Among the Olive Groves Page 14

  The remainder of 1941 passed in relative calm. Even though they hated them, islanders grew used to the presence of Italian soldiers. They were allowed to go about their business with minimal disruption, but life was hard and everyone was well aware that they were prisoners, and that their life was not their own. As the year came to a close, they were harshly reminded of a war that was still very much close to home.

  A British submarine, passing through the narrow waters between Zakynthos and Kefalonia, hit an Italian mine. It killed almost everyone on board, and shook the islanders to their core. Death and destruction had landed right on the island’s doorstep. War was here to stay and they were nothing more than pawns in the game.

  When Elena heard about the loss of the submarine, she went and sat on the cliffs at the north of the island, staring out at the death-tainted waters. She felt the loss deeply. She hated that an evil monster was controlling the world. Things had to change. Life could not continue like this. Too many people were dying, but she knew she was just one small person in a very big world and there was little she could do to help.

  The next day, while walking through Zakynthos Town with Athena, she thought about it again and wondered if there was something that she could do, but she knew it was pointless. What could one woman possibly do to help, when entire armies and country leaders were failing so dismally? Slowly she meandered the back streets, keeping a firm hold of her daughter’s hand. Athena was now walking, but still had to be carried sometimes. Elena was determined to let her daughter have as much freedom as possible and was relieved when she no longer needed to push her round in her pram. She stared into half empty shops. With little to no stock, hardly any of them opened now. Even if they had, most of the islanders did not have the money to buy anything anyway. She continued to walk, taking in life as it now was, changed and uncertain. Up ahead, a group of men hid in the shadow of a doorway, watching her, their backs against the wall, and their faces etched with a furtive look. She knew they were up to no good.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing, girl. Move on. You will draw attention to us.”

  “Only if you are doing something wrong.”

  “I said move on!” the voice hissed back.

  Shrugging, Elena carried on along the road and turned the corner, disappearing from sight. She stopped and stood silently on the next road patiently waiting. She was relieved that Athena was remaining quiet. A moment later she cautiously peeked back around the corner. The men had stepped away from the wall. Two of them were looking up and down the street, as if keeping watch, as another reached into a doorway and pulled out a can and a brush. Dipping the brush into the can, he sloshed it around before removing it. It was now coated with bright red paint that gleamed on the end of the bristles. Elena watched in fascination as he streaked the wall, as though writing, but she could not see what. Minutes later the men scattered in all directions leaving the street quiet and still.

  Intrigue welled within her and she walked back down the road to take a closer look. The paint was not dry, but the writing was very clear.

  RESIST.

  The word was powerful and yet Elena was unsure why the men had chosen it or what they meant by it. She did not wait around to find out. Heading back down towards the harbour, she quickened her pace, and made her way safely and unseen.

  The word stuck with her for the rest of the day and stirred something in her; as much as she tried, she just could not get it out of her head. She had managed to get a lift to town and home again in a neigbour’s donkey and cart. Lifting Athena down, she thanked the man. As he went on his way, she grabbed hold of her tired daughter’s hand, turned into a lane near the olive groves and stopped. Angelos was ahead, walking hand in hand with his wife Maria. She missed him dreadfully but knew that there would never be anything more between them than friendship, if that. Seeing him again made her heart sink. She hated the thought of him being with another woman; a woman who was dowdy, timid and unbecoming.

  The awkward moment arrived all too soon. Like a rabbit caught in headlights, it was Angelos who finally spoke first.

  “Elena.”

  “Angelos.” She turned to his wife and said, “You must be Maria, it is lovely to meet you.”

  “Yes, and you,” Maria said quietly, glancing at Athena.

  Silence fell between them, and no one knew what to say next. It was Elena who broke the tension.

  “I must be going. It has been a long day. Athena is hungry. Good-day, Angelos, Maria.” She nodded and walked past them, head held high as she did, but despite her bravery she felt nothing but sadness.

  Angelos watched her go. He continued to live a miserable existence since marrying Maria. He worked all the hours under the sun, as his father and Stelios became more and more affiliated with the Italians. The two elder Greek men spent many hours in town on ‘official’ business, but it did not fool Angelos. He knew they had chosen sides and that the Sarkis and Makris families were firmly aligned with the enemy. Angelos knew they had only done it out of self-preservation, but it shamed him greatly. With his father always being at the Italians’ beck and call, it was left to Angelos to pick up the slack and make sure that the Sarkis business and home continued to run smoothly.

  His relationship with Maria had not fared much better. She was clingy and needy and hated being left on her own. He knew that seeing Elena and his child would not help the situation. Angelos wished his wife would find something to occupy herself, but she had no personal skills and never went out unless he was with her. Instead she chose stay at home all day, cleaning and tidying the house when it was clean and tidy enough already.

  Angelos still yearned for Elena. He hated the life he had been dealt and wished he could change it somehow, but it was impossible. He was stuck. This was his lot and he just had to get used to it.

  “Do you still love her, Angelos?” Maria’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “What?”

