Aphrodite's Island (5 page)

Things are getting worse. First the attack at the Ledra, then the battle at Soli. Now the latest news is that two British soldiers have been gunned down in broad daylight while out window-shopping. Is it possible that Christmas might bring a time of peace? No, that is a foolish hope.

Yesterday I met Stephen at the cave as usual. We have been meeting three or four times a week, although we know we are both taking a terrible risk. So that we can have more time together, I have been slipping away from school during the lunch hour. I tell them various stories: that I am unwell, that I have to visit a sick relative, that I am going to the library to do some research. The times are so disturbed, with the whole school in upheaval with meetings and demonstrations, that no one has paid much attention to my absences – yet, but I don’t know how much longer it can go on.

After we had made love, Stephen said, ‘My darling, it is going to be difficult for me to meet you so often from now on. There’s going to be a crackdown on security. It’s not just the shootings the other day. Bombs have been thrown into three bars in the city. We’ve been instructed that from now on we have to go around in pairs for protection. I’ve managed to convince my superiors that I am following up some useful Intelligence contacts, who would be frightened off if I showed up with another soldier, but it’s getting harder.’ He sighed and sat up, running his hand over his hair.
‘The problem is, I don’t actually have any information to give them. I’m going to have to justify all the time I’ve been spending away from base somehow.’

I thought of the weapons hidden in the back of the cave. He had never shown any sign of wanting to explore and I had begun to forget my anxiety. Now it struck me that I had the means at hand to provide him with exactly the kind of information that his superiors wanted. After all, I hate what the men of EOKA are doing. The loss of the rifles and grenades in the inner chamber might mean that lives would be saved on both sides. A word from me and Stephen would regain the confidence of his superiors and his freedom of movement. The temptation was so strong that it made me tremble, but in the same instant I knew I had to resist it. It would be an act of betrayal that might lead the authorities straight to my own brothers.

Demetrios is dead! No one will tell me exactly how it happened. Father will only say that he and Iannis were ‘on active service’. Iannis has disappeared, gone into hiding somewhere. Demetrios, my gentle brother who never wished harm to any living creature, is dead. Is this part of my punishment? I have betrayed my people and disgraced my family. I always knew that I should have to suffer for my wickedness – but why should my brother suffer too?

Today I went to the cave, hoping that Stephen would come to find me. I have to speak to him! As soon as I left the main path I knew what had happened. There were footprints, broken branches, spent ammunition littering the ground. I understood then how Demetrios died. But I had said nothing! I never breathed the faintest hint to Stephen, and he cannot have suspected what was hidden in the darkness at the back of the place where we made love. So it must have been pure chance that someone else discovered the hiding place. Unless he was followed – or I was. Did I, after all, betray my brother?

There was a sentry posted at the mouth of the cave and other men sitting inside. I suppose they were waiting to see if anyone else comes to look for the weapons. Fools! Every member of EOKA will have heard about their loss by now. But it means I can never meet Stephen there again and I do not know where else to find him. He no longer comes to have his lesson with my father on Sundays. That finished months ago, when the security situation got so bad. The troops no longer stroll around the streets of Nicosia as they used to. They drive round in their jeeps, rifles at the ready. It is impossible to arrange what might look like a casual
encounter. Yet I must contrive some way of speaking to him – and soon!

As if this isn’t enough, the school has finally become
suspicious
. The headmaster has written to my father, asking why I have missed so many lessons. I told my parents that I had lost patience with my teachers, who seem not to care about the struggle for independence, and was spending my time helping to write leaflets and organize demonstrations with other activists among my classmates. My father pretended to reprimand me but I could see that he was not really angry. I have been careful in the last few months not to speak against
enosis
and he is glad to think that I have accepted the error of my previous opinions. So, I have deceived him in yet another way and if he ever asks any of the real activists from the Gymnasium what I have been doing he will learn that. But what is that compared with the greater sin I have committed and for which my punishment is only just beginning?

