The Girl Under the Olive Tree (25 page)

Clothilde was not one of Penny’s favourite sisters. She had a pinched, pale-faced ageless look, small eyes behind metal-rimmed glasses that missed nothing. She habitually eyed Penny with suspicion, appalled that she never received Mass and curious as to why. She corrected every wrong inflection in her accent, envious of her acumen as a nurse who commanded respect among the other sisters.

The market was disappointing, only a few stalls. ‘Where’s the fresh fish?’ demanded Clothilde. The fish had gone to the occupying army, they were told.

‘Where’s the fruit?’ she demanded, storming up to the empty tables. All gone, trees smashed by planes and fire, crops stolen in the night or dug up in reprisal for villages that had resisted the invasion. Many farmers were too scared to come into the city and many were dead.

‘I think it’s disgraceful that so few have made the effort to supply us,’ Clothilde sneered to one stallholder.

‘Yes, ma’am, and it’ll only get worse. Everyone is hoarding and hiding what they can before winter comes. We have some snails in a bucket?’ He offered them up.

‘They don’t smell fresh to me,’ she sniffed.

Embarrassed, Penny walked away to see if there were other stalls around the corner but there were just a few tables of second-hand clothes. People were rummaging over them as if it was a precious sale.

A girl turned away and almost bumped into her. ‘
Signóme
’ she said. She looked up briefly and glanced again as if she couldn’t believe who she was seeing. They both jumped back in recognition of each other. Penny’s stomach did a somersault and she stepped forward, shaking with emotion at such an unexpected meeting.

‘Yolanda? Oh thank God, it is you! You’re alive . . .’ Penny called out, but Yolanda backed off, stumbling into a crate in her anxiety to flee from her. Penny ran forward to help her up. ‘Come back, I’m not a ghost . . . Please, we must talk.’

Yolanda picked herself up, scowling. ‘I have
nothing
to say to you.’ She turned to walk away but Penny was quick to dart in front and block her path as shoppers stopped to stare at them, hoping for a fight.

‘Well, I have something to ask you. Where have you been all this time? I searched for you? Why did you abandon us without so much as a word, desert your post, leave us in the lurch?’ she yelled into Yolanda’s face.

‘How could you think that?’ Yolanda replied, her eyes flashing in anger. ‘I might ask what a British nurse is doing in a German staff car. I saw you . . . you didn’t waste your time,’ Yolanda spat back.

Penny felt indignation flaring up. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing? I was being escorted back to the prison camp, which was our military hospital before it was overrun. I had no choice in the matter, none at all.’

‘And I was too busy nursing on a hospital ship to notice it had set sail. Lucky for me it came to Crete. I sent you all a postcard to explain.’ She paused, then her voice softened. ‘You never got it? I’m here with the Red Cross.’ She stood with her arms folded, waiting for Penny’s explanation. They both stood staring at each other.

Penny shook her head. ‘I left Athens in a caïque. It was blown out of the water and we were stranded on an island. This is where I ended up too . . . It seems we both had no choice in the matter.’ The crowd, hoping for a fight to begin, melted away.

Suddenly they locked eyes and their lips quivered with emotion. Penny threw her arms into the air in disbelief. ‘Oh hell . . . All this time here on Crete, both working ourselves into the ground . . . Yolanda, I’m so sorry,’ Penny smiled, and they fell into each other’s arms in a hug of relief and joy, crying with excitement.

‘Here’s me thinking
you’d
deserted us or were dead, and you, thinking I’d gone over to the other side. How could you ever think that after what we’ve both been through?’ Penny laughed. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you and know you’re safe.’

‘So where are you now?’ Yolanda asked, tears of joy rolling down her face. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘In a convent. Can’t you tell, in my smart uniform?’ Penny whispered.

‘You’ve taken vows?’ Yolanda looked astonished.

‘Do I look the type?’ They both burst out laughing and it was only when they recovered that they noticed Sister Clothilde was standing only a foot away, eyeing them both with suspicion, her arms folded in disapproval at such displays of emotion in public.

‘Nurse, it’s time to leave. This has been a useless outing; let’s not waste any more time here.’ Sister Clothilde turned and made her way to where the novice nun was waiting for her, holding the empty shopping baskets.

‘If you want vegetables, I know someone who can find you a supply, but under cover of darkness,’ Yolanda whispered.

