youngest daughter, Princess Irene, was born in South Africa and christened in the Greek Orthodox Church in Cape Town, with General Smuts as her godfather. Irene was also the name of the village next to the Smuts farm Doornkloof near Pretoria.
When King Paul died in 1964, he was succeeded by his 23-year-old son, Constantine, and Elita can remember taking part as a twelve year old in the spectacular coronation celebrations. Little did she know that the king and his Danish-born wife, Anne-Marie, would later become good friends. Thanks to this friendship, the exiled king would much later become a regular visitor to South Africa.
At home in Kolonaki, the distant relationship between Nitsa and Elita became increasingly difficult for both of them. Among Nitsa’s close friends her unsatisfactory marriage was common knowledge, but she continued her life as hostess and sought-after guest and also maintained a prominent role in George’s social life.
Elita felt that she could not get through to her mother, who too often seemed preoccupied. In her young heart she often rebelliously muttered against what she as a teenager saw as “social nonsense”. “There was a never-ending round of cocktail parties. My father and I did not care for it, but it was a feature of our lives.”
She deliberately began to foster a closer bond with her grandmothers, and a good rapport with older women would often characterise her friendships in the future. Her curious nature was a source of pleasure to both grandmothers. She loved going to visit her grandmother Martha “for the lovely stories and conversations”, and grandmother Elizabeth “because she makes such delicious food”. Plump, strait-laced Elizabeth was more homely than cerebral Martha. An extremely devout person, she disapproved of parties and often warned against them. But she was a great opera fan, especially of Rossini, who was rather looked down on as a “light” composer. Elita remembers her Alexandrine cakes, made from an old Egyptian recipe, as the great treat of her childhood days.
Grandma Martha, surrounded by books, was by contrast rather grand. She enjoyed talking about the meaning of life, but was also an excellent listener when there were problems with boys and boyfriends. Here Elita would pour out her grievances regarding her mother, that she didn’t understand her, that she only and always was concerned with entertaining and doing the correct thing, and showed no interest in her daughter’s dreams. Grandmother Martha tried to comfort her by explaining that Nitsa was a complex and reserved person who would rather hide her feelings than wear them on her sleeve. Years later Elita would reproach herself severely that she had not made more effort to understand her mother’s aloofness, although an exceptionally close relationship would develop between them when “it was almost too late.”
Shortly before her death in 1996, grandmother Martha gave Elita a komboloi (a prayer necklace used mainly by men). It may have been a gift from a previous lover, perhaps the Bulgarian whom she been forbidden to marry. Elita keeps it with her constantly as a talisman.
Her teenage years in the early 1960s coincided with the age of rock & roll and films, fashions and music from America. Hamburgers and milkshakes were the favourite snacks, Cliff Richard enjoyed cult status and from London the influence of Carnaby Street extended to Athens and beyond. The youth of Kolonaki swung with “the Sixties”. Parties were many, records were eagerly collected and talk was peppered with a hip new vocabulary.
A schoolfriend, Yannis Economides, remembers Elita as “very pretty, but oh, so conservative”. According to him she was not one to join the crowd and go to wild parties – which led others to regard her as snobbish. But she could show an ebullient sense of fun which would sometimes surprise all around her.
The lives of these young teenagers were carefree and privileged. Too privileged, Elita decided at the age of fifteen, and she deliberately tried to lead a different life. Her adventures lay in meeting “ordinary” people. She enjoyed talking to Nada the housekeeper, to her governess as well as to people she met in the street. She would ride her bicycle to her father’s textile factory, drawn by the hum of the machinery and the smell of chemicals. There she became friendly with the workers and especially with the gatekeeper. He told her about his life in a world of which she had no conception, although it lay only a stone’s throw from her own home.
The family chauffeur who drove her to riding lessons also became a friend. Over cups of coffee at the riding school she would cross-examine him about his family. What did his children do on Saturdays? Where did they go for holidays? What did they want to do when they grew up? Her curiosity was an accepted fact in the household and the staff enjoyed telling her stories of life “out there”. From time to time she would say solemnly to grandmother Martha: “I don’t care for parties. I like to be with ordinary, good people.”
Like most other teenagers, Elita would sometimes feel an urge to “break out.” and later in her life she would wonder if these rebellious feelings were due to her strained relationship with her mother. On one occasion, while on holiday at Anavissos she and her friend Myrto Paraschis stole a boat and sailed out of the harbour, only to find themselves with engine problems. Drifting on the outgoing tide, they were luckily spotted and rescued. The family were relieved but nevertheless gave the two adventurers a severe dressing-down. Elita had however enjoyed her rebellion and would “break out” again.
Then there was the matter of boyfriends. From a very early stage, Kolonaki mothers like Nitsa would have begun assessing all marriage possibilities for their daughters. And although it was never actually said, everyone understood that a marriage had to be to everyone’s advantage and especially to the family business.
Nitsa was also very romantic – her friends were in the habit of saying that she was in love with love. So she enjoyed exploring “possibilities” for her daughters, who would tease their mother mercilessly about her romantic ideas and expectations.
Nico, Myrto’s brother, was one these “possibilities” for Elita. He owned a Morgan car which added considerably to his appeal, but Elita’s only comment regarding him as a future husband was an emphatic “With you? Never!”
Nico was not too cast down by her response, it seems, and remained a good friend. When Yannis teased Elita at a party as to whom her boyfriend might be, she answered pertly: “One day I will have the best man of all.”
And she did dream secretly about a hero. Often in her room or on holiday at Anavissos she would hide away and read books such as Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Her hero would be as mysterious as Heathcliff, she thought.
It would not be long before she met him.
Six: A first love
Elita was barely fifteen when she became aware for the first time of the turbulent and unpredictable nature of Greek politics. Overnight, in April 1967, a group of army colonels carried out a dramatic coup d’etat. There were no demonstrations in Kolonaki, but Elita learnt from her parents of military barricades in the streets, and protesting students had been ordered back to their homes. The Lanaras household staff also reported disturbing changes in some neighbourhoods and that soldiers were threatening people in the streets.
The coup was greeted with both great joy and deep gloom. Many Greeks feared another civil war; others were afraid that the country would wind up with an oppressive military regime. The working classes, however, generally believed that their lives would be better under the colonels.
The coup had been preceded by a three-year-long political crisis. A clash between King Constantine and Prime Minister George Papandreou led to the king banning elections. Disputes between various factions gave a group of army officers, under the command of Colonel George Papadopoulos, the opportunity to carry out a lightning coup. Papadopoulos assumed dictatorial powers, but allowed Constantine to remain as king in name only.
In December 1967, with the help of a few old naval friends, Constantine made a futile attempt to overthrow the junta and he and his family had to flee to Italy. In 1973, shortly before the removal of the junta, Papadopoulos issued a decree ending the monarchy and declaring the country a republic. Constantine would never return to Greece.
The junta dismissed civilian judges and set up military courts, jailed numerous people for alleged opposition and imposed a strict conservatism. Miniskirts,