Demetrios is dead and I am pregnant!

The guard at the gate of the British army camp did not want to let me in. I told him that I was a friend of Lieutenant Allenby, but he said it was against his orders to let anyone pass. I begged and pleaded. It went against my pride, but I was desperate. Then I had an idea. I told him that I had been acting as an informant for the lieutenant and that I had something vital to tell him. He made a phone call then, and I thought he was speaking to Stephen. When he told me to follow another soldier into the camp, I thought my problems were over. I would see Stephen and explain to him and he would look after me. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew he would take care of me.

Instead of taking me to Stephen, the man led me to an office and I found myself facing a man in a colonel’s uniform. He had grey hair and a grey face with not a trace of kindness in it.

‘You have information? Well?’

I drew myself up and tried to speak with dignity, although my
legs were trembling.

‘I need to speak to Lieutenant Allenby. My information is for him.’

‘If you have information which may be of use in the current emergency, then you must give it to me. If not, you had better be on your way.’

It was no good! His coldness and his overbearing manner were too much for me. I began to cry. I told him that Stephen and I were lovers and that now I was expecting his child. I said that Stephen did not know this and that I must tell him.

That man! He was a monster, not a human being. He sat behind his desk and looked at me as if I was a slut from the slums of Famagusta.

‘My dear girl, if you have been foolish enough to get yourself into this predicament that is something for you to sort out with your family. The British army cannot take responsibility for your bastard. Lieutenant Allenby has behaved very stupidly, and he will be dealt with accordingly. But there is no question of your being allowed to see him. I suggest you go home and make a clean breast of things to your parents. Good day.’

A moment later I found myself being led back along the corridor. I was shaking all over and I could not control my tears, although I was ashamed for the soldiers to see me like that. At the gate the sentry jerked his head towards the road and told me curtly to ‘push off’. I understood that he had reason to hate my people, but still I wondered how he could be so callous when he must have seen my distress.

Once out of the camp I walked for a long time without thinking where I was going, until I found myself on the beach. The sea was angry and the waves thundered against the shore. A fine rain was falling and I realized for the first time that I was wet through and shivering with cold. I looked at the sea and contemplated walking straight into the waves. How could I go home and tell my mother and father what had happened to me? It was bad enough that I had allowed myself to become pregnant out of wedlock
but that the father was a British soldier, a representative of the hated enemy who were occupying our island, was unforgivable. Moreover, he was a man who had represented himself as a friend of the whole family. He and Demetrios had gone bird watching together. The thought of my brother dragged me deeper into my misery. Demetrios had been killed in an ambush outside the very cave that Stephen and I had used as our meeting place. When that came out, as I knew it must eventually, Iannis would immediately conclude that it was I who had betrayed them. I would be branded a traitor as well as a whore. I would be lucky to escape with my life. I looked again at the sea. I believe if it had been a calm day I should have walked into the water and let it take me but the fury of the waves terrified me. I remembered that my father was a good man and that he had always loved me. I knew that I had forfeited that love forever but I had to trust that his goodness would not allow him to have me killed, along with the child I carried. I turned away and began to trudge back towards the city.

‘Stephen Allenby?’

Stephen stopped short, feeling the familiar tingle down his spine that spelt ‘trouble’. His first thought was that this was the parent of one of his pupils, lying in wait for him to complain about the fact that his boy had been disciplined. He had heard plenty of stories from colleagues of being shouted at and even threatened by irate fathers. But a second glance dispelled that idea. Stephen had not lost his journalist’s eye for detail and ability to sum up and categorize people at first sight. The man standing by his car had close-cropped grey hair. His clothes were clearly intended to look casual – blazer and cavalry twill trousers – but only
succeeded
in giving the impression that he would have been happier in a suit, or in uniform, perhaps. There was something about the set of his shoulders that said ex-military.

‘Yes?’ he agreed cautiously.

The man reached into an inner pocket and produced a card. ‘My name’s Warrender. I wonder if we could have a word in private.’

