Page 44 of Villa of Secrets

I waited on the log. The cabin door squeaked. I sat taller. A moment later Giovanni was beside me.

I took a breath, the new adult growing inside me. After a short silence I said, ‘I want to thank you for fixing my wrist. You did a good job.’

‘I’ve fixed many a broken leg before.’

I figured he was lying and wanted to say so, but that would be childish. I squared my shoulders and turned to face him.

‘On the sheep,’ he said, reading my disbelief.

I nodded, surprised my restraint had brought the truth rather than a squabble. ‘I have to see the Andartes. Can you fix that too?’

‘What for? They can’t make it no better.’ He nodded at my wrist.

‘I believe you’re right, but I want to speak to them about my family on the ship; ask if they can do anything or if they’ve heard where the boats are going.’

‘I told you: they’re being taken to the prison camps. Get used to it. You won’t see them again.’

His words cut into me like knives fresh off the grinder. My fists clenched. A bolt of pure agony shot from my broken bone to my shoulder. I whimpered, yet welcomed the pain. That mind-numbing feeling annihilated my grief and helplessness. I screwed my eyes closed, grabbed my wrist, and held it to my chest.

‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Giovanni said. ‘Here, have a go at this. It’ll help.’

I opened my eyes as he pulled a bent, hand-rolled cigarette from his pants pocket and lit it with a greasy lighter.

I shook my head. ‘No, thanks.’

‘Really, this isn’t ordinary tobacco, it’s herbal. Dried basil, hemp, and a little cinnamon. My father grows it, a recipe guaranteed to stop pain.’

He held the cigarette towards me and I sucked on the end, exhaling immediately. Smoke stung my eyes and I ended up sniffing back tears and coughing.

‘You’re doing it wrong. Look. Breathe out, suck air in through the cigarette, and hold the smoke for as long as possible.’ He passed it to me. ‘It’ll make you dizzy, but the pain will ease.’

I tried again. For a moment everything receded and my head spun, before a coughing fit took over.

‘Disgusting!’ The word came out half swallowed. I handed it back and pulled in a few deep breaths.

‘Yeah, but the pain’s going, eh?’

I nodded. ‘What’s that writing on the paper?’ Braver now, I plucked the cigarette from his fingers and gave it another try.

‘Holy stuff. My dad don’t have fag papers, but the Bible pages in church are perfect for rollin’, real thin and shiny like. I takes a few every time I go into Agios Marinos church, and I use a bit of tree resin for the glue.’

‘You take them from the church? Bible pages? But . . .’ I couldn’t believe that I’d helped to burn Bible pages to ash. The Christian Bible in Agios Marinos was not exactly my religion, but burning any religious book had to be a big sin. ‘Oh dear, what about God?’ I whispered, almost afraid I’d be struck down right there.

Giovanni shrugged. ‘God don’t smoke, far as I know.’

I had to think about that. My brain had gone to sleep, lulled, I guess, by the dubious cigarette, but a moment later I found myself giggling uncontrollably. ‘God don’t smoke!’ I repeated, finding the words inexplicably funny.

Giovanni beamed at me.

‘It’s working then?’ he said. ‘I always smoke when things get too bad. It helps. What do you do?’

‘What do you mean: when things get bad?’

‘Sometimes my dad gets drunk and gives me a clout. Hit me with a plank once; broke my arm, so I understand what you’re going through.’ He nodded at my wrist. ‘What do you do to cope with pain?’

‘Things never got this awful before.’ I thought for a moment. ‘Once, I had appalling toothache. It nearly drove me insane, so I sang until it went away.’

‘You sing when you’re hurtin’? That’s weird, singing’s for being happy, see. I get to sing with the choir sometimes. Papa makes me scrub up till my skin’s stingin’, and I have to wear my best clothes, but I don’t mind because I like singing. You don’t sing when you’re hurtin’ though. Least, I don’t.’