The courtroom buzzed with an atmosphere of expectancy. All seats were taken, and the sides and back aisles were packed with people standing. The air already