‘Black market?’

‘Not exactly. He relieves the Germans of their surplus, shall we say, supplies they stole from us. Let’s just call it reclamation . . .’

‘Oh, do be careful. If you’re caught . . .’

‘Not me, I’m too busy training up orderlies. Come and join us. I’m so glad to see you. Momma and Papa will be so happy to know you are safe. Come and have supper with us on Friday . . . Sabbath supper. We have rooms in Portou Street. It has a dark-green door, the street under the wall behind Kondilaki. It’s all a bit of a mess down there but our house still has a roof.’

Penny held onto her arm. ‘I can’t believe this. I thought you . . .’ she hesitated to repeat what she’d really thought. ‘I thought you were dead. I’ve so much to tell you.’

‘And so have I.’ Yolanda waved her farewell, her gold necklace glinting in the sunshine as she raced passed Clothilde and the novice down the street.

‘Did I see the Star of David round that girl’s neck?’ Clothilde snapped.

‘I never noticed,’ Penny replied. ‘She’s my friend from Athens, a Red Cross nurse. Oh, I am so glad she made it here. There were so many nurses drowned . . .’

‘Nurse or not, she’s a Jewess. We do not consort with such people.’

Gladly I do, thought Penny with defiance, but said nothing, taking her place in line for the walk back. She would love to see the Markos family again but first she must ask permission to leave the convent. For the first time in weeks she felt the constraints of her chosen refuge. Every choice had its price, she sighed.

On Friday morning, Mother Veronique sent for her in the playground where she was teaching the girls to play ‘In and out the Scottish bluebells’. They were dancing in and out of each other’s raised arms and Penny was beating time to the tune on an empty oil drum, everyone trying to sing in English, French and Greek, and making lots of happy noise. She was asked to go to the study where Mother Superior told her the visit to the Markos family would be allowed, under escort as far as the Jewish quarter, with strict instructions to be back before dark. Penny tried to explain that Sabbath would begin at sunset and this would not leave much time for her meal.

‘I fear you are taking advantage of our hospitality here,’ Veronique chided her. ‘Perhaps you should go and lodge with your friend.’

‘I’m sorry for causing inconvenience to you all since you’ve been more than generous to me. I’ve been used to my own freedoms, I fear.’ Penny reflected that nothing in her upbringing, or since, could have paved the way for a convent life.

Veronique nodded. ‘You are an unsettling influence on some of the younger girls. Sister Clothilde . . .’

Penny didn’t hear the rest. Poor plain petulant Clothilde was jealous, suspicious and bigoted. It was time Penny left the convent and joined Yolanda at her clinic or the hospital.

St Joseph’s had sheltered her when she had no address that would satisfy her captors. It had given her refuge when exhausted and confused, fed her and given her back confidence in her skills, as well as adding a few more. What was one nun’s spitefulness amongst such loving kindness?

She dropped on her knees for a blessing. ‘Mother, you’ve given me back my strength, my courage and dignity. Your convent was a rock to cling to and I’ll never forget such love, but you’re right. It’s time for me to go back out there and use my talents, not hide them away. I do know my Bible.’ Penny smiled. ‘I hope you’ll accept my deepest gratitude and forgive my impulsive ways.’

Veronique patted her head. ‘Get up, young lady. You’ve been a breath of fresh air wafting amongst us, scurrying about, teaching short cuts, dancing with the children. One day you will make a good mother. You have a big heart, Penelope. There’s much for you to do in this world. Go and see your friend and I will pray that the way forward for you will become clear. Stay with us until you see where that path takes you.’

With such a blessing ringing in her ears, Penny had a spring in her step as she made her way down the hill towards the ruined city with Sister Irini, who was taking some food to an old Algerian couple confined by sickness to their rooms.

On street corners, spilling out of the tavernas still standing were the troops in their distinctive olive-green-grey uniforms, cluttering the streets, three abreast, shoving locals into the road, loud, bragging, enjoying the sunshine and eyeing the girls.

Penny was glad to be invisible in her plain habit and headscarf, even if she was a head taller than her escort. No one would bother looking at her, and this sowed the seed of an idea as to how she might travel unmolested with the right papers. There was no doubt in her mind that the hills were calling. She had looked on them every morning with longing. They reminded her of Scotland and the freedom of stalking in the mountains. What must the view be from them?

