Rhodes, Greece.
A noise distracted Naomi. She looked up and saw Heleny scuttling down the street, towards her. Reluctantly, she closed the diary and slipped it behind the pot of basil.
‘Naomi, I hope you don’t mind me interrupting you at this time of night, but I’ve been trying to catch you alone. You know you’re my best friend, and I wondered . . . well . . . I need some advice.’
Surprised to see Heleny wearing full makeup, elegantly coiffured, and dressed in a red shift that revealed her heavy curves with startling frankness, Naomi patted the empty seat next to her. ‘’Course I don’t mind, Heleny. You look glamorous . . . and pleased with yourself. What’s going on?’
Naomi’s friend batted mascaraed eyelashes and grinned. ‘I have a lover,’ she whispered, her smile radiant. ‘He can’t get enough of me and I feel wonderful! It’s that perfume you gave me, I swear.’ She sniffed her wrist. ‘It makes me feel so womanly.’ She did a kind of slow wiggle in which every part of her moved in one direction or another. ‘At first, I just dabbed it on my neck. That’s when he became interested. So, I splashed a little here.’ She stuck her finger between her voluptuous breasts. ‘We went to the pictures, and he had his face in my chest before the end of the film.’
Naomi laughed. ‘You don’t think it might be because he’s attracted to you and your bosom?’
‘No, I can prove it’s the perfume working. I invited him to try my moussaka last night, but before he arrived, only in the name of science of course, I put a few drops in my pants, you know, on my . . . unmentionables.’ Her eyes widened and she pointed, as if Naomi wouldn’t understand. ‘Down there.’
Naomi struggled to keep a straight face. ‘And?’
‘Fannes and I were at it like rabbits all last night.’
Suddenly, Naomi realised how insecure and lonely her neighbour had been, and felt slightly ashamed that she hadn’t been a better friend. She remembered how Rebecca would always come to her whenever she had a problem, asking about boys as if Naomi was an expert. But surely Rebecca’s life was perfect now, with her rich husband and her house in the glamorous city of London.
She took Heleny’s hand and said, ‘Well, let me tell you something about Fannes: he’s a very lucky man.’
Heleny’s face flushed. ‘The thing is I used too much perfume. Now I’ve run out and I’m afraid the magic will fade if I don’t wear it. Only . . . it’s been a difficult month and—’
Naomi clicked. Heleny survived on a part-time cleaning job at the school and never usually indulged herself. She must have spent a fortune on the dress and makeup.
‘Sorry to interrupt but you’ve reminded me, I need some of those delicious melt-in-the-mouth shortbreads you make.’
‘Kourabiéthes?’
‘That’s the ones. With Bubba to care for, and my lotions and potions, I haven’t had a moment to bake. I realise it’s a terrible cheek, Heleny, but if I give you the ingredients, would you do me a huge favour and knock a batch up, in return for a couple of bottles of perfume?’
Heleny’s smile widened. ‘You don’t have to pay me, Naomi. I’m happy to help.’
‘You’re very kind, but I’d hate to take advantage. Would you mind? I understand if you’re too busy with Fannes.’
‘No, no, I love baking. It’ll be a pleasure.’
‘Then sit tight while I get the stuff you need.’
Naomi slipped indoors, grabbed a carrier and threw packets of icing sugar, flour, butter, and the other staples that made the snowy-white sugar-coated biscuits. On top of the ingredients she placed two bottles of perfume. When she returned to the patio, her friend had opened the diary near the end and was reading.
‘Heleny, that’s private.’
‘Sorry, it’d fallen behind the plant pot. What powerful writing,’ she said prodding the page. ‘It’s true then . . . Bubba, and the war?’
Naomi stuttered, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Mama once told me Bubba was a wartime hero. A legend. But nobody talked about it, or recognised her bravery.’
‘But why?’
Heleny dropped her head to one side, gauging how frank she could be, then she lowered her eyes. ‘Because she was Jewish of course,’ she said sadly. ‘Sorry, but it’s a fact, and also because, you know how it was in those days . . . a baby out of wedlock?’
Naomi nodded. ‘That child was my mother.’ She tried to keep the animosity out of her voice. ‘Anyway, I’m not even halfway through yet, so please don’t say any more. Perhaps when I’ve read the diary, and you have a little time, you can tell me what else your Mama told you?’
‘Glad to. I’d better get on and leave you in peace.’ She picked up the carrier, glanced inside and grinned. ‘Thank you, this means so much to me.’