Stephen looked at the card. It said, ‘Matthew Warrender, Personnel Solutions,’ and gave an address in the City. ‘What about?’

‘It’s not something I want to discuss standing in the car park. Suffice it to say that I have a proposal to make that I think will interest you. Is there somewhere we could go? It’s too early for the pub, unfortunately. Somewhere we could get a cup of tea, perhaps?’

Stephen scrutinized his face. His expression was bland and
friendly. ‘Look, if you’re trying to sell me a time-share or something, I’m afraid you are wasting your time.’

The stranger laughed briefly. ‘It’s nothing like that, I assure you.’

Caution suggested that it would be wise to refuse the invitation but Stephen’s curiosity was piqued. Once upon a time, sensing a story, he would not have hesitated.

‘All right. There’s a café across the road. It’s a bit of a greasy spoon but I’m afraid that’s the best we can do round here.’

Neither of them spoke as Stephen led the way through the early rush-hour traffic. In the café they found a corner table well away from the half-dozen or so elderly women and overalled workmen who made up the rest of the clientele. Warrender went to the counter and came back with two mugs of tea and a couple of bath buns.

As he sat down Stephen said, ‘How did you know my name? And where to find me?’

‘We’ve had our eyes on you for some time. You see, we think you have the expertise and the background that we’re looking for.’

‘What sort of expertise?’

‘You used to be a journalist, didn’t you?’

‘So?’

‘And you have spent time in Cyprus.’

The tingle was back down Stephen’s spine. ‘Many years ago, yes.’

‘I imagine that you still take an interest in what is going on out there. In which case, it will not have escaped your attention that trouble is brewing again. You were there during the EOKA rising. Did you know that EOKA has been re-formed? They are calling themselves EOKA B and the old agitation for
enosis
is back on the agenda.’

‘I had read something in the papers about that, yes.’

‘Right. Well, my clients are looking for someone who would be prepared to go out there, on a long-term basis, and send back
in-depth reports.’

‘Your clients?’

‘I’m not at liberty to divulge who it is at the moment. I seem to remember that you reported for several of the quality
broadsheets
, back in the day. All I am asking at the moment is whether you are sufficiently interested to come to a formal interview. At that point I should be able to be much more explicit.’

Once again, Stephen studied the other man’s face. He knew that if any of the papers he had once worked for wanted him back on the staff the invitation would have come in an informal telephone call. There was something else going on here – but what?

‘What did you mean by long term?’ he asked.

‘That’s hard to define. A year? Maybe longer. You can be assured of one thing. My clients are prepared to pay quite well – better than the average teacher’s salary, anyway. And, of course, your family could accompany you. You have a small daughter, I believe.’

Stephen knew he should end the conversation there. These people, whoever they were, knew too much about him. But he was being offered the chance to get away from London, from a job he had never liked and now hated more with every passing day. Above all, he was being offered the chance to go back to Cyprus. The temptation was too much.

‘When would this interview take place? And where?’

‘You have the address there.’ Warrender indicated the card which Stephen had laid beside his saucer. ‘As for when … I presume you can’t get away during school hours. How would 5 p.m. the day after tomorrow suit you?’

Stephen hesitated, drew a breath, and said, ‘OK. Five o’clock it is.’ He put the card in his pocket and rose. ‘Thanks for the tea.’

Warrender smiled. ‘My pleasure.’

Driving home, Stephen told himself he was being a fool, but he could not dismiss the throb of excitement in the pit of his stomach – an excitement he had not experienced for years. It would be good for all of them, he told himself. God knew, they needed a change!

As he stepped through the front door, his small daughter threw herself at him and clung to his legs. Her face was red and streaked with tears. He bent down and lifted her into his arms.

‘What’s the matter, Cressy? Don’t cry, darling. Tell Daddy what’s wrong.’

‘Mummy cross. Mummy shout at Cressy! Horrid Mummy!’

