‘How much coffee have you had?’ Helen had asked her, after they loaded up. ‘You do realize it’s still only four in the morning.’
‘I’m excited to see the island,’ Marta replied shyly. She wasn’t much of a talker either. ‘And the convent. This is all still new to me. We have nothing like this in Patras.’
Helen had scoffed at the idea that anyone could find remote, sleepy Sikinos ‘exciting’, still less that they might look forward to a backbreaking slog up a cliffside to deliver cakes to a bunch of God-bothering weirdoes in habits and veils. Fatima too found it odd that a city girl like Marta would come all the way to these tiny islands to find work. Although, God knew, times were hard in Greece. Many people traveled many miles these days simply to be able to feed themselves, and city rents were notoriously expensive. At least here on Folegandros one could live on very little.
Now Helen and Fatima carried the heavier crate between the two of them, each resting a corner on one shoulder, while Marta carried the lighter pallet alone as the three women began the long climb from the beach up to the convent walls.
Ella barely felt the weight of the box in her arms as she made her way up the steep steps. All that physical training at Camp Hope had paid off, although in truth at least half of Ella’s superhuman strength this morning had to be coming from adrenaline. In an hour, or perhaps only in minutes, she might be coming face to face with Athena Petridis. With the woman who had killed her parents and stolen her childhood. Twenty years of waiting in vain, of not knowing, of feeling different and useless and abandoned and impaired – that might all end today. This morning. The dawn sun rising deep red on the eastern horizon, bleeding its color into the pale blue sky, looked more beautiful to Ella than any she had ever seen. It was rising for her, spurring her on, willing her to succeed, to fulfill her destiny—
‘Ella. Can you hear me?’
Ella stopped dead. Setting down her box, she put her hands on her temples.
The last time she’d heard Gabriel’s voice in her head like this had been on her first ‘date’ with Makis, the day she’d almost blown her entire cover by blurting out nonsense. Back then she’d been furious that Gabriel was second-guessing her. But today it was a relief to hear his signal, quiet but clear. Just to know he was out there. As long as he didn’t start trying to tell her what to do …
‘Jesus, Marta! Be careful,’ Fatima snapped, exhaustion making her sharper than usual as she and Helen almost knocked into her. Ella might be finding the climb easy, but the other girls’ labored breathing and flushed faces were a testament to their effort and exertion.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Ella, looking around for any signs that Gabriel might be close by. ‘You two go ahead of me. I need a minute.’
‘Finally, Superwoman needs a break!’ Helen panted to Fatima, as the two of them moved slowly up ahead. ‘Perhaps we two old tortoises are going to win this race after all.’
‘Old tortoises?’ Fatima grinned. ‘Speak for yourself!’
Ella waited for Gabriel to speak again. As before, she assumed he was using one of the small fishing boats on the horizon as a transmitter. There seemed to be no other signs of life.
‘Don’t alert the others,’ he said, once Helen and Fatima were a good fifty yards ahead. ‘But if you’re receiving this, raise your hands.’
Ella did as he asked, albeit a little grudgingly. As if she would alert the others!
‘Good. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone. We have eyes on you right now. But once you’re inside the convent walls we’ll lose that visual. So please listen carefully now. You already know the parameters of your mission …’
Exactly. So why the mansplaining? thought Ella, picking up her basket and resuming the climb, her irritation building.
‘Try very hard to take a mental snapshot of Sister Elena. You may only have a few seconds but we need a clear picture, transmittable quality.’
Ten more seconds of this and I’ll start tuning him out, thought Ella, her initial relief at having ‘backup’ rapidly fading. The fact was, Gabriel couldn’t do ‘backup’. He had to push his way to the front. Always.
‘The most important thing to remember is, whether you positively ID Athena or not, you need to get out of there with the other girls when they leave. No lingering. No heroics. OK?’
Ella kept walking.
‘Ella, if you can hear me, raise your hands again.’
She ignored him. A few seconds passed.
‘Ella!’ His volume crept up as loud as the frequency would allow. ‘I know damn well you can hear me. Do you understand t
he instructions?’
Fatima and Helen were trudging up the final flight of steps, their backs still turned towards Ella. Setting down her crate for a final turn, Ella spun around and extended her middle finger in the general direction of the fishing boat.
‘ELLA!’ Gabriel roared, so loudly that Ella’s brain started to whistle. Counting backwards from ten as Dix had taught her, she successfully turned him down, then off. I’m getting better at this, she thought delightedly, following the others up to the heavy iron gate set into almost three-foot-thick stone walls.
‘There you are,’ panted Fatima. Pausing to catch her breath, she rapped three times on the gate. Moments later, a stooped crone of a nun opened it for them. Without a backward glance, or another thought about Gabriel, Ella slipped inside the fortress and was gone.
‘What do you think, Marta?’ Fatima asked, noticing Ella’s fascinated, roving eyes and feeling more conversational now that she’d finally set down her heavy basket of breads. ‘Pretty stunning, isn’t it? Is it what you expected?’
‘I don’t know what I expected,’ Ella answered truthfully, gazing up at the mullioned windows set high in the towering walls of the convent kitchens.