Page 138 of Villa of Secrets

The party continued. An hour after the old folk had left, Antonis called taxis for the jubilant family and their neighbours.

At the top of Spartili Street, the men drifted towards the tables outside Manno’s kafenion where they ordered final drinks. The women grinned at each other and hummed Bubba’s song as they strolled down Spartili Street. Naomi and Rebecca linked arms with Heleny who had promised them all hot chocolate and cookies to end a perfect evening.

They chuckled about their good fortune. The case was going to committee; they stood a real chance of getting their father’s property back.

On the patio, relaxed on the new sofa, Bubba lay in Papas Yiannis’s arms. Their heads were together, eyes closed. Their peaceful faces, lit by moonlight, were turned to face the stars.

‘Look, they’ve fallen asleep,’ Naomi whispered. ‘What a beautiful sight.’ They all stopped, silent for a moment, enjoying the lovely tableau.

‘I’ll get a blanket, so they don’t catch a chill,’ Marina said.

But before she returned realisation hit Naomi. ‘Rebecca, would you stall Marina for a moment?’

‘Why . . . what’s . . . Oh no!’

‘I think so,’ Naomi said. For a weird moment, she sensed she had lived her entire life to reach this moment. Like recalling a far-distant dream or the peculiar electricity of déjá vu. She rushed onto the patio, placed her hand on Bubba’s forehead and felt it deathly cold.

‘No,’ she sobbed quietly, and then tried to get a pulse under Bubba’s jaw. Her grandmother’s flesh was already stiff and lifeless.

She turned her attention to Papas Yiannis’s wrist, still flaccid, but also unresponsive. Bubba had died in the old priest’s arms and he had continued to hold her, until he too passed away.

‘No . . . oh no,’ Naomi sobbed uncontrollably. Tears flowed freely as she stared at their faces; transcendental, loving, content.

*

The tragedy affected them all. They hardly spoke the next day, everyone fighting emotions, hugging, worn out by poignant memories of Bubba, the woman they all loved.

Marina, distraught by her own loss, blamed herself for not accompanying her grandfather home.

The next day raced by in a fug of officialdom and funeral preparation. Naomi heard that in many European countries, there were several days, sometimes weeks, before the funeral, but in Greece, it was practically the next day. Life moved quickly on with hardly any time for the family to comprehend their loss, to grieve, or to contemplate the life of their loved ones. All of that came in the thirty days of official mourning after the funeral.

Rebecca went to the synagogue to make arrangements with the Rabbi, then she met with Georgia at the church to help organise things for Marina, who seemed to be in a daze.

Costa and Fritz had taken the boys out to eat, sensing Naomi wanted some time on her own. Rebecca was still at the church when Marina brought her grandfather’s documents over to Naomi, so she could arrange the death certificates.

‘Are you all right over there on your own, Marina?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve got relations coming to stay for a few days, then . . . do you think it’s all right if Jason moves in for a while? We were going to ask Grandpa if we could get engaged, but now we have to wait a year out of respect, you know how it is.’ She broke down and threw herself into Naomi’s arms. ‘I’m going to miss him so much, Naomi.’

Naomi felt her own tears rise. ‘Your grandpa loved you very much, you know, despite the four o’ clock ladder.’

Marina pulled back, blinked at her and sniffed. ‘The four o’ clock ladder?’

‘He would stand in his dark kitchen and watch the reflection of his own house in my windows, waiting for your safe return in the early hours.’

Marina stared. ‘You mean he saw us? He knew? He never said anything.’

‘You were his world. Do you remember how proud he was at our brainstorming? And did you see the look on his face when you walked into the taverna last night? I’m telling you, he grew ten centimetres in his chair. Didn’t you notice that it was you he was looking at as he sang with Bubba?’

‘You mean he really loved me? And all the time, I thought he was just looking after me because of what happened to Mama. Like he was stuck with me and had no choice. I never realised. . . thought I was a burden. . . Oh, Naomi, I never told him I loved him! Never, not once! I’m so sad that he’s died and it’s too late now.’

‘Some people aren’t very good at showing their true feelings. Believe me, he loved you very much. I’m sure he would be happy with whatever makes you happy, and of course he knew you loved him, it didn’t need saying.’

‘Thanks, Naomi.’ She nodded at the battered shoebox on the table. ‘They’re Grandpa’s papers. I haven’t a clue what to look for. To make it worse, all the old ones, like his birth certificate and his army documents, are in Italian.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort them.’

There was no order to the priest’s documents, simply dropped into an old shoebox for years.