The Honey Farm on the Hill: Escape to sunny Greece in this perfect summer read!

by Jo Thomas

  Having filled the billy can, I take a moment to look around. I wonder if I can see down to the farm. I wonder if there’s a way of getting Maria’s attention. But the valley is well hidden, which is why it’s stayed a secret for so long. I look up to the cave roof. If I could get up there . . . I put down the can and scramble up, and then a little higher. From there I can see down to the road, the farm, and Vounoplagia like a toy town below it. I try and see if I can spot Maria, but there’s no one there. I wonder if this is where Georgios comes to set off the bird scarer.

  I sit for a moment taking in the wonderful smells, letting the warm sun and the breeze brush my face. I am in another world. I am amongst the clouds, so high up it’s like I’m in a parallel universe. But I have to get on. Get Georgios upright and find our way back down the mountain. Clinging on to the branch of a tree, I scrabble down and back into the cave, determinedly not looking at the pictures, not catching the eye of either of them.

  ‘Here, drink this.’ I hold the cup of mountain tea to Georgios’s face. I’ve made a fire, boiled the water and added the dittany, just like I’ve watched Maria do. Let it sit and then poured some into the cup, leaving the leaves behind.

  At first he doesn’t respond. ‘Georgios! George?’ I try, which feels more familiar now I know who he is. His eyelids begin to flicker and he opens his eyes, looking a little bewildered. I lift his face by hooking my finger under his chin, and put the battered metal cup to his mouth, tipping it gently. The first few drops just sit on his dry lips, but then, very slowly, his lips move, drawing in the tea.

  Smoke from the fire curls up and out of the mouth of the cave. Maybe someone will see it and send help, I think, though I know in my heart of hearts that they won’t. There’s only Maria down there. Mitera is in bed and Kostas doesn’t go out at all now. No one knows this place is here. It’s cold in the cave and I’m glad of the fire.

  I take Georgios’s scarf and dip it in the mountain tea, the dittany aromatic and pungent. I hold the scarf to the wound and then bring the cup to his mouth again. Neither of us says anything. There is a huge elephant sitting in the cave, but right now, it’s dozing, and I’ll leave it that way until Georgios comes round a bit more. Some of the tea trickles out of the side of his mouth, but he lifts his chin, wanting more, raising his hand to hold the cup. When he’s finished it, I stand. He seems more awake now, and I’m beginning to feel relieved.

  His eyes dart around the cave, then back to me. ‘I have to go,’ he says suddenly, and makes an attempt to stand.

  ‘What? No!’ I put out a hand to stop him, but I needn’t have.

  ‘Argh!’ He slumps back immediately, clearly in pain as he puts weight on his left leg. I watch as his head dips and sways too, and he puts his hand to it as he slides back down the wall.

  ‘Here, let me see.’ I move forward.

  ‘No!’ he snaps, and I step back. ‘Sorry, I mean I’m fine,’ he says, although he’s clearly not. ‘Try and help me to stand.’ He looks at me. ‘Please. There’s something I have to do. Somewhere I have to be.’ He holds out a hand.

  ‘You can’t stand. You need to just . . .’ I have no idea what he needs to do. If it was Demi, I’d make her sit on the sofa and bring her hot milk, like I used to before bed, or if she had a nightmare. But he’s attempting to get up again. Instinctively I step forward and hold out both my hands to support him. With a huge effort, he’s pulling himself up the cave wall, dragging at his left leg, pain and exertion etched across his face. I step in beside him and let him put his arm around me as he heaves himself upright and tries to move forward, the other hand clutching his leg, which is clearly killing him.

  ‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ I say suddenly, because it is. ‘You can’t go anywhere, not yet. Give yourself time. Look, this is all my fault, and I’m sorry. Tell me where you need to be and I’ll help. Please. Let me put this right . . .’ I can feel the eyes of the pictures staring at me. I’d really like to be out of the cave right now.

  He looks at me, and then back at the pictures on the wall.

