered, as the nurse led me back to my bed.
Lavinia fluttered her fingers and blew me a kiss from the middle of the ward. ‘Must dash, darling. Vladi’s bringing the yacht across tonight for dinner.’ I watched her saunter out, and noticed how every man in the ward was mesmerised by her swaying high-heeled totter.
So Dimitri had been checking up on Greg as well as me. But did that mean he was worried about Greg’s opinion of him, or were they still partners in crime?
Chapter Seventy-Six
August 2008
James
There was only one way for me to find out whether Dimitri and Greg were still in partnership, and that was to visit my old friend myself. But that was easier said than done, as I still wasn’t particularly mobile and Greg was being treated in the private section of the public hospital, on the far side of the building. Of course he was; he wouldn’t be subjected to the crowded general wards with their constant round of loud visitors, like I was. He had to have the best.
I waited for the English-speaking nurse to come on duty and asked her if I might be taken in a wheelchair to visit a very ill friend, who had also been badly injured in the fire-gutted village where I’d had my accident. She was sympathetic and said she would find out if he was both able and willing to have visitors. She came back later, saying I could see him that afternoon.
I spent a tedious morning having some physio then passed the time alternately lying on my bed and sitting in a chair with my leg outstretched, watching a fly struggle to free itself from a web in a corner of the window. There was a view of the car park, hedged with pink oleander bushes, and I tried to amuse myself by observing a lot of hysterical shouting and bad parking as various cars manoeuvred into the tiny spaces.
Burning Island: Absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical fiction Page 26