The Girl Under the Olive Tree (16 page)

Galatas beach looked pristine, tents fluttering in the breeze, organized between road and sea with rocky outcrops sheltering it from some of the breezes. There was some shade from cypress and olive trees, but it was overflowing with new arrivals and orderlies were lined up giving instructions. Penny had only her passport, her uniform and badges, her gold watch and Yolanda’s precious hanky, now covered in blood, but she wasn’t above dropping a few important names – all Walter’s connections at the embassy if need be – should they refuse her entrance.

Fat chance. They were waved towards a clearing station where Anzac nurses were taking name and rank, and siphoning off the wounded for treatment.

In other times this would be a beautiful spot for sea bathing, with its gentle slope, sandy beach and view right across Chania Bay. Penny wanted to strip off her torn khaki shorts and makeshift uniform, run into the glistening jade sea, and feel the cool salty water on her skin. There was work to be done, however. She must register her presence and get on with anything they needed done.

The sister took her particulars, and when she heard the name of Arta, and Kifissia Hospital and Penny’s experience, she ordered her to find a clean uniform and a billet, assuming she would be staying until shipped off the island. ‘We’re holding a service of thanksgiving this afternoon. Do join us.’

‘What for?’ Penny asked in all innocence. She couldn’t think of anything to be thankful for, seeing what she had these last months.

The sister looked shocked. ‘We must be grateful to have evacuated so many gallant men to safety. We are all still standing. My dear friend was on the hospital ferry
Hellas
, taking wounded men and civilians out. They never got out of the harbour; burned alive.’

Penny shivered, thinking of Yolanda, almost certainly dead by now.

For the service a rock was draped with the Union flag. The two jam jars stuffed with wild flowers set before it made her want to cry. They spoke of rock pools and freedom and meadows, not tents and death and disinfectant.

When twilight fell she joined Sally and her friends, and they found a secluded part of the beach, stripped off and ran into the chilly water, splashing and swimming. It was sheer relief to be off duty for a few hours.

‘Let’s enjoy this while we can,’ Sally said. ‘We’ll hitch a lift into town. You have to see the harbour, or what’s left of it. There’s a place that sells the best ice cream in the world, just off the cathedral square.’

Penny had hardly anything left in her carpetbag that hadn’t been torn up for bandages. The town was bustling with narrow alleyways running off the harbour. There’d been terrible bomb damage but people were strolling around, intent on their business, scrabbling over debris, and some shops were still open and stocked. Penny bought a pretty lacy blouse to replace the shirt she’d ripped up. They wandered through the covered agora, buying almonds and nuts, soap and oil, then Penny’s friends took her to Leather Alley off Halidon Street, which smelled of hide and polish. Here, cobblers and saddlers hung their wares across the narrow passageway. This was where the Cretan soldiers bought their knee-high boots; boots she had often had to saw off to get to her patients’ wounds. Penny haggled for a slim purse on a waist belt, big enough to hide her papers, some sovereigns she’d concealed in her shoes, a small silver brandy flask, her gold watch and her precious hanky. It was a ‘be prepared’ trick one of the older nurses had taught her in Athens, should she need emergency cash and courage.

The nurses found the ice-cream parlour off the square and watched the world go by as the sky darkened. For an hour at least they could relax in the warmth of a summer evening and share their nursing experiences while watching a sky full of swifts screeching and wheeling overhead. Penny explained about being trained by the Greek Red Cross and her journey across from the mainland.

‘We’d’ve taken you for an officer,’ Sally said, passing her cigarettes around the group, offering one to Penny. ‘And your Greek is so good.’

Penny shook her head; she didn’t feel like smoking. ‘I’m just a volunteer but we did see action on the Albanian front,’ she added, wanting them to know she was no shirker from duty.

The nurses nodded in sympathy. Having come down with the New Zealanders in retreat they knew about the hardships there.

‘They say all the Cretan fighting men are still stuck, up north. God help the poor civilians here when the raids come again. They’ve no idea what’s coming their way. You’ve seen the state of our troops: hardly a gun or a pair of boots between them. It’s a shambles. Glad to be out of it,’ Sally sighed. ‘And we’re needed in Egypt. It’s no bed of roses there either.’

‘So who’s to be left nursing here?’ Penny asked.

‘Just the male staff and orderlies. All the females are leaving. Orders are orders,’ Sally replied.