  ‘Let me go instead,’ I say. ‘I can get help . . . send someone back.’ Once I get down from here, I certainly won’t be coming back.

  ‘OK . . .’ he says finally, ‘but on one condition.’ He looks straight at me, the gold flecks in his green eyes sparkling in the firelight. My breathing becomes shallow and fast. He grabs hold of my wrist and my breathing quickens again, like a musical score stepping up to double time.

  ‘Sure. Anything.’ I’m tingling all over, my nerve endings standing to attention.

  ‘You mustn’t tell anyone where I am. No one must know about this place. Please. I’m begging you.’ He suddenly looks like the old George, softer, kinder, before whatever happened to him . . . happened.

  ‘But that’s ridiculous. You need help. You need to get down from here.’

  ‘Please, agree to do this one thing for me and then . . . then I will tell you everything.’

  We both look around at the pictures at the back of the cave, my heart beating so fast it feels like it may never find its natural rhythm again. When I turn away from them, he’s still looking at me. The smell of the wild dittany fills the air between us.

  ‘What is this place? Why are there these pictures here?’ I push. ‘Tell me what the hell is going on and I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do for you.’

  He lets out a long sigh and then says evenly, ‘It’s a shrine, to lives lost.’

  ‘But why is there a picture of you there too?’

  He looks straight at me. ‘And for lives spared,’ he says slowly. ‘I was in the car with Stelios when it crashed.’

  My heart leaps into my mouth. I can’t speak.

  ‘Look, I will tell you everything if you just do me this favour. It’s really important. There are people relying on me.’

  ‘Who?’ I frown.

  ‘I am the gods’ messenger,’ he says. ‘I’m the one who delivers the dittany to those that need it.’

  ‘You?’ I pause to take this in. ‘But why? Why not just let people get their own? I thought you were the one stopping them from getting to the dittany?’

  A flash of frustration crosses his face. ‘The mountain is in danger. At the moment, it has protected status. As long as we can prove that the dittany is growing here, it will stay protected.’

  I shake my head, not understanding.

  ‘That’s who you saw me meeting that day. The man in the car park, he’s from the office of protected sites. I bring him samples to show him we still have fresh, growing dittany. It’s nothing like it used to be when it covered the mountain and the bees thrived, but it is here.’

  I think of the honey farm and my heart sinks. What are we going to do?

  ‘By keeping people off the mountain, I have been trying to make this place safe and keep the dittany growing. I harvest a bit and dry it in the other cave, then I store it up here, where no one will find it, and deliver it to the people that need it. But if anyone knew where it was coming from, this place would be stripped by poachers in no time. I need to keep it safe until it finishes flowering in a few weeks’ time.’

  I’m starting to understand. ‘And you need to deliver the dittany this evening, or at least . . . the messenger does?’

  He nods, wincing in pain.

  ‘And if I go and deliver it for you, you’ll tell me about Stelios. Why he never came to find me. You’ll tell me about . . . the accident.’ I swallow hard.

  He nods again, gripping his leg, and somehow I know he means it. He’s relying on me to do this for him.

  ‘OK.’ I must be mad, I think. I hear a voice in my head: Think it through. But instead of listening to it, I say, ‘Tell me what you want me to do . . .’

  Once Georgios has explained what I need to do, I take three bunches of dried dittany from the pile at the back of the cav
e, then step outside and walk to the edge of the ledge.

  ‘Nell!’ he calls me back. ‘Take this.’ He reaches up, and I bend forward so that he can put his hat on my head. ‘Hide that red hair away. Makes you stand out a mile.’ He almost smiles, but then winces in pain. ‘This too.’ He hands me his jacket and I shrug it on, comforted by its scent of pine and cave smoke.

  ‘You have it all?’

  I nod and hold up the three bunches, tied with crocheted ribbon.

