Late at night, Tuesday, 29 August 1944
Why am I still alive after such a terrible day?! I should be dead. . . I want to be dead! Why are these horrid things happening to me? Yesterday was the worst day of my life, everything went wrong, even my own execution! I am in such despair I no longer want to live.
With all my heart, I have longed for my family to come home, but now I hope they never see me again. I hope I am dead before they return and they fail to discover my awful deeds.
I had Nathanial’s instructions and I carried them out perfectly, but to no avail. Death, death, and more death! The people I love may have already gone to God, and me on my own, such a failure, and now I can’t even manage to take my own life!
Irini, I want to join you, but they have taken my gun away. For my own good, they say. Wait for me, Irini, please!
Last night, the light was fading fast. I knew I hadn’t much time and went over my plan again: wait in Marietta village; shoot the traitor; wrap the gun in the oilcloth that lay to my right; drop my pistol into the hole next to the fence post and cover it with earth; shake my hair out and, with an enormous cabbage in hand, skip back into the village by the longest route, as if returning from one of the many vegetable plots that surrounded the houses.
I lay on my stomach in the dirt between two rows of brassicas, hidden by the massive leaves, watching Xanthi talking to a soldier. My heart hammered.
The sun was setting behind them. Shafts of light dazzled between the buildings’ windows, making me squint. The traitors huddled together mauling each other. The German grabbed Xanthi’s bottom and kissed her hard on the mouth. I truly hated Xanthi for what she had done. How could she kiss a German when she knew they’d interned our families in camps of horror? But Xanthi had proved she was capable of anything. Filthy treacherous Nazi-loving whore. Torturer! Murderess! Xanthi was responsible for Irini’s death. For me it was as if she had committed the acts of torture and murder herself.
I trembled like Giovanni’s dog, my body saturated with loathing. I thought of sweet Irini, how much pain she had suffered, and how much I loved her. Now she was gone, thanks to Xanthi.
I pulled up a giant brassica, stripped the outer leaves and rolled the vegetable into the centre of the rut in front of me, to act as a gun rest. Gripping the pistol in two hands, I placed them on the cabbage, my elbows supported on the soil irrigation mound either side of me. Squinting into the sun, my eyes started to water.
Come on, Xanthi! In a few minutes’ time I wouldn’t be able to see clearly enough for a clean shot.
The conspirators parted, turning in opposite directions. Xanthi glanced over her shoulder, before being hidden from view by a house. The German didn’t look back. I pointed the pistol at a narrow gap between the next buildings. The moment Xanthi appeared, I would fire. The space between the dwellings was only a couple of metres, leaving no room for hesitation. I was seeing spots from the sun’s glare, but in a minute or two, the sun would have dropped behind the houses.
I could hear Kapitanos Nikos’s instructions in my head: focus on the sights, not the target, line the bead with the notch on the barrel, squeeze the trigger until you feel the slightest resistance, hold it; wait for the target.
Evangelisa would never have the courage to do this thing. Yet, I had decided to believe Giovanni about the kiss and forgive Evangelisa. I loved them both, and right now they were all I had left. If only I hadn’t been so awful to them earlier, but it was too late now, and I hoped they would understand that I was too upset to think straight.
Had I the guts to take care of Xanthi? Yes, certainly! I would kill her for what she had done to my dearest Irini. I wavered – more killing. I took a breath and held it. Any second now.
I screwed my watering eyes closed to get rid of the tears and, as I opened them, there was a girlish figure with long hair about to disappear behind the next building. Xanthi! I focused on the sights and fired. She dropped like a rock. My nostrils filled with the stink of carbide. The explosion cracked, hammered into my brain so violently I couldn’t breathe.
I shook all over. Work through the plan! Suddenly traumatised, I let go of the gun, and fumbled for it among the cabbage leaves. Panic rushed through me but I followed instructions. At the edge of the plot, I plucked a cabbage from the ground and raced around the outskirts of the village to the far side.
Who would take any notice of a kid with a cabbage?
Someone shouted in the main street. People passed me quickly. I tagged along as if part of the group. I had to see that Xanthi, hateful daughter of the devil and killer of my beloved Irini, was dead.
My pulse thrummed in my ears. Our shadows stretched out ahead of us and I felt as though I walked into darkness.
‘A girl’s been shot!’ someone yelled.
Ahead, a group stood in a circle, bent over Xanthi’s body. I reached them, my breath coming in gasps, my mouth dry as sand. She lay face down, the back of her head bloodied and mashed. I trembled as they turned her over.
‘Don’t look, child,’ a woman said, taking hold of my shoulders and trying to twist me away.
I shrugged free of her grip. Xanthi would have known nothing, unlike poor Irini who suffered horribly and died in terror and pain.
