Page 3 of The Silent Sister

Cassia eventually persuaded Sophia they had to get away to safety. Large chunks of masonry fell around them as the tremors continued beneath their feet.

‘We can’t do anything, Sophia. They know about Eléni now, thanks to you.

’ Cassia took her friend’s arm, and they joined the others trudging along the road.

Some walked in silence, in shock; others shouted at each other as if to mask their panic.

The town looked like a warzone. The elegant town hall had been flattened as if it had been bombed.

The library had just one wall still standing, revealing empty, broken shelves and scattered books, whereas the other side was a heap of debris.

The opposite end of the park was edged with evenly spaced oleander trees.

Once standing perfectly upright, they were now at precarious angles where deep splits in the earth had uprooted many of them.

The open space in the centre had been transformed into a place of shelter for those whose houses had been destroyed.

Large tarpaulin sheets suspended on wooden poles covered makeshift beds, and these were to become their homes.

Some people had managed to bring mattresses and chairs, but Cassia had nothing.

Crowds of people wandered around looking for people they recognised .

Cassia found room for her and Sophia with a young family. The woman gave Sophia a blanket and helped Cassia settle the old lady onto a makeshift bed. Now clear of the pink-grey dust that had filled the air earlier, the night sky above them was inky black, dotted with stars and a full moon.

* * *

After tossing and turning on the thin mattress she’d been given for most of the night, aware of activity all around her, Cassia had finally drifted off to sleep. In the morning, she was awoken with a start by the sound of shouting: ‘There’s a ship in the bay. British. Help has arrived.’

Cassia looked across at the tear-stained face of the woman lying on another mattress close to her. ‘Sophia? Did you hear that? We’re going to be all right.’

Sophia’s eyes were closed, but she nodded her head and began to sob.

Cassia patted her neighbour’s arm and persuaded her to sit up. ‘It’s good news. We’ll get help now.’

Once Cassia had settled Sophia and accepted water from the family sharing the shelter, she became restless and knew she had to do something.

She made her way to the harbour where the ship was anchored in the bay.

Walking along the quayside was treacherous, and she took care to avoid the large cracks in the slabs of concrete.

Tugboats were travelling back and forth from the ship, HMS Daring .

Its white ensign flag with the Union Jack in one corner fluttered in the breeze.

The ship was piled high with boxes. Two lines of islanders snaked from the harbour wall to several waiting donkeys and carts.

The sailors handed over boxes and these were passed along each line.

Cassia joined the end of one, starting to pass each box as it arrived with her to one of the cart owners.

‘It is not too heavy for you, eh?’ One of the sailors from the ship checked the boxes onto the cart. He smiled at her. His Greek was halting with a heavy accent. ‘Here, I like to help you.’

She realised she was the solitary woman in a line of men.

The sailor’s broken Greek suggested he did not have a full grasp of the language yet, so she answered him in English, grateful that her father had ensured she and her sister had a good command of the language.

‘I thank you. No, my arms are very strong.’ She laughed for the first time. ‘What is in them?’

The young man reverted to his own language.

‘These boxes contain medical supplies. That line has the food.’ He pointed to the second line where the boxes were much larger, and now sacks of grain were being handed along the men.

‘You picked the right line. Our ship was based in Malta, and we were commanded to get here as soon as the captain heard about the earthquake. I am Thomas Beynon. Tom.’

‘Cassia. Cassia Makris.’

She stepped back from the line, her arms and shoulders aching from the lifting. Once she stopped, she realised her arms were not as strong as she had boasted about to the handsome man standing in front of her.

Once the cart was full of boxes, he directed the cart owner to the Red Cross base.

Speaking slowly in Greek, Tom said, ‘Please, you go to find tents. They are in park. They are next to shelters. You must be very fast. They need this soon.’

The cart owner looked at Cassia for her to translate his Greek, which she did so. He nodded at the British man and left very quickly.

Cassia turned to Tom. ‘ Efcharistó. Thank you.’ She spoke to him in his own language again. ‘Perhaps I will be of more help to the injured at the Red Cross centre than here. You are right. For a woman, the boxes get too heavy.’

