Chapter 9 #2
After taking Mr Makris back to his daughter Marina, she and Achilles paused for a moment a little way away from the rest of the group.
‘You’re good at looking after people,’ Achilles said, brushing some dirt from his hands.
‘I’ve had plenty of practice,’ Cleo replied, sensing a flush rise to her cheeks again. ‘I used to be a nurse.’
He smiled, a little mischievously, she thought.
‘It’s inspiring, you know, seeing someone in their element, confident and capable.’ His voice softened. ‘It makes me want to find something I can be really good at, too.’
Cleo felt her pulse catch. ‘I… thank you. But you play the guitar brilliantly. I wish I could do that.’
‘Ah, but it’s not the same as curing wounds and making people better.’
‘No, but your music makes everyone happy,’ Cleo replied. ‘And that’s a real accomplishment.’
He nodded slightly by way of thanks and she tried to walk away, but something seemed to drag her back, like a magnetic force.
‘Cleo?’
His tone was gentle yet urgent. She turned to face him and his dark eyes seemed to draw her in, pulling her up close, so close that their foreheads and the tips of their noses almost touched.
She gave a little gasp and the next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, pressing softly at first, then more firmly. She couldn’t have protested if she’d tried.
Without thinking, her eyes closed and her lips parted slightly as she surrendered herself to the kiss. At the same time, his hands came up to cradle her face, ever so gently and tenderly, as if she were a priceless porcelain vase which could easily break.
Her heart was pumping and her legs felt weak and seemed to buckle, as if she might fall. It was like a dream. She was totally swept up in the moment, putty in his hands.
A shout some way off brought them both crashing back to their senses.
‘We can’t!’ she said, pulling away at last, and he took a step back.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what—’
Cleo wouldn’t let him finish.
‘Don’t apologise, that’s my job,’ she joked, with a shy smile. ‘It was nice, but I’ve got patients to attend to.’
Achilles smiled back. ‘I know, I know.’ He raised his palms in mock surrender. ‘I mustn’t interrupt your work.’
Cleo could still hear sounds of the whooshing, gurgling floodwaters in the village below and glancing round, she saw the faces of shock and suffering everywhere.
Amid so much distress, however, she also felt a spark deep within of something long absent: strength, purpose, usefulness – and, yes, attraction.
When she moved away to help the next family, Achilles began softly strumming his guitar once more. She let the music wash over her, allowing herself to bask for a few brief moments in the unfamiliar melody.
It was just before sunrise when news came that the rescue team would be with them by about noon. Cleo, Tash and Maya realised they were exhausted and agreed to take a quick break, huddling together under blankets as the sharp, salty air nipped their skin and the stars crawled across the sky.
The fading moon looked pale, cold and indifferent, it seemed, to the chaos, but Cleo’s insides were warm and tingling. Maya, though, seemed to have hit a wall.
‘I still can’t believe they made me redundant,’ she said, as if the bad memories had somehow managed to sneak back in at the first grey hint of dawn. ‘One day I was someone, the next, nothing. I don’t know who or what I am any more.’
Slowly, the landscape was beginning to emerge – the olive trees and drystone walls.
Cleo reached out, placing a hand lightly on Maya’s arm.
‘We’ll face this first,’ she said gently, ‘then you’ll find another job. Something better, I’m sure.’
But Maya was still troubled.
‘I used to run a team of two hundred,’ she went on, a flash of old pride and pain in her eyes. ‘It’s strange not being necessary. I can’t handle it.’
Cleo met her gaze. ‘Then make yourself necessary. What better place to start than here? You’ve been really useful already and there’s so much more to do.’
Maya nodded, accepting this as if it were an order. A small smile appeared on her lips.
‘You’re good at this, you know?’
‘At what?’
‘Steadying the ship, keeping everyone calm and focused.’
Cleo shrugged. ‘It’s easier when it’s other people.’
Maya gave her a searching look but didn’t press.
Tash spoke next, her eyes fixed on the fading darkness.
‘When Alfie died, I kept thinking about all the things I wished I’d said to him, the words I should have spoken.’
She fiddled with the silver locket round her neck, then moved to the bracelets round her thin wrists, twisting and pulling on them as if they were worry beads.
‘You did everything you could,’ Cleo murmured. ‘You loved him fiercely, that’s what matters.’
Somewhere behind them, the soft strum of Achilles’s guitar rose again, cutting through the tense quiet, followed by the sound of his warm, comforting voice.
‘Hey, ladies,’ he said, approaching them with a small smile. ‘You look worn out. I’m here to provide comfort, entertainment and the occasional bad joke. Which will it be?’
Cleo smiled but Tash glanced first at him, then her, and snorted softly.
‘He’s ridiculous.’
‘Probably,’ Cleo admitted, ‘but at least he’s being helpful.’
Achilles strummed a soft chord.
‘I’ll take helpful as a compliment.’
His eyes met Cleo’s and she looked away quickly, hoping to contain the flutter in her chest. She didn’t want her friends to know about the gorgeous, unexpected kiss, or notice how attracted she was to him.