But I’ve only just got here, Penny thought. Why must I leave? I’m not under their orders. I haven’t seen anything of the island or its people, or any of its famous archaeology except in books. She thought of the School of Archaeology with longing and wondered where all the students were now. But she said nothing. Here, protocol was strict and military discipline tight. There was no mixing. She could see why the nurses would be whisked away from the front.

‘Just remembered, I promised someone I’d visit, some women from the boat,’ she said, standing up. ‘Good luck! See you back at camp.’

Better not to linger here with these nurses in case she got caught up in their imminent evacuation to Egypt. She needed time to think. Perhaps she ought to head out to Judy Harrington’s house in the diplomatic quarter of the city for a while. Better to lie low, bide her time and spruce up her Greek Red Cross uniform, what was left of it, just in case. Who knew when it might come in handy again?

She collected her belongings, found a horse-drawn cab and made her way up towards Halepa and the district where the Harringtons were lodging, paying off the cab and searching on foot for a villa called Stella Vista. She found a large elegant town house right on the top of a cliff, with a wonderful view across the Akrotiri peninsula and the whole of Chania Bay.

Just as she opened the iron garden-gate Gordon came rushing out.

‘Good, you’ve arrived. Go and help Judy out . . . Angela’s in such a state. Must rush . . . Things to do, things to do . . .’

Angela was sitting nursing a whisky glass, a blank expression on her white face.

‘The children keep asking what happened to Daddy. How can I tell them? What will become of us?’ She was rocking back and forth in her chair, shivering.

‘I hope you made that a strong one,’ Penny said to Judy, indicating the glass. ‘She’s still in shock. Where’s she billeted?’

‘Here with Nanny. We all are . . . there are ten bedrooms,’ Judy replied. ‘Might as well all stay put. We’ll be shipped out in days so I hope you are packed and ready to go.’

Penny smiled, lifting up her shabby carpetbag. ‘I’m afraid this bag is the sum of my wardrobe. How are the crew?’

‘In a clinic. Bruce saw to them. Good chap in a crisis, isn’t he? You two know each other, I gather.’

Penny could see Judy speculating. ‘He’s a friend of Walter and Evadne, my sister and her husband,’ she told her, ‘but I’ve no idea what regiment he’s in. He keeps popping up out of the blue.’

Judy smiled, tapping her nose. ‘We don’t know so we can never tell . . . Part of some overseas outfit, all hush-hush behind the scenes. His Greek is useful here – not as good as yours, of course, and you’re so brown you could pass for a native. How’re things at the hospital?’

‘They’re getting ready to ship out the nurses and the worst cases. Sand is no place for wounds, the flies are unbelievable and the dust gets everywhere. It’ll be a skeleton staff after that.’

Later, in the room to which Judy showed her, Penny stared out across the bay. It all looked so beautiful, and with the luxury of a bath and a bed with crisp cotton sheets under a net, the war seemed more distant than it had done for weeks. She lay listening to the night sounds: the wind, the hoot of an owl in the tree, the whimper of a child in an upper room. Suddenly her limbs turned to lead and she sank into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.

She was woken by the roar of engines, the whistle of bombs and the crump of gunfire. Opening the shutters, to her amazement she saw a line of Stukas flying at window-level across the bay towards Souda, where anti-aircraft guns blasted out their riposte.

‘There goes our wake-up call, on time as usual. Get the kiddies down to the basement for a game of ping pong,’ Gordon ordered, making light of the raid.

Penny was worried about Sally and her nurse friends on Galatas beach. Surely the Germans wouldn’t bomb a hospital? But no one was letting her leave to find out until the raid was over.

Somehow the morning was taken up with preparing meals, sorting out the children, while there were comings and goings to the British HQ in the old prime minister’s residence.

Judy decided to organize a tea run for troops sheltering in the olive groves by the docks. ‘They’re softening us up for the kill, demoralizing the locals and the troops, making life difficult and cutting off supplies,’ she said. ‘I think we should gather up a few tins of our own and make a stash, just in case we’re stranded here.’

Ever practical, Judy was trying to keep everyone busy, taking their minds off the danger. Even Angela was rising to the effort. This was Penny’s moment to pick her way back to Galatas beach and report for duty.

She had gathered her cloak, was preparing to leave, when Gordon returned with Bruce, both covered in smoke and ash dust.

