Free The Girl Under the Olive Tree by Leah Fleming Page B

without Bruce and Joan and the familiar gang, it wasn’t the same.
    There was one young man who seemed as apart from the crowd as she was. Steven Leonidis had an English mother, who came from a landowning family in Wiltshire, and a father in the Greek diplomatic corps. He’d been studying at Oxford and had been schooled by private tutors and at public school. He was interested in all things Greek and the philosophy of the ancient Greek society. He liked hiking and sunbathing on the beach in the briefest of bathing trunks. The other students avoided him, for some reason. Once he started on political theory, the groups scattered and Penny was left clutching her coffee, not knowing how to make her exit without causing offence. He was lonely and so was she, so it made sense for them to go about together.
    Steven was from a large Catholic family with many brothers and sisters, and was expected to join the army soon, but so far he, too, was reluctant to return home. He and Penny got into a habit of lazy lunches and swims, and trekking into the hills. At first it was a companionable sort of friendship. But Steve was very serious, and when one day he clutched her hand, suggested she return to England to meet his family, and asked if she would consider becoming a Roman Catholic, Penny knew it was time to cool things down.
    At least someone thought her attractive enough to declare himself, even if he wasn’t Bruce. She found those slate-blue eyes hard when he started spouting how marvellous Germany was in recovering from such an insulting treaty. He was pleased the Greek Minister, Metaxas, was following this Hitler’s lead, transforming their economy by instituting public works. It was as if he were standing on a platform giving a speech and it hardly mattered if she were there at all.
    ‘Don’t you feel excited at how Nationalism is rising up all over Europe?’ Steven argued, and she gazed out over the beach, wishing she was back in the pink villa reading a book.’I don’t know how you can hang around with all those types at the BSA.’ He dismissed her friends with a wave of his hand.
    ‘You were happy enough to let them buy you drinks,’ she snapped. ‘They’re my friends. What’s wrong with them?’
    He shrugged. ‘They have all the attributes of decadent fops and mix with the wrong type of Greeks, Jews, dagos . . .’ And you are boring, she thought. She’d had not forgotten the Nationalist march and the terrible scene she’d witnessed. How could he admire such people?
    This friendship was now a bore to Penny. They made an expedition to the great theatre at Epidaurus with its perfect amphitheater and acoustics. It was funny whispering down in the epicentre, knowing you could be heard right out on the periphery. It was a wonder of construction and Penny felt such pride to know her ancestry harked back to such ancient times.
    ‘How can you be so fair and yet be of Greek stock? I thought you were true English,’ Steven said one day when they were sunbathing.
    ‘I’m just like you are on my mother’s side, but who knows where we British come from?’ she laughed, but he was not amused.
    ‘I wouldn’t boast of anything other than your mother’s family, if I were you. Mixing races is never a good idea. It’s bad enough having a Greek name to live down. Still, we are lucky, it is always the mother’s blood that is truest,’ he sighed ‘So we are both safe there.’
    He really said the silliest things, but his attention soothed Penny’s loneliness. They would climb the path up Mount Lycabettus to watch the apricot moon rise and the stars compete with the twinkling lights of the city. Steven made brief fumbling approaches, kissing her ardently, making her body flicker into life with unusual sensations, but her mind stayed distant and unresponsive. This was not what she wanted, not from him. She would have to let him down gently, but how could she throw ice on his ardour and walk away without hurting his