The Summer of Secrets, page 32
We all cheer, clink glasses and laugh, then drink a toast to life, love and a successful result with the house and distillery.
‘So go on, Mr Demetriou. You were going to tell me about my crazy uncle.’
The old man rolls his eyes. ‘He was, I don’t know, seven or eight years old – leapt twenty metres off a burning ship – then tried to gather lifebelts for all those who didn’t have one. Should have had a medal. Then, he . . . well, it’s better if he tells you himself.’
‘It’s so long ago, I’m not sure I can recall everything,’ Uncle says. ‘I remember pulling myself onto a hatch cover that someone had thrown in for those that had jumped. Then, I paddled furiously, refusing to be beaten by a lifebelt that bobbed out of reach. I wondered how far I’d gone. Thought perhaps I ought to give up and return to the raft where my family waited to be rescued.’ He puts his hand over his mouth and shakes his head, thinking back. ‘At the peak of the next swell, I looked over my shoulder and saw the burning ship. It seemed miles away.’
‘You were very lucky and brave, my friend,’ Demetriou says with all due severity.
‘I knew I should turn back, but before I had a chance, the water ahead began to agitate and boil. What was going on?’ His eyes widened, staring into the past. ‘The sea lifted in an enormous grey hump, splitting into white foaming barrels. I thought it was a whale or the Greek god of the sea. Old whatshisname?’
‘Poseidon?’ Greg asks.
‘That’s the one.’
I am aware of Greg’s grin. Our eyes meet for a second, then we both look away and try to smother our secret smiles.
Uncle continues. ‘I remember thinking, It’s that poutana, Poseidon. Well, he needn’t think he’s going to upend me, maláka! I must explain. My Uncle Kuríllos was the greatest swearer on the planet and I admired him so much. When I was alone, I took every opportunity to say as many of his swear words as possible, though I had no idea what they meant, only that they garnered a clout if Mamá heard me say them.’ Everyone laughs. ‘So, I gripped the sides of the hatch cover and stared, ready to challenge the god to a swearing competition. Then, I remember wondering if Poseidon ate small boys.’
Everyone laughs again.
‘As my Greek god rose from the sea, the most remarkable thing happened. A hatch opened in the top of Poseidon’s head as it came clear of the water and then a man got out . . . two men . . . four men. They were shouting and pointing at me.’ Uncle beams at everyone, seeing his audience is captivated and again I imagine he must have been a wonderful teacher. ‘Then I realise as more of the vessel rises from the swell, it was the submarine! The cigar tube I’d seen in Port Said when we left. What had the sailor called it? Ah, submarine Spark, yes, that was it. The vessel seemed much bigger, close up.
“Boy! Boy!” they shouted. “Come this way!”
‘I didn’t understand their language, but the way they hooked their arms in the air made it clear they wanted me onboard. Perhaps they would take me prisoner and feed me bread and water. I hoped it would be the delicious white bread we’d had in Nuseirat camp. Perhaps they’d give me a go at driving the submarine to the centre of the earth like Captain Nemo. Anyway, I was tired and hoped they had some cake. I’ve always loved cake.’
Demetriou chuckles. ‘Remember when we stole that cake off Kyria Popi’s windowsill? Mamá slapped the backs of your legs and sent you to bed.’
‘Yes, but I still had half the cake in my pocket, which I enjoyed in the comfort of my own bed.’
‘I’m seeing a whole new side to you, Uncle!’ I say, laughing.
‘Anyway, I paddled towards the submarine. Each time I dipped into a trough and then rose on the next crest, they were closer. One of the men tied a rope around his own waist and jumped into the water. The sailor was calling foreign words as he swam towards me. I listened very hard for anything that sounded like cake.’
We all laugh together.
CHAPTER 42
SOFIA
In a rough sea near the burning ship, 1945
BACK ON THE RAFT, SOFÍA couldn’t bear the pain in her ankle, it flared with the smallest movement. She managed to lie next to her mother with the little ones huddled about them. Darkness fell as they drifted further away from the blazing Empire Patrol. The biggest ship Sofía had ever seen towered next to it, taking people aboard, she guessed. A plane flew over and dropped flares onto the sea, but they were too far away now. When the raft dipped into the troughs, they were invisible. If only the sea would calm down. She wondered when she should set off the flare. They only had one chance to use it. Where was Uncle Kuríllos and George and Rosa? She couldn’t figure out who was on the raft and decided to check.
