Aphrodite's Island Read Free Page A

me on Thursday.’
    ‘I’ll be there. Don’t worry. Nothing on earth will stop me from being there.’
    That evening Iannis came home from work with a look on his face that made me afraid. He was excited, but it was a harsh, cruel excitement that turned him from my brother into a dangerous stranger.
    ‘Have you heard the news?’ he demanded of my father.
    ‘What news?’
    ‘There has been a running battle in the streets of Famagusta – our people against the British troops. At last the Brits are going to see that we mean business. This is just the beginning!’
    ‘Careful, my son,’ father warned. ‘We have a long way to go yet before we can take on the British with any chance of winning. It is a mistake to show our hand too soon. We must be patient and circumspect. Remember, there are still those who would be happy to betray us.’
    I crept up to my bedroom and sat gazing out of the window. I knew Stephen could not have been involved with the fighting in Famagusta because he had been with me but if the fighting spread, as Iannis obviously hoped it would, how long would it be before he and Iannis came face to face on opposite sides of the battle?
    That night at supper we listened to the report of the fighting on the radio. When it finished I said, ‘I don’t see why we have to fight the British. The soldiers are only here because their government forces them to come. They don’t mean us any harm, I’m sure.’
    My father and brothers stared at me as if I had said something obscene and my mother said quickly, ‘Help me clear the table, Ariadne. You don’t understand these things.’
    ‘I do!’ I said passionately. ‘I’ve heard you all talking about it for long enough.
Enosis, enosis!
What does it matter? Why can’t we just live at peace, the way we always have?’
    Iannis began to speak but my father silenced him with agesture. He reached across the table and took hold of my hand.
    ‘Ariadne, I am disappointed to hear you speak like this. You have been brought up to have pride in your Greek heritage and to believe in the importance of liberty. We Greeks have the right to choose who should govern us. We are not slaves, to be ruled by foreigners.’ Then he smiled and patted my hand. ‘You are young and, after all, you are a girl. Leave these matters to those who understand them. Archbishop Makarios has given his blessing to our cause. That should be enough for you.’
     
    On Thursday I took the school bus as usual, but on the way I kept clutching my stomach and groaning and telling everyone nearby that I felt sick. In school I kept up the pretence and at morning break I told my friend Penelope that I felt too ill to be in school and I was going home. She wanted to come with me but I persuaded her that I could manage on my own and asked her to make my excuses to the teachers. I walked out, heading in the direction of the bus stop and, as soon as I knew I was out of sight, I slipped away down a side street.
    I pulled off my school blazer and stuffed it into my bag and covered my head with a dark scarf so that I looked like any other girl out shopping. When I reached the square I was shaking. I was terrified that Stephen would have changed his mind or been prevented from keeping our appointment. There was no sign of him outside the mosque. I looked at my watch. It was still ten minutes before midday. I waited for a while, but I felt foolish and conspicuous standing around and I was afraid that someone who knew me would come by and recognize me, so I slipped into the mosque. Inside it was cool and the vast, white-painted space was calming but I still felt out of place. What was I, a Greek, doing here in what had once been a Roman Catholic cathedral and was now a Muslim mosque? After a few minutes I went outside again. Stephen’s jeep was not there, but then I saw him, hurrying through the crowds towards me. I forced myself to stand still and behave with dignity.
    He stopped a few feet away from me and we