Naomi watched Heleny’s wide hips as she returned to her house up the street. She recalled the evening Rebecca left, walking up to a taxi on the main road. They’d wanted to hug, say goodbye properly, but racked by tears and steaming angry, they didn’t.
Heleny turned and waved, but Rebecca had never looked back.
Naomi picked up the diary. Resisting the urge to read the page that had grabbed Heleny, she continued where she’d left off.
Friday, 21 July 1944
Diary number two.
I’m very tired, and it has been a terrible day, but I want to write all this down before I go to sleep, because who knows when I will ever get the chance to update my diary again. As planned, I left the first diary at home, under my sister’s frocks. Now, I’m sitting on the concrete floor of L’Aeronautica and it’s difficult to stay awake. We are worn out by worry.
This morning, we gathered bundles of clothes and food together. Afraid of what lay ahead, we all put on a brave face. The women led their children out of the Jewish quarter and, once again, the streets were peculiarly empty.
Outside L’Aeronautica, the German soldiers told us to line up. A man that I guessed to be a little younger than my mother, began talking to the women quite urgently. I couldn’t hear what he said, but everyone became agitated and some mothers started crying.
A shiny black car with two German flags on the front stopped in front of the building. The driver emerged and opened the door for a tall, fair man with a stern pale face. He wore a smart, charcoal suit with a grey coat draped over his shoulders, and he had a silver-topped walking stick under his arm. A person of importance. The German soldiers immediately faced him and stood to attention.
I saw an opportunity for us all to run away, but then what would they do to the men?
A high-ranking officer came out of L’Aeronautica and saluted. They spoke quietly, then the well-dressed man returned to his car and the chauffeur drove him away.
‘Who was that, Mama?’
‘Frick Hendrick Nüller.’ She spat on the pavement, cleansing her mouth of the name.
Guards grabbed the man that had agitated the women with his quiet words and marched him off.
‘And that?’ I asked Mama.
‘The Turkish Consul-General, Selahattin Ulkumen,’ my mother replied. ‘He was begging us not to enter the building, but we must. Now stop asking questions, Dora.’
Once inside, we searched for my father and the boys. We found them with Uncle Levi, my grandfather, and our cousins.
‘Papa!’ I rushed into his arms. He held me tightly, yet didn’t seem pleased to see me.
They hadn’t eaten since leaving home, and my brothers were starving. We shared the food with them.
Some people insisted we were about to be relocated to mountain villages; others said we were going to be put to work as labourers and cooks for the Germans.
That evening, we received orders to hand over matches, candles, cigarettes, scissors, knives and many other things. Some adults wept, but most seemed numb, staring, hugging their children.
This was an important event in my life, a chance to try my reporting skills and interview people, but they didn’t want to talk. I found Carlo, the boy Irini liked, and sat with him.
‘Where’s your friend?’ he said, looking past me.
‘Up Filerimos with my sister. What’s happening? Where are we going?’
‘Nobody knows. Yesterday, they kept us in the yard. We were baking, and had nothing to drink. We could hear someone over the wall using a hose, so we shouted for him to give us water.’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘He threw the end of the pipe over, but before we could all get a drink, we heard gunfire.’
‘What? You don’t mean they shot him?!’
‘I think so. A woman screamed hysterically, then the hose disappeared back over the other side.’
‘They shot him . . . they really shot him . . . for giving you water?’
Carlo shrugged. ‘We should try to escape. There must be two thousand of us, and about a hundred of them.’
Before I could learn any more, Mama called me over and told me to be quiet and stay still.
The room became morbidly silent, but as evening fell, a ruckus sounded outside. I moved to the window and listened. From his accent, I guessed it to be the Turkish man again.
‘You have no right to hold my people!’ he shouted.
‘They’re not “your people”,’ a German yelled back. ‘They’re Jews! All Jews are Jews, and all Jews go to the camp by order of Mein Führer!’
The Consul-General persisted. ‘Their religion is beside the point. It’s their nationality that is the issue. These are Turkish citizens.’ He waved a sheet of paper. You are in danger of breaking Turkey’s neutrality agreement with Germany! Do you want us to join the Allies?’
After a beat, Ulkumen continued. ‘According to our law, all Turks are equal, regardless of gender or religious beliefs, be they Jewish, Muslim, or Christian – men or women! I have the papers of my people here, and I demand you release them immediately. If you don’t, you’ll instigate an international incident. I’ve warned you where that will lead.’
