The Girl Under the Olive Tree (7 page)

Penny challenged Evadne about why she had to come out as a debutante, but Evadne just dismissed her arguments with a wave of her hand. ‘If I had to endure it so will you. It’s not that bad and it got me darling Walter and away from Mummy’s clutches. Just buck up and bear it.’ However, Evadne wasn’t rushing to leave either; there were so many parties and social events over the Christmas vacation.

At one of these gatherings, at St Paul’s Anglican Church, Penny felt a sudden tightness in her throat, a blinding headache, and then the room began to swim. By the time she was taken home and put to bed she couldn’t raise her head from the pillow. Within hours Walter lay prostrate in the other bedroom and soon Evadne was crawling through on all fours, feeling ill. They’d all picked up influenza and were in no fit state to travel anywhere. Christmas was cancelled.

As they lay pole-axed on their pillows, wishing they were dead, Joan called in with supplies, and Kaliope fed them fresh juices to keep up their strength. None of their fair-weather friends dared visit for fear of being struck down, though Bruce, who was up in the north, sent Penny flowers with a card promising to take her to see the Blessing of the Water in the New Year. This lovely surprise cheered her recovery. Here was something to look forward to, another chance to be in Bruce’s company. Perhaps he cared for her after all?

A furious telegram arrived from England, saying how the girls had ruined all their mother’s house-party plans and Penny must return by air or ship immediately. She was needed for fittings in London or she would have to attend her coming-out party in last year’s frilly organza.

Penny couldn’t even raise herself to reply, much less be concerned. For once in her life she was going to ignore the summons from Stokencourt. How could she go home when there was so much waiting for her here? If only she felt better. It was such a bore being sick and feeble with no appetite for anything but sleep . . .

If Penny felt wobbly and weak-kneed at the sight of all the jostling crowds gathered by the old harbour in Piraeus, she was determined not to show it. This was her first outing since falling prey to influenza, and she still felt washed out, her joints aching and her head fuzzy. At the edge of her mind was the fear that her time was running out here and she didn’t want to miss anything. She was getting used to filling her days with what she wanted to do, not what was expected of her. How could she go back to the straitjacket that was Stokencourt?

Then there was the delicate matter of Bruce Jardine. He had called in to see how the invalids were coping, charmed Kali\ope into laying an extra place for him at dinner. Walter and Evadne were glad of his company. They chatted away, ignoring Penny as they caught up on family news. Why did he make her feel so awkward and silly, as if she was still a schoolgirl? He reminded her of his invitation to join him and his friends to see the Blessing of the Water and Effy was happy to let her go. So now Penny was standing at the harbourside, feeling wobbly and looking less than her best, among the throng of onlookers.

‘Watch your bag, put it under your arm, there’ll be pickpockets everywhere in this rugby scrum,’ Bruce yelled, grabbing her hand as if she were a child. Bruce guided her through the crowds as if she were his little sister, useful in the beginning when she was unsure of her bearings but strangely irritating after a while. She’d watched him flirting with all the other female students, teasing and joking, but with her he was always correct, polite and careful. Was it because he knew her world? Had Walter had a quiet word with him? Was he her chaperone, her protector from bothersome attentions? Oh, how demeaning!

The Athenian crowds were gathering in every nook and cranny, climbing on lampposts to catch a glimpse of the archbishop in his golden robes as, at the climax of the ceremony, he raised his great crucifix over the harbour basin while everyone crossed themselves fervently. There was chanting and singing, and then he threw the top of his precious silver cross into the water. A scramble of bare-chested boys and young men dived into the chilly water to retrieve it. The crowds cheered and shouted as an arm came up – like Excalibur out of the lake, Penny thought. The lucky swimmer came out to receive his special blessing, which guaranteed a run of good fortune for the whole of 1938.

‘Cleansing the water of evil spirits is a very ancient ceremony, probably pagan,’ Joan whispered. It was good to have her company. She was trying to take pictures with her box camera. ‘Haven’t you noticed how superstitious they all are here?’