But they were no fools and must have suspected something was up. Maya frowned, unimpressed, no doubt, by his flirty manner at what she must have deemed a highly inappropriate time.
‘We should get back to work,’ she said, rising briskly and pulling down the front of her sweatshirt.
‘Of course,’ Achilles replied, bowing with exaggerated ceremony. ‘But even in the middle of a disaster you should make time for music. It raises the spirits. I believe it’s what you English call a pick-me-up.’
Cleo laughed, feeling some of her tension melt away, and Tash leaned gratefully against her. Even Maya’s shoulders relaxed a little.
Achilles began singing a tune, like a reassuring lullaby, and Cleo took a steadying breath, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel everything: grief, fear, confusion, exhaustion – and newfound hope.
All of a sudden, she felt a fierce tenderness towards Tash and Maya – the actress whose confidence had been stolen by grief, and the executive stripped of her power.
Thrown together in extreme circumstances, they were, perhaps, unlikely friends. But one way or another, she thought, they were going to get through this together.
None of the women slept that night and as Cleo continued to treat patients, she was aware her decision-making skills were declining, along with her hand-eye coordination. She was also hyped up by the extra stress hormones flooding through her body to keep her awake.
If help didn’t arrive soon, she feared she might start making mistakes or simply collapse, then she’d be no good to anyone.
But still she pushed on, cleaning, stitching and bandaging, as the sun started to rise high in the sky and the heat returned with a vengeance, soaking her back in sweat.
Thankfully, just before midday, the rescue party began to arrive by boat, helicopter and on foot, to the barking of dogs and cheers of those who still had the energy to raise their voices.
A team of volunteers organised by Maya immediately set about helping to erect rows of first aid tents which had arrived. As they worked, helicopters whirred constantly overhead, dropping more supplies to the stranded villagers and transporting the injured to hospital.
Each time one landed, the noise was immense – with blades thudding and dust whipping up in spirals. Men in orange uniforms then jumped out, shouting in Greek and directing ropes and stretchers.
Noreen was one of the first to leave, and Cleo left her post briefly to say goodbye and see her off.
‘Thanks for everything,’ Noreen said, before making her way across the lawn to the waiting air ambulance. One of the emergency workers had an arm round her back.
‘I just did my job,’ Cleo replied with a smile. ‘Look after your wrist – and keep that spark alive,’ she added with a wink.
Noreen managed a laugh. ‘I’ll do my best!’
An hour or two later, Tash appeared by Cleo’s side, carrying a jug of water.
‘For you,’ she said simply, her eyes wide with awe. ‘You’re amazing.’
Cleo smiled up at her, sweat streaking her forehead. ‘Hardly. Anyway, you’re amazing too, the way you’re helping the children, entertaining them and making them laugh. I’ve watched you, you’re a natural.’
Maya, meanwhile, was now stationed beside the lead rescuer, translating what she could, writing down names and helping separate tourists from locals.
Her hair was a mess and her clothes were filthy, but her voice was firm, clear and commanding. Every now and then she glanced towards Tash and Cleo, as if trying to draw strength from their calm.
When at last things quietened for a moment, the women found themselves standing side by side, staring at the scene around them. People were clinging to each other and smoke curled from small fires, while children ran around as if everything was fine and nothing had happened.
Cleo rubbed her stiff neck.
‘I’d forgotten what it felt like to have purpose and be really useful,’ she said.
Tash smiled, a real one this time. ‘You never stopped being useful, silly. You just didn’t realise it. You needed an earthquake to remind you.’
Maya let out a short, tired laugh. ‘True. Maybe we all did.’
A little later, along with Achilles, Cleo helped the emergency services erect a triage station near the tents. They were soon joined by two young men in their late teens, probably, who turned out to be Achilles’s sons.
They were ‘good boys’, just as Katerina had said: polite, helpful and cheerful.
And they seemed to have a very good relationship with their dad, joking around and teasing him a lot.
They went quiet and listened carefully, though, when he started explaining something serious, giving them instructions about what to do.
At one point Maya walked by with a notebook in her hand. Cleo looked up and asked what she was doing.
‘I’m trying to work out sleeping arrangements, and also how much food and water we’re going to need. We don’t know how long we’ll be here and we don’t want to run short.’
‘Well done,’ Cleo said with a nod. She could imagine Maya shining in boardrooms and at strategy meetings. She had a natural organisational instinct.
She was shining now, too, though she probably didn’t realise it. Cleo fancied she was growing just a shade taller and straighter with each task she completed.
Around six o’clock in the evening, Tash asked Cleo if she could do anything more to help. The younger children were eating supper in the newly designated kitchen area, and she was at a loose end.
‘I suppose I could hand out wet wipes,’ she said with a slightly brittle, self-deprecating laugh. ‘That wouldn’t be too difficult for me.’
Cleo sensed her mood had dipped along with her self-esteem.
‘Actually, yes,’ she replied brightly. ‘There’s lots you can do. Comfort people and keep them talking. You’re really good at it. And if anyone’s panicking, bring them to me.’
Tash blinked. ‘I can do that.’
‘Of course you can,’ Cleo replied simply.