Beyond the Olive Grove: An absolutely gripping and heartbreaking WW2 historical novel by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800199088
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2021-08-12T23:00:00+00:00

13

September 1942

Sophia walked through the main square of the village with her basket over her arm and her head tucked firmly down. Ever since Perseus had invaded the coffeehouse’s kitchen and given his devastating news a week ago, she’d kept to herself more than ever. She didn’t want to talk to anyone; she was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of secrets bubbling out from her because it was so frightening to keep it all locked inside.

In just four days she would slip out to the Lethikos property to meet Perseus and these men who were coming to do—what? Something damaging to the Nazis and Italians. Something dangerous. And she would be involved.

The fact that she didn’t know what she was meant to do, or how, or to whom, made the prospect all the more frightening. There were so many unknowns, and she was forced to place her trust in a man she wasn’t sure she liked, a man with a wicked scar and the coldest smile she’d ever seen. How could she trust a man like that?

How could she not?

“Sophia! You are walking so fast! What is the hurry?”

Sophia froze, wishing she could ignore the gay young voice, yet she knew to do so would draw more suspicion on her. Who knew who was watching, or why? She turned slowly. “Herete, Parthenope.” She forced a smile for Parthenope Atrikes, Dimitrios’s younger sister. She had her brother’s dark curly hair and sparkling eyes, and even more arrogance. Sophia had never taken a particular liking to the girl, but she forced herself to appear natural and unconcerned now. Parthenope was just the type of girl to ask too many questions, and think she knew all their answers.

“You’re in a rush,” Parthenope said, flicking a glossy braid from under her head scarf. “Where are you going with your head tucked so low?”

“Nowhere,” Sophia answered. “Just home.” She was telling the truth, and yet she felt herself flush, conscious, so terribly conscious of all the secrets she was keeping.

Parthenope’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Are you meeting someone?” she asked in a whisper that carried halfway across the square. She leaned closer to Sophia, although her voice was still loud enough for others to hear. “A man?”

“Of course not!” Sophia took a step back as if to distance herself from such a suggestion. Stupid, thoughtless girl. “I would not be so shamed.”

Now Parthenope’s cheeks flushed and she lifted her chin, the slight movement one of defiance. “You talk of shame? The war is changing things, Sophia. It gives us freedom—”

“Freedom?” Where was the freedom in fearing for your life, in having nothing but watery pottage to eat, and with all the decent men of the village dead or gone? Sophia just shook her head. She would not argue with someone as silly as Parthenope, although to look at her, the girl seemed to be doing all right. Her cheeks were round, her body still possessing the ripe curves of young womanhood, while most of the villagers were turning rail-thin from hunger, for the Italians took much of their food.

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