  ‘So one for Christina’s husband, on the main street, next to the tablecloth shop, for his gout. One to the restaurant, for Stelios’s father’s arthritis. And one—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know.’ I cut him off, the nerves getting the better of me. I have to get the third one to Mitera, without being seen. Easier said than done. He’s right. If anyone realises where this dittany is coming from, the secret will be out and it will disappear for good. It will mean the end of the mountain as we know it, and the honey farm. No one must recognise me.

  I walk out of the cave, take a deep breath and sit down on the edge of the ledge. I mustn’t freeze with fear like I did coming up, because this time there is nobody to help me. I put the dittany in the top pocket of Georgios’s jacket, then look back at the mouth of the cave. I can’t let any of them down.

  I can hear Maria in the concrete milk store, metal churns clanking. I have to do it now, I think. My heart is pounding so loudly it must sound like the Salvation Army coming into town. I mustn’t be seen. I crouch down behind the wall at the front of the house. The moped is parked just beyond the drive, outside my bedroom. To my huge relief, the key is in the ignition. The getaway vehicle: I allow myself a little smile. Once I’ve dropped the dittany off, I’ll have to leave as quickly as possible.

  Running in a crouched position, I reach the moped and flip it off its stand, then wheel it down the drive to the main road and park it up behind the wall, next to the gates, ready to go. Hands shaking, I return to my hiding place and pull out the dittany.

  Just then there’s a loud bark right behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I look down to see Georgios’s little dog.

  ‘Oh ssh, please,’ I whisper, putting my finger to my lips. I pull the hat down further over my face. ‘Go home,’ I hiss. The dog doesn’t move. Just sits next to me, his tongue hanging out. He’s as stubborn as me. I look at him. ‘Well come on then. We have work to do. But no barking.’ He pants in reply.

  Dropping down as low as I can, I scuttle towards the front door. I place the dittany on the step, then pull myself up slowly to knock on the wood before running into the shadows of the vine growing outside my room. I feel like I’m playing knock-down ginger, like the kids who live on my street back home. Once again I get the strange feeling that home is a whole lifetime away.

  The door opens and I see Kostas’s head poke out nervously. He looks around and then down at his feet. ‘Maria! Maria!’ He picks up the dittany and holds it up like the Olympic torch. ‘Maria!’ She comes running from the milk store, wiping her hands on the apron tied round her middle, and the two of them bustle excitedly into the house, no doubt straight to the kitchen to make Mitera’s tea. I smile and look down at Georgios’s dog, who is sitting at my feet, still panting. I realise I’ve been holding my breath. I suddenly feel exhausted, but I can’t stop now.

  ‘Come on,’ I say quietly to the dog. ‘Two more deliveries to go.’

  I can hear Kostas and Maria exclaiming happily to each other in the kitchen as I creep down to the moped. Luckily it starts first time, and I send up a word of thanks to whoever might be looking down on me. I’m about to set off when the dog hops on to the running plate between my feet. I smile.

  ‘Come on then. You’ll only bark and give the game away if I don’t let you.’

  As I head off down the road, Georgios’s dog warm between my feet, I know that Maria is lighting a candle in thanks to the messenger, and I feel very good indeed, like part of the hole in my heart has been filled. In fact, better than that, I feel fantastic. With the wind in my hair, I bend and weave my way into town feeling like I’ve finally got somewhere I have to be.

  Heading back up the mountain with a huge smile on my face after I’ve made my deliveries, I start to climb the rocky path towards the first cave.

  ‘You stay here,’ I tell the little dog firmly before I start the main ascent. ‘Your master will be back soon, I promise.’

  I make my way up the path, pulling myself up on the rocks, feeling the weight of my bag slung across my body. I’ve got some figs I picked from a tree on the roadside, and a bunch of wild rocket from the mountain, as well as a loaf of bread that was cooling in the kitchen window when I dropped the dittany off at the restaurant, and a piece of feta from there too. It’s not much of a meal, but it should help Georgios get his strength back to make his way down the mountain.

  ‘Woof! Woof!’

  I turn, and the little dog is right behind me. He stops and cocks his head to one side, then barks again.

