Ardnish Was Home Read online

  Louise and Prissie up the pace and take it in turns to pull the donkey, who reluctantly breaks into an ungainly trot. It is me who slows the pace, as it is a constant strain to grip with my legs. We pass some old men with mules, but no words are spoken.

  Taking cover in the middle of the day, we talk about the river crossing. Everything depends on this and it has come to dominate our conversation of late.

  We near a small village, and, as usual, survey it from a distance. Prissie spots a cross in the main square. Could the people there be Christian? She decides to go into the village. ‘I look the most like the locals,’ she says. ‘My dark hair will help, as long as I don’t open my mouth and reveal my Scouse accent.’

  Wrapping herself up, she heads off to see if there is food for sale.

  Louise and I make ourselves comfortable, and talk about what it might be like across the border and if we will be able to find help in getting us home. We touch on our wishes for later life – everything, really, apart from my love for her. It is always on my lips, but I never quite find the moment. I curse myself for not speaking to her about my feelings, but maybe it is for the best. We need to concentrate on our immediate predicament.

  It is Louise who realises that our disappearance might trigger a ‘missing’ telegram to our families. Maybe it would read ‘missing – presumed dead’. How long did these things take, we wondered. Our families would be distraught.

  We are getting hungry now, and we are worried about Prissie. Louise loosens my dressing and bathes my eyes. It is a month or so since they were burned. I can only just see the blurred town in the distance, but, best of all, I can see Louise’s features clearly. My shoulder has mended to a large extent, and I don’t wear the sling any more.

  We doze off in companionable silence, leaning against each other for warmth. I awake with my head on her lap, my hand around her legs. We don’t say anything. I blush and move my hand away. She takes it back and rests it on her thighs.

  She moves into a kneeling position and kisses me. My heart is going like a train. After a while, she leans into me and we talk for a long time.

  We confess, at last, our love for each other. I tell her I’ve adored her from the first days in hospital, how when she passed my cot my hand would reach out to her. She tells me, to my astonishment, how we first met on the train in England, and that we are meant to be together.

  Perhaps I’d known all along but hadn’t let myself believe it. That beautiful singsong Welsh voice, the way my skin felt so alive whenever she was near. I’d felt it before. Of course she was the girl on the train! Ever since I had arrived at the casualty station, I’d been drawn to her, knowing that we were familiar to each other, that there was a connection. But I must have blanked out all reason. I suspect that the morphine had lent a sort of oblivion to my senses.

  ‘I didn’t know you cared, that you felt the same way.’ Louise is sobbing gently on my shoulder. She covers my face with kisses. ‘I was never sure. DP, I’m so glad you’re here with me, despite everything.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I say. I feel euphoric.

  *

  Prissie still hasn’t returned. It’s pitch black. We are panicking a bit, but there is nothing we can do, except wait.

  I pray that we all make it back to a safe country together. I wrestle briefly with my conscience, knowing that God would greatly disapprove of our intimacies, and offer up an apology, although I avoid any mention of not doing it again.

  Where is Prissie? We fear she must have been captured or has been unable to find our hiding place.

  ‘I’m going back to the road to see if I can find her,’ Louise announces. ‘I’ll be no more than fifteen minutes, I promise.’ She squeezes my hand and stands up to go, before bending down to give me one more long kiss.

  She returns alone and, despite our worry, we fall asleep, intertwined like lovers, under a single blanket.

  Chapter 10

  WAR

  It is mid morning and the winter sun is quite warm on us when we hear someone coming through the bushes. The donkey snorts and stamps around. We freeze, terrified, until Prissie comes into view, a big smile on her face.

  ‘God, Prissie, you scared us to death,’ Louise exclaims.

  Prissie excitedly takes the pack off her back and shows us her haul: cheeses, meat, bread, some water, and even a gourd of wine. We are ecstatic – and starving.

  As we eat, Prissie tells us her story.

