Page 33 of Villa of Secrets

Please don’t sail away! I don’t want you to go!

Seagulls took to the air. No time to fret or speculate; I had to dive into the sea.

Mama, Papa, I will find you! Send me some good luck! Here I go, on three; run for the edge and jump into the sea. One, two—

My plan was scuppered before I’d set foot out of the truck’s shadow. Two Nazis came around to the blind side of the vehicle and spoke in German. A match fell to the floor in front of me and I caught a whiff of sulphur. I hardly dared breathe; their thick-soled boots stood less than a metre from where I crouched.

Two minutes later, they crushed their cigarettes. One soldier marched away. I recognised the metallic squeak of the wagon door opening. Too late to make a run for the dockside.

A boot disappeared towards the driver’s footplate.

I jumped away from the wheel, afraid it would catch my dress and drag me to a horrific death. I’d been so busy observing the ships and the officers, I hadn’t noticed the troops assembling at the port entrance, ready to march back to the barracks.

When the lorry drove away, I would be left alone, exposed on the quayside with nowhere to hide. The sea was my only option.

The siren stopped. My heart sank. No bombs. The silence meant everyone would hear the splash as I hit the water, a metre below the dock. I wish I’d learned to dive properly, like Danial. He pierced the surface like an arrow, hardly a sound, barely a ripple. Jacob and I hugged our knees and bombed the water, competing to make the biggest waves.

Two trucks drove away. I watched the driver’s feet. He changed his mind, walked to the passenger door and opened it. Probably too hot in the cab, I thought. He moved towards the truck’s tailgate. I turned too.

Then, I realised what my father had tried to tell me. The little rabbit’s shadow!

Low sun shone under the lorry, sending my elongated shadow out from the rear of the vehicle like a cat’s tail. I dropped onto all fours and, with my eyes fixed on my shadow, I crawled backwards until it disappeared into the shadow of the truck.

My knees were stinging and bloody, and I realised I had scraped my skin on the concrete. This wasn’t the time to start crying, but I couldn’t help it.

Papa! Somebody! Help me!

I had to get into the sea. Salt water purified wounds; Mama taught me that. I turned towards the quayside and stuck my head from under the bumper, ready to lunge forward and leap into the Sea; but then – intense pain.

The soilder grabbed my hair and swung me from under the lorry.

‘Please . . .’ I sobbed violently. ‘You’re hurting me.’

Pain burned my scalp. The soldier’s sour breath stank of cigarettes. The Nazis shot people. Would he execute me? Bang. Dead. Beads of sweat glistened on his face. His eyes narrowed and he muttered something guttural.

I’m a fighter, I reminded myself, I survived because I’m a fighter! But there was no fight in me, just the jangled nerves of a coward.

‘You’ve got so much to live for,’ my granny had said when we talked about my future. I want to sing. I want to write. I trembled violently.

‘Verdammt!’ the soldier spat when my feet were off the ground. I didn’t struggle. His eyes met mine and narrowed.

I stared at him, my eyes wide and pleading, the puppy-dog look that sometimes got me out of trouble.

He glanced around. The ships were inaccessible, anchored offshore. I thought my hair was coming out by the roots. It took everything I had not to scream. He threw me into the lorry’s passenger side and slammed the door so hard my brains rattled.

I scrambled across the cab, frantic to leap from the driver’s side and run away before he reached the front. He got there before me and shoved me back into the passenger’s footwell. I cowered into the corner, making myself small, shaking like a kicked dog.

He started the truck with a jolt.

Trapped, I swiped my tears away and stared at him. My knees hurt. His pale skin glowed pink from too much sun, his nose was peeling. His eyes were pale and cold in his fine-boned face. He glanced at me, a tic twitching the corner of his mouth.

‘Bitte, bitte,’ I pleaded.

He poked a finger towards the floor and ordered, ‘Sei still,’ followed by something I didn’t understand.

I couldn’t see where we were going and with each bump on the uneven road, grit on the floor dug into my shins and my bleeding knees. Oddly, I became deathly calm. The soldier appeared worried. His eyebrows bunched as he chewed his lip and squinted about. After a few minutes, he took his hand away from the wheel and patted the passenger seat. I understood and scrambled up, peering at our whereabouts.

We travelled uphill, through an area of olive groves and vineyards, green and linear in the red earth. They soon gave way to overgrazed scrubland crisscrossed by goat-tracks. Above, Cyprus trees that loomed dark in the shadow of Filerimos Mountain appeared menacing, like black dragon’s teeth. I realised we were on the road to the army camp near the airport viewing tower.