‘Listen, everybody. I want to know who’s on this raft so I’m calling names, like at school, all right? Answer me good and loud, because I have water in my ears.
‘Mamá! Are you here?’ Of course she was, but Sofía wanted to set an example to the little ones.
Mamá, realising her daughter’s plan, called out, ‘Yes, I’m here, Sofía!’
‘OK, well done, Mamá. Next is Uncle Kuríllos, are you here, Uncle?’
After a moment’s silence, Zafiro answered. ‘He was here. He gave me instructions for the flare. I saw him lift you out of the water. I was coming to help him, but he went back under.’
Bebe’s trembling voice came out of the dark. ‘He flew away on his angel’s wings. All the way to the stars.’
‘I thought you kept your eyes closed and didn’t see his wings, Bebe?’ Zafiro said.
‘That was after, when he brought Sofía, see,’ she said petulantly. ‘He lifted her up, then he flew away into the night. I saw him waving at us from way up there, by the stars. Then he was gone.’
Sofía had such a pain in her throat, she couldn’t speak. She could hear the heartbreak in her mother’s voice when she said, ‘Don’t worry, he’s probably gone back to the lifeboat because the raft is quite full. Who’s next, Sofía?’
‘That would be María, but we know she is in the other lifeboat with the doctor and they’ll be taking good care of her.’ Sofía’s voice cracked. Poor beautiful María, so badly burned. She recognised her mother’s hand, squeezing her shoulder quite fiercely. For a moment, they shared their devastation in silence, each understanding the other. Sofía took a breath, then continued. ‘So next is Ayeleen. Are you here, Ayeleen?’
‘I’m here, Sofía, but I’m so very cold and tired now. Do you think I could snuggle up to Mamá and have a little sleep?’
‘Don’t go to sleep yet, Ayeleen. I need you to dish out the drinking water in a few minutes.’
‘The next person is Rosa . . . are you here, Rosa?’
‘Rosa’s gone,’ Zafiro said. ‘Uncle went after her, but she was unconscious already. Her feet were too badly burned.’
A moment of abysmal silence fell over them all until Sofía said, ‘Let’s say a prayer for our darling Rosa who will be watching us from heaven right now. Dear God, please welcome our beautiful Rosa into heaven where we all hope to join her one day. We love her very much and know she would have been the best dancer on earth. We believe she will be a prima ballerina in heaven too. Everyone say, Amen.’
‘Amen.’
Mamá whimpered, sobbed, then said, ‘God bless our beautiful Rosa. Amen.’
‘Do they have cats in heaven?’ Mikali asked.
‘I believe they do,’ Sofía told him.
‘Rosa always wanted her own kitten, but she was afraid if she kept one as a pet, everyone else would want one too. You think God will let her have a kitten, Aunty Sofía?’
Sofía swallowed hard, but still couldn’t answer for a moment, then her mother’s hand found hers and squeezed tightly. ‘I’m quite sure God will give Rosa her very own kitten, Mikali. She’ll be very happy. Who’s next? Popi. Are you here, Popi?’
‘I want to go home,’ Popi cried. ‘I want to go back to Castellorizo and go to school with my friends. I told Babá a long time ago but he said this was an adventure. I don’t like adventures, Aunty Sofía. I really don’t! Please don’t let anyone else give us an adventure.’
‘You just need to say, I’m here,’ Fevzi said. ‘There’s no need for the dramatics.’ He sighed. ‘Girls! They’re all the same.’
‘Fevzi, she might be older than you, but she’s still afraid,’ Sofía said quietly. ‘We’re all afraid. It’s just her way of dealing with it.’
‘After Popi, we’ve got Martha. Are you here, Martha?’
‘I’m here, Aunty Sofía.’
‘Very good. Now, Katina?’ Silence. ‘Has anyone seen Katina?’ Silence again. ‘Who was the last person to see Katina?’
‘Please, Sofía; Katina and Athena went to see Mummy in the sick room, just before the big fire. Athena was crying because she spilt her warm milk and Katina said not to worry, she would try and get her some more.’