  *

  I walked, as bold and confident as I could manage, right into the village square and stood in front of a Christian church. The writing on it looked Greek rather than Turkish, which gave me hope. Anyway, I then found a shop, but because of the queue of women in there I decided to come back when it was empty. I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I was a foreigner. So I went back to the empty church to wait. A priest with a long beard was busying himself inside and after quite a long time he came across. I was pretending to pray on my knees, looking down with my head bowed and hands together.

  He sat beside me and waited, and after a minute or two it was clear that he wouldn’t go until we had spoken. I looked him in the eye, and he knew I was not there to pray. He spoke to me, and of course I didn’t understand a word he said. My throat was dry and I struggled to utter a word.

  He smiled, and gestured for me to follow him. He took me into a room behind the altar. If it wasn’t for his friendly way I would have run out of the church as fast as I could. He spoke English! I was so relieved I burst into tears.

  It was incredible. Apparently he had been an Orthodox priest in London when he was young. He gave me some coffee, bread and cheese. He was Greek, and he thought that Greece would come out as an ally of the British. He had been expecting to be called back home at any time. He mentioned there were lots of Christians around here, and most of them consider themselves friends of the Greeks. The Muslim Turks had dragged many men away and killed them, and he’d expected his church to be burned down. The only thing saving them was the fact that the German generals who commanded the Turkish army were Christian, and ever since Gallipoli, the massacres have stopped.

  I told him all about us. I said that our biggest concern was crossing the river into Bulgaria, and he said he would help. I could have kissed him.

  It was getting dark. He said I wouldn’t find my way back and asked me to stay. He said he’d get more food for all of us and to come back in the morning. I knew you’d be worried, but what an outcome!

  He showed me to a cot in a small room and told me he was going out to talk to friends about our predicament. My first bed in a week, I slept like the dead. He woke me in the morning and over breakfast told me the son of a friend would lead us to a house in Ipsala. There, plans would be made to take us across the border. We would be in safe hands – the people were Greek Christians – and they would look after us.

  He took my few drachmas and went out and bought far more than my money could have gained. Then he returned with a man who spoke no English, but was very friendly. He was with his son. The priest introduced the son as Dimitris. He’s fourteen, and I had to go with him to agree where we would all meet. Meanwhile, the priest assured me our escape would be all arranged. I just clasped his hands in mine and kissed them, I couldn’t thank him enough.

  He looked me in the eye and said a prayer, and then made the sign of the cross over me. I may be a non-believer, but by God, this might make me reconsider.

  Dimitris and I went out the back of the church and up the hill, not far from where we were hiding. The priest had agreed we would meet tomorrow in the middle of the day. Dimitris will whistle if the coast’s clear.

  I think we must be the luckiest people in the world!

  *

  We have a whole day to wait, but it’s not too cold and we have eaten well. We agree to stay where we are and do without a fire until nightfall. I lie thinking about Louise and me, then about home and Father Angus. I hope he’s not in danger; I never got a letter from him. Is he happy as a priest?


  HOME

  Angus always had that leaning. We had a wonderful priest at Polnish when we were young – Father Allan Macdonald, who had gone to serve in South Uist. Angus would serve as an altar boy, do the readings at Mass, and was always questioning father about transubstantiation and other issues.

  My father hated those discussions. ‘I’m Catholic because I’m Catholic, Angus. Go and talk to Father Allan if you want that kind of conversation.’

  I felt the same as my father.

  My mother would talk to Angus about it while my father decided that he really needed to go and brush up on a tune he’d been learning. Mother thought Sheena might go off and become a nun, after her man was killed. She had even gone and had a talk with Father Allan about it. He advised her against it. ‘You’re just running away from life, seeking somewhere to hide from your misery. It’s not a calling from God, Sheena,’ he said. ‘If you still want to become a nun in a few years’ time then I would be happy to talk to you again.’

  And, of course, they never did.