She’d not forgotten Bruce’s challenge to her to go native and disappear. It was important that she could justify why she’d defied him and stayed on. It was in one of those moments in the bustle of the streets that she looked up and saw the snow tips of the White Mountains, even in the heat of summer, and sensed they were her next destination. How or when, she had no idea, only this flutter of certainty in her gut. It was time to move on.

It was a crush around the supper table, the sun had just set and Yolanda’s uncle’s house was full of lodgers who’d lost their homes in the bombing. The synagogue had lost its top floor but enough remained for a gathering for prayers. Now, as the candles were lit and the prayers around the table began, Penny sat in silence, the honoured guest at the humble feast. The chicken had had to be killed according to custom in secret because it was now illegal for animals to be slaughtered in the kosher way. There’d been an order to hand in all ritual knives, all knives from the Jewish residents, but, as ever, someone managed to hide or ‘lose’ theirs, and in a city famous for its knife making, there were always replacements ready to be cleansed and blessed for the purpose.

How different this was from their dinners together in Kifissia. Sara looked pinched and tired, her face drained of emotion. Solomon had aged, his hair now entirely white, and he had grown a long beard. Penny tried to follow what Yolanda was doing and listened to the Classical Hebrew coming from the lips of even small children.

There was talk of the new instructions, read out by their rabbi, that soon all their shopkeepers must place a large sign in their windows announcing: ‘This is a Jewish Business . . . Germans prohibited from entering.’

‘They will beggar us, for who else has drachmas but the soldiers?’ said Aunt Miriam, her eyes wary, looking round the table for support. People shrugged. ‘What can we do but obey?’ said another. ‘We heard the rabbi has to give a list of all the Jews of Chania with their addresses and ages to the Town Hall. What does it mean?’

‘It means we’re registered, that’s all, so calm yourself, Mother. A sign on the window, a name on a list means nothing. If it was anything more, Giorgos would nod me the wink,’ Joseph interrupted. ‘We keep our heads down and do nothing to alert attention. The children are in school, they have good friends, as long as we stick together . . .’

‘You are wrong, Joe. We should be heading for the hills, away from places where we’re known, find a ship and leave,’ said a young man with thick glasses. ‘Don’t forget the old saying: “Drop by drop the water wears away the marble . . . One by one their laws will destroy us.”’

‘That’s defeatist talk, Mordechai, I’ll have none of that here. The Almighty One has spared us, we have life and we must live it as He ordains. The Jews have lived here in peace for over a thousand years. He will not allow His congregation to be destroyed.’

When the formalities of dinner were over and Mordechai made to talk to Yolanda, she grabbed Penny’s arm and made for the door. ‘Let’s get out of here so we can talk. I don’t want Mordo to get the wrong idea. I’ve seen how his mother and my mother are making plans.’

‘He looks a nice young man,’ Penny whispered.

‘Precisely, nice but with no spark,’ Yolanda smiled, and nudged her. ‘You know what I mean. Nothing happens when I look at Mordo.’ She patted her groin. ‘Nothing down there.’

‘Yolanda Markos, what’s got into you? You weren’t like this in Athens.’ Penny nudged her back and they giggled.

‘I hadn’t met Andreas Androulakis then,’ she whispered.

Then Yolanda told Penny all about her doctor friend, who was working for the freedom forces, she was sure, taking supplies to hidden soldiers who had escaped from the camps. There was such tenderness in her eyes as she talked of him.

‘Last week he came on shift late. He said he’d been to see a sick patient. I don’t know where he went but when he comes back his boots are filthy and he’s covered in blood stains. They say he’s gone into the hills to treat wounded escapees . . . When he does his shift his eyelids are drooping with exhaustion. He’s such a brave man. I wish he’d take me with him.’

‘What do your parents make of your young man?’ Penny asked.

‘They must know nothing about him. Father is treating me like a child. He’s changed since he came here. He has gone back to his faith and is far stricter. He’s afraid I will leave them. If he thought I was seeing a Gentile . . . They don’t understand.’

‘You are all they have, they need you,’ Penny replied, though she knew it wasn’t what Yolanda wanted to hear.

‘I know, but times are so strange now. I have to lead my own life. Who knows what will happen?’