Young Writers Society

This is a re-post because part 1 mysteriously disappeared....I'll blame the YWS bug...

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16th July 1974

“Have you seen this?”

I glanced briefly over my shoulder and saw that Papa was reading his daily newspaper. His brow was furrowed and he looked appalled by what he was reading. I turned back to peeling the potatoes. He was probably reading some sort of politics, none of it interested me.

“We are about to be invaded by Turkey! Soula, can you hear this?”

Mama nodded from over by the oven. A funny little smile was playing around her face.

“You know who writes those articles? George. George from Famagusta. When has he ever been right? We are as likely to be invaded by Turkey as my mother coming back from the dead. Ignore that newspaper darling, it’s full of nonsense.”

But Papa was having none of it. He slapped the table with his hand. “Invaded!”

I put down the potatoes and went over to him. Mama left the room to hang out the washing. I pulled Papa into a hug.

“Kyrenia will be one of the first to get ransacked.”

Why was Papa so worried about this? The newspapers always declared that there would be war and civil unrest and it was hardly ever true. Little of Cyprus would be left if everything the newspaper printed was true.

“Papa, I’m sure nothing will come of it,” I said, planting a light kiss on his aged forehead. Despite my reassurances Papa left the kitchen with a hint of urgency in his step and I knew he was off to discuss the matter with friends.

I resumed my place by the window, peeling potato after potato. Mama had a habit of making enough food to feed the whole island rather than the four of us. She had demanded that morning that I get through the whole bucket of potatoes rather than the amount I felt sufficient.

As I stood, humming to a song that I couldn’t remember the words to, something outside caught my attention. Someone across the square was waving. A boy. And he was waving at me.

I dropped the potato I was half way through peeling and set out through the backdoor to meet him. My heart was beating fast and I wished I had put on a nicer dress that morning.

Across the square, with a lazy half smile on his face stood the boy I loved. He was holding his hand up against his face, shading his eyes from the sun. His golden brown hair was messy and he seemed to have grown a few more inches over night.

“Eva!” He presented me with a beautiful seashell. “Another one for your collection. I got it down at the beach yesterday when I took Farmer Kyri’s sheep for a bath.” I laughed in glee and took the shell, running my fingers over the shining ridges.

“Thank you, Michael. It’s gorgeous.” I placed it gently in my apron pocket.

“I knew you’d like it.”

I couldn’t help but beam; he was so thoughtful. I suddenly felt embarrassed for no reason; however it was short lived as Michael told me he had to go.

“I promised my sister I’d clear her garden today. It’s a shame it’s so hot, I’d rather have gone swimming.” I nodded in agreement. “Well, see you later, Eva.”

“Bye.”

I watched him stride down the hilly road, feeling frustrated that yet again I hadn’t built up the courage to tell him how I felt. What I didn’t know was that that was one of the last times I’d see him.

* * *

19th July 1974

My brother Stelios was always in trouble, with everyone. The police, my parents, his not so secret girlfriend, his boss, me. So when he joined the army my family thought it would straighten him out, turn him into a respectable man like my father. We were wrong.

“Stelios! Your face! What did you do?” Mama was shouting, her face pink in anger. My brother ignored her and asked if Papa was home from work yet. “Yes, but don’t you let him see you like that. Clean your face.”

I watched Stelios stick his head under the sink and scrub at the blood on his face. He had been in another fight. He wouldn’t say much about it, but it had involved one of his comrades.

I sighed and began to place all my seashells back into the velvet pouch I kept them in. I had been counting and cleaning them. I now had twenty-seven; including the one Michael had given to me.

“What is going on? I saw two men from the army arguing this morning and now you come home with a face that looks like it’s been used as a punch bag. Has something happened?” I asked, throwing a towel in Stelios direction. He wiped his face on it.

“A lot is about to happen little sis’. Ever heard of something called an invasion?”

“Of course I have,” I snapped. His patronizing tone was starting to wind me up. I was fifteen, not five. “Are we being invaded?”

Mama shook her head. “How many times do I have to say it? We are not about to be invaded.” I gazed at Mama. She had dark rings under her eyes and she seemed upset.

Then I suddenly remembered something. Late last night I was awoken. This morning I thought it was all a dream but now I realised that it was not. I had woken up to shouting. Papa was home very late and when Mama confronted him he got nasty. He told her that she was a silly woman and wouldn’t understand. That Cyprus was to be invaded. She went mad at this and said he was trying to scare her, he was lying. I must have fallen asleep at this point as I couldn’t remember anything more. Something was going on. What would happen? Would we have to move home?

Stelios gave Mama a withering look, and then stormed upstairs in search of Papa. Mama and I didn’t see either of them at all for the rest of the night.