The door opened and two SS officers came into the room. They stood either side of the Consul-General while he read out a list of names. His eyes flicked up and skimmed our faces after each one. In the following few minutes, a total of forty-three Rhodian Jews, supposedly with Turkish ancestry, were allowed to leave the building.
The tension was palpable. Some were panting, others chewed their lip, or squeezed their children too hard. A woman sobbed loudly. Someone else repeated the word ‘Please’ over and over.
A thin, middle-aged man with big eyes and a hooked nose pushed to the front and fell to his knees before Ulkumen. I recognised our maths teacher from Jewish school. A very strict and proud person. I felt ashamed to see him on the floor, begging.
‘Sir!’ he implored the Turkish consul. ‘I have five children in here! My wife’s pregnant. Please save us. I know where we’re going. I’ve heard about the death camps. Don’t let it happen!’ He reached out and grabbed Ulkumen’s trouser leg and then pressed his forehead against his knee in a gesture of supplication. ‘Send one of the Greek or Italian officials to plead for our release as you so nobly did for your people. I’m begging you!’
The SS officer lifted his boot and, smiling, kicked the teacher in the face with terrific force. The teacher cried out. His head whipped back and blood gushed from his face. The officer checked his trousers for blood spatter, and then gracelessly shoved the Turkish Consul-General out of the room.
Alone again. Abandoned in our misery. Women fussed about the man, mopping his face and crying. His nose was clearly broken, and he had a deep gash across his cheekbone.
I kept hearing the teacher’s words in my head. The death camps? What could they be? I wished people would share what information they had. I found Carlo and asked him, ‘What’s a death camp?’
He swallowed and frowned. ‘Nobody wants to say. Sounds like a nightmare, doesn’t it?’
‘I’m afraid.’
‘Me too,’ he said.
*
It’s dark outside now. We don’t know what time it is because the Germans have taken our watches. Everyone is tired and I fear I will fall asleep soon, so I have written down all that I have seen. I studied the adults’ faces and saw real fear, which I’d mistaken for confusion earlier. Our worlds have been turned upside down, and the prospect of internment in some kind of camp seems to be the fate that awaits us.
Saturday, 22 July 1944
We lay on the floor all Friday night, hardly sleeping. The poor man with the broken nose had two black eyes by this morning. I took charge of the younger children, gathered them together and played quiet games. Cat’s cradle, jackstones, I spy. I tried to catch the words whispered between adults, but whatever they knew was kept from me and the other teenagers.
We remained locked in the building through Saturday; tired, hungry, and anguished.
As I write this, I look around and try to share with my diary all that I see. Parents stare into each other’s eyes, some weep, others clutch their children and pray. Most sit on the floor and gaze into space. An atmosphere of desolation has settled on us, as the inevitable looms. Yet, I still don’t understand. I remember my teacher telling me to record who, what, where and why when I write a story, but in this situation, I only know the who and the where.
Earlier, I found Irini’s mother and father and informed them that Irini remained up Filerimos with Evangelisa. They said, ‘Good.’ However, Irini’s mother, white-faced with worry, cried. Was she sad because Irini wasn’t with them? I asked Mama, but she told me to be quiet and stop asking questions.
How can I be a reporter if I don’t make enquiries? I sense a historical moment that begs to be recorded. The mothers with young children or babies have gathered in one corner to breastfeed, while the men huddle together at the other end of the room and talk quietly. Old couples lay side by side on the floor, holding hands, using their bundles as pillows.
I found my oldest brother and sat cross-legged beside him. ‘What’s going to happen, Danial? Please don’t treat me like a child, I have a right to know.’
He put his arms around my shoulders and squeezed. ‘Nobody knows for sure. It’s all speculation, Dora.’
‘Why are they treating us badly, all of a sudden? And what’s a death camp?’
His face paled. ‘An awful nickname for the German work camps.’
We sat next to each other, silent with our thoughts.
After a while he said quietly, ‘All we have is hope, Pandora. Pray that the war ends soon, for all our sakes.’ He took my hand. ‘Meanwhile, I’ve a new riddle for you.’
Overwhelmed by sadness I replied, ‘Go on then.’
‘What falls into the sea every day, but never gets wet?’ He turned and although he smiled, his eyes remained dull. ‘A bag of caramels when you tell me the answer.’
Unable to come up with anything, I said, ‘I’ll get it, don’t you worry, Danial.’
We shared out the last of our food while Rabbi Asher quoted the Torah.