Tom’s smile reached his eyes and little wrinkles radiated out from each corner. ‘You did well. But I can see you as a nurse. You will have to prepare yourself. I’ve heard some of the injuries you will see there may be pretty horrific.’

Cassia looked puzzled. ‘How can something be pretty and, how you say ho-rri-fic — does it mean horrible? It is not possible, eh?’

‘I mean really bad. Some of the people are terribly injured from the earthquake,’ said Tom.

Cassia became serious. ‘I know. But I must do something to help. They are my neighbours, my friends. I say goodbye now.’

Tom shook her hand. ‘Goodbye. We are here for as long as we are needed so I am sure we will see each other again.’

‘I hope so.’

As she walked away from the tall, handsome sailor, she realised she did mean it.

There was something about Tom Beynon that made her think he would make a good and caring friend.

It was what she needed right now. Without warning, her eyes misted with tears.

What did the future hold for her and the inhabitants of this island?

* * *

Her walk to the park was full of obstacles.

The whole town seemed to be on the move.

People blocked her path, scrambling to avoid the unsafe buildings lining every street.

Children cried as they hung on to their mothers’ skirts for fear of getting lost in the chaos; women dragged bags of bedding; men with spades shovelled rubble at every house she passed.

In the town, large bulldozers attacked the piles of debris in order for the carts of medical supplies to get through to Maitland Square and the Red Cross centre.

The cacophony of noise unsettled Cassia.

She thought of Sophia and how the chaos would be affecting the old woman.

She decided to check on her first before offering her services to the Red Cross.

The shelters now teemed with more people than when she’d left earlier, and for a moment, Cassia was disorientated, not remembering where their shelter was.

She knew it was next to a row of cypress trees edging the side next to the road and rushed in that direction.

She found the family who’d been kind to them.

But Sophia was nowhere to be seen. Cassia’s heart raced.

‘Have you seen my friend?’ she asked. ‘I told her I’d be back. She’s too frail. She won’t cope on her own. Please.’ Cassia heard the panic in her voice.

The mother looked up from trying to occupy her children. ‘She left. I told her to wait for you, but she insisted she had to go. Something about an Eléni?’

‘Oh, no.’

After thanking the woman, Cassia turned and hurried away.

She knew exactly where she’d find her friend.

Some of the streets had been cleared of a lot of the rubble, but groups of men were tackling piles of debris in front of houses where it was suspected there were people still trapped.

Cassia passed through the hordes congregated around them and reached the street where her home had once stood.

A large crowd still stood in front of the house Sophia had told her belonged to Eléni’s family.

Further along the street was a donkey and cart on which two bodies wrapped in sheets were laid.

Cassia’s heart sank, but she thanked God there was no tiny body among them.

She searched for Sophia in the crowd. Standing on tiptoe, she could see her at the front, wringing her hands and quietly sobbing.

Pushing through the rows of bystanders, Cassia reached the old lady and pulled her into her arms. ‘Sophia. What are you doing here? I was so afraid you were lost or injured. You should have stayed where it was safe.’

‘I couldn’t stay. I needed to see for myself they hadn’t given up on her.’

Cassia knew to whom she referred.

‘They’ve found two more bodies this morning. So it means Eléni is the last one to find. Her mamá, baba, yiayiá and pappoú are all dead.’ Sophia began crying. ‘I’m praying for her. She’s an orphan now.’

As Cassia comforted her friend, she looked up at the men desperately digging away the debris.

Their white vests were grimy with dirt and dust, and their skin glistened with sweat.

One stood out from the rest with his thick blond hair and fair skin.

It was Tom Beynon. He and his fellow sailors were part of the rescue teams here to relieve the local men who had been working all night. He walked over to her.

‘Cassia, I thought you were going to help with the Red Cross.’

‘I was, but I check on my friend first. She is missing. I find her here. She waits for Eléni.’

Sophia looked puzzled, unable to understand what they were saying.

‘Sophia, this is Tom. He is from the ship and he’s here to help us.’ Cassia smiled. She turned back to Tom. ‘She does not leave. She waits for you to find the little girl who lives in the house. Everyone is dead, I think. I do not want Sophia to see.’

