I shook my head. ‘Why would they cross in such treacherous conditions?’
‘We asked the same. Our climate has been so mild this last week or two, that despite the weather warnings of gales they thought it would be okay. The gusts blew them off course and further down this side of the island than expected. Their dinghies overturned. All strong locals dived in to help them, until the police arrived.’
‘Travelling here at night? That’s a deathwish.’
‘They used to come here during the day. But the dark is their friend, now, in the face of more alert authorities – helps them prevent the Turkish police see them leave; prevents ours spotting them early and escorting them back.’
Hands trembling a little, I unbuttoned my coat. ‘No doubt Niko was one of the first down to the beach.’ My strong hero. Or course he would have been. And…and of course he’d now be okay.
‘Naturally.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘And Stefan. Christos. Demetrios, Yanis and Cosmo. Postie and his wife. Little Theo Dellis’ parents too. Older people or poor swimmers hunted out blankets and made flasks of hot drinks. Sophia fetched the doctor.’
‘Did all the refugees get to shore safely?’ Silly, wasn’t it? For some reason I delayed asking the same question about my fiancé.
Grandma’s eyes filled. ‘No. Two got tangled in seaweed and dinghy rope.’ She shook her head. ‘You should have seen these people – all so cold, they hardly had the strength to crawl ashore, let alone fight if they got into trouble. Niko did his best but only brought back bodies.’
Bile scorched the back of my throat. Poor travellers. Poor Niko.
‘That’s terrible.’ I blinked rapidly again. ‘If only I’d been here too. I can swim and know first aid. Me and my stupid trip to London. So where are the survivors now?’
‘In a makeshift camp in the school. Yesterday afternoon, we all recovered. Plus hunted out spare clothes for the Syrians and handed out what food we could.’
‘Everyone’s been supportive? I guess, after recent months, people could be forgiven for losing patience with the refugee situation.’
Grandma wrung her hands. ‘Seeing their terror so close-hand, witnessing death…at the moment, the villagers are in shock – just want to help. We don’t have much in Taxos, but these refugees starting from itch.’
‘From scratch,’ I muttered, these bits of information swirling in my head. ‘Has the mayor been over?’
She nodded. ‘Stavros immediately set about getting camp beds in for them. I believe he has headed back to Kos Town to start the big job of paperwork.’
‘But it’s Christmas Eve.’
‘Yes, but these people cannot stay here. It takes three weeks for the paperwork to come through. Living in Germany or England is all they talk of. Only too well Kos knows the problems if they stay – the litter and constant requests for food and electricity to charge their phones, the fighting …also at this time of year it is too cold for them to manage out in the open, so they must all have proper shelter and that gets expensive… It sounds harsh, but the quicker they go, the better, he said.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is good to have someone in charge who can distance themselves from the emotion of what has happened, and consider practicalities for the future.’
I leant back in my chair for a few moments then cleared my throat. ‘I go away for just two days and all this happens. I can’t believe it. The sea crossing must have been terrifying.’ I shook my head. ‘So…what has Niko told you about London?’ This subject was safer territory because I didn’t like the expression on Grandma’s face. I didn’t like the way she hadn’t reassured me that Niko was safe – that we’d still be getting married this Friday.
Indeed she still wrung her hands, as if she hadn’t shared all the news, then sat up straighter and took out her handkerchief to dab her usually fiery cinnamon eyes. ‘Not much, which means he’s really upset.’
‘We…just had a silly argument.’
‘He wouldn’t discuss it – only hinted that you had really missed the London life.’
‘Why didn’t anyone reply to my texts? I rang in the evening, when you had that family visiting for a fiftieth birthday.’
Grandma’s eyes filled again. Oh God. I really was going to be sick; couldn’t avoid it any longer. ‘What is it you’re not telling me?
‘Late afternoon more refugees arrived.’ Her voice broke. ‘This time in a large boat provided by traffickers. It capsized in almost exactly the same place, where the ocean swelled.’
I didn’t budge for a few seconds, struggling to absorb what she’d said. That explained all the broken-up wood I’d seen on the shore. A shiver ran down my spine. Grandma didn’t meet my gaze until she suddenly looked up, lips pursed. ‘The trafficking gangs in Bodrum should be charged with murder.’
