The Thread (7 page)

‘Just keep an eye on these for us, would you?’ Leonidas asked the tailor. ‘We’ll be back.’

There was no need to explain. Dozens of other merchants and traders were dumping their goods on the other side of the street. Everyone had the same thought: the fire would never cross it.

The streets were full of shouting and the suffocating smell of a smoke on an already airless day.

By the time Leonidas and Tasos were back in the showroom, another hundred or so rolls lay ready for collection in the aisles.

‘Take the purple silks first, followed by the red velvets. The wool should go last, but get all the
crêpe de Chine
on to the next load – whatever the colour – and try and make sure the creams don’t get too soiled …’

As soon as he was handling the fabrics, Konstantinos’ passion for them took over. His orders for their preservation and protection spilled out, one after the other, like silk coming off the roll.

In the past hour, since he had broken the news of the baby to his brother, he had not given a thought to his new son or his wife, nor to their safety. As long as they were on the same side of the road as his precious wools and silks, he assumed they were safe.

Tasos and Leonidas had returned for their fourth load of fabric. By the time they were preparing the fifth, both of them had removed their shirts and were mopping their faces.

‘Try to keep the pale ones clean, won’t you?’

The lighter coloured fabrics were getting soiled with the men’s sweat. It was one instruction too many for Leonidas.

‘Look, Konstantinos, it’s only a speck of dirt …’

‘If we’re going to save the bridal fabrics, they have to be usable and that one is worth thousands of drachmas a metre!’

‘For God’s sake, what does it matter? Personally I can’t understand why you aren’t at home with your wife and child!’

‘Because I know they are safe. And this showroom may not be. I’ve worked seven days a week on this business, for the best part of my life. Even if you don’t, Leonidas, I understand the value of what we have here. And so did our father.’

‘None of them will be worth anything at all if we don’t get them out of here,’ interrupted the old man.

He had just been out into the street where the smell was now stronger, the crowds seemed larger and, unless it was his imagination, even the heat in the air seemed greater.

‘I don’t think we’ve got much time.’

The two brothers faced each other, each still enraged by the attitude of the other.

Leonidas picked up a roll of dark velvet from the floor and went out onto the street. Tasos was right. They all had to get out of there.

He dropped the fabric on the cart, raced back inside and grabbed Konstantinos by the arm.

‘We’re going,
now
.’

Leonidas could feel his brother’s resistance to his touch.

He pulled him towards the entrance and even then Konstantinos took a moment to triple-lock the doors. By this time, Tasos had struggled to the end of the street with the handcart and turned right towards Egnatia Street. The air was now thick with smoke and the sound of crackling fire was audible.

Within a few moments they had caught up with the old man and saw the pyramid of fabrics on the pavement. Passers-by steered themselves politely around the obstacle, preoccupied with their own journeys away from danger.

‘We need to get everything inside,’ urged Konstantinos.

‘And who exactly is going to steal a piece of velvet?’ snapped Leonidas.

The tailor was already helping Tasos to move the material inside his shop, and soon there was a solid stack of nearly two hundred rolls in the middle of his floor. Konstantinos stubbornly ignored his brother’s question. He had plenty of people around him now who would carry out his instructions without challenge.

Suddenly the ground beneath them rocked and the tailor’s shop was shaken to its foundations. A moment ago it had seemed a safe haven, but now everyone – the tailor, his family, the Komninos brothers and Tasos – rushed back out into the street. There had been an explosion somewhere in the city and, amidst mounting chaos and fear, there was another, and then a third.

People hastening away from the fire seemed to quicken their pace.

‘It’s foreign soldiers,’ one man told them as he passed. ‘They’ve started blowing up buildings.’

It was not an act of insanity, but the only possibility of halting the fire. With the dire shortage of water in the city, the creation of a firebreak was the only solution anyone could think of and Allied soldiers had come into the city to help.

‘Hopefully that will do the trick then,’ Konstantinos said. ‘I think we should be going now. My wife had a baby a few hours ago.’

