‘Please! Parakalo! Someone take me to Taxos!’ I pulled down my woollen hat, but a gust of wind nearly yanked it back. The third taxi driver I asked shook his head at me from his car. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. Aarghh! Why not? After a four-hour flight and three-hour time difference, it was six o’clock in the morning, and I wanted my bed, preferably with Niko in it.
Suddenly, I felt re-energised at the thought of proving to him that my love had never waned. And I had lots to tell him – on the flight over a plan had popped into my head; the perfect challenge for me that would satisfy my inquisitive mind and benefit Taxos.
‘But why? Problem?’ I said and shrugged. Perhaps the taxi drivers were waiting for better fares.
‘No good. Taxos…boats…busy, busy.’ He made a funny sign with his hands, flipping them over. Was that supposed to be a giant fish? Had a whale beached on the shore? What on earth was he talking about? Busy? It was Sunday. Soon everyone would be in church. I thought for a moment. Was there some event on today in Taxos, for Christmas Eve? No. I would have known about it.
Head in hands, I sat on my luggage. Don’t tell me about busy – I had scones to bake for Christmas Day tomorrow and the fair next week. Fortunately I’d paid extra for shops to wrap all the gifts I’d bought back in England, but that would only make a small dent in the list of things I had to do today.
Someone whistled. I looked up and the taxi driver got out of his car. He tossed his cigarette butt on the street.
‘Okay. Okay. See how we go.’
‘Efharisto.’ I beamed. That was a start. I could drop my luggage at Mum and Dad’s villa on the outskirts and walk in, to see what all the fuss was about. The fresh air would do me good. Despite this unyielding gale, the temperature seemed positively tropical compared to London. As the car drove through the darkness, I texted Niko again. A call to the taverna followed. Then I messaged Pandora. Nothing.
Oh no…the hairs on the back of my neck jumped to attention as an ambulance zoomed past. I’d never been more frustrated that my spoken Greek was so bad. I swallowed and turned around to watch the vehicle speed into the distance. I bit my thumbnail, the breaths escaping my chest now all jerky. What if something dreadful really had happened? At least that might mean Niko hadn’t just been ignoring me. Why oh why hadn’t I listened to my instincts earlier and searched online for news about Kos? I turned back and took out my phone again. I touched the internet icon. Urgh. It couldn’t connect out here in the open.
‘Taxos…accident?’ I said to the driver and struggled to keep my voice from shaking.
He nodded; said something about escaping. Perhaps, for some reason, the villagers had to evacuate their homes at a moment’s notice. That would explain their silence, if they’d left their phones behind in the panic. I perched on the edge of my seat, as if willing the taxi to accelerate. What if something had happened to Niko? I blinked rapidly but there was little point in crying, I’d be no good to anyone and right now they might need a good dose of optimism.
I inhaled and exhaled several times, still gazing out of the window. Palm trees ducked and swayed. Finally the taxi came to my parents’ villa. I practically threw my case into the hallway, locked up and started to run through the pine forest. Dawn teased the skyline. Lights illuminated the village, coming from ambulances, fire engines and houses.
Houses? So that meant not everyone had been forced to leave their homes. Sprinting now, I reached where the road forked into three. I slipped past a group of firemen who were attending to a group of people wrapped up in silver foil blankets, wet rucksacks at their feet. Paramedics milled around their neon vehicles. I ran down the centre street, first of all stopping to go into Pandora’s bakery.
‘Anyone here?’ I shouted.
No one replied. How odd that she’d left the door unlocked. The Fish Taverna was empty as well. A group of foreigners sat in the Olive Tree restaurant with blankets around their shoulders, some of them on their phones. As the sun continued to rise, rays shot horizontally across the town. Now out of breath, I neared Taxos Taverna. My eyes narrowed. Strewn across the distant shoreline bobbed huge planks of wood, floating orange life-jackets and tens of policemen. Villagers milled around, people hollered and …my palms felt sweaty. Of course. New refugees.
New refugees, dripping wet, with wide-eyed expressions. I recalled the taxi driver trying to explain, tipping his hands sideways. A boatload of Syrians must have overturned. For a few moments I stood fixed to the spot, as if my legs were lamp posts. Refugees travelling here from Turkey in December? Were they mad? Not mad, just scared and desperate, replied a voice in my head. My chest relaxed a little as it sank in that the village hadn’t been on fire or flooded. I tore my gaze away from the shore and hurried into Taxos Taverna.
