The Secrets of Sainte Madeleine by Tilly Bagshawe

Author:Tilly Bagshawe [Bagshawe, Tilly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-12-27T17:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

‘Welcome aboard, Mrs Goulandris. Allow me to help you with your case.’

Elise nodded her thanks to the captain, clasping Andreas’s hand tightly as she stepped from the gangway onto the creaking, rocking ship. It was three in the morning in Port Said, Egypt, and little Giorgios was fast asleep in his papoose, his breath rising and falling rhythmically against Elise’s chest. But Andreas was wide awake and visibly frightened, clinging on to his mother like a barnacle to the keel of a boat.

Elise didn’t blame him. She was nervous enough herself, and could only imagine how vast and dark and terrifying everything must seem through a toddler’s eyes. The pitch-blackness of the night. The muffled voices, speaking strange languages. The mingled smells of diesel oil, saltwater and the sharp tang of jute mallow leaves being boiled on the dockside to make Molokhia, the traditional Egyptian breakfast stew, all so different to the familiar smells of home. But worst of all must surely be the looming sides of the cargo ship that was to take them to London, a berth secured only after much arm twisting and bribe-paying from Costas. The ship must look like a monster to him, Elise thought guiltily, with its rusted iron rivets like a thousand glaring eyes.

Squatting down to his level, she flashed Andreas her most reassuring smile, making sure to keep her voice slow and even, as much to combat her own rising anxiety as to soothe her son. ‘Come along, my darling. Let’s find our cabin, shall we? I think it’s definitely bedtime.’

She knew she would sleep, despite her nerves, and no matter how basic the accommodation. They all would. The last two weeks had been exhausting almost beyond endurance, as Elise and the children made their way by train, boat and on one occasion horse-drawn cart from Athens to Crete, and then eventually on to Egypt. Two days in Cairo to rest and get their papers in order, a process that had involved greasing yet more palms. And then a sudden message, delivered in person just a few hours ago: The boat leaves from Port Said tonight. A scramble to pack. Half-eaten food, left on the table. Crying, confused babies bundled into the back of a strange car. And now here they were, on board. If all went well, in five days they would reach London, and safety. A new life.

Elise had begun work on Costas the same day she left hospital with Georgios, a tiny, feeble speck of a baby weighing little more than a bag of sugar.

‘He looks like a chick that fell out of the nest,’ Costas observed, on one of his rare inspections of his younger son. ‘Let’s hope he toughens up as he gets older.’

‘I know,’ said Elise. ‘We need to build his strength up and be extra vigilant. Luckily Persephone Xanthoudakis has given me the name of the best man in the world for premature babies. Dr Robin Heywood-Bryce. He’s at the Lister hospital in London, but I’ve already telegrammed him about Giorgios.

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