  “I said do you still love her?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  She knew he was lying, she saw the look on both of their faces upon meeting. They were two people who were still very much in love with each other and, in that moment, Maria knew that it would always be so. But how could she tell her husband that she knew he was a liar? She could not, so she chose to stay quiet. She hated her father for marrying her off like this, for submitting her to a life of hell, with a man who did not care for her. She wished things were different, but they were not. So, like many other women, she would just have to make the best of a bad lot.

  ~

  The night was pitch black with only the smallest sliver of moon occasionally peeking from behind scurrying clouds. The three men moved silently, keeping to the woods and fields, hugging walls, hedges and trees; anything that would give them the cover they greatly needed to keep out of sight of the Italian army. They need not have worried, since most of the Italians were asleep or in their favourite bars drinking. They had become a bored and lazy army that preferred the pleasures of life to fighting a war.

  As the men reached the edge of the wood, they saw the old hut, nestled in amongst the ancient trees and bushes. Hiding behind a large tree, they waited for the signal: two short man-made owl hoots. They ran from their hiding places and entered the small wooden hut. Once the door was shut, they seated themselves around the table in silence. A lone candle burned at the centre of the table, throwing ghostly illuminations about the room.

  “Thank you for coming. We will be known as ‘the resistance’. If you need to address me, you will call me Dionysis. We all know what is happening in Europe. We all know about the war, and we all know that we are prisoners of the Axis powers,” Dionysis spoke plainly. “While our island is under Italian rule, our lives are not our own. They lead us to believe that Hitler’s way is best, that we should all follow him and bow down to him, but we must not. We are Greek, this is our home and no one can ever take it away from us or tell us how to live.”

  Th
e men around the table nodded in hearty agreement.

  “We will do everything we can to show our oppressors that they will not win and that we will fight them every way we can. I cannot tell you how, but I have received word from the mainland that the resistance movement there is strong and fighting back. Greeks are standing up for what they believe in and refusing to obey their German dictators. We must do the same. We will graffiti, we will hand out leaflets, we will carry weapons for our protection and we will smuggle food and medicine to those who need it most. We will go up against the Italians whenever we can. I have smuggled a small radio out here so that we can listen to the latest news from our allies. I need you all to be strong and carry out any tasks you are given. It will be dangerous, and there will be times when your life will be in peril, but we will succeed.”

  The men nodded again.

  “I also need you to recruit, but be careful who you trust. I have learned that the Italians are lining the pockets of Loukas Sarkis and Stelios Makris. Neither man can be trusted, nor can their families. It is disappointing, but war brings out the worst in people. Do not let them hear of what we are doing or we will fail. That is all for now. Here are the handbills I have printed.” Dionysis handed them a stack of individual papers, each printed with a single word: RESIST. “They are simple,” he continued. “Resist we will and resist we must.”

  The men nodded, and stuffed the handbills under their shirts so they were hidden to the outside world. The men knew that getting caught with these simple papers would be risky. Dionysis slowly opened the hut door and released the men one by one, watching them slink into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly as they had arrived. Alone once more, Dionysis sat at the table and turned on the small transistor radio, in the hopes of catching some useful information. Already the war was beginning to wear him down, but he could not stop now. Too many people were depending on him.

  ~

  Elena left Athena home with her mother and went to the nearest village for supplies. Her wicker basket was hung over her arm and she whistled as she walked, her bare feet kicking up the dust on the road. Zakynthos’s winter had finally departed and she was enjoying watching the flowers and trees bloom. Birds were flying again and the sea was a calm crystal blue. As she enjoyed the beauty of the morning, she heard the dull rumbling of a vehicle behind her. Turning, she saw an Italian truck heading towards her. Quickly she ran behind a hedge to hide, praying it would pass quickly. As it neared she heard it slow, and her heart thudded. Moments later an Italian soldier appeared next to her.

  “Why do you run and hide?” he demanded.

  Elena lifted her head to look at him, and was shocked to see Pietro.

  “Elena?” he reached out his hand to help her to her feet.

  “Thank you. I am sorry, but I do not trust your men. I heard a terrible story the other day. A girl was walking home and she was not quick enough to hide and your men, they forced themselves on her and did unspeakable things to her.”

  “They were not my men, piccolina. I would never allow that. I am sorry that you do not trust us. We only have your best interests at heart.”

  “Our best interests?” Elena could only laugh. “You keep us here like caged animals, prisoners on our own island, with so many rules. People are starving and barely have enough food to feed their children, they have no medicine when they need it, and yet your army eats well and drink the bars dry. That is not best interests, that is enslavement!”

  She stormed along the hedge back to the road. Pietro ran to catch up with her.

  “Let me help you, Elena. Let me protect you.”

  She whirled around to face him, seething with a thundercloud of hatred. “Protect me! You could never protect me, Pietro, and I refuse to live by the rules of your uniform, or anyone’s for that matter.”

  Pietro sighed. She was a feisty one, and he knew that she could get him into so much trouble if he let her, but he could not help it. He wanted her in his life. “My darling, beautiful, strong, Elena, you have captured my heart, and I mourn every day that I do not see you. Be mine.” He ran his hand down her cheek to the nape of her neck. His eyes, locked with hers, never wavered for a moment and he pulled her to him.