‘Congratulations, Kyrios Komninos! What a day to remember!’ said the tailor.

‘Well, it has been so far!’ he replied with a small smile. ‘God willing, we’ll be back tomorrow to get all this stock out of your way.’

Finally, he turned to Tasos.

‘Will you check up on the showroom and bring me a report?’

Tasos nodded.

‘I think we should be going now,’ urged Leonidas, perplexed by his brother’s certainty that all would be well. ‘Don’t you want to go and reassure Olga?’

‘I am sure she will be fine. She has Pavlina there. And don’t babies sleep for a while after they’re born?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered Leonidas. ‘I have no experience of them. But I’m sure everyone is aware of the fire by now.’

In the past hour or so, Leonidas had grown increasingly concerned about Olga. He had observed his brother’s preoccupation with the business with incredulity. How could he be so neglectful of his beautiful wife and their newborn son? Were he married to someone like Olga, she would be at the centre of his life.

They headed towards the sea and walked along the front. Everything looked just as it always did, with the elegant villas on the esplanade and the ships in the bay silently watching each other.

A pungent odour hung in the atmosphere, but now that the sun had set, the sootiness of the air blended in with the night sky. Incongruously, a hotel was still serving dinner to its guests, and café tables were still occupied by people sipping their drinks. Thessaloniki seemed to have divided itself into two unrelated worlds. Those south of Egnatia Street knew of the fire, but were certain of their own safety. There was nothing they could do to help, and it was their duty to be calm.

Tasos was now making his way back northwards. When he smelled the strong aroma of roasting lamb, he knew the meat market must have gone up in flames and the sight of a few crazed sheep cantering through the streets confirmed it.

To see livestock running free was strange enough, but then he saw a giant bird flying through the air towards him. When it landed, only centimetres in front of him, he realised it was, in fact, a chair. Three of its legs were broken by the fall. The street was littered with abandoned possessions and even now, those escaping were tossing things out of their windows: sewing machines, tables, cabinets … People had accepted that they would never again be returning to their homes and desperation had set in.

With the blind obedience of a man who had owed his living to one family for more than half a century, Tasos was resolved to carry out his boss’s request. When the volume of people coming in the other direction blocked his route, he retreated into a doorway, but eventually he reached the end of the long street where the business was situated. He could see the flames through an upper window but the front of the building was still intact.

‘It won’t take long,’ he thought to himself, ‘just to run in and grab the order book.’

He knew that this would be one of Kyrios Komninos’ main concerns and he put his key in the door.

Inside, like a monster in need of a meal, the fire had been greedily devouring rolls of tulle and taffeta, before taking its time over a satisfying main course of wool and heavy linen. Bolt after bolt of fabric was reduced to ashes. Like matches in a box, they burned and each one became a taper that lit the next.

Observers saw the windows suddenly blown outwards by the great pressure of heat from the back-draught within. If sticks of gelignite had been stored in the building it could not have caused a greater explosion. Shards of glass were blasted into the air and came down in a lethal shower of splinters. The building and everything in it was utterly destroyed.

At the same moment that Tasos was consumed by the inferno, the brothers were almost at Niki Street.

They were only a few villas away from their destination when Konstantinos glanced to his left up a dark side street and saw a glow at the end of it. To his horror, he saw that the fire had done what nobody believed possible. It had crossed Egnatia Street. Everything was different now.

The wind had changed direction and was vigorously fanning the fire southwards towards the massive section of the city that housed most of the commercial buildings and the grandest homes of Thessaloniki. Nothing could stop it. Not only was his home threatened, but more seriously for him, he realised that his warehouse, the biggest storehouse of fabric in Greece, was in the path of the flames.

Although it had become clear that this fire was turning into a disaster for the city, he still believed it would not be a catastrophe for him, Konstantinos Komninos. While the cheap wooden-framed buildings in the rest of the city might be flattened, the massive warehouse that he had built with steel and bricks would survive.