Joan didn’t attend St Paul’s. She wasn’t interested in organized religion. This had shocked Penny, who’d always gone to St Mark’s in the village in Gloucestershire. It was what one did to show support for the village, to set an example, but the more she mixed with this metropolitan Athens crowd, the more she realized they didn’t observe Sundays much, preferring to lounge about the cafés with newspapers, lunching under the mulberry trees or on the pavements, drinking and dancing till all hours while she had to be back at the Villa Artemisa before eleven. Walter’s orders.

The Blessing celebrations went on all day, with dancing and singing in the restaurants to bouzouki music. Later she heard the guns rattling across the city, not guns of war but of celebrations as street parties and dancing got under way.

Penny wanted this day to stretch out for ever even though she felt exhausted. The plan was to go to Zonar’s café and then on to a nightclub to meet up with the usual gang.

Alexis, a stocky Greek American, over for a few months on sabbatical, introduced a young woman called Nikki, who looked as glamorous as a film star as she shook hands around the table. Her English may have been halting but her effect on the men was immediate. They instantly straightened themselves up, slicked back their hair and vied to sit next to her. It was as if she exuded a secret but hypnotic perfume into the air.

She wasn’t exactly pretty, though dark-eyed, with black hair rippling down to her waist, but there was something in the way she moved and conducted herself, the way she glided onto the dance floor with each of the men in turn, that made people watch her. Penny felt stabbings of jealousy when she saw Bruce responding with all his usual charm to great effect.

‘Who
is
that?’ said Joan, sensing the change in the atmosphere too. ‘Quite the Mata Hari. She’s very exotic, probably Italian or Turkish. Just look at the poor blighters all with their tongues hanging out,’ she laughed. ‘She must be a dancer with that body.’

‘She’s Greek, from a good family. If the boys step out of line there’ll be trouble from her uncles. Her family have power in the city,’ whispered Sally, one of the students who helped Penny in the stratigraphic workrooms. ‘I didn’t think they let their girls out alone, as a rule, so they must be quite modern.’

Penny didn’t care who she was, she just wished she would go home, but she was also curious about this girl who lit up the room. She made to sit closer but her path was blocked by Bruce and the others. ‘Like moths to a flame,’ Joan observed.

Suddenly Penny felt gauche and abandoned amongst the crowd. The exertions of her first day out were catching up with her and it was time to go home but she didn’t fancy walking back through the deserted streets alone. She had expected that Bruce would escort her home. Fat chance of that now.

‘Got to go,’ she announced loudly. No one took any notice as she rose to leave, gathering her bag along with her pride. Bruce was still engaged in deep conversation with Nikki, and one of the officers from the legation was muscling in on their party.

‘I’ve had enough for one day. I’ll walk back with you. Don’t want Evadne blowing her top. She’s a right mother hen where you are concerned,’ Joan offered, standing to leave.

Penny couldn’t wait to get away. She felt sick and furious that her exit went unremarked. Was she so invisible?

They walked back in the balmy night in silence. Joan could see Penny was suffering. ‘A word to the wise . . . this isn’t your usual cattle market. All the lads here are intent on furthering their careers or gaining some useful foreign experience, making hay before the rain pours. They’ll be in the army before the year’s out, if things go on as they are. Don’t begrudge them their fun and games. You’ve plenty of time for all that . . .’ Joan went on, but Penny was no longer listening.

I haven’t got all the time in the world, she thought. You don’t understand. I have to go home soon, and then what?

By the time they reached the villa gate she was exhausted and heart sore. It was all Bruce Jardine’s fault. If only he looked at her like he looked at that Nikki woman.

As she lay tossing and turning in the darkness Penny realized that it was only quirks of nature that had kept her here so long: a miscarriage and a bout of influenza. Because of these unexpected events, she’d been able to fend off her return. But not for much longer. Evadne was organizing their travel schedule. Penny was going home for the season and to catch up with the family. They’d all be gone by February, just as springtime arrived, whereas the students would be off to Crete, an island of spectacular beauty, according to Joan. How could she leave all these plans behind: her studies, Joan’s lessons and most of all her freedom? She couldn’t rely on snow or storm to cancel their journey home. If she was going to do the unthinkable she must take responsibility alone for the thunderstorms ahead.