‘Niko? Sophia? Anyone?’
Shuffling footsteps came down, from upstairs. A tear-stained, wrinkled face with wispy hair tied back appeared. Grandma held out her arms.
‘Pippa? You came back. Come here, my little peach.’
I ran over and bent down to give her a tight hug. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Now tell me, what’s wrong? What’s happened? I got here as quickly as I could. My flight was delayed. How’s Niko? I can’t wait to see him – explain that—’
‘Slow down,’ she said as we parted. I pulled a chair from the nearby table, took off my hat and loosened my scarf.
‘Have you had anything to eat or drink?’
‘Yes. On the plane. I’m fine. Please, just tell me, what’s going on? Please just tell me – is Niko all right?’
Grandma sat down opposite and put a hand on my arm. ‘Yesterday morning. Very early. Some refugees got into trouble, trying to land on our island. They came in big dinghies…’ Grandma rolled her eyes and muttered something in Greek. ‘Niko had just got back from the airport. We hadn’t even had time to ask where you were. Screams came from the sea. Slowly villagers surfaced with torches. The wind really picked up after you left. They should never have ventured onto the ocean at this time of year.’
I shook my head. ‘Why would they cross in such treacherous conditions?’
‘We asked the same. Our climate has been so mild this last week or two, that despite the weather warnings of gales they thought it would be okay. The gusts blew them off course and further down this side of the island than expected. Their dinghies overturned. All strong locals dived in to help them, until the police arrived.’
‘Travelling here at night? That’s a deathwish.’
‘They used to come here during the day. But the dark is their friend, now, in the face of more alert authorities – helps them prevent the Turkish police see them leave; prevents ours spotting them early and escorting them back.’
Hands trembling a little, I unbuttoned my coat. ‘No doubt Niko was one of the first down to the beach.’ My strong hero. Or course he would have been. And…and of course he’d now be okay.
‘Naturally.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘And Stefan. Christos. Demetrios, Yanis and Cosmo. Postie and his wife. Little Theo Dellis’ parents too. Older people or poor swimmers hunted out blankets and made flasks of hot drinks. Sophia fetched the doctor.’
‘Did all the refugees get to shore safely?’ Silly, wasn’t it? For some reason I delayed asking the same question about my fiancé.
Grandma’s eyes filled. ‘No. Two got tangled in seaweed and dinghy rope.’ She shook her head. ‘You should have seen these people – all so cold, they hardly had the strength to crawl ashore, let alone fight if they got into trouble. Niko did his best but only brought back bodies.’
Bile scorched the back of my throat. Poor travellers. Poor Niko.
‘That’s terrible.’ I blinked rapidly again. ‘If only I’d been here too. I can swim and know first aid. Me and my stupid trip to London. So where are the survivors now?’
‘In a makeshift camp in the school. Yesterday afternoon, we all recovered. Plus hunted out spare clothes for the Syrians and handed out what food we could.’
‘Everyone’s been supportive? I guess, after recent months, people could be forgiven for losing patience with the refugee situation.’
Grandma wrung her hands. ‘Seeing their terror so close-hand, witnessing death…at the moment, the villagers are in shock – just want to help. We don’t have much in Taxos, but these refugees starting from itch.’
‘From scratch,’ I muttered, these bits of information swirling in my head. ‘Has the mayor been over?’
She nodded. ‘Stavros immediately set about getting camp beds in for them. I believe he has headed back to Kos Town to start the big job of paperwork.’
‘But it’s Christmas Eve.’
‘Yes, but these people cannot stay here. It takes three weeks for the paperwork to come through. Living in Germany or England is all they talk of. Only too well Kos knows the problems if they stay – the litter and constant requests for food and electricity to charge their phones, the fighting …also at this time of year it is too cold for them to manage out in the open, so they must all have proper shelter and that gets expensive… It sounds harsh, but the quicker they go, the better, he said.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps it is good to have someone in charge who can distance themselves from the emotion of what has happened, and consider practicalities for the future.’
