Page 119 of Villa of Secrets

Jacob

A great howl escaped from me. ‘NO!’

Several hands grabbed me as my knees buckled and I crumpled to the floor. Danial and Samuel; Papa, my dearest, darling, father; Mama and her bad legs; my proud and upstanding grandparents; Aunt Martha in her fine hairnet and perfect makeup, and dear Uncle Levi who wouldn’t hurt a fly. All dead?!

I remembered every detail from the time I watched them so carefully in L’Aeronautica, and finally when they boarded the ship. My entire family, and all my other aunts, uncles, and cousins, had been killed in the atrocious gas chambers I had read about, or starved to death in the unholy Nazi prison camp.

‘ Why?!’ I cried. ‘They’ve murdered my papa! My mama! Danial and Samuel! I’ve waited every day for news, longing to hear from them, and now I learn they’re dead!’ Somebody brought me a chair, and someone else a glass of water. ‘I wanted to present them with their granddaughter. What will I do now?’

The letter was taken from me. I stared, my mind blank, tears streaming down my face.

Two women linked arms with me and walked me home. My neighbour followed with the pram.

In the cottage they gave me strong tea thick with sugar. Sonia cried. Someone took her away to feed her. I wasn’t to worry.

Friday, 24 May 1947

Some days after I received Jacob’s letter, Doctor Michalis came to the house with pills. Lithium bromide, it said on the label. He told me they were proved to help depression, and were sure to make me feel better, but I could no longer breastfeed. Traces of the medication in my milk would harm Sonia.

Nobody seemed to understand that I didn’t want to feel better, and I didn’t care about Sonia, and in truth, I was a bad person who had killed many people, and here was my punishment. I deserved this mental torture. My penance for killing my sister was the awful knowledge that the rest of my family had suffered horribly. They were taken from me, and each other, forever and there was nothing I could do to change these facts.

I cried for Irini’s help, but in truth, I knew I did not deserve her loyalty. She had also suffered a terrible death, rather than betray me. And I had been selfish, enjoying her love, and yet giving mine to Giovanni.

Apparently, Mrs Spanaki sent for the doctor when she found Sonia crying, hungry, and in need of a nappy change. It seems I was unaware of my daughter’s needs. She told me later, I was completely distressed and depressed, surrounded by the newspapers with pictures of concentration camps.

I don’t remember much, only that my mind was spinning with the images I’d seen in those papers. Mass graves, starved humans, living skeletons. I stared at the gaunt faces. My family was there, amongst them, somewhere! I could not face food with those scenes at the forefront of my mind, and I had no inclination to wash myself, or change my clothes. What did it matter how I looked? Hours blurred into days, sleep and wakefulness merged. Nightmares and reality were indistinguishable and the only sounds in our house were Sonia’s plaintive crying and my own sobs.

The following days were a fog of pills, friends, and whispers.

Sonia was brought to me for short periods, but all I did was stare at her. My little girl seemed like someone else’s child. When she cried of hunger or thirst, I had no compulsion to nurture her. The kind and generous people of Paradissi took my child away and cared for her.

I asked for the letter, to read it properly, but it was kept from me. ‘When you’re stronger,’ they said.

One tranquillised day drifted into another. I had stopped caring for myself, stopped writing my journal. Sonia faded into insignificance. Life lost its value and nothing seemed important.

I asked for Jacob’s letter every day. ‘The doctor has it, Dora,’ the local nurse told me. ‘He’ll give it to you when you’re strong enough.’ She put her arm around my shoulders. ‘If you don’t improve soon, he’ll insist on electric shock treatment at the hospital.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s awful, Dora, quite unpleasant.’

‘Then why would he send me?’

‘Because it makes you lose your immediate memory. He reckons if you forget what happened to your family, you’ll get better.’

Her words had a profound effect. The last thing I wanted was to lose the memory of my loved ones. Recollections of them all before their departure on the ships were so precious. Memories were all I had. My mother’s food, my father’s stories, my brothers and the games we used to play. Danial and his riding lessons, Samuel, the brainy one who helped me with school work. Jacob who played the violin so perfectly, and he was only a year older than me.

Since his letter, I had heard the sad, mournful sound of his violin in my head while recalling newspaper pictures of atrocities beyond imagination.

I tried to be like Jacob, practising my vocal scales to perfection. I dreamed that one day we would stand together on the stage, him playing and me singing. He’d take my hand and we would bow and curtsy. My family in the front row clapping crazily, the applause magnificent.

The doctor must not rob me of these dreams and memories!

I bathed, washed my hair, and cleaned the house, which had become dirty and unkempt. I collected Sonia from a friend who’d been kind and understanding, and I went to see Doctor Michalis.

I left Sonia’s pram outside, and carried her in on my hip.

‘What’s come over you, Dora?’ he said smiling, taking in my fresh appearance. ‘I’m very pleased with your progress.’ He examined Sonia and then returned her to me. ‘You seem to have recovered. Promise me, if you ever feel depressed like that again, you’ll pay me a visit?’

I gave my word and asked for my brother’s letter. He chewed his lip and for a moment I thought he would refuse. From his desk drawer he retrieved a bundle of mail, each with the blue and red border.

‘These arrived for you, Dora. I took the liberty of collecting them. I’m going to give you the first one. Return in a couple of days and I’ll decide if you’re strong enough to deal with the rest.’