‘No, you mustn’t say that. If Mummy’s cross with you I expect it’s for a good reason. You must have done something wrong.’

‘Didn’t! Didn’t!’ The small face creased up and the tears began to flow again.

Stephen felt an all-too-familiar sinking at his heart. ‘Come on. Let’s go and see what Mummy has to say.’

Laura was in the kitchen. Stephen took in the half-smoked cigarette on the ashtray and the opened bottle of wine on the kitchen table. Almost half of it was gone and the kitchen was in a fog of tobacco and the smoke from pork chops being fried in too hot a pan. The radio was playing ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree’.

She said, ‘Oh, you’re back then.’

‘Yes. Sorry I’m a bit late. I got held up.’

‘Oh yes? Little Miss Blue-eyes needed a shoulder to cry on, did she?’

‘Miss Blue-eyes’ was Laura’s name for a young teacher who had recently joined the staff in Stephen’s department. She was having a difficult first year and he had gone out of his way to help her, but Laura insisted on construing his kindness as the beginning of an affair. Stephen controlled his temper and said evenly, ‘No. It was nothing to do with school, actually. I’ll tell you about it later. Why are you angry with Cressida?’

Laura looked round. ‘Oh, Daddy’s girl’s been telling tales again, has she? You ought to know better. She turns it on like a tap, as soon as she sees you. You spoil her, that’s the trouble.’

‘No, I think she’s genuinely upset. What happened?’

‘Nothing! It’s all very well for you, swanning in expecting your meal to be on the table. I’ve had a hard day at school, too, you
know. And then I have to pick Madam up from the childminder, and she’s done nothing but whine and grizzle ever since we got home.
“Play with me! Play with me!”
As if I had time!’

‘That’s not fair, Laura!’ he protested. ‘I don’t swan in expecting my meal to be on the table. Very often I do the cooking. And Cressida only wants a bit of your time and attention. After all, she doesn’t see you all day.’

Laura slammed plates into the oven. ‘That’s right! It’s all my fault. I knew it would be. It was your idea that I should go back to work.’

‘I only suggested it because you seemed miserable stuck at home all day.’

‘Anyone with half a mind would be miserable stuck here with no one to talk to except a toddler. You should try it one day!’

‘So that’s why I thought you might be happier if you went back to work. Come on, Laura! You can’t have it both ways.’

She put down the pan of potatoes she was draining and sat at the table. ‘I can’t have it any way! I’m wrong whatever I do.’

He set Cressida down on her feet and went to put his arm round his wife. ‘No, you’re not. You’re just tired. We both are. Come on. Let’s get the dinner on the table and then I’ve got something to tell you.’

He reached across and re-tuned the radio. The chimes of Big Ben vibrated around the kitchen.

‘Oh, why can’t you leave it alone?’ Laura exclaimed.

‘I want to listen to the news.’

‘I can’t think why. It’s the same every evening. I’m sick to death of hearing about Nixon and Watergate, strikes, prices going up, Edward Heath moaning on—’

‘Hush!’ Stephen said sharply. ‘Just listen a minute.’

The announcer was saying, ‘In Athens today it was announced that the Greek junta which has been in control of the country since the revolution has abolished the monarchy and declared Greece a republic.’

‘Well, hurrah for them!’ Laura said, with a hint of sarcasm.

‘You don’t mean that! The colonels’ regime is one of the most repressive in Europe. It depends on the secret police and the use of torture to maintain itself.’

She looked at him with an expression of affectionate mockery that reminded him of the old Laura. ‘OK, calm down. I know the Greeks are your special pets.’

‘I love Greece. I love the country and I love its history. And it sickens me to think of what is going on there now. But there’s something else …’ He fell silent as he took in the possible implications. If EOKA was rearing its ugly head again, this news could only encourage it. He took the plate that Laura held out to him. ‘Come on. We need to talk. There’s something I want to tell you.’