Someone brought a sheet to cover the body. Although still quaking, I was proud of what I’d done. One of the men rolled the dead girl onto her back. I saw her face—
Oh, God! Evangelisa, no! No!
I screamed. ‘My sister! Evangelisa!’ My world went crazy. I had shot my sister! She couldn’t be dead. I felt myself sucked into a nightmare like dirty water in a storm drain, my heart breaking, my head pounding. I couldn’t speak, or even think, then rage filled every part of my body. What possessed me from that moment was pure vendetta. I raced back to the cabbage patch, retrieved the gun, and returned to the hut. I waited in the bushes on the edge of the clearing.
Xanthi arrived after dark. She must have heard what had happened, yet still she called out, ‘Irini! Evangelisa! Dora!’ When nobody appeared, she slipped inside and a flickering light told me she had lit a candle. Every sound seemed amplified in my heightened state of nerves. The door was ajar. Xanthi washed her body and changed her clothes. She came outside, sat on the log and brushed her long hair.
The hoot of an owl sounded from the woods.
Xanthi giggled, dropped the hairbrush, and hurried down a track that led to the cinnamon tree.
He was there, sitting on a boulder, waiting. His dark civvies set off his white-blond mop and pale skin, making him luminous in the moonlight. They kissed. He had a blanket over his shoulder.
I watched him spread the rug, then lean against the tree and unbutton his trousers. Xanthi threw off her top and her brassiere and squirmed lewdly before him, giggling and touching herself. He pulled her to him and lifted her skirt while kissing her. In a moment they were on the ground and he was at her, his bare bottom alabaster in the moonlight. I waited until his thrusts picked up speed. I stepped up close, with my feet either side of Xanthi’s head. She opened her eyes.
Before she could react, the first bullet entered the back of his head. Blood spattered Xanthi’s face and the roots of the tree. Her lover’s head fell to one side. I could see the vein pulsing in Xanthi’s neck. Her mouth made an ‘O’. The next bullet left a red dot between her eyes, and her surprised expression froze into death.
‘That’s for Irini and Evangelisa, you bitch of Satan.’
‘Irini, wait for me,’ I whispered, turning the gun towards myself and holding it to my temple, thinly aware of my knees hitting the ground. Sobbing, I tried to pull the trigger before encroaching blackness enveloped me.
*
Dear Diary, now you know everything. I am ashamed and broken hearted. Poor Evangelisa. Poor Irini. Both dead because of me. If I had boarded the ship with my family, they would both be alive now. I learned that Tassos, who was instructed to watch over me, carried me back to the Villa. They tell me I am ill.
Friday, 22 September 1944
I could not update my journal any sooner. Apparently, I was sick with malaria and they say I was in fits of delirium that kept me talking gibberish. For my own safety, and for the safety of the Andartes, it was decided that I should not be taken to hospital.
At the Villa, Josie looked after me. By the time I began to recover, Giovanni had signed for the army. He came to say goodbye, but our meeting was not a happy one. I was devastated that the war was taking somebody I loved once again.
‘I have to ask: did you shoot your sister because I kissed her?’ he asked quietly.
‘No, of course not. It was a terrible, terrible mistake, Giovanni. Can’t you understand how I feel? I killed my own sister. She was all I had left. I thought she was Xanthi – she was supposed to be Xanthi! I don’t know how it happened; one moment Xanthi was there, so I fired, and Evangelisa was killed. By me. I’ll never forgive myself. Please, please believe me!’
‘How can I, after the things you said? You hated her, all because of a kiss.’
‘You don’t understand, Giovanni. I’d been to see Irini.’ My voice fell to a whisper. ‘I was devastated, angry, and then I saw you two kissing and said things I didn’t mean.’ With that, I broke down.
‘But she didn’t know that. She idolised you. She was going to the hut to beg your forgiveness.’ His eyes tearing up, his voice ragged. ‘I told her to go and talk to you in the evening because I knew you wouldn’t turn her away in the forest at night. I’m the reason she went down that street when she did.’ He put his hands over his face. ‘It’s my fault she’s dead. She was a child, and she died believing you really hated her and never wanted to see her again.’
I could not speak for crying.
He seemed to hesitate. ‘I don’t know what to think anymore.’ He came towards me, and I was sure he was about to take me in his arms, but he pulled the catapult from his belt and thrust it at me. ‘Keep this until I come back. I have to come to terms with all this.’ He started to leave, picking up my duffel on his way. ‘I need this.’ He turned and looked me in the eye. ‘One day I’ll return it.’ With that, he left for the army.
Sunday, 1 October 1944
Although I am recovered from the sickness, I can’t get over killing my own sister, or the murder of Irini. The details of both deaths remain a secret between Nathanial, Tassos, Giovanni, and myself.