And then the most unexpected thing happened to strong feisty Grandma – the loudest sob escaped her lips.
‘Iris?’ I said urgently, and took her shaking hands in mine. An icy sensation filled my chest, like a sinister fog looking to expand into every spare centimetre of space.
She shook herself. Steadied her hands and blew her nose. ‘Some people are still missing,’ she said. ‘Part of the boat smashed on the rocks.’
My throat ached. Don’t ask. Then it won’t be true. It can’t be a possibility. Now my hands shook, instead of Grandma’s. She squeezed them both whilst the last few months flashed before my eyes…Niko cheering me, the first time I caught a fish. Us drinking ouzo late one night, and dancing with Sophia and Georgios. Me waking early and staring at the lopsided smile he somehow wore whilst he slept. Him shouting as I chased him around the kitchen with ice-cubes directed at his open shirt.
‘I’m sorry, Pippa. Niko is one of them. We haven’t seen him since he insisted on going back into the sea to help once more.’
My vision blurred. Then everything went black. A shot of bile broke into my mouth. I almost ran to the bathroom, but refocused just in time to stop myself and swallowed hard. My fists curled as a need for information overwhelmed me. Me lead a life without Niko? No! That would be like a living death.
‘When exactly was he last seen?’ I whispered.
‘About four hours ago. He’d pulled several people to shore. The wind hadn’t eased and he fought against the waves again, after I gave him some strong black coffee out of our flasks. Georgios swears he saw Niko reach the wreck, but it is difficult to say for certain. Helicopters directed search lights on the upturned vessel, but you know how pitch black the Taxos night is.’
‘Where are the helicopters now? They haven’t…given up?’ My head seemed to spin for a second and I held onto the table. ‘What if he…?’ I forced back a sob, refusing to actually say those terrible words out loud.
Grandma took a breath. ‘Niko is now the only person missing. Three bodies were recovered – one Afghan and two young Syrians. After that the helicopter was called to a boat further north. It seems the traffickers really took advantage of the mild December we’d been having.’ She rubbed my arm. ‘It will be all right. It has to be,’ she whispered. ‘Have faith. I stay here, in case he turns up at the taverna.’ She didn’t flinch as a tear trickled down her cheek.
Body wavering, I pushed myself up and stumbled towards the door. This wasn’t happening. Me and Niko had planned our lives out – children, grandchildren, sitting on the beach in our eighties still laughing about stories from our mischievous childhood summers. And how might he have suffered? What if he was lying somewhere in excruciating pain? Or…? I gulped… Still struggling, all alone, against ruthless waves? I yanked open the door, almost tripping over my own feet as I hurtled into the street. Heart pumping, I ran down to the sand, grateful I knew the way so well as tears blurred my view.
‘Pippa?’ I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around.
‘Pandora.’ We hugged.
‘Come. I take you to Georgios and Sophia.’
Winding our way through the crowds, we headed towards Caretta Cove. Locals shot me sympathetic
looks. Some patted my back. Cosmo slipped an arm around my shoulder and accompanied us as we headed over to Niko’s parents. They were chatting to a policeman. Rapid Greek conversation carried across with the wind. Georgios and Sophia broke off for a moment, to give me a hug. Then the policeman carried on.
‘Niko still not found,’ translated Pandora.
Cosmo squeezed my shoulder. ‘The villagers are dedicated to helping. Already a group have joined police to follow the coastline down to Tryrionitsa, to see if can find a… I mean–’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘To see if we can find Niko,’ interjected Pandora, firmly.
The three of us exchanged looks and then my matron of honour glared at the cycle shop owner. Cosmo had been about to say find a body.
Finally, the policeman left Niko’s parents. Heart-shaped face grey, Sophia held out her arms, just like Grandma had, and I fell forwards. We embraced.
‘What did the policeman say?’ I asked, an anger now building inside me. Body? No, we would not find a body. Niko was still alive. Of that I was sure, because if not, there was no way for my existence to move forwards. ‘Grandma explained to me what’s happened. Niko can’t just have disappeared. There has to be a logical explanation.’