Konstantinos grabbed his brother’s arm. They needed to get to the villa, and quickly. When they reached the house, Olga was sitting in the hallway, pale and dark-eyed, with the tiny baby clutched to her chest. Pavlina stood next to her, a bag in each hand. The two of them were in tears but relief poured over their faces when Konstantinos and Leonidas appeared.

‘We need to go, immediately!’ said Konstantinos roughly, and without any delay ushered them into the street.

They hastened as fast as they could along the promenade, the newborn aware of nothing but the warmth of his mother’s arms and the strong beat of her heart. The sea, only a few inches to the right of them, gave them small comfort.

The Greek army was using a few fire engines to try to hose down some of the flames, but it was futile, like throwing a bucket of water at a forest fire. The priority now was to get the inhabitants of Thessaloniki to safety.

People from every race had gathered in an area just east of the White Tower, and dozens of vehicles were ferrying them away from the flames and out of the city. Others were escaping by boat. Destinations were unfixed; flight was all that mattered. The whole of the seafront was now ablaze and falling buildings presented new dangers as iron balustrades began to melt and walls collapsed thunderously into the street. Even with the Babel’s Tower of languages, bonds were briefly formed between those who rescued and those who were saved.

An orange glow had spread over the sky, as though the sun had set and risen again within a few hours. The whole city was alight.

Leonidas helped Olga, the baby and Pavlina into an army vehicle. Olga was clearly very weak but Leonidas reassured Konstantinos that she was in good hands and would be well-looked after. The cloth merchant had pressed a handful of notes into the army officer’s hand, with a promise of many more should all go well, and told the driver to take them to Perea, where one of his best customers lived.

In spite of the little love lost between the brothers, Leonidas felt obliged to stay with Konstantinos. They walked eastwards, then sat all night and much of the following day at a safe distance along the waterfront, watching the cremation of their beloved city.

That day, many were convinced that a miracle took place.

The fire had cared little for any religion. There were a few minarets still standing, like tree trunks in a burned out wood, but almost every synagogue had been razed. Dozens of churches had been lost as well, but when the fire reached the ancient basilica of Agia Sofia, it mysteriously stopped. Some saw it as an answer to their prayers.

Whether through God’s intervention or not, the fire no longer had the wind behind it. The flames needed its power to help it leap to the next area of the city and without this, the conflagration could not continue. Even though the city would continue to smoulder for some days, the fire had run its course.

By Monday morning, Konstantinos was eager to get back to the city. From where they stood, it was impossible to make out the extent of the destruction, and he was still certain that his main warehouse by the port would have survived

‘I need to inspect the damage,’ said Konstantinos.

With growing trepidation, the brothers walked in silence towards their devastated city, the blackened silhouettes of the gutted buildings becoming ever more apocalyptic, the closer they came to the centre. There was a palpable sadness in the air. The city was in mourning, its blackened remains its own widow’s weeds.

A man in rags stood with Bible in hand raging to an imaginary congregation. He was reading from the Book of Revelation.

‘Alas, alas, for the great city that was clothed in fine linen, in purple and scarlet, adorned with gold, with jewels, and with pearls. For in a single hour all this wealth has been laid waste.

‘And all shipmasters and seafaring men, sailors and all whose trade is on the sea, stood far off and cried out as they saw the smoke of her burning, “What city was like the great city?” And they threw dust on their heads, as they wept and mourned, crying out: “Alas, alas, for the great city where all who had ships at sea grew rich by her wealth”.’

‘That seems to fit …’ said Leonidas.

‘Don’t be so superstitious,’ said his older brother angrily. ‘Some idiot started a fire. It’s as simple as that.’

All along the water’s edge towards the city they noticed submerged remains of burned-out fishing boats. Against all odds, they had been caught by sparks from the flaming seafront buildings.

Many others were making the same silent pilgrimage to inspect the devastation, and the spectacle they faced was worse than any of them had imagined. Hotels, restaurants, shops, theatres, banks, mosques, churches, synagogues, schools, libraries – all were gutted, as were the houses. Thousands upon thousands had been destroyed.