‘Been burning papers at HQ, just a precaution. Don’t want Jerry or any quislings reading our reports. Bruce has got some good news. There’s a ship out tomorrow so it’s time to pack for a sea voyage.’

‘Darling, there’s nothing to pack,’ Judy replied. ‘But there may be time to nip into the town and buy a few bits for the children while the shops are open.’

‘Better be off then,’ Penny said, sidling towards the door, but Gordon barred her path.

‘Not so fast, young lady, this means you too.’

‘Sorry, but I’m under orders at the hospital. I must do my bit there.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Gordon snapped. ‘You are under consul orders.’

She pushed past him, determined to escape, but Bruce strode after her and took her by the arm. ‘This isn’t some game we’re playing here, Penelope. Things are hotting up. This is no place for women once the show starts.’

‘Tell that to the Cretan women. Where do
they
hide?’

‘Their families will take care of them in the hills. They are not your concern.’

She stood defiant. ‘I’m Red Cross. Civilians are my concern too.’

‘Don’t be a martyr, this isn’t your fight,’ he said, his eyes blazing.

‘Isn’t it? I’m half Greek, a nurse by training and experience. The Red Cross takes no sides, remember.’

‘Do you think any of that matters once battle begins? Grow up, Pen. You’re a liability.
Women
are a liability . . .’

‘Listen to yourself, you pompous ass! We weren’t a liability on the
Amalia
or on the island, or have you forgotten who patched you up? I’m not leaving yet, not until I have orders. There’s a job needs doing on the wards. I’m sick of running away. I’ll go when there’s no longer a job for me to do. You can tell Gordon to give my ticket to someone else. And don’t you order me about any more.’

Bruce smiled down at her. ‘You’re magnificent when you’re angry. Come on, let me at least buy you luncheon somewhere. I think you need to think this all through with a glass in your hand.’

‘I ought to be heading back. I’m already late.’ Penny hesitated, aware that duty should come first, but not knowing when she’d see him again. If she’d ever see him again. His company would take her mind off what lay ahead and she owed him for getting her out of Athens.

‘Late for what? You’re not really official, are you? Is there a record of your work? Come on, I know a place where we can get good local fish. Then I’ll see you back safely; the roads are not exactly pristine. I shall be off soon, I expect, so a couple of hours won’t make any difference.’

It was no good, when Bruce spun his silken web she was trapped. He’d always have that effect on her. A short break wouldn’t do any harm. He led her to an open-topped two-seater truck and then she found herself bumping along up the coast, over the rutted tracks, her hair wrapped round her face like a scarf.

They were heading up towards the Akrotiri coastline, down narrow tracks and past guard posts, gun emplacements, winding through olive grove tracks and past golden stone monasteries, ancient turrets glinting in the fierce May sun. Then they were at a crossroads where some small houses jutted out and a little
kafenion
had chairs onto the street.

Here Bruce introduced her to Kyria Chrystoulaa, who showed her the fish which her husband had caught that morning before his boat was almost shot out of the sea.

She baked the tiny fish in a salty crust and served it with oil and lemon juice, and a plate of mountain herbs freshly picked from the fields. As she and Bruce washed down this simple and delicious food with a jug of village wine, Penny felt herself relaxing for the first time in weeks, as if there was no more war.

She looked across at Bruce and smiled. ‘Thanks, but this changes nothing. I’m staying put. No one orders me about now.’

‘Don’t be prickly, Pen. It doesn’t suit you.’

‘What gives you the right to tell me what I must do?’

‘I care about you. I feel responsible for bringing you into all this,’ Bruce replied, his eyebrow raised in a challenge.

‘Don’t flatter yourself !’ she said. ‘When I refused to leave Athens with Effy and Walter’s friends, I knew it was the right thing to do, to make something of myself. I’m not giving up now. I’m not afraid.’

‘That’s what scares me. You should be afraid. There’s one hell of a storm coming and no one knows how it will end. I’d hate to think of you in some prisoner of war camp behind wire – or worse. It will be ugly.’

‘It was ugly in Arta, or have you forgotten last winter? Believe me, I saw things there . . . I will cope. I know deep in here,’ she said, patting her chest, ‘this is what I was put on this earth to do, to help people who are sick. I can’t explain, but coming to Athens just to be free from family changed when I started nursing. Suddenly it’s a matter of life and death, and here now on Crete even more so. This is my journey, my vocation, my destiny, and I have no regrets . . . This is my battle as well as yours.’