Georgios took his wife’s hand. ‘We have to consider that Niko might have got caught underneath the wreck.’
Tears streamed down Sophia’s cheeks. ‘Some wood has been washed up. One piece has a large nail sticking out. On it was a large shred of material – with half a purple and green palm tree on it.’
My fists curled. ‘Niko’s shirt. The one I always pull a face over and call tacky?’ I threw my hands into the air and gulped. ‘Why did he have to risk his life, in this weather?’
No one answered. We all knew why. Niko had never been one for putting himself first. My mind flitted to the scars down his chest, from when he’d rescued me from jellyfish. Then last summer he’d been the first into the water to save the Dellis boys, who’d been swept out to sea on their lilos.
‘The police tried to stop him, Pippa,’ said Pandora, eyes shiny. ‘But a man with two children, on the beach, wailed that his wife was missing. Niko threw himself back into the water. As it turned out, the woman had just been saved and taken to an ambulance.’
I shot a look of disdain at the unforgiving sea, a distant ship coming into view as light splayed across the ocean. I turned up my collar and tightened my scarf. Niko had talked of the ocean being a strict aunt of his. Well she would not have Niko all to herself forever and ever. He could not die alone. He could not die without knowing that I worshipped him. My legs felt wobbly as I imagined the terror he must have felt. Not just terror at dying but of letting his family down…of leaving them to manage alone in this uncertain world. Selfless to the end, that was the kind of man my Greek lover was.
‘We must carry on looking,’ I said firmly. ‘Niko loves life. He is strong – would never give up.’
I made to leave, but Cosmo clutched my arm. Pandora raised an eyebrow at him. After a few seconds he nodded and let go. With wide strides, I aimed for our favourite shady spot, the fig tree by a dilapidated boat shed, just before Caretta Cove. I gazed up at its sprawling branches, barren without its mouth-watering fruits and broad leaves. “My juicy little fig” was what Niko used to call me – used to, before our big row in London, before this night of tragedy.
Finally, now all alone, I let out a sob. How could I carry on living without Niko there by my side, to keep me right about what really mattered, to give me kisses that made me feel like the most desirable and luckiest woman in the world? Without him I saw a future with no colour, like an old silent black and white movie reel. Meaningless and empty with no significant story to tell.
All bravado weakened for a second and my knees again turned to jelly. I slumped to the ground, running my fingers down the trunk. Sharply, I pulled my hand away as my thumb touched something wet.
Wet and sticky. Viscous. Smelling of iron. Blood? I wrinkled my nose and jumped to my feet. Grateful for the increasing morning light, I stared at the crimson stain on my hand. Then I noticed the imprint of something that had slithered through the sand, towards the old boat house. That must have been one big snake or crocodile or…an injured person.
Half-stumbling, I ran to the building and looked in. My heart sank. Nothing. I came back out and glanced down the left-hand side. A small red stain was visible on the ground. Whatever…whoever was bleeding, had clearly tried to crawl towards the village. I ran around the corner, at the back of the boat shed, and skidded to a halt. My hand flew up to my mouth. On the ground lay Niko, out cold, his caramel chest visible through an exposed, bloody shirt.
Chapter Twelve
Ever visit Kos Town and you’ll see the sprawling Hippocrates tree, with branches held up by scaffolding. Its namesake – the father of medicine himself – taught underneath. Goodness knows what he’d now think to the state of the island’s health service. Underfunding was visible in every aspect – archaic-looking equipment, beds squeezed into tiny rooms. Plus Georgios and Sophia often lamented the lack of care available during the summer, when tourists drained services that were barely sufficient to look after locals.
And today…my eyes felt wet as I sat by Niko’s bed, his hand in mine. Due to the unexpected influx of refugees, traumatised by their trek to Turkey and sea crossing to Greece, the staff, the facilities… I worried about whether Niko was in the best hands. Yet he’d had an X-ray. His abdominal wound had been cleaned up. Luckily it was just a graze and bruise. No stitches were necessary. Blood samples had been taken.
