Page 104 of Villa of Secrets

The sun was setting behind them. Shafts of light dazzled between the buildings’ windows, making me squint. The traitors huddled together mauling each other. The German grabbed Xanthi’s bottom and kissed her hard on the mouth. I truly hated Xanthi for what she had done. How could she kiss a German when she knew they’d interned our families in camps of horror? But Xanthi had proved she was capable of anything. Filthy treacherous Nazi-loving whore. Torturer! Murderess! Xanthi was responsible for Irini’s death. For me it was as if she had committed the acts of torture and murder herself.

I trembled like Giovanni’s dog, my body saturated with loathing. I thought of sweet Irini, how much pain she had suffered, and how much I loved her. Now she was gone, thanks to Xanthi.

I pulled up a giant brassica, stripped the outer leaves and rolled the vegetable into the centre of the rut in front of me, to act as a gun rest. Gripping the pistol in two hands, I placed them on the cabbage, my elbows supported on the soil irrigation mound either side of me. Squinting into the sun, my eyes started to water.

Come on, Xanthi! In a few minutes’ time I wouldn’t be able to see clearly enough for a clean shot.

The conspirators parted, turning in opposite directions. Xanthi glanced over her shoulder, before being hidden from view by a house. The German didn’t look back. I pointed the pistol at a narrow gap between the next buildings. The moment Xanthi appeared, I would fire. The space between the dwellings was only a couple of metres, leaving no room for hesitation. I was seeing spots from the sun’s glare, but in a minute or two, the sun would have dropped behind the houses.

I could hear Kapitanos Nikos’s instructions in my head: focus on the sights, not the target, line the bead with the notch on the barrel, squeeze the trigger until you feel the slightest resistance, hold it; wait for the target.

Evangelisa would never have the courage to do this thing. Yet, I had decided to believe Giovanni about the kiss and forgive Evangelisa. I loved them both, and right now they were all I had left. If only I hadn’t been so awful to them earlier, but it was too late now, and I hoped they would understand that I was too upset to think straight.

Had I the guts to take care of Xanthi? Yes, certainly! I would kill her for what she had done to my dearest Irini. I wavered – more killing. I took a breath and held it. Any second now.

I screwed my watering eyes closed to get rid of the tears and, as I opened them, there was a girlish figure with long hair about to disappear behind the next building. Xanthi! I focused on the sights and fired. She dropped like a rock. My nostrils filled with the stink of carbide. The explosion cracked, hammered into my brain so violently I couldn’t breathe.

I shook all over. Work through the plan! Suddenly traumatised, I let go of the gun, and fumbled for it among the cabbage leaves. Panic rushed through me but I followed instructions. At the edge of the plot, I plucked a cabbage from the ground and raced around the outskirts of the village to the far side.

Who would take any notice of a kid with a cabbage?

Someone shouted in the main street. People passed me quickly. I tagged along as if part of the group. I had to see that Xanthi, hateful daughter of the devil and killer of my beloved Irini, was dead.

My pulse thrummed in my ears. Our shadows stretched out ahead of us and I felt as though I walked into darkness.

‘A girl’s been shot!’ someone yelled.

Ahead, a group stood in a circle, bent over Xanthi’s body. I reached them, my breath coming in gasps, my mouth dry as sand. She lay face down, the back of her head bloodied and mashed. I trembled as they turned her over.

‘Don’t look, child,’ a woman said, taking hold of my shoulders and trying to twist me away.

I shrugged free of her grip. Xanthi would have known nothing, unlike poor Irini who suffered horribly and died in terror and pain.

Someone brought a sheet to cover the body. Although still quaking, I was proud of what I’d done. One of the men rolled the dead girl onto her back. I saw her face—

Oh, God! Evangelisa, no! No!

I screamed. ‘My sister! Evangelisa!’ My world went crazy. I had shot my sister! She couldn’t be dead. I felt myself sucked into a nightmare like dirty water in a storm drain, my heart breaking, my head pounding. I couldn’t speak, or even think, then rage filled every part of my body. What possessed me from that moment was pure vendetta. I raced back to the cabbage patch, retrieved the gun, and returned to the hut. I waited in the bushes on the edge of the clearing.

Xanthi arrived after dark. She must have heard what had happened, yet still she called out, ‘Irini! Evangelisa! Dora!’ When nobody appeared, she slipped inside and a flickering light told me she had lit a candle. Every sound seemed amplified in my heightened state of nerves. The door was ajar. Xanthi washed her body and changed her clothes. She came outside, sat on the log and brushed her long hair.

The hoot of an owl sounded from the woods.

Xanthi giggled, dropped the hairbrush, and hurried down a track that led to the cinnamon tree.

He was there, sitting on a boulder, waiting. His dark civvies set off his white-blond mop and pale skin, making him luminous in the moonlight. They kissed. He had a blanket over his shoulder.

I watched him spread the rug, then lean against the tree and unbutton his trousers. Xanthi threw off her top and her brassiere and squirmed lewdly before him, giggling and touching herself. He pulled her to him and lifted her skirt while kissing her. In a moment they were on the ground and he was at her, his bare bottom alabaster in the moonlight. I waited until his thrusts picked up speed. I stepped up close, with my feet either side of Xanthi’s head. She opened her eyes.

Before she could react, the first bullet entered the back of his head. Blood spattered Xanthi’s face and the roots of the tree. Her lover’s head fell to one side. I could see the vein pulsing in Xanthi’s neck. Her mouth made an ‘O’. The next bullet left a red dot between her eyes, and her surprised expression froze into death.

‘That’s for Irini and Evangelisa, you bitch of Satan.’

‘Irini, wait for me,’ I whispered, turning the gun towards myself and holding it to my temple, thinly aware of my knees hitting the ground. Sobbing, I tried to pull the trigger before encroaching blackness enveloped me.

*

Dear Diary, now you know everything. I am ashamed and broken hearted. Poor Evangelisa. Poor Irini. Both dead because of me. If I had boarded the ship with my family, they would both be alive now. I learned that Tassos, who was instructed to watch over me, carried me back to the Villa. They tell me I am ill.