Leo sat beside Sasha Malkovic on a bench overlooking Corfu harbour. Almost two months had passed since their arrival and at last the rain had stopped and the sun was warm on her shoulders. In the crystalline air the rocky shores below them dropped sharply into sea that shaded from turquoise to sapphire, while the slopes above were silvered with olive groves and punctuated with the sharp exclamation marks of Cyprus trees.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said.
Sasha stirred and grunted. ‘Is it? For me, rocks and water and those twisted trees don’t constitute real beauty. That requires green pastures and tumbling rivers and rich orchards.’
Leo sighed. ‘I know. You’re pining for Serbia.’ She touched his sleeve. ‘Don’t give up hope. We will go back, one day.’
‘We?’ He looked at her.
‘Yes, of course. I miss it, too.’
He looked away again. ‘You should go home.’
‘Why? There’s nothing there that matters to me.’
‘What about your family? They must be worried about you.’
‘I have no family, except my brother’.
‘And your fiancé. What about him?’
The question gave her a shock. She had not mentioned Tom since meeting Sasha again. ‘You know about that?’
‘Naturally. You became quite a celebrity in Belgrade, when you were there. The local papers soon picked up on the announcement of your engagement. It did not come as a surprise. It was obvious that Tom was in love with you.’
‘You’re wrong!’ Leo exclaimed. ‘It was a ruse, a deception. I had to get out of Belgrade after … well, you know why. I was still under age and Ralph was my guardian. He would not allow me to go home alone, so Tom agreed to the engagement. It suited us both, but we never had any intention of marrying. You must know that! I could never have considered marrying anyone ….’
‘I assumed,’ he said, ‘that you had decided that marriage to an old friend would be preferable to the life of a single woman.’
She stared at him. ‘How could you think that? How could you believe that I would do something so … so venal? Did you really think that I was unable to face life independently, without a man to support me?’
He glanced at her and then away again. ‘What else was I to think?’ The tone was abrupt, but she saw the colour rising in his cheeks.
‘I thought you knew me better than that,’ she answered.
He was silent for a moment. Then he turned and took her hand. ‘Of course I should have done. Forgive me.’
‘I understand,’ she conceded. ‘It was a difficult time, for both of us.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand why Tom agreed to the deception.’
‘It suited us both. You were wrong to think he was in love with me. A platonic relationship was all he wanted. Tom has no interest in women.’
He looked surprised, even slightly shocked, and she realised that he was uncomfortable with the idea that she even knew about such matters. But he recovered himself and continued. ‘All the same, he must be worried about you – and your brother, too.’
‘I have written to both of them,’ she said. ‘But I assume they are both in France somewhere – that is if they are …’
He pressed her hand lightly. ‘We must hope for the best.’
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I have no idea how long my letters might take to reach them. I have not had any reply so far.’
‘There is still time,’ he said. ‘Don’t be downcast.’
The conversation had brought to her mind a subject she had been avoiding since their meeting in the mountains. She decided the moment had come to put it into words.
‘And you? Have you been in touch with your wife? Where is she?’
‘In Athens, I hope. When the fighting started I sent word to my mother that they should both head south immediately. I can only hope that they reached the border before the roads were cut off by the Bulgarians. I have spoken to our consul here and asked him to make enquiries through his counterpart in Athens, but, like you, I have not had any response so far.’
‘Well,’ she said, trying to express a sympathy she did not feel, ‘as you say, there is still time. We must hope for the best.’
He gave her a quick glance, an acknowledgement that neither of them was saying what they really meant.
They were both silent for a while, then he stirred himself and murmured, ‘You are right, of course. There is beauty of a kind out there. But I shall never be able to look at this scene without sorrow.’
She followed the direction of his gaze, to where the island of Vido rose from the blue waters. ‘Of course, I didn’t think. I’m sorry.’
For the first weeks after their arrival, Serbian soldiers, sick and starving after the journey through the mountains, had died on the island at the rate of three hundred a day. One thousand had been buried on the island itself; then, when space ran out, they were buried at sea in the deep waters around. Already, the Serbs who survived were referring to them as ‘the blue graveyard’. But there was room for optimism. The death rate had reduced now, and for the survivors who were camped around Corfu, conditions had improved. Food and fuel were adequately provided, and the men’s tattered clothes had been replaced by good English boots and woollen underwear and French uniforms. Leo had worked tirelessly with the committee, interpreting and cajoling, seeking to iron out the endless bureaucratic misunderstandings, resorting at times to foot-stamping fury, and she knew that she could take some credit for the improvement.
The Corfiotes themselves had taken the refugees to their hearts and invited many of them into their homes. Increasingly, Serbs displaced from their homeland congregated on the island. Serbian government ministers had established themselves in the White Venice Hotel and the National Assembly now met in the National Theatre. Certain churches, such as St Archangel and Holy Trinity, had been set aside for Serbian Orthodox worship. There was even talk of producing a Serb language newspaper.
Leo herself was being spoilt and pampered in a way she had never before experienced. Melinda Papadakis was a childless widow, who had been left comfortably off by her late husband, and she treated Leo as if she were her own daughter. Horrified by her skeletal appearance, her hollow eyes and unkempt hair, she set out to tempt her appetite with all sorts of delicacies and put her in the hands of her own lady’s maid, who gave her hot baths and massaged her body and her hair with scented oils. Leo accepted these attentions gratefully, though she had pangs of guilt when she considered the hardships still suffered by Sasha and his men.
There was one point of dispute, however, between her and her hostess. Melinda had a wardrobe full of elegant and fashionable dresses, which she was eager to have altered by her dressmaker to fit Leo, so that she could show her off in local society; but Leo insisted on choosing the plainest and most serviceable garments. Melinda complained that they made her look like a governess, but Leo pointed out that she could hardly conduct her work with the committee dressed as if she was on her way to an embassy garden party.
One of her first acts, apart from writing to Ralph and Tom, had been to contact the London solicitor who managed her affairs. He had set up a facility for her to draw money from a local bank. No longer dependent on Melinda’s generosity, she went to a tailor in the town and ordered a replica of her FANY uniform. Clad once again in breeches and boots she felt more like her old self, though she had to bow to society’s rules by donning the divided skirt that covered them. It irritated her to feel it flapping round her ankles, but at least she could stride out freely. She remembered, with a pang, how her grandmother had despaired of her mannish gait. She had even sent her to a finishing school where they had tried to teach her to walk ‘like a lady’, with a book balanced on her head. She had tried to conform; but what a relief it had been to join the FANY!
One thing that did bother her was her shorn hair. This time she had not kept the locks she had hacked off to form a switch, so she had no way of disguising their lack. But it was beginning to grow again, and most of the time it could be hidden under a hat.
Sasha stood up and stretched. ‘I must get back to camp.’
Leo rose also. ‘And I have another meeting of the committee. There are rumours that Crown Prince Alexander is going to visit us and people are talking about organising a ball or a concert in his honour.’
‘He will not want any ceremony, if I know him,’ Sasha responded. ‘What he will want is to review his troops and discuss how soon we can reform and prepare to counter-attack. That is all that matters.’
‘I know,’ Leo agreed. ‘But it will take time to re-equip the army. I hear all the time about shortages on the Western Front. It is not going to be easy to persuade the British and the French to part with weapons for us.’
He sighed and nodded. ‘I know – and I know we have a staunch advocate in you. I will try to be patient.’
‘Will you dine at Mme Papadakis’s tonight?’ Leo asked. Sasha had become a regular guest at the house.
He hesitated and then gave her his rare grin. ‘Why not? The food is good and the company … has its attractions.’ Her took her hand and kissed it, then saluted and walked away.