Among the Olive Groves Page 12

  Elena’s mother opened the door and nodded curtly to Angelos. She had learned not to question the pair’s relationship. As far as she was concerned, they were free to do as they chose, so she turned a blind eye to the lovers just as long as Loukas Sarkis stayed away.

  “Elena!”

  “Mama,” came the distant voice. A moment later she appeared wiping her hands on her skirt.

  “Angelos? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. I just needed to see you.”

  She stared for a moment and saw a mix of confusion and fire in his eyes.

  “Mama. Can you look after Athena? I will be back soon. I promise.”

  Her mother nodded before disappearing into the house. Elena closed the door behind her and stepped out onto the street, taking Angelos’s hand in hers.

  “Will you tell me what is wrong?” she asked as they walked towards the small woodland near the village.

  “I just needed to see you. I was listening to the news and it was all so terrible. The war is doing so many horrible things to so many people, Elena, and I hate it. You and Athena are so precious to me and I needed to come and see you and tell you that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I also wanted to give you this,”

  They stopped under the canopy of trees and he handed her a small gift. She smiled, took it from him, and carefully opened it. It was the first and only present he had ever given her and it was beautiful. She lifted it from the packaging to take a better look, and the silver locket glinted in the light. The front was engraved with an ornate E and he motioned for her to turn it over.

  “It says I love you Elena.”

  “Oh Angelos it is beautiful, but I cannot accept it.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “Open it,” he instructed.

  Sighing, she fiddled with the catch and it popped open. Inside was a grainy photograph of him. “I thought you could add a picture of you, and then we would always be together.”

  Despite knowing she should not accept it, Elena relented. Maybe one day she could give it to her daughter and Athena would always carry her parents close to her heart.

  “Thank you, Angelos. It is beautiful.”

  “You will keep it?”

  “Yes. I will keep it.”

  Angelos threaded it about her neck and secured the clasp.

  Hand-in-hand, they strolled through the fragrant, pine-scented trees. It was not too cold for the time of year and they enjoyed the walk. It was so quiet, as though they were the only two people inhabiting the island. In a dense part of the wood, Angelos stopped, took Elena in his arms and held her tightly, smelling her hair, kissing her neck and her lips. He wanted her in a way he had never wanted anyone before. He slid his hands down her arms, gently lifting her skirt, feeling the softness of her legs.

  “Angelos. We must not do this. Remember what happened last time.”

  “I no longer care, Elena. I want you. I always have and always will. Please, be mine.”

  “No, Angelos. I will not do that anymore. Not unless you leave Maria and marry me!” She pushed him away.

  Angelos swore and looked at her as the tears formed in his eyes. He was in an impossible situation. He loved Elena very much, but knew he could never leave Maria and marry her, at least not while his father lived. They were doomed. But it did not stop him wanting her.

  “Please, Elena?”

  “No, Angelos!”

  They stared at each other, neither of them backing down. Things had reached an impasse. Neither would ever be able to have what they really wanted. There was too much that stood in the way.

  “I will always love you, Elena. You know I will.”

  She looked at him, blinking away the tears. She knew she was about to lose him forever, and did not know how to stop it. He was the love of her life and she would never love anyone the way she loved him.

  She pulled herself together and finally found her strength.

  “Never come to my house again, Angelos. Stay away from me, do you hear?”

  Turning, she blindly ran through the trees, tears falling from her eyes, deep choking sobs hindering her, but she did not stop until she reached the village. For a moment, she paused to see if he was behind her, but there was no sign of him. It was in that moment she knew he was lost to her. Angelos always came after her. Even after the worst of arguments, he had always followed to make amends. This time it was different. This time they had parted ways and there was no turning back.

  In that moment, Elena finally knew what it was like to feel truly alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Zakynthos, Greece, 1941

  It was a warm April morning, the sun was still rising, and there were few clouds in the sky. Angelos walked towards the beach, a place he still loved. Sometimes he liked to get up early and just go and sit on the sand to mull over life. It was the only place he could escape to, the only place he felt truly alone. He had left Maria fast asleep in bed. She would no doubt rise and discover him gone, but he no longer cared what she thought.

  Nearing the coast, he turned onto the path that would take him down to his favourite spot. It was then that he saw them. Three small airplanes. As they flew over the neighbouring island of Kefalonia the airplanes suddenly released a clutch of small black dots. From a distance, Angelos strained to make them out. As the planes moved away, small semi-circular canopies began to appear one by one, above the dots.

  Parachutists.

  His blood ran cold and fear froze his heart. Kefalonia was being invaded.

  His trip to the beach was forgotten. Fleeing to the café, he yelled at anyone who would listen. Slowly the news began to spread and Zakynthians gathered in small groups on clifftops, beaches and country lanes discussing what Angelos had seen, fearing what was to come next. The sky was clear again and no other parachutists could be seen, and they began to breathe a little easier, until a handful of seaplanes appeared on the horizon once again heading towards Kefalonia. The onlookers thought of their fellow Ionians and what they were going through. They wondered if the invading army had been kind or if they had taken everyone prisoner. Panic and worry washed through the island like a high spring tide and they feared for what would come next.

