Hearts of Stone by Simon Scarrow Page B

filled the cafetière, turned the kettle on and then pulled out a stool and sat at the counter. She began to think over what her grandmother had told her about her early life in Lefkada. Anna already knew a little about her early childhood, but very little of the war years, nor the years immediately before and after the catastrophe that befell Greece. It had been fascinating to hear Eleni’s recollections, and to get some sense of the characters of Dieter’s forebears, as well as some further description of Andreas. Clearly there had been a tension between the three of them all those years ago. Had that been the catalyst for whatever had followed? Anna wondered.
    The urge to know more was tempered by a little guilt. Eleni was old and frail, despite the strength of her spirit and the sharpness of her mind. Anna would need to be careful not to distress her.
    When the coffee was ready Anna took down a plain china mug from the shelf beside the cooker and poured the dark liquid. Eleni drank coffee strong and black, with two heaped spoonfuls of sugar – ‘as dark as the devil and as sweet as an angel’s kiss’, as she used to say to the young Anna when she used to make her grandmother’s coffee. It had always made Anna think she was brewing something special, something magical.
    Taking down the sugar pot she dropped in two spoons before giving the mug a good stir. The biscuits, as ever, were in an old Quality Street tin and Anna placed a selection of custard creams and chocolate digestives on a side plate before returning to her grandmother’s room.
    Eleni hurriedly closed the photograph album and set it down beside her chair, leaning it up against a dark varnished leg.
    ‘Thank you, my dear.’ She smiled as Anna set the mug and plate down on the table beside her. ‘You’re not having any?’
    ‘Not today. Only when I am teaching and need to have all my wits about me. That’s when I hit the caffeine.’
    Eleni tutted. ‘Is it so hard to be a teacher? In my day, we feared them. If we could not answer a question or, worse, answered back, then . . .’ she made a quick slapping gesture with her hand.
    ‘Yes, well, that sort of discipline is a thing of the past.’
    ‘A pity.’ Eleni nodded, missing the point. ‘The world always changes, and not often for the better.’
    Anna saw the chance to further her line of enquiry and cleared her throat lightly. ‘Speaking of change, what happened after Peter and his father left the island? Did they manage to return, before the war began?’
    ‘No. It was the last time I saw Dr Muller. A pity. I always thought he was a good man, for a German.’
    ‘And Peter?’ Anna already knew the answer but wanted to glean as much additional information as she could.
    Eleni was still briefly before she nodded. ‘He came back to the island. But he was not the same Peter by then. That is a lesson life needs to teach us. Some people, even those you consider friends, are never what you think they are. Or at least they become something you no longer recognise. Anyway, my dear, I’d rather not think about him.’
    ‘All right. What about Andreas? Did he go and join the navy?’
    ‘He did. Early the next year. That was nineteen thirty-nine. I didn’t see him for several months. There were letters. But he seemed distant, and just told me the details of his training, never anything more.’
    ‘More?’
    ‘About how he felt. I missed that. Before, he had talked to me, looking me in the eyes, and he made me feel . . . good.’
    Anna chuckled. ‘You had a crush on him.’
    ‘Crush?’ Eleni’s expression hardened. ‘Yes, I understand the term. No, it was not a crush. That’s too light a word for what I felt.’ She paused and smiled at the unintended pun. ‘You youngsters lack the quality of feeling my generation once knew.’
    ‘Do you really think so?’ Anna challenged her.
    ‘Of course. I see the newspapers. And some of the programmes on television! Like your mother watches