‘Wake up, Niko,’ I whispered, not remotely cheered by the sound of carol singers outside. All day I’d been by his bed, with Georgios and Sophia the other side. A couple of hours ago, Pandora had dropped by with a basket of sandwiches and cake. It remained in the corner of the barren, white-washed room, practically uneaten, spiced honey aromas a welcome change from hospital disinfectant.
From across the bed, Sophia caught my eye. Georgios slouched in a high-backed chair behind her now, half-asleep.
‘You and Niko…in London…what went wrong?’ she said, softly.
My throat constricted. I’d been waiting for this moment and still didn’t know what to say.
‘We argued – about money – again. Then before we knew it…’ I shrugged. ‘Things got out of hand.’
‘Niko hasn’t said much.’ Strands of greying hair hung down from her bun. The dark shadows circling her eyes looked deeper than ever.
‘We’ll make up,’ I said and forced my voice to sound bright. ‘In fact, on the flight over, I came up with a plan to sort out our problems. I can’t wait to tell Niko.’ My eyes returned to his face – the lush eyelashes; the small scar just above his mouth that I longed to kiss.
‘Pippitsa – you look shattered after your flight and then this. Why not go back to the taverna and catch up on some sleep?’
I shook my head. Sophia looked at me intently. ‘I’m sorry, no easy way to say this, but I’m not sure that Niko wants you here when he wakes.’
I raised my eyebrows, throat now dry. ‘It was just another of our arguments,’ I repeated. ‘He knows that.’
Her eyes glistened. ‘Niko so angry, Pippa, when he got home. I know him and what his silence means.’ She sighed. ‘And you’re going to be ill too, if you don’t take a break. At least walk outside. Get fresh air.’ She pulled a face. ‘Bring back three proper coffees. Perhaps we’ll drink them with some of Pandora’s cake.’
I paused and then lifted Niko’s hand to my mouth. Breathing in his musky scent, I pressed my lips against his skin. I would leave, but only because Sophia looked worn out and could no doubt do with a quality shot of caffeine. The nurses did their best but had no extra time to look after relatives. I walked around the bed and gave Sophia a hug. Georgios woke up and I kissed his cheek.
Then I left, giving a small smile to the man at the next bed. His partner had a deep scratch across her forehead. I couldn’t te
ll which Middle Eastern country they came from exactly. The man stood up and jerked his head towards Niko.
‘That man saved my friend,’ he said. ‘I hope he okay.’
His bedridden partner reached up and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. He nodded, picked up her handbag from the small table next to the bed and passed it over. She retrieved something silver from her wallet. He placed it into my palm. I gazed at the small charm, in the shape of a hand with a blue evil eye in the middle. Gently, the man wrapped my fingers around it.
‘Back in Syria this is a symbol of good luck,’ he said. ‘We wish you to have it. This amulet will ward off bad things. Your husband will get better.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, not wanting to explain that Niko and I weren’t actually married. Because we would be. In five days. Niko and I just needed an honest chat. ‘You are very kind.’
I wished Sophie had been right – that the fresh December air would revitalise me – but I returned to the hospital with not only three strong coffees, but a heavy heart. As Niko’s mother, she knew him inside and out. If Sophia thought he wouldn’t want me there on waking then…as I headed back to the ward, my chest hurt. Thoughts returned that sent icy shivers up my spine. What if I never got the chance to tell him, once more, how much I loved him; how the trip to London had given me the perspective I’d needed to realise that loyal, selfless, sexy-as-hell Niko was the most special man on the planet?
Trying to control the welling sob in my throat, the amulet firmly pushed down into my trouser pocket, I hurried down the long corridor leading to his ward. Balancing the coffee tray in one hand, I pushed open swing doors with the other. My stomach lurched. A doctor in a white coat stood by his bedside. Almost dropping my coffee carrier, I strode over. Sophia was crying. I gulped down big breaths, so as not to show my panic. I had to be strong for Niko’s parents.
‘Is everything okay?’ I mumbled, tearing up despite my best efforts. Georgios took the drinks and placed them on his seat. I stared at Niko. He stared back. Thank God his eyes were open.
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