Page 66 of Villa of Secrets

Well, why didn’t you answer the bloody letters then?

Breaking Naomi’s thought, Rebecca continued. ‘Anyway, water under the bridge.’ The tension melted from her face, but Naomi recognised pain in her eyes. ‘How’re the boys, and Costa? I’ve missed them too.’

‘They’re good.’ Naomi swelled with pride. ‘They’ll be back for the court case. We’ll all be home for a while.’ She wondered about Rebecca’s children, but suspected her sister would go on and on about how perfectly charming they were, so she decided to save that question for later. She grabbed the biggest suitcase and walked towards the taxi rank. An awkward silence built, then they both started to speak.

‘What’s life like in—’

‘There’s so much I want—’

‘Sorry. You first,’ Naomi said.

Rebecca nodded. ‘I wondered about Bubba’s stroke. How’s she coping? How’re you managing?’

‘Every day’s a struggle for us both.’ Naomi sighed. ‘The physical side’s tough, but she’s improving, and that’s the main thing. What wore me down was the severe effect it had on her mental faculties.’ Naomi stopped walking and shrugged. ‘It was as if her lively, intelligent mind had left home, moved in next door, and she had become an entirely different person. As she began to recover, she’d sort of come back for more frequent visits.’

‘Poor you. Must have been hell,’ Rebecca said lightly. ‘You should have written, or phoned sooner.’

Naomi dowsed a spark of anger and started walking again. ‘Not hell exactly, but I’ve never felt quite so alone. I thought about you often.’ She touched Rebecca’s arm. ‘If I’d been able to pick the phone up and share stuff, it would have helped a lot.’

Rebecca lowered her eyes and after a beat said, ‘Look, I’m sorry. It didn’t occur to me that anything could be wrong. Only after you phoned and told me about the stroke did I started to worry about Bubba. Selfish of me really.’

‘My friends rallied around. Still, I wished I’d had Costa home, not that Bubba’s his responsibility.’ Perhaps that was a bit bitchy, Naomi thought. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate Rebecca now, yet a certain resentment that she couldn’t explain seemed to be building inside her. ‘But enough of this. Come on, I’ll bring you up to date in the taxi.’

‘Before we get there, I wanted to say . . . I remembered you were nuts about scents and creams, so I bought you a lovely bottle of perfume in London.’

Naomi experienced a twinge of guilt. ‘Very kind, but you needn’t have. It’s sufficient that you came back.’ She wanted it to be true, yet feared her words sounded insincere.

‘He can’t help having blond hair and blue eyes, you know? It doesn’t make him a monster,’ Rebecca said flatly. ‘He loves me, and I love him, despite all that our love for each other has taken from us.’ She sighed. ‘Saying “it’s not fair”, sounds childish, but I don’t know any other words that explain how we feel.’

Naomi nodded. ‘The whole thing got out of hand, didn’t it? We shouldn’t have allowed the situation to continue for so long.’

Rebecca dropped the suitcase. ‘Can I hug you again? There’ve been moments when I’ve missed you so badly.’ They embraced. ‘You’d never imagine how many times I started to dial your number. Anyway, enough about me. I want to tell you about the scent.’

Naomi nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘Before I left, I read about the spice tree in the diary. They say life’s full of coincidences.’ She smiled, her eyes sparkling, reminding Naomi of the fun person her sister was. ‘I mean, can you imagine it? An hour before, I’d bought this perfume to bring to Rhodes. The bottle was on the table in front of me when I opened the diary and read about Dora and Giovanni going to collect cinnamon and oranges in the woods. It’s an orange and cinnamon perfume. The bottle’s even got a little cinnamon stick attached by a ribbon. I know this sounds stupid, Naomi, but I was very nervous about coming back here. When that happened – reading about the cinnamon tree in the diary – it was like a sign that I was doing the right thing. Sounds mad, I know. So although I bought the perfume for you, I hope you understand that I simply have to give it to Bubba.’

‘Of course you do. That’s a really nice gesture.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I wonder if Bubba remembers everything she wrote. I mean, if Papas Yiannis has had the diaries for over thirty years, I bet she’s forgotten how much she revealed.’

‘They’re so sad. Fritz is reading them too. He took the first one to work with him and read it cover to cover. Couldn’t put it down.’ Rebecca stared straight ahead for a moment, her face stony.

Naomi touched her sleeve. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes,’ she replied too quickly. ‘Everything’s fine. He was shocked by Bubba’s experiences.’

Rebecca sounded nervous when she talked about Fritz. Naomi wondered if things really were okay between them.

‘He’s taken the second diary to read on his way to America. Also, he asked if the pistol could be donated to the London gun museum. What do you think?’

‘Ah, the beautiful Naomi!’ Taxi driver Stelios grinned a set of tobacco-stained teeth. He turned to Rebecca. ‘Your sister is back!? The gods smile on me today! Get in, lovely ladies, while I take care of the suitcases.’

Rebecca giggled. ‘I’d forgotten what they’re like,’ she said quietly.

As the cab pulled way, Naomi asked, ‘Why do you imagine the gun’s got Fritz’s initials embossed on the side? I’m confused. Obviously, it’s a lot older than Fritz, so I wondered if it really did belong to someone in his family. I don’t want to dig up the past, but I can’t help wondering how Bubba came to have that particular pistol? To be honest, it’s been playing on my mind, Rebecca. It’s such a sensitive matter as far as Bubba’s concerned, so I wanted to ask you what you know about it before we get home.’

‘It bothered me at first but, as I said, life’s full of coincidences.’ Rebecca glanced out of the taxi window and her eyes widened. ‘My God! This place hasn’t altered in ten years! I’m so happy to be back.’

Naomi was uplifted to hear the pleasure in Rebecca’s voice. ‘You’re right: nothing’s changed, but go on about the gun, before we get home.’