Tom nodded. ‘If there is anyone alive in there, we are digging very carefully. We will get her out if we can. Now I must get back to my mates.’

‘Mates?’

‘My friends. The other sailors.’

‘Silence!’ One of the men stopped digging. ‘I heard something.’

A hush descended on the crowd. People strained to see what was happening.

‘There it is again,’ said Tom. ‘It’s faint, but it sounds like a cry.’

Sophia grabbed Cassia. ‘Perhaps it’s Eléni. She’s alive.’

‘We mustn’t build our hopes up, Sophia. If Eléni is buried in there, it’s been over twenty-four hours now. I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for the worst. Why don’t we go back to the shelter?’

Sophia drew her mouth into a straight line, shaking her head. ‘No. Her mother would want me to stay. Poor little thing — she has no one now. She has no other family here, her mamá told me. I’m staying to the end.’

Cassia knew there was no persuading Sophia to leave until the men brought the little girl out.

.. dead or alive. She would have to stay too.

She would forgo registering with the Red Cross until this was all over.

She squeezed her eyes tight to prevent tears from rolling down her cheeks.

She prayed to St Gerasimos to keep them all safe from future tremors and for Eléni to be brought out alive.

Together, the sailors lifted each piece of masonry and heavy wooden joists with care. Something jumped out at them with a screech and scattered dust as it fled the scene.

Tom stepped back. ‘What was that? Oh, a ruddy cat! The noise wasn’t a child then.’

People started to drift away as the hours passed.

It was over seven hours since the last two bodies had been retrieved.

The pile of rubble diminished as the men filled barrows with what remained of the demolished house.

Cassia noticed a smartly dressed man with a notepad in hand across the street from where she and Sophia were standing.

He stopped people as they moved away, talking to them and writing down what they had to say.

A reporter! How dare he come here to our town, our island, cashing in on our catastrophe!

She clenched her fists so hard her broken nails dug into her palms. He crossed to stand by Cassia.

‘ Kaliméra , I’m Rhodri Jones, chief reporter from the Celtic Chronicle in Wales. And you are?’ Before the question was out of his mouth, Cassia glared at him.

‘You have no right to be here, watching our suffering! Watching our misery! I have nothing to say to you. Go away! Or better still, put your notepad down and get in there and help those sailors who are looking for a little girl buried under hundreds of tons of rubble.’ She surprised herself at the force of her voice.

Rhodri Jones stood back from her and put up his hands in front of him.

‘Hey, hey, stop. I’m just doing a job I was sent to do.

It’s far from invading your privacy. The more the rest of the world knows about this catastrophe and the devastation on the island, the more help and aid will be sent here.

And I will help if I can.’ He spoke in perfect Greek with a mere hint of an accent.

He put out his hand. ‘Can we call a truce, Miss...?’

Warmth travelled along Cassia’s neck. She took his hand. ‘It’s Mrs Cassia Makris. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

Tom came over to them. ‘What was all that about?’ He looked at the notepad in Rhodri Jones’s hand. ‘Oh, a reporter.’

‘I thought the same as you. But Mr Jones insists the more the rest of the world knows about us, the more help we’ll get.’

Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘If you say so. Sorry, I came to tell you I think we’re going to have to call it a day. There’s nothing left in there. Will you explain to your friend?’

How am I going to tell Sophia? thought Cassia.

Rhodri Jones handed Cassia his notepad and took off his jacket. ‘One more try, eh, old boy?’

Tom looked exhausted. He and his fellow sailors had been digging non-stop all day.

‘Right. One more.’

The two men left them and began tackling the heap of stones.

It was just Cassia and Sophia left waiting. Time dragged. It was silent apart from the occasional talk of the men working to clear the house.

‘Over here!’ It was the cultured voice of the reporter. ‘We’ll have to be very careful as we lift this piece of wood from under those blocks of masonry. It looks like a door has fallen and then part of a wall.’

‘What have you got?’ shouted Tom.

‘I can see a tiny hand. A child’s hand. Poor little mite.’