I leant back in my chair for a few moments then cleared my throat. ‘I go away for just two days and all this happens. I can’t believe it. The sea crossing must have been terrifying.’ I shook my head. ‘So…what has Niko told you about London?’ This subject was safer territory because I didn’t like the expression on Grandma’s face. I didn’t like the way she hadn’t reassured me that Niko was safe – that we’d still be getting married this Friday.
Indeed she still wrung her hands, as if she hadn’t shared all the news, then sat up straighter and took out her handkerchief to dab her usually fiery cinnamon eyes. ‘Not much, which means he’s really upset.’
‘We…just had a silly argument.’
‘He wouldn’t discuss it – only hinted that you had really missed the London life.’
‘Why didn’t anyone reply to my texts? I rang in the evening, when you had that family visiting for a fiftieth birthday.’
Grandma’s eyes filled again. Oh God. I really was going to be sick; couldn’t avoid it any longer. ‘What is it you’re not telling me?
‘Late afternoon more refugees arrived.’ Her voice broke. ‘This time in a large boat provided by traffickers. It capsized in almost exactly the same place, where the ocean swelled.’
I didn’t budge for a few seconds, struggling to absorb what she’d said. That explained all the broken-up wood I’d seen on the shore. A shiver ran down my spine. Grandma didn’t meet my gaze until she suddenly looked up, lips pursed. ‘The trafficking gangs in Bodrum should be charged with murder.’
And then the most unexpected thing happened to strong feisty Grandma – the loudest sob escaped her lips.
‘Iris?’ I said urgently, and took her shaking hands in mine. An icy sensation filled my chest, like a sinister fog looking to expand into every spare centimetre of space.
She shook herself. Steadied her hands and blew her nose. ‘Some people are still missing,’ she said. ‘Part of the boat smashed on the rocks.’
My throat ached. Don’t ask. Then it won’t be true. It can’t be a possibility. Now my hands shook, instead of Grandma’s. She squeezed them both whilst the last few months flashed before my eyes…Niko cheering me, the first time I caught a fish. Us drinking ouzo late one night, and dancing with Sophia and Georgios. Me waking early and staring at the lopsided smile he somehow wore whilst he slept. Him shouting as I chased him around the kitchen with ice-cubes directed at his open shirt.
‘I’m sorry, Pippa. Niko is one of them. We haven’t seen him since he insisted on going back into the sea to help once more.’
My vision blurred. Then everything went black. A shot of bile broke into my mouth. I almost ran to the bathroom, but refocused just in time to stop myself and swallowed hard. My fists curled as a need for information overwhelmed me. Me lead a life without Niko? No! That would be like a living death.
‘When exactly was he last seen?’ I whispered.
‘About four hours ago. He’d pulled several people to shore. The wind hadn’t eased and he fought against the waves again, after I gave him some strong black coffee out of our flasks. Georgios swears he saw Niko reach the wreck, but it is difficult to say for certain. Helicopters directed search lights on the upturned vessel, but you know how pitch black the Taxos night is.’
‘Where are the helicopters now? They haven’t…given up?’ My head seemed to spin for a second and I held onto the table. ‘What if he…?’ I forced back a sob, refusing to actually say those terrible words out loud.
Grandma took a breath. ‘Niko is now the only person missing. Three bodies were recovered – one Afghan and two young Syrians. After that the helicopter was called to a boat further north. It seems the traffickers really took advantage of the mild December we’d been having.’ She rubbed my arm. ‘It will be all right. It has to be,’ she whispered. ‘Have faith. I stay here, in case he turns up at the taverna.’ She didn’t flinch as a tear trickled down her cheek.
Body wavering, I pushed myself up and stumbled towards the door. This wasn’t happening. Me and Niko had planned our lives out – children, grandchildren, sitting on the beach in our eighties still laughing about stories from our mischievous childhood summers. And how might he have suffered? What if he was lying somewhere in excruciating pain? Or…? I gulped… Still struggling, all alone, against ruthless waves? I yanked open the door, almost tripping over my own feet as I hurtled into the street. Heart pumping, I ran down to the sand, grateful I knew the way so well as tears blurred my view.
‘Pippa?’ I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around.
‘Pandora.’ We hugged.
‘Come. I take you to Georgios and Sophia.’