Two days later Stephen presented himself at the address on Warrender’s card, which turned out to be an anonymous office block just off the Strand. A board in the foyer directed him to the fourth floor and a secretary in an outer office ushered him through to the inner room. Inside the door, Stephen came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly everything was becoming clearer. Warrender was standing by the window but it was the man who rose from behind the desk who jolted Stephen back twenty years.

‘Major Henshaw!’ It was all he could do not to come to attention.

Henshaw came round the desk smiling, his hand extended. ‘Not major any more. I left the service years ago. Good to see you, Stephen.’

‘How are you, sir?’ Stephen asked as they shook hands, struggling for the right social tone.

‘Pretty well, all things considered. And you?’

‘Not bad – all things considered.’

‘Have a seat.’ Henshaw waved him to an easy chair near the window and took one opposite him. ‘You’ve met Matthew, of course. Have a drink. Scotch?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Ah, no, of course not. Something else? Tea? Coffee?’

‘Coffee would be good.’

Henshaw signed to Warrender, who busied himself at a side table where a coffee machine stood beside a collection of bottles. Henshaw leaned back in his chair, a glass of whisky in his hand.

‘Well, you’ll be wondering what all this is about. The fact is, we think you may be able to help us.’

‘Why me?’ Stephen asked. ‘How did you know where I was?’

‘You won’t realize it, of course, but we’ve been keeping a fatherly eye on you ever since you left the army.’

‘Why? What on earth for?’

‘Your activities in Cyprus gave us cause for concern, for a start. You allowed yourself to become involved with a family that was in the forefront of the EOKA terrorist organization, while ostensibly working for British Military Intelligence.’

‘I had no idea they were terrorists! My only interest was in –’

‘In the young lady concerned. Yes, we came to that conclusion in the end. Your efforts to track her down when you were finally demobbed convinced us.’

‘You knew about that?’

‘We knew that you went straight back to Cyprus and then to Athens. We even knew that you paid a private detective to track her down – but to no avail.’

‘Her father had married her off to some family friend. I didn’t even know her married name.’

‘Probably the best outcome, under the circumstances. Anyway, we lost sight of you for a while after that, until we started to read articles by you in some of the quality papers. It was obvious that you had a knack of turning up wherever there was trouble brewing and worming your way into the confidence of the people involved. We were particularly impressed by your despatches from Vietnam, for example. You have a way of getting to the heart of matters. It’s a great pity that you finally succumbed to the trap that ensnares so many foreign correspondents, stuck in hotel rooms far from home.’ Henshaw held up his glass so that the evening sunlight coming through the window turned its contents to liquid gold.

‘That’s all in the past,’ Stephen said sharply. ‘I’ve been clean for five years now.’

‘We know that, and I applaud you for your strength of mind. And for finding a new career. But,’ Henshaw leaned forward, holding the glass between his knees, ‘I must admit that I find it hard to believe that the humdrum routine of a schoolteacher’s life really suits you.’

Stephen hesitated. This was too close to the truth for comfort. He said, ‘I’m not ideally suited to it. Perhaps I’m not very good at it.’

‘But you were a very good foreign correspondent. Wouldn’t you like to go back to that life?’

‘I have a wife and child to support.’

‘Ah yes. Laura, isn’t it? I seem to remember that she was involved in the anti-Vietnam war protests.’

‘Do you keep tabs on everyone?’

‘Only those who bring themselves to our attention. A war reporter and an anti-war protester. Isn’t that a rather unusual alliance?

‘Not at all. I’ve seen enough of war to hate everything about it.’

‘I take your point. So you will be all the more anxious to help us avoid future conflicts. To get back to my previous point. Wouldn’t you like to get back to what you do best, as a journalist?’

‘Ideally, yes. But no one would employ me now.’

‘Oh, I think that could be arranged. Let me put my cards on the table. We are concerned about developments in Cyprus. We want someone out there who knows the people and speaks the language, someone who was familiar with the old EOKA, who can report back on what these new chaps are intending. How do you fancy being based out there?’