‘Is that you, Kristina?’
‘Yes, I’m Kristina,’ the quietest family member said. ‘I wanted to go and see Mummy too, but Katina said we could only go one at a time because Mummy was very tired. And I’m nearly sliding off the raft now. My feet keep falling into the water.’
‘Who’s nearest to you?’ Sofía asked.
‘Zafiro.’
‘Zafiro, you’re in charge of Kristina. Can you pull her further onto the raft and keep a hold on her? Now, Bebe, Zafiro and Fevzi are next to me and Mamá is holding Mikali and Evdokia, so everyone is here apart from Uncle Kuríllos, Rosa, Katina, Athena and Panayiotis – am I right?’
‘George,’ Mamá said. ‘Where’s Georgikie? That boy is always wandering off!’
‘He was collecting extra lifebelts for everyone. Perhaps he got into one of the other lifeboats,’ Zafiro said. ‘Can we open the tin now? I’m thirsty.’
‘Me too,’ cried Kristina
‘And me,’ said Mikali.
‘Listen, it’s only one sip of water for everyone, all right? And, no drinking sea water or you’ll die, understood?’
‘I swallowed some . . . I’m going to die. I don’t want to die!’ Bebe was crying.
‘No, Bebe, you have to drink an awful lot for it to kill you, so you’re safe, I promise.’ Sofía reminded herself to be more careful when talking about the dangerous situation they were in. ‘OK, Zafiro, can you open the box. Mind to keep everything dry and don’t let anything fall out.’ She had some night vision and could see everyone huddled around Mamá. ‘There should be a metal flask of water.’
‘I’ve got it.’
‘Right, pass it over and close the box up again.’ He did. ‘Listen, everyone. One mouthful each, no more. And whatever you do, don’t drop it.’ The bottle went round to everyone, but was empty before Ayeleen, Mamá or Sofía got a sip.
They’d drifted so far, the Empire Patrol was nothing but a slight glow on the horizon, only visible when they were lifted by the crest of a wave. Planes had stopped dropping flares and the sounds of other distressed passengers from the big ship had disappeared. Sofía was cold, very cold and she guessed everyone else was too. Time lost its meaning as they huddled together, constantly lifting and dropping on the waves. How long could the darkness of this endless night last? Surely after another hour or two, the morning would come with light and hope. Sofía prayed that dawn would arrive with the purpose of revealing the Konstantinidis family to their rescuers. She wept silently, hoping everyone could hang on a little longer. The pain in her ankle seemed to have grown to reach her knee.
‘Zafiro, what else was in the tin, do you remember?’ she asked forcing a sensible tone into her voice.
Silence. Were they all asleep? Although tempted to let them rest, she knew they should stay awake and alert. ‘Come on, everybody! Wake up now. We need to look for a ship and light the flare or we’ll never be rescued. What else is in the box, Zafiro?’
Everyone budged around a bit to give Zafiro elbow room. ‘A torch!’ he said. ‘Aw, it’s not working.’
‘The batteries might be separate to keep them dry. Perhaps they’re in wax paper, or an oilcloth wrapping. What else is in there?’
‘A tin of biscuits.’
‘Give everyone one biscuit, Ayeleen.’
‘Ah, I found the batteries!’ Zafiro continued. ‘I’m not sure we should use the torch, except for signalling. When I went fishing with Uncle Kuríllos, he told me it takes time to get your night vision and one spark can destroy it. We can all see each other now, yes?’
‘But you need to read the instructions for the flare, Zafiro. We need to be ready for when a boat comes near,’ Sofía said.
As they crested the swell, a distant light swept the water. ‘There, look – they’re still searching for us. Light the flare!’ Mamá said. ‘Quickly!’
‘Can you stand in the middle of the raft if we hold on to your legs, Zafiro?’ Ayeleen suggested.
‘Quick! Read the flare instructions! Somebody! Find the matches,’ Mamá said.
‘Everybody shout together,’ Sofía ordered. ‘On three. One, two, three: Help! And again. Have any of you girls got a petticoat on? I need it now, take it off.’
‘You can have mine,’ Mamá said. Everyone bobbed around as she struggled to get out of her underskirt while in a sitting position in the centre of the raft.
