I smiled and nodded, pleased to connect with the grand lady. ‘Tee . . . yes, all right, that’ll do.’

*

Night fell quickly, as if God had his fill of this terrible day and drew the drapes. I ventured onto the quayside and sat on the old chest. Moments later, Manno appeared.

‘Are you OK now?’ He dropped his head to one side and thrust his hands into his pockets.

I glanced into his eyes and then looked away. ‘Yes, thank you.’ I wanted to be bold, in control, yet in his company my insides quaked. He reduced me to something fragile and slightly frightened.

‘Come, walk with me around the harbour,’ he said.

Flustered, I hesitated. In my medical training, I learned that patients came with instruction labels pinned to their chest, telling the nurse what to do. Also, we were told how to behave in certain situations. At that moment, I thought all men should come with an instruction book. Young women of a certain age and class would benefit from hints on how to handle unpredictable behaviour. How to deal with the forward ones, the men who took liberties, and those who melted a girl’s heart. Life was difficult enough without having to analyse every word uttered by exuberant young men. Was Manno asking me to walk out with him in a formal manner, or simply being friendly? ‘Um . . . I . . .’

‘Ah, you are tired, no worries. I go home now. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow?’

I heard the question in his voice. ‘Where’s home? Do you live here in the town?’

He sat beside me and stared out to sea. ‘No, we live on another island over the horizon, Syros. My father and me, we are the mail boat. We trawl for fish from here to there, sell the catch on the quayside, deliver the mail, and sleep a few hours. Then we return, fish until we arrive here, sell the fish, deliver the mail, and start back again. We were just on our way to Syros when your ship sank. What’s your name?’

‘Gertie, Gertie Smith. Mrs Yiayá calls me Tee.’

He laughed, confusing me.

‘Tee means “what?” in Greek,’ he explained, ‘and, Yiayá means grandmother.’

I blinked at him, still trying to make sense of things. ‘It’s been a terrible day,’ I said. ‘Thank you for rescuing us.’

Manno shrugged. ‘Nothing. I will see you tomorrow, Gertie-Gertie, yes?’

‘No, it’s just one Gertie. My name is Gertie Smith.’

‘Why you tell me two?’

I shrugged. ‘My mistake, sorry.’ Then I dared another glance into his brown eyes. ‘Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘I will walk you back to Yiayá,’ he said.

‘Really, there’s no need.’

‘But there is, I must protect the flowers . . .’

‘Oh, stop it!’ I cried, holding my belly and laughing.

At the cottage, he entered with me, and Yiayá exchanged a knowing smile with him, then said something that I didn’t understand.