The Eagle's Cry by Richard Townshend Bickers

Author:Richard Townshend Bickers [Richard Townshend Bickers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2015-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

Seven

The Greek Army was holding the Italians along the frontiers with ease. The Greeks had no plans for advancing into Albania, Bulgaria or Jugoslavia. They did not want to enter or possess anyone else’s territory: all they wanted was to keep invaders out of theirs.

The squadron flew on alternate days, serviced their aircraft and waited for the Germans to come. It was obvious that the Italians would never conquer Greece or even penetrate far into it. German intervention was inevitable.

On their third morning at Elefsis Nash sent for Denton.

“I’ve just had a call from Pefkos, the chap we met the other night. He’s apparently in the equivalent to our Foreign Office. He’s asked four of us to dinner tomorrow. I thought I’d take along Squadron Leader Fry and Hugh Ivens. Pefkos particularly invited you.” Nash’s eyes protruded a trifle further with amusement. “At his beautiful daughter’s suggestion, no doubt.”

Kathia had been much in Denton’s thought. He was reluctant to succumb again to the obvious attraction of a pretty girl, but this time, he told himself, he would not fall in love. It had been in his mind to invite her out, but he was not sure what the conventions of Greek society demanded. Seeing her tomorrow would give him the chance to ask her.

Ian Critchley would be disappointed, and perhaps hurt, at being left out. The C.O. did not entirely approve of him, Denton knew. Teddie Nash had once confided to Fry, in Denton’s hearing, that Critchley was “n.q.t.d.” Not Quite Top Drawer. Hugh Ivens, on the other hand, manifestly was. He was also a particular crony of Denton’s.

The Pefkoses lived in fashionable Kolonaki, at the foot of Mount Lycabettus. Their house was surrounded by a high wall and there was a gatekeeper’s lodge at the entrance. Three cars stood at the portico when the R.A.F. guests arrived. One of these was a military one and its driver saluted them. A manservant met them at the door.

There were several people in the drawing-room. Kathia, seen for the first time standing, was more beautiful than Denton had remembered. Her figure was slender and tall, perfectly proportioned. Her yellow dress complemented her ivory-olive skin and black hair, her very dark brown eyes.

They were introduced to a major general, his wife and two daughters; a cabinet minister and his wife and their son and daughter; a professor and his wife and daughter. All the older people spoke English well, the younger ones not badly, and what they lacked they made up in French. A butler and maid served champagne.

Victor Fry, after his first sip, murmured “My God! Monkey piss. I suppose he gets it cheaply through diplomatic channels; and no wonder.”

Denton was neither insecure nor blasé enough to agree. The stuff tasted all right to him. Ivens, whose boyish face gave him a permanent look of innocence, cast him an amused look and then turned his innocuous stare on Fry.

“What type of monkey would you say, sir?” He took a judicious sip. “And the year? I’m afraid I’ve never drunk piss myself; of any kind.

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