Page 112 of Villa of Secrets

‘I’m just waiting for a taxi to bring me back, Sis.’

Naomi remembered her boys would be there soon too. ‘Did you have a good time shopping?’

‘Yes, lovely. Naomi, I hope this will be all right. Fritz is arriving in a few hours, and I’m worried about Bubba. Shall I keep him away from her? I’d never forgive myself if, you know, seeing him upsets her again.’

‘Don’t worry, he phoned. Bubba’s okay with it. I’ve booked you into Rent Rooms in Paradise. I imagine you’d want to spend some time alone with him. Of course, you’d be welcome to come here first. Whatever you choose is fine.’

‘Naomi, you’re so thoughtful, thank you.’

Naomi hung up, rushed upstairs, and started packing her sister’s things. The diary was on Rebecca’s bedside table. She sat on the bed and opened it, deciding she deserved ten minutes for herself. Also she felt that, to better understand her grandmother, she needed to read as much about Bubba’s past as possible.

Chapter 47

Friday, 4 May 1945

Dear Diary, months have passed since my last entry. There has been little to write about, except that I am heavy with child and not much use to anyone. We have not heard news of my family, or the other Jews that were taken from here ten months ago, but every day I hope.

I’m still living in the hut on Mount Filerimos with Josie and Tassos. This morning, as I gathered our second crop of tomatoes from the plot Evangelisa had started, I heard Josie scream. My heart seemed to leap into my throat, and I waddled cautiously back to the hut, afraid of what I might find.

Josie and Tassos were hugging each other. They both grinned at me.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

‘I have it on good authority from the Andartes in Crete that the war will end within the next three days,’ Tassos said.

‘We can go home, Dora!’ Josie cried. She was already stuffing things into a bag.

We had been together through winter and spring, and each of us longed to return to our homes. With the glorious news, we planned to part company the following morning. Tassos, who was also a shepherd, agreed to take Kopay and Irini’s mule, and keep them on form until Giovanni returned. Josie took Zeus as she was a competent rider and I felt I owed her so much. In my advanced condition, I was safer on my own two feet.

Saturday, 5 May 1945

Once my friends had gone, I sat alone in the sparse room, thinking about all that had happened since my family boarded that rusty ship. Heavy with child and afraid of giving birth, I walked through the forest, wanting to see the cinnamon tree before I left.

Undisturbed for six months, the place had grown lush, the path hidden. The white flowers of wild cyclamen hung their heads like shamed virgins in the deep shadows of surrounding trees. In the clearing, grass had risen calf-high. My mind was full of Giovanni, the only man I have loved.

I waded through the vegetation and reached out to touch the tree. ‘Hello, old friend,’ I whispered. ‘Remember me?’ I rested my forehead against the bark, my fingers tracing the rectangle where Giovanni had taken a piece of her heart.

‘He stole my heart too. I hope your wound’s not as painful as mine, dear tree.’ Tears rolled down my cheeks. ‘He doesn’t even know I’m having his baby. I pray God keeps him safe, for his child’s sake.’ I stroked the bark, remembering the first time I collected cinnamon with Giovanni’s hand covering mine. Earlier memories flooded back: how I had watched him singing in the choir while my darling family believed I was doing schoolwork.

I lifted the penknife from my pocket and cut the outline of a heart into the bark. Inside, I engraved our initials. I smiled to think of him, and gently sliced the arrow of Eros right through the heart. ‘Make sure he sees this when he returns from the war, dear tree, and send him to find us.’

I wiped my eyes, patted my belly, and returned to the cabin. I started packing for my return to Paradissi. Quite unexpectedly, I felt energised and had an urge to clean the hut before I left. I folded the bedding, polished the windows and swept the floor. Mama would be pleased. With my few belongings stuffed into a net bag, I wondered where my duffel bag was at that moment. About to leave, I noticed some fabric poking from the junk cupboard.

I climbed on the mattress and yanked the door open. Evangelisa’s clothes tumbled out. Unbalanced, I fell back onto the bed. I couldn’t deal with it. That I had shot my own sister. I had blocked her and the appalling event from my mind. I carefully folded the pretty dresses, remembering her in each of them, twirling, holding the sides out, curtsying, tap-dancing, which she was very good at. She had loved looking beautiful.

I’m so sorry, Evangelisa. So sorry.

My family were gone; my best friend had been tortured to death; I’d killed my own sister; and the man I married had left me. Why was all this happening? Racked by remorse, I didn’t want to leave the place. I lay on the bed crying for all the people I’d loved and lost, until dusk eventually fell. I got up and lit the fire, boiled the last of the rice and greens, and decided to sleep in the hut for one last night.

Saturday, 6 May 1945

I was ready to leave when my attention was drawn to the cinders in the grate. If a strong wind caught the chimney, the ashes would blow all over the hut, my hard work wasted. Using our home-made besom and the shovel, I cleaned the hearth.

Outside, I noticed the scent of charcoal. I sniffed. There it was again, the smell of woodsmoke. A distant glow above the trees caught my attention and the sickening reality hit me. I hugged my enormous belly. A forest fire raged uphill, heading straight for me and my baby.

In the centre of the Filerimos forest, the hut offered no protection against fire. I had to escape, and quickly. I grabbed my bag and waddled as fast as possible down the track.

The smoke became thicker, my eyes stung and the back of my throat burned, but there was no other way off the mountain. I prayed I’d get past the fire before it reached the road. I hurried on. Flames licked the trees on my right, they seemed to leap from one to the other, following me like a pack of blazing wolves, waiting for a moment to pounce. I tried to run, but found it impossible. The wind shifted, parting the smoke. Down the hillside, heading my way, a row of soldiers beat the smouldering vegetation.