  WAR

  Just after dawn, the whistle comes as planned. Prissie brings Dimitris back to us. The priest is with him. We are all introduced by a proud and delighted Prissie.

  ‘There has been a change of plan,’ the priest begins. ‘You will have to wait a few more days. Certain people are away, and we need to prepare your route and inform the people who will meet you. There is an old building where you can take shelter and light a fire while you wait. It’s away from the road, a safe place. Prissie, your friends will have to wait here and you come with Dimitris back into the town. Bring the donkey with you. It doesn’t look well, so we need to get some food and water for it, before you leave. Your friend won’t go far without it. Rest up, and we’ll be back tomorrow.’

  I can tell that Prissie is quite happy to leave us again due to the prospect of good food, a bath and a bed, and Louise and I are excited about being alone together, so we don’t mind waiting.

  As soon as they leave, we build up the fire, cook and eat the chicken, and wash it down with some sweet wine. Emboldened by the alcohol, we kiss and cuddle and murmur sweet nothings to each other. Ultimately, the privacy of a closed door and more than two months of restrained passion leads to hours of intense exploration and fulfilment. The pain from my shoulder vanishes with the fervour and excitement of the consummation of our love.

  *

  Prissie and our guide return at midday. Marc looks much happier, having eaten well and slept in a bed of straw. Louise and Prissie whisper and giggle together; I blush to think of what they might be saying.

  We pack up and set off, navigating along winding tracks in the brush, moving quickly for several hours. Eventually, we reach a large house where the occupants are clearly expecting us. A friendly family of five, they are much better off than any of the people we have seen so far. The father is called Georgios; the mother is extremely shy, and we don’t catch her name. Georgios puts wood on the fire while his wife makes a big bowl of meat stew and the three young children tend to Marc. I am worried about him; he is stumbling more and more, and is very weak.

  Our new friends try to talk to us and we to them, but little is understood, so we turn in early, grateful for the comfortable beds.

  The next morning, before our convivial hosts wave us off, we are given bread and coffee, as well as something that tastes very similar to sour cream in honey. We all feel invigorated and ready for the journey ahead.

  Louise says ‘Ipsala?’ to Dimitris, and he nods and holds up his index finger, indicating that we might reach there today.

  However, it soon becomes apparent that Marc is on his last legs and is slowing us down. Yesterday was too hard on him and several days with little water or food have taken their toll. At one point, Dimitris breaks off a tree branch and whacks the donkey’s rump and Louise flies at him, shouting in protest. He gets the message. Marc is important to us. This is the first time I have seen Louise annoyed. It reminds me of my mother; animals mean a lot to her, too.

  As darkness falls, Dimitris goes ahead to organise the night’s stay. We are exhausted, but excited that tomorrow we might cross the river. He returns with a man who we can hardly see in the twilight, and we follow them to a spot overlooking the town. We can see lights flickering in windows and people moving around.

  Dimitris is going to leave us here. I embrace him and thank him profusely for his help. Just a young lad, he has impressed me very much.

  The man smokes, paces around and tries to talk to us, but eventually we all give up. We sit for hours without talking, shivering in the cold wind. When all the lights go out in the houses below us, the man motions to us to follow him, and we move into the silent village.

  We are taken to a house where another man greets us. Without a word, he hands us a candle and leads us up to the attic, where there is a mattress and bedding on the floor. We fall asleep before our heads hit the pillow.

  I wake first, my body hard against Louise. I savour her warmth and the tiny movements of her body as she breathes in her sleep. Tentatively, I slide my hands under the bedclothes and move them over her body. I touch her breasts gently, my heart pounding. I can tell she is awake now, as she turns towards me. We kiss, and I stroke her hair. I can hear Prissie’s heavy rhythmic breathing just feet away from us; with her there my ambitions are going to remain unfulfilled.