  ‘Go home,’ I say, firmly but kindly.

  But he just barks again, more insistently. I turn back and continue my climb. He won’t come much further, I think. He’ll go back and wait for Georgios at the house. But when I get to the first cave, I see that he’s still behind me, hopping from rock to rock on his three legs, slow but determined. I tut and shake my head. He’s starting to struggle, taking longer, more sideways routes, fighting to keep up, but when I try and send him home again, he just barks. I can’t help but admire his determination. I turn and look at him. Oh . . . for goodness’ sake, I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I pick my way back down to where he’s standing and scoop him up with my free arm. He stops barking. I look down at his little face, wiry beard and moustache, dark brown eyes. He sticks out his pink tongue and licks my face, making me laugh.

  ‘Come on then, little one,’ I say, and start to head towards the first cave again. It’s not going to be easy with the added complication of the little dog, but I need to get back to the secret valley. I can’t just leave Georgios there, and I have to know about Stelios.

  As I reach the vantage point of the first cave, I turn and see a candle flickering in Maria’s kitchen window, giving thanks. I smile, satisfied that I’ve done some good here today.

  ‘You did it? You delivered all the dittany?’ Georgios looks like he’s been sleeping, but pulls himself upright when he hears me arriving back at the cave.

  I nod, out of breath but beaming widely. I can’t help myself. I delivered the dittany and made it back up through the secret gorge to the cave, and I feel amazing.

  ‘I was so nervous at getting caught, but I didn’t, and God, it was really exciting.’ I find myself telling him how I hid behind the vine, and about Maria and Kostas’s ecstatic shouts when they realised their guardian angel hadn’t let them down. When I tell him how I managed to get the bread and cheese as well, he gives me a stern look.

  ‘I’ll pay them back,’ I say quickly. I knew it was wrong, but I also knew that Georgios needed food, and I couldn’t stop by the farm to pick something up without being seen.

  The little dog wriggles out from where he’s tucked inside Georgios’s jacket, under my arm. He’s delighted to see his owner, and he can’t wait to be set down to greet him.

  ‘He wouldn’t leave me alone. Came with me on the deliveries and then followed me all the way up here,’ I tell Georgios. The dog runs and hops to his master, his little body wriggling this way and that, despite his three legs. He licks Georgios’s face ecstatically until Georgios is laughing, and I find myself looking at the two of them and smiling too.

  ‘What’s his name?’ I ask.

  ‘Filos. It means friend,’ Georgios says, rubbing the little dog’s head. ‘We all need good friends, someone who needs us and we need them.’ He doesn’t look up at me as he says it.

  ‘How did he lose
his leg?’

  ‘Poachers. People wanting to pick the dittany and sell it for their own gain. Like I said, it’s big business and something I’m trying to stop happening here.’ He gives me a pointed look, and I blush. ‘They want to keep the wildlife away from the dittany, particularly the wild goats.’

  ‘The kri-kri goats?’

  He nods. ‘The kri-kri will seek the dittany out when they’re injured. But in recent times, the mountains have been overgrazed, another reason for the herb disappearing. So someone set a trap for the goats, and this little one got caught in it.’

  ‘How terrible!’ I’m appalled at the barbaric act.

  ‘Some people will do anything to get their hands on the wild dittany. It is a valuable product. But very soon there will be none left for anyone.’

  I hold out the bread to him, and he takes it gratefully. I empty out the fat purple figs and the square of cheese, and then go outside and rinse the wild rocket in the tumbling waterfall.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says on my return. ‘For this,’ he nods at the food in his lap, ‘and for bringing my dog to me.’ He strokes Filos’s head, then, for the first time, looks up and smiles at me.

  ‘No problem,’ I say, with no idea why I suddenly feel like I’ve been blindfolded and spun round three times, leaving me feeling a little disorientated. It must be the altitude so high up the mountain, I tell myself.

  ‘And the bees? How were they? Did you get stung?’ he says suddenly, with a concern I haven’t heard before. I shake my head.