Winding our way through the crowds, we headed towards Caretta Cove. Locals shot me sympathetic looks. Some patted my back. Cosmo slipped an arm around my shoulder and accompanied us as we headed over to Niko’s parents. They were chatting to a policeman. Rapid Greek conversation carried across with the wind. Georgios and Sophia broke off for a moment, to give me a hug. Then the policeman carried on.
‘Niko still not found,’ translated Pandora.
Cosmo squeezed my shoulder. ‘The villagers are dedicated to helping. Already a group have joined police to follow the coastline down to Tryrionitsa, to see if can find a… I mean–’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘To see if we can find Niko,’ interjected Pandora, firmly.
The three of us exchanged looks and then my matron of honour glared at the cycle shop owner. Cosmo had been about to say find a body.
Finally, the policeman left Niko’s parents. Heart-shaped face grey, Sophia held out her arms, just like Grandma had, and I fell forwards. We embraced.
‘What did the policeman say?’ I asked, an anger now building inside me. Body? No, we would not find a body. Niko was still alive. Of that I was sure, because if not, there was no way for my existence to move forwards. ‘Grandma explained to me what’s happened. Niko can’t just have disappeared. There has to be a logical explanation.’
Georgios took his wife’s hand. ‘We have to consider that Niko might have got caught underneath the wreck.’
Tears streamed down Sophia’s cheeks. ‘Some wood has been washed up. One piece has a large nail sticking out. On it was a large shred of material – with half a purple and green palm tree on it.’
My fists curled. ‘Niko’s shirt. The one I always pull a face over and call tacky?’ I threw my hands into the air and gulped. ‘Why did he have to risk his life, in this weather?’
No one answered. We all knew why. Niko had never been one for putting himself first. My mind flitted to the scars down his chest, from when he’d rescued me from jellyfish. Then last summer he’d been the first into the water to save the Dellis boys, who’d been swept out to sea on their lilos.
‘The police tried to stop him, Pippa,’ said Pandora, eyes shiny. ‘But a man with two children, on the beach, wailed that his wife was missing. Niko threw himself back into the water. As it turned out, the woman had just been saved and taken to an ambulance.’
I shot a look of disdain at the unforgiving sea, a distant ship coming into view as light splayed across the ocean. I turned up my collar and tightened my scarf. Niko had talked of the ocean being a strict aunt of his. Well she would not have Niko all to herself forever and ever. He could not die alone. He could not die without knowing that I worshipped him. My legs felt wobbly as I imagined the terror he must have felt. Not just terror at dying but of letting his family down…of leaving them to manage alone in this uncertain world. Selfless to the end, that was the kind of man my Greek lover was.
‘We must carry on looking,’ I said firmly. ‘Niko loves life. He is strong – would never give up.’
I made to leave, but Cosmo clutched my arm. Pandora raised an eyebrow at him. After a few seconds he nodded and let go. With wide strides, I aimed for our favourite shady spot, the fig tree by a dilapidated boat shed, just before Caretta Cove. I gazed up at its sprawling branches, barren without its mouth-watering fruits and broad leaves. “My juicy little fig” was what Niko used to call me – used to, before our big row in London, before this night of tragedy.
Finally, now all alone, I let out a sob. How could I carry on living without Niko there by my side, to keep me right about what really mattered, to give me kisses that made me feel like the most desirable and luckiest woman in the world? Without him I saw a future with no colour, like an old silent black and white movie reel. Meaningless and empty with no significant story to tell.
All bravado weakened for a second and my knees again turned to jelly. I slumped to the ground, running my fingers down the trunk. Sharply, I pulled my hand away as my thumb touched something wet.
Wet and sticky. Viscous. Smelling of iron. Blood? I wrinkled my nose and jumped to my feet. Grateful for the increasing morning light, I stared at the crimson stain on my hand. Then I noticed the imprint of something that had slithered through the sand, towards the old boat house. That must have been one big snake or crocodile or…an injured person.
Half-stumbling, I ran to the building and looked in. My heart sank. Nothing. I came back out and glanced down the left-hand side. A small red stain was visible on the ground. Whatever…whoever was bleeding, had clearly tried to crawl towards the village. I ran around the corner, at the back of the boat shed, and skidded to a halt. My hand flew up to my mouth. On the ground lay Niko, out cold, his caramel chest visible through an exposed, bloody shirt.