Page 114 of Villa of Secrets

I nodded, winced and rocked forward again.

‘I’ll get the midwife at first light.’ She pulled cushions off her sofa and piled them on the stone floor. ‘Kneel over those,’ she said, taking off her woollen slippers. ‘Put these under your knees for a bit of comfort.’

I did, and the pain eased immediately. ‘Thank you, that’s much better. Such a relief.’

‘Mmm, takes the pressure off your spine,’ she said.

A weight lifted from my mind too. Mrs Spanaki was caring, and seemed to know about childbirth. I knew nothing, except I had seen a lamb being born once.

‘I’m sorry about this,’ Mrs Spanaki said. ‘But I’m afraid if your waters break, you’ll ruin my sofa.’ She pulled an oilcloth off the table and spread it over her settee.

‘Waters?’ I asked.

She stopped making my bed. ‘How old are you, Dora?’

‘Sixteen.’

Mrs Spanaki straightened and crossed herself. ‘Oh dear. It’s going to be a long night.’

The next day, the priest and his wife helped me move back into my Paradissi home. It had changed little since our move to my father’s shop in the city. I wondered if the choirmaster and his wife were still living there, in our town house behind the shop, but to be honest I didn’t care. With the onset of labour, I had enough to think about.

*

Peace was announced the next day: 8 May, 1945. That evening, in my own home, I gave birth to Sonia Phoenix Cohen. She rose from the ashes of war. A new life that came into the free world with the sound of a fanfare.

Outside, Paradissi erupted with joy. Church bells rang. Someone blew a tuneless trumpet. Music blared. People shouted, ‘No more war! It’s over!’ I heard laughter and the explosion of firecrackers. A jubilant accompaniment to the moment was when the midwife placed Sonia Phoenix Cohen in my arms.

My beautiful baby girl was born into a safer place, our planet free of conflict. A place of peace and harmony where we’d accept people of different religions and cultures. A perfect world.

With her little clenched fists, Sonia Phoenix Cohen boxed an invisible foe, and pride welled up inside me. This was my child! A born fighter, a survivor, the same as her mother. I called her Sonia after my grandmother who, like my father, always told me to follow my dreams. Also, I knew the name ‘Sonia’ came from the Greek for wisdom.

I imagined Papa’s homecoming. Run, little rabbit. And I would, right into his arms. I could feel that first hug. Then, I would present him with his granddaughter, Sonia Phoenix Cohen. How I loved the sound of her name.

These thoughts tumbled through my mind as I held my tiny baby. What sort of life would she have without her father? Perhaps Giovanni would come back now the war was over. Just one look, that’s all the shepherd boy would need, and he would commit to being the best father in the world. He hadn’t meant all those things he said. Like me, he was upset, shocked.

Sonia’s life would be perfect; of that I was sure. I swore an oath; ‘I will protect you, Sonia Phoenix Cohen, from harm for all the days of my life.’

‘She’s tired. Let’s swaddle her and let her sleep.’ The midwife took Sonia from me.

I waited for news of my family, my parents and my brothers. They’d been gone for ten months. Surely the war had ended in time to save them. I’d done my best, and like me they were fighters, survivors.

I learned our Jewish friends and families on the three ships were taken to the concentration camp of Auschwitz. Rumours trickled back. We heard how some prisoners endured the most horrific circumstances, yet survived. Those people were held in Italy, until they were strong enough to travel. Awful pictures appeared in the newspapers of living skeletons staring bleakly ahead, too horrible to believe.

Sonia was two months old when I tied her onto my back and walked to the monastery. I came across a grave bearing only a date and the name ‘Evangelisa’. In the shade of a nearby oak, I spread the blanket and put Sonia down. She was no trouble, content to feed and sleep her days away. As she lay gurgling and boxing, I picked wild flowers and laid them on Evangelisa’s grave.

Remorseful that I hadn’t been a better sister, I cried. All she wanted was to be like me. Why did her life have to end that way – with a bullet from my own gun? I fell to my knees, sorrow exploding in my heart once again.

Evangelisa would have loved Sonia and made a wonderful aunt. Why shouldn’t she have a kiss from Giovanni? I had so much from him. I thought about the shepherd boy every day, praying he’d come back and find me. I hoped he would come to accept that shooting Evangelisa was an awful accident, and forgive me. I went to bed each night with a broken heart, and woke each morning filled with hope for Giovanni’s return.

Chapter 48

Rebecca returned from grocery shopping in town. ‘How do you feel about Fritz coming over?’ Naomi asked when they hugged.

‘I’m thrilled. He’s landing at six. Can you come to the airport with me? Will Bubba be all right on her own for an hour?’

‘Of course I’ll come with you. I’m just waiting for the boys to arrive.’ The pain in Rebecca’s eyes told Naomi there was more going on than her sister had revealed.

‘I’m not a damn invalid! I can manage by myself you know.’ Bubba called as she emerged from her room.