‘What do you mean, you’re not coming with me?’ Evadne almost choked on her pasta soup.

They were sitting in the dining room when Penny announced her intentions in a croaky voice.

‘I’m not going back. I want to stay in Athens and continue my lessons.’

‘Don’t be tiresome, it’s all arranged. We leave in two weeks.’ She tore off a chunk of thick bread.

‘Then we can unarrange it. I can stay here with Walter until I get myself sorted,’ Penny continued, seeing she had her sister’s full attention now.

‘Oh, no you won’t. I can’t have a single girl staying with me. When Evadne goes, so do you, and that’s the end of the matter,’ Walter snapped. ‘It’s not proper.’

‘Who cares what’s proper? I want to be a student not a debutante.’

‘And just how do you intend to do that with no allowance? Live off thin air?’ Walter slammed down his soup spoon in annoyance. ‘You’ve never earned a penny in your life.’

‘I know, isn’t it dreadful at my age? But I’ll find a way . . . I’m not going and that’s that.’

‘We’ll see about that. I’m going to telegraph Mummy right now. She’ll insist you return. We didn’t bring you out here to make waves in the family. You have to do what is expected. Don’t disgrace us,’ Evadne demanded. ‘I don’t want to fall out with you. I thought you’d grown up enough to know when it’s time to leave the party.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you all, Effy, but is it disgraceful to want to earn my own living, to exercise my brain and be useful, not just an ornament?’ Penny hated upsetting her sister but she had to make her understand how she was really feeling.

‘So I’m just an ornament then, no use to anyone? Is that what you think after all we’ve done for you, you ungrateful madam?’ Evadne was in tears now. ‘What’s got into you? It must be the influenza; they do say it can affect the brain. You’re not thinking straight. We’ve given you all this freedom and you throw it back in our faces. How can I return home without you?’

‘Can’t you see I’m trying to be grown-up? You came here alone, and I have been useful here since . . .’ she hesitated, not wanting to hurt her sister further, ‘. . . since you were ill. I didn’t mean to stay so long but things happened. I just love being here. I belong and I’ve made friends. Why can’t you see that?’

‘It’s that Bruce Jardine, he’s at the back of this. He’s filled your head with nonsense.’ Walter banged his spoon down again as if trying to call her to heel.

Penny felt her cheeks flushing. ‘No, it’s not,’ she replied, but they were not convinced.

‘Look I understand, you’ve got a pash on him,’ Evadne leaped in, sensing a chink in her resolve. ‘Oh, Penny, it’s what happens at your age. You’ve led a sheltered life. He’s the first boy who’s shown an interest but he’s an adventurer and not likely to settle for anyone less than a countess when the time comes. I’ve seen his type: handsome, sporty and a bit of a daredevil; the sort that breaks your heart. Don’t throw it all away drooling after something that’s never going to be yours.’

Penny shook her head. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. Bruce isn’t interested in me one bit.’ Somehow saying it aloud suddenly made it more true, more real and it hurt. ‘I’m staying because this is where I want to be, not parading round some stuffy ballroom in London.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said the couple in unison as they looked at each other.

‘You are in no position to argue any more,’ Evadne added. ‘Let’s just finish dinner in peace.’

The atmosphere in the villa was fraught for days afterwards as Evadne made preparations for leaving and Penny refused to budge at first. She spent as much time as she could at the student hostel, reading, drawing, making herself useful in the museum, washing pottery, anything to keep her mind off what was about to happen. She told no one of her coming departure, especially not Joan, because if she did it would become real. Every morning she secreted some clothes and personal bits and took them in a shopping bag to her locker in the hostel. She made an outward play of asking Kaliope to wash her clothes ready for packing and took them off the line, a few at a time, bundling them into her college bag, leaving all her art materials at the hostel. Each day she siphoned off a few things she might need: her papers, address book. It was madness but she had to escape before it was too late. On the night before their departure, she pretended to go along with their preparations and said she would have an early night while Walter and Evadne went out into the city for a last dinner, assured that she had come to her senses at long last.

As soon as they had left, Penny sat down and wrote a letter to her parents.