  They did not have to wait long.

  As the sky turned a brilliant blue on the first day of May, Angelos woke, uneasy and unable to sleep. He got up and walked to the café, surveying the horizon. He heard the noise before he saw them, coming from the north. Two seaplanes. After landing off the Zakynthian coast, they deposited their passengers onto the Greek shore. Angelos ran to the closest vantage point, hid behind a tree and spied on the invaders. A small group of Italian soldiers, decked out in grey uniforms, were standing on the shore, where two seaplanes were moored. The seaplanes were swiftly followed by a flotilla of boats that easily traversed the calm turquoise waters.

  Many islanders, disturbed by the sound of the airplanes, came to see what was going on. They warily gathered to watch the incomers. There was little they could do to stop them and the occupation of Zakynthos was swift and authoritative.

  That day, island life changed forever.

  ~

  By the summer of 1941, Greece had been fully invaded, and Greeks were forced to live under the Axis of Occupation rule. Islanders tried to go about life as normal, but things had changed. They no longer had the freedom to do what they wanted, when they wanted. The Italians watched their every move, and took over town halls and businesses. Curfews were put into place and movement was restricted. Food became scarce and Zakynthians began to feel like prisoners in their own home. Even if they wanted to escape, they could not. It was impossible.

  Angelos still went to the café, but things were different there, too. They were no longer allowed to listen to the radio or talk of Greece’s allies. On this visit, Angelos was nursing a cup of coffee, keeping his head down and avoiding eye contact with the four Italian soldiers who sat opposite. They were loud and uncouth, an
d liked to push the locals around; he did not want to become the object of their latest game.

  The door flung open and Angelos glanced up. His heart soared as Elena walked up to the counter. It had been so long since he last saw her. She was as beautiful as ever, and he missed her, but the café was too public a place for him to talk to her. The soldiers turned their attention to her and slowly, like a pack of lions seeking out prey, they gathered around her, preening and showing off. She had nowhere to go and turned her back to the bar. She was left with no choice but to use her feminine charms to escape their attention. She caught Angelos’s eye, giving him the faintest nod as she ran, but he did not dare acknowledge her or go after her. He did not want to be taken away by the soldiers.

  One of the Italians whispered to the others and left, following in Elena’s footsteps. A couple of fishermen entered the café and Angelos took his chance to sneak out, running quietly to try and catch up with Elena. He saw her, walking quickly, desperately trying to get away from the Italian, but the soldier was too quick and he caught hold of her arm, forcing her to stop. Angelos, still following, ducked behind a wall. He was so close to them that he held his breath, fearing they would hear him. He was surprised to hear the man speak in Greek.

  “You are a very pretty girl. I am Captain Pietro Cipriani.”

  “Hello, Captain,” Elena said, taking in the man. He was tall and muscular. His hair was almost as black as raven wings with eyes almost as dark. She felt like they bored into her and she had nowhere to hide.

  “Captain is so formal. You may call me Pietro.”

  “Hello Pietro.”

  “I feel at a disadvantage. You know my name, but alas, I do not know yours.” The Italian was smooth, but there was an edge to his voice that warned Elena that she should do as he asked.

  “Elena. My name is Elena.”

  Behind the wall, Angelos silently chuckled. He knew her well enough to envision the defiant look on her face. He had heard the same tone in her voice the night she stood up to his father.

  “Elena. A very pretty name for a very pretty girl. Are you married, Elena?”

  “What is it to you?”

  Angelos feared the soldier’s response, but the Italian just laughed.

  “I like your bravado. Strong women are my favourite kind. Maybe you and I can come to some arrangement, piccolina.” Pietro smiled.

  Sitting as still as he could, Angelos could hear the lasciviousness in the soldier’s voice. He wanted to yell at him to get away from her and never to speak to her again, but he was a coward and stayed where he was, hidden and silent.

  “I do not like men like you. You are the enemy, and I spit on the enemy.”

  Pietro laughed again. “Such a fiery temper, Elena. You should watch yourself. Your tongue will get you into trouble one day. You need to understand that we are your captors and you must do what we say.”

  “Never!”

  “Never say never. Ciao, bella.” Moments later, Angelos heard footsteps retreating so he poked his head over the wall. Elena was staring after the man in shock. Quickly, he grabbed her and pulled her down behind the wall where he cradled her in his arms, allowing her to cry and let the hurt, anger and confusion out.

  A while later as they walked back up the hill, Angelos finally spoke.

  “You must be careful, Elena. I do not trust the Italians. You are so headstrong and I fear they will hurt you if you say or do the wrong thing.”

  “Oh Angelos. You worry too much. It will be okay.” She looked at him for a moment, and he noticed she was wearing the locket. It pleased him and he was glad they were talking again after the way things had been left.

  “How is married life, Angelos?”

  “Boring.”

  “Do you love her yet?”

  “No,” he sighed. “I wish I could find love for her, but I just do not feel that way about her. Let us not talk about it again, Elena. It pains me too much.”

  “Okay.”