My strength came back slowly, although my heart was broken and pure misery coursed through my veins. I told Josie that I wanted to return to the hut. Nathanial gave his permission, so long as I took Giovanni’s dog with me. In the villa’s opulent bathroom, I bathed and washed my hair in warm water pumped up from the wood stove. I dressed, made sure my weapon was ready for use, and placed it in the bag slung across my chest.
‘I’m going, Josie. Thanks for taking care of me. You saved my life.’
She hugged me. ‘Stay safe, little one. I’m always here if you need me.’
The men were busy in the big room, planning their next espionage, so I slipped out of the rear door. I tied a rope to Kopay, and together we set off through the dense woodland.
The paths through the woods had overgrown and I soon lost my way. Kopay found everything interesting. She tugged on the rope, vacuuming scents from the ground, snuffling and muttering her analysis. Tired of being pulled by a dog that weighed as much as me, I let her off the leash for a run-about. I lay on my back, staring up, wondering what would become of Pandora Cohen.
The treetops towered above me, and from my supine position it looked like they painted white fluffy clouds on the deep-blue autumn sky. Mesmerised, I watched the changing cloud shapes until men’s voices interrupted my fantasies. All the horror of Seven Springs came back as I realised they were Germans.
I rolled onto my knees, crawled into the dense scrub, then unbuckled my gun bag. Kopay returned, sniffed around and, discovering where I was, lay in a nearby patch of sunlight. I hardly dared to breathe, my ears alert to every noise in the forest. The soldiers were ambling about with no apparent purpose. They talked quietly and, horrified, I realised they were heading straight towards the villa. Kopay stood, her ears up, alert. I stuck my arm out of the bush and drew a line in the air. She lay in the sunlight once more, deathly still, only her big eyes darting here and there. As I crouched between her and the enemy, I knew she sensed danger, or perhaps my fear.
What to do?
I decided to wait and make sure they were alone before following at a distance. If they missed the villa, then best to let them go, but if they found it, I had no choice but to take action.
A flock of migrating starlings crashed into the treetops, their boisterous chatter loud as hail on a window, breaking my concentration on the soldiers. Kopay leapt to her feet, nose in the air. Afraid she’d bark, I said, ‘Ssh!’ and drew a line again. She hit the ground. The birds took off in one swirling, shape-shifting formation which threw a shadow over everything. I took advantage of the chaos and rushed forward to my next cover where I strained to hear the soldiers.
In the distance, one of them laughed good-humouredly. Instantly, Danial came to mind, then Xanthi’s words: Imagine who that person might be . . . somebody’s father or brother. Wouldn’t you compare their family to your own?
Overcome by cowardice, I wanted to shut my eyes and make it all go away. My attempt to end the war, alone, was futile. Hunched under the scrub, I faced my own private battle. Was I a deserter? Was my only purpose on earth to have children and keep a clean house, like my mother whom nobody took seriously? No!
Poor Mama.
I listened again, oriented myself once again, and rushed quietly from bush to bush. I caught up with the soldiers near the wall of trees and, staying low, I slipped the pistol out of my bag. They stopped, sat on their haunches and smoked a cigarette. I didn’t move a hair until a rustle behind me made my skin shrink. I spun around.
The dog’s eyes met mine. I drew a line again and she dropped to the ground without a sound. One of the Germans urinated against a tree, but as they were about to skirt the wall of trees, a noise came from the villa. Somebody shouted, ‘Josie!’
Alert, the soldiers swung their machine guns forward, and one unclipped a grenade from his belt. They pushed through the dense vegetation, squeezing between tree trunks, until they stopped with the villa in full view.
They exchanged a few quiet words. One pointed to the left, while turning to the right. They were going to split up, in which case I’d have no way to shoot them both.
Two clean shots were required, I wouldn’t get a second chance against their machine guns. I focused on the one with the grenade. After a steadying breath, I squeezed the trigger.
Before my target had hit the ground, the other soldier dived into the wall of trees. I fired blindly, running. Kopay burst through the trees and we both gave chase. The grenade exploded. Andartes rushed out of the house and I could hear them behind me. Being smaller than the soldier, Kopay and I had an advantage through the scrub. We closed rapidly, but then a branch knocked the gun from my hand.
Defenceless, I raced on. Thorns scratched my face and arms and tore my dress as I punched through the undergrowth. The dog bounded ahead and attacked the soldier’s ankle, unbalancing him. He fell, firing his weapon as he went down. I dropped to the ground. Fearless, Kopay attacked his wrist. The soldier let go of his machine gun and tried to beat off the dog. I grabbed the firearm. When I leapt up and aimed at him, the soldier appeared astonished.
‘Kopay, off!’ I ordered after stepping back, keeping the machine gun trained on the soldier. The German lay on his back, his wrist a mess of ragged flesh, bleeding heavily, his other hand raised in defence. Kopay danced with excitement. I stood my ground until the Andartes caught up.