  Outside, the town is full of activity, with cries from people in the street, the creak of wagon wheels and the clop of hooves. I enjoy these sounds of human activity. There is a creak on the staircase, and a timid woman appears with a tray of breakfast for us.

  ‘Donald,’ says Prissie, ‘you’re always moving your fingers. What are you doing?’

  ‘It’s an affliction all pipers have,’ I reply. ‘The bottom stalk of the bagpipes is called a chanter and my fingers are busy playing a tune. They have a mind of their own. I don’t even know I’m doing it. It keeps them from stiffening up, and maybe it helps me remember tunes better.’

  Louise interjects proudly, ‘DP’s a famous piper, Prissie. The soldiers on the train all said he was!’

  I do miss my pipes. All my life I have played an hour or two a day. I am always humming tunes and trying to recall a difficult passage. I hope the Colonel is looking after them for me.

  We are left to ourselves all day. That night, late, the man who came to collect us from Dimitris returns with a companion named Yannis. He is a professor at Athens University and speaks perfect English. He apologises for our having been left alone so long but explains that he has been away and has only just heard of our arrival.

  The men have a bottle of wine with them, so we sit and drink and listen to the two of them talking. They are discussing what might be the best plan. We are aware that we are entirely at their mercy.

  Yannis tells us that they need to get in touch with a man about five miles upriver. He owes Yannis a favour – and he has a boat. There is a bridge very close and a ford, but both are heavily guarded and you need papers to get through. It would be much better to take a boat, Yannis thinks, even though there would be patrols going up and down the shore. He would come with us for the crossing, and then when we were on the far shore he would leave us to it. The Bulgar army would be on the far side; the Turks were on this side.

  ‘The other side of the river was Greek territory until three years ago,’ Yannis explains. ‘The people there hate the Bulgars, and they’re terrified of them. They are Greek – nice people – but the Bulgars are thugs and bullies. They look for an opportunity to smash your house up, to rape your wife and daughter. There are traitors and spies everywhere. The locals will want to help you, but they won’t. Too much risk.’

  Yannis is very animated; he constantly waves his arms about and shouts. I wonder if I look as scared as I feel. I wonder if he is scared, too. He continues: ‘The Bulgars have a mad king, Tsar Ferdinand. His wife is German. That’s the problem. They are always at war, the Bulgarians. They have just had two Balkan wars, and t
hree months ago they declared war on the German side. The people where you are going consider themselves Greek, but they’re being conscripted into the Bulgar army. If Greece sides with the British, then you will have Greeks fighting against Greeks. The people aren’t happy. They have no money now because, with the men away fighting, they are not getting the farming done. Also, why have they sided with the Turkish Muslims when they are Christians like the Greeks and us? Their soldiers won’t like that. There is a strong underground movement, I hear, but we don’t have any connections with them.’

  Louise and Prissie stare at him, becoming increasingly anxious. We know the political situation now, but it doesn’t really make any difference.

  ‘The British have men training them. Maybe you will be lucky and meet them. If I were you, I’d go to the port of Alexandroupolis. The Bulgars call it Dedeagach. There will fishing boats there, maybe there will be boats going to the Greek islands. Have you any money? You will have to pay the boatman.’

  ‘We don’t have any left,’ admits Prissie. ‘We used the last we had to buy food.’

  ‘I think I know someone who might have some Greek money,’ says Yannis. ‘I’ll go and ask later.’

  He teaches us words in Greek that we will need: words for food, boat, please, thank you, bread, water, fire, hello, goodbye and ‘we have no money’. He tells us about the kind of money they use across the border. We sit in a row repeating everything ten times each; it’s just like learning Latin at school.

  *

  The next morning, we are out of the town before light, heading deep into the countryside. We stay away from the river. We are fearful, but encouraged that we know our destination and we have a plan.

  At one point, Yannis and the other man leave us in a small steading and go off to find us some money. We eat bread and cheese and, to while away the time, I tell Louise and Prissie about the big hill fire that happened when I was about ten.