  They fell silent once more. It seemed that with the arrival of the Italians, the island had changed. Fewer birds seemed to fly and the trees and plants had lost their sweet fragrant blossom. Even the sea seemed to have lost its bright shimmer. At the fork in the road they stood awkwardly for a few moments, neither wanting to say goodbye, but both knowing they must. Making it easy for him, Elena smiled and turned without saying a word, and walked on up to the mountains. Resigned, Angelos walked down the lane to Maria, his wife.

  ~

  Pietro sat overlooking the square in Zakynthos Town. He had been on the island for a month now and already it felt like home. He had always been a nomad, choosing to live life wherever it took him. He had no family, a wife he hated and could not stand to be around, and no children, so signing up for the war had been an easy decision. Some of his old friends had ended up in the back of beyond, but he was lucky. He ended up on an island paradise, with beautiful sunshine, pretty girls and a quiet and obedient population. So far, the Germans were happy with the way the Italians were running things and it made life easier. It meant they could do what they wanted with their time, as long as order remained and they showed the islanders that they were the ones in charge. So far it seemed to be working.

  Today he had a meeting planned with some of the previous town officials and some local business owners. Pietro hoped it would go well, but you could never tell, especially with Greeks. Many people thought Italians had fiery tempers, but they evidently had not met any Greeks. They were just as bad! Pietro’s mind wandered back to the pretty little piccolina, Elena. He had hoped to see her again, but sadly he had not caught a glimpse of her after that first meeting. If he were to live on the island for the foreseeable future, a pretty girl like her would suit him very well.

  Pietro’s thoughts were interrupted when his comrade beckoned him inside. It was time for them to turn their heads to politics.

  Loukas and Stelios looked up to see two swarthy Italians enter the room. They had agreed for everyone’s sake to keep the meeting low key. The Italians sat opposite; one pulled out a cigarette and lit it before speaking.

  “So you must be Loukas Sarkis and Stelios Makris. We have heard much about you. I am Captain Pietro Cipriani.”

  Loukas and Stelios merely nodded.

  Pietro continued, “As you are aware this island is now governed by us, everything that happens now goes through us. The people obey our rules. If we decide that things are to be done differently, then the islanders accept this and will not answer back. If we come across trouble makers, we will deal with them accordingly.”

  Loukas raised his hand and asked, “Exactly how will troublemakers be dealt with?”

  “That is for us to decide at the time, but I have heard that your old castle at Bohali, has some excellent cells.” The Italian laughed at his own joke, before getting back to the point. “You need not worry about such trivial things. What we need from you is for you to help the islanders understand that they have no choice but to follow the rules and obey us. Can you do that?”

  Loukas and Stelios nodded once more.

  “Any questions, gentlemen?”

  Loukas and Stelios shook their heads.

  “I have one, if I may,” Pietro said. “Do you know of a girl called Elena? She is a pretty little thing. Long hair, no shoes, scruffy clothes. I need to speak with her.”

  Loukas nodded. He could tell that the Captain’s question was of a personal nature and he would be more than happy to let his enemy take the gypsy in hand. “Yes, Elena Petrakis. She lives up in the mountains, near to Exo Hora. I can get a local to take you there. Has she done something wrong?”

  “No. I just need to talk to her. Your offer of help is welcome. Thank you.”

  Pietro stood and left the Greeks sitting in uncomfortable silence. Loukas and Stelios had hoped to govern the island one day, working their way up to mayor and deputy, but the war had snatched it from under them. The only thing they could do was side with their enemy in the hope of recognition further down
the line. They both knew it was a dangerous game, but play it they must.

  ~

  It was a beautiful sunny day and Elena was out picking flowers. She enjoyed walking through the fields, watching the wildlife and feeling part of nature. She just wished the world was not at war. Her island did not feel right, now that the enemy had landed. Everywhere she looked, she saw grey uniforms, jeeps, guns and planes. It broke her heart to think they were now prisoners of a madman’s army. The future she had feared so much was upon them and she had no idea how it would all end.

  As she went to cross the road, a jeep approached. She stood still and fiddled with the flowers in her basket, waiting for it to pass. It was unusual to see the Italians this far up in the mountains. The jeep began to slow and her pulse quickened. With a screech that sent up a cloud of dust, it stopped a few feet away from her and a soldier jumped down. Lowering her eyes, she concentrated on the field opposite and walked quickly across the road; anything to get away from her enemy.

  “Wait!”

  She heard the voice, but carried on walking.

  “Elena Petrakis! I command you to stop!”

  She whirled around to face the man. How did he know who she was? “You command me? Who are you to command me!”

  She dropped the basket and was glaring, hands on hips. As the man came closer, she realised there was something familiar about him.

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to make you drop your flowers. Here, let me.” Bending down, he turned over the basket and scooped up the stems, carefully placing them back where they belonged. Standing, he handed the basket back to her.

  “Who are you?”

  “Do you not remember me, Elena? I remember you. We met at the café the other day.”

  Elena studied him, and then she remembered. He was the Italian soldier she had run into the last time she saw Angelos.

  “Ah yes. I am sorry; I do not recall your name.”