Chapter 14 #2
‘Put my name down,’ said Cleo. ‘I’m good with rubble.’
Maya laughed – a light, unguarded sound that Cleo hadn’t heard before. ‘You really are unstoppable.’
‘Habit of a lifetime. When things fall apart, I tidy up.’
Maya looked at her friend fondly. ‘You make it sound simple.’
‘It is. One brick, one person, one new wound dressing at a time.’
When Maya had finished looking at the church, they went to help with a nearby row of houses. For a while, they worked side by side, passing buckets of rubble from hand-to-hand with the villagers.
Sweat darkened their clothes and their hair stuck to their faces, but Cleo felt a quiet joy in the rhythm of it – the scrape, the lift, the steady flow of effort towards something new.
The sun was fierce and when they needed a break, they took shelter under a fig tree.
Maya closed her eyes and tilted back her head, resting it against the knobbly tree trunk.
‘Do you think,’ she said, ‘that maybe the earth shakes not just to destroy us, but to shift us round and make us wake up?’
Cleo smiled. ‘That’s an interesting theory, but I’d have preferred a gentler nudge.’
Maya laughed. ‘True, but we mightn’t have listened.’
Cleo took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, too. When she opened them again, Achilles was coming towards her, carrying a large wooden beam.
His face lit up in a smile when he saw her but he said he couldn’t stop as he might drop the plank and never be able to lift it again.
Cleo offered to help and found herself trudging behind him as they carried the beam to a half-collapsed home. Sunlight caught his tousled hair and she giggled at his jokey, exaggerated walk, as if he were really struggling.
‘You’re a clown,’ she said.
‘I know, but it’s all your fault because you laugh at my jokes, which only encourages me. Most people either ignore me or tell me to stop being a fool, but you’ve got a sense of humour. You make things fun.’
When they reached the gaping entrance to the house, he stopped and leaned the beam against an outside wall. Then he turned and gave her a long, soulful look.
Cleo’s heart fluttered with a mixture of pleasure and panic. He was going to kiss her again, she was sure of it! Part of her desperately wanted it, but the other part…
Without thinking, she took a step back.
‘Achilles, I—’
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just a poor, penniless musician and you’re a clever, sophisticated British nurse.’
Heat rose to Cleo’s cheeks. ‘I’m not like that,’ she protested. ‘I don’t care about status and stuff. I can’t believe you think I do.’
He swallowed and fixed her with another deep gaze.
‘Look, I know we can’t be together – properly. Our lives are too different, we’re too different. But can we at least be friends?’
Tears pricked Cleo’s eyes and she took both his hands in hers and squeezed tight.
‘Of course we can,’ she said warmly. ‘I think you’re gorgeous. You are gorgeous. Given half a chance, I’d jump on you and rip off all your clothes.’
He laughed. ‘Feel free.’
‘But you’re right,’ she went on seriously. ‘Our lives are different. Plus, your kids are here, and mine are in England. It would never work and I don’t want either of us to get hurt. I think we’ve both had too much pain in our lives already.’
He nodded and breathed in and out deeply. ‘I’d never hurt you, Cleo. I respect you too much for that.’
She left him at the door of the house and went to find Maya again, feeling both sad and a little relieved. She adored Achilles and could easily take things further. But she didn’t believe they were right for each other and a brief, doomed romance would only cause misery for them both.
Better to cherish the memories, she thought, and be grateful she’d met him and glad she’d rediscovered her desire. And of one thing she was absolutely certain – she’d never forget that kiss.
As she strolled back through the village, she noticed it was beginning to resemble its old self. Some children had been allowed down the mountain for the first time and were running along cleared streets.
Through open windows, she could see women sorting through clothes, curtains and kitchen equipment, while men repaired boats by the sea.
The rest of the day was one long slog, punctuated by laughter, songs and occasional bursts of triumph as walls went up and roofs were replaced.
As the light began to fade and lanterns were lit, everyone gathered on the beach and Tash put on a small performance with the children.
Cleo stood next to an Englishwoman named April, who was married to a local and ran the small supermarket behind them.
‘Destroyed, of course,’ April said ruefully. ‘But we’re beginning to rebuild.’
It seemed three of the children in the play belonged to her, including a boy aged seven or eight called Demetrios, a girl aged about six and a chubby toddler named Nico.
The crowd roared with laughter when Nico was wheeled out twice – first as a fisherman holding a dead eel and a bit of net, then as a helicopter pilot. As he was shy and could barely speak anyway, it was a little difficult to understand him.
When the play was over, someone managed to fix up a speaker and put on some music, which floated over the sand and mingled with the gentle sound of lapping waves.
Maya and Tash sat on one side of Cleo, while Achilles settled on the other. Cleo could feel the warmth of the day, and of Achilles’s presence, in her chest.
Someone found a guitar and handed it to him, while another produced some bottles of wine. Soon, the air was filled with his lilting chords, which seemed to drift out over the sea.
A few of those left in the camp, having seen the glowing lanterns and heard the faint music, hurried down the mountain to join the party.
April, from the supermarket, somehow managed to conjure up plates of roasted vegetables and flatbread.
‘Eat,’ she said. ‘And dance. The ground’s still for now. Let’s remind it who’s boss.’
Tash was the first to stand. She took the hand of one of the children and began a slow, playful dance, twirling and laughing, her eyes gleaming in the lamplight. Achilles picked up his pace and soon others joined in, while those round the edges clapped in rhythm.
Cleo hesitated only a moment before Maya managed to pull her into the circle.
‘Come on,’ Maya urged her. ‘It’ll do us good to let our hair down.’
Under the flickering light, they moved together, awkwardly at first, then more freely. When Cleo finally let herself go completely, she felt at one with the music, the water and the sky above, now blazing with sparkling stars.
At one point, Maya stopped and looked round the circle of faces – locals, those who’d been on the retreat, volunteers and strangers.
‘This,’ she said softly, almost to herself, ‘feels like home.’
Cleo touched her arm. ‘Maybe it is – for a while at least.’
Tash sashayed past them, her eyes shining brightly.
‘I heard that. I think we should stay here forever!’ she said with a grin.