‘Ayeleen, you’re the tallest. If I grasp your ankles, can you stand and wave this?’ Sofía said lifting Mamá’s slip.
Zafiro managed to light the flare and stand in the centre of the raft with it raised above his head. The sky was lightening, but once they lit the flare, nobody could see anything for the orange brightness of burning sulphur. A blanket of panic fell on them. As soon as the flare died, Ayeleen stood and flapped the underskirt over her head. Everyone hung on to Ayeleen’s legs to keep her upright on the undulating sea. They cried, ‘Help!’ until their throats burned.
‘Why did we bother?’ Mamá said, half an hour later when the attention-seeking palaver was over.
Sofía looked around at the sorry state of her family in the dawn light. ‘Listen, everyone! Babá will have heard what happened on the Empire Patrol. He’ll be worried sick. We have to draw attention to ourselves. Is there another flare, Zafiro?’
She had only just uttered the words when a plane swooped out of the sky. ‘Ayeleen, wave the flag, girl! Wave for all you’re worth!’
They were hanging on to Ayeleen’s legs when the plane circled, then came over even lower. ‘They must have seen us!’ Popi cried.
‘There’s another flare,’ Zafiro said. ‘Shall I light it, Sofía?’
‘No, if he saw us, he’ll send someone to pick us up and we’ll need to tell him exactly where we are then. Make sure you keep the matches dry and be ready to signal when we can see our rescuers.’ Everyone’s eyes were wide with hope. ‘Now, I think we could all have another biscuit for our breakfast.’
*
According to the ship’s log on HMS Mermaid, it was 7.23 when a flare caught the lookout’s attention. A large signal lamp, used as a searchlight, played across the water and eventually fell upon the bedraggled and desperate occupants of an open life raft. Nine children and two women had braved the night, waiting to be rescued. The Mermaid’s rescue craft had already picked up thirty survivors from the Empire Patrol. This would be her final salvage and the crew hoped for a good result.
Once on board, Mamá and Sofía collapsed in tears of relief. The refugees gulped down beakers of hot sweet tea. After bathing, small wounds and burns were cleaned and painted with iodine. Sofía’s ankle, dislocated not broken, was reset. Clothed in fresh, ill-fitting outfits, the survivors devoured a most welcome meal of boiled potatoes followed by bread and jam. Five hours later, the Konstantinidis family were back in Port Said refugee centre searching for their missing family members.
Through the next days, news came that another raft or lifeboat had turned up. Everyone waited for names convincing themselves their missing family members were safe at last. A week after that, a raft washed up on a Cyprus shore and miraculously delivered more barely alive refugees. Although none of the survivors were from the Konstantinidis family, it gave everyone hope.
*
Uncle Kuríllos’s body was never recovered, nor was Rosa’s. Sofía feared her uncle had perished right after saving her. Sometimes, she felt his hands on her hips, lifting her and tears sprang to her eyes. She never told anyone, for it seemed stupid. She would always love Uncle Kuríllos.
The whole family went to visit María and Panayiotis in Port Said hospital. Poor María, all her beautiful hair burned off and her face and limbs badly seared. When her dressings were changed, the intense pain meant that high doses of morphine had to be administered, making her incoherent. Her incredible beauty was stolen by the fire and her bravery was destroyed when she learned her ballet-dancing daughter and her two sisters and her grandmother, had certainly gone to God. Sofía sat on María’s hospital bed, her distress intensified because she could not wrap her sister in her arms while they wept together.
‘Poor Rosa,’ they both whispered.
*
As María started to recover, her greatest fear was that Mustafa would abandon her and the children, for she was under no illusions about the fact that he had fallen in love with her great beauty. Now, her angry red scars meant she would wear a hijab for the rest of her life and she would make sure he never saw the brutal reality of her withered and scarred naked body.
‘We have to get home and start the distillery again, before we lose our French clients,’ María told Mamá and Sofía.
‘But what about your operations?’ Mamá said. ‘They must do skin grafts over the burns, they told me. Then there’ll be plastic surgery.’
‘Look, the scars will always be there, Mamá. What’s the point of going through any more pain? I’m tired of suffering, really. Just let me heal and then I can hide the ugliness so as not to offend anyone. It’s enough for me that I managed to save my little boy. Have you heard anything about the enquiry?’