  Elena felt like she was caught in a spell. Her brain was telling her to run, but her legs refused and she was unable to move. For the second time, the enemy’s lips found hers and for the second time she surrendered unwillingly. Moments later, her head won out and she pushed him away and glared at him in defiance.

  “Do not ever touch me again!”

  This time Pietro allowed her to storm off. He would break her down. It may take some time, but she would be his eventually. He would make damn sure of it one way or another.

  ~

  Sitting in the square with her parents, Elena bounced Athena on her knee. The child was growing fast now, not only was she walking she had begun to talk. It was rare that Elena got to relax with her family and daughter; there was always something that needed doing in the house. Today was a public holiday and many islanders were enjoying a day away from normal life. The Italians constantly walked at the edge of their lives, but they chose to ignore the soldiers and enjoy their day. A young boy weaved his way through the chairs, quietly begging for food scraps, but most people shooed him away before he even had a chance to ask. Elena caught his eye and motioned to him. He wandered over and smiled broadly.

  “Here have this,” Elena said, holding out a small piece of baklava. She had really been looking forward to eating it when she got home, but his need was greater than hers.

  The boy grinned and thanked her and, in a swift movement that barely caught the eye, he swiped the sweet cake and deposited a folded piece of paper into her hand before running into the crowd.

  Confused, Elena dropped her hands to her lap. Cautiously she looked about, but no one was watching her so she slowly opened the piece of paper. It had one word on it, RESIST. Panicked, she re-folded it and placed it in her dress pocket. Unnerved, she checked around to see if anyone had seen her read it but the celebrations continued as normal.

  “Are you okay?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, but I think I have a headache coming.”

  “Leave Athena with us, and go and get some rest.”

  “Okay.” It was the chance she needed. She left the village and walked back towards her house. Before she reached it, she felt a tug at her arm and an icy cold shiver travelled the length of her body. Slowly she turned, expecting the worst, but it was only the grinning boy from the square. He placed his finger to his lips and beckoned for her to follow him. Unsure of what to do, she checked left and right, but the street was empty. They were completely alone. The boy beckoned again, so she gave in and followed. Walking silently up the long deserted street, they eventually reached a small church.

  The boy opened the door and gently pushed her inside. The door closed softly behind her and she found herself alone. Nervously she stepped forward and walked along the chilly stone floor. Everything in the building felt cold to the touch and the church was dark and gloomy. As she reached the front, she saw a man sitting in the shadows, praying. A whisper came from him that she could barely hear.

  “Sit behind me, Elena, and pretend you are worshipping.”

  Elena did as instructed. She could not see the man’s face, but knew he was Greek by the clothes he was wearing and his thick accented voice.

  “You took our propaganda. I am impressed. I knew you would after seeing you in Zakynthos Town. You watched us from the street corner before going back to see what we had written. You are a brave woman. I have heard how you stood up to Loukas Sarkis over the years. We need someone like you.”

  “Someone like me? Why?”

  “You are a woman. You are brave and you know a lot about the Sarkis family from your affair with Loukas’s son. You are very valuable to our cause.”

  “Your cause? What is your cause?”

  “We cannot discuss that here. It is too dangerous. Meet one of my men w
here the road splits between Anafonitria and Volimes, at midnight tonight. He will know you. Now you must leave.”

  “But I...”

  “Go! I will answer all your questions tonight.”

  Elena obeyed him and ran from the church as quickly as she could. The sunlight was bright and she blinked repeatedly as her eyes adjusted to the light. Her heart was pounding and she had no idea what had just happened. She ran home as quickly as she could. Once there, she lay on her bed and replayed the conversation over and over in her head. They said they needed her, but for what purpose she had no idea. All she could do was meet them and see what happened.

  ~

  Elena had eventually drifted off to sleep. When she awoke it was dark. Slipping from bed, she padded through the small house to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of water and ate a hunk of bread dipped in olive oil. She glanced at the small clock, which read eleven pm. One hour. She sat and drummed her fingers on the table. Should she do as the man asked? Should she go and meet his colleague? What if it was all an elaborate trap by the Italians? What if Loukas Sarkis wanted her out of the way once and for all, and had created some evil scheme to have her arrested or killed? Her brain went into overdrive, and she gave herself a good talking to. The only way she would know was by meeting the man and finding out what he wanted. To hell with it all, she would go and deal with the consequences later.

  Elena grabbed her shawl, made sure Athena was fast asleep, then sneaked from the house and ran along the lane to a break in the hedge. She knew the island so well that getting to her location unseen was easy. She traversed fields and back roads, with only a hint of moon to guide her way. She felt the thrill of being out during curfew and the excitement of being free to roam flooded through her.

  Just a few minutes before midnight, she arrived at the meeting point. There was no one there, so she remained hidden in the undergrowth watching, listening. A few moments later, she saw a man run across the road and hide under a small tree. He was definitely Greek. She looked around to make sure they were truly alone and ran across to meet him.