The Island

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not been kind to her body and she was now stocky, with heavy legs. By contrast, Fotini was as slim as an olive sapling but she had inherited her mother’s beautiful eyes. When the little boat had all but disappeared, the two of them turned and walked swiftly across the square. Their destination was the house with the faded green door, the house from which Eleni had emerged some time earlier. The shutters were closed, but the front door was unlocked and mother and daughter stepped inside. Soon Savina would hold the girls and provide the embrace that their own mother, in her wisdom, had been unable to give.
     
     
    As the boat neared the island, Eleni held Dimitri’s hand ever more tightly. She was glad that this poor boy would have someone to care for him and at this moment did not give a second thought to the irony of this position. She would teach him and nurture him as though he was her own son, and do her best to ensure that his schooling was not cut short by this terrible turn of events. She was now close enough to see that there were a few people standing just outside the fortress wall and realised they must be waiting for her. Why else would they be there? It was unlikely that they were on the point of leaving the island themselves.
     
    Giorgis guided the boat expertly towards the jetty and soon he was helping his wife and Dimitri on to dry land. Almost subconsciously, he found himself avoiding contact with the boy’s bare skin, taking his elbow not his hand as he helped him out of the boat. He then concentrated fiercely on tying the boat fast so that he could unload the boxes safely, distracting himself from the thought of leaving the island without his wife. The small wooden crate that was the boy’s and the larger one that belonged to Eleni soon sat on the quayside.
     
    Now that they were on Spinalonga, it seemed to both Eleni and Dimitri that they had crossed a wide ocean and that their old lives were already a million miles away.
     
    Before Eleni had thought to look around once more, Giorgis had gone. They had agreed the night before that there would be no goodbyes between them, and they had both been true to their resolve. Giorgis had already set off on the return journey and was a hundred metres away, his hat pulled down low so that the boat’s dark strips of wood were all that lay in his field of vision.
     

Chapter Four
     
    THE CLUSTER OF people Eleni had noticed earlier now moved towards them. Dimitri remained silent, staring down at his feet, while Eleni held out her hand to the man who came forward to greet them. It was a gesture that demonstrated an acceptance that this was her new home. She found herself reaching out to take a hand that was as bent as a shepherd’s crook, a hand so badly deformed now by leprosy that the elderly man could not grasp Eleni’s outstretched hand. But his smile said enough, and Eleni responded with a polite ‘ Kalimera .’ Dimitri stood back, silent. He would remain in this state of shock for several more days.
     
    It was a custom on Spinalonga for new members of the colony to be received with some degree of formality, and Eleni and Dimitri were welcomed just as if they had finally reached a far-off, long-dreamed-of destination. The reality was that for some lepers this was truly the case. The island could provide a welcome refuge from a life of vagrancy; many of the lepers had spent months or even years living outside society, sleeping in shacks and surviving off pilfered scraps. For these victims of the disease, Spinalonga was a relief, respite from the abject misery they had endured as outcasts.
     
    The man who greeted them was Petros Kontomaris, the island leader. He had been voted in, along with a group of elders, by the three hundred or so inhabitants in the annual election; Spinalonga was a model of democracy and the regularity of the elections was intended to ensure that dissatisfaction never festered. It was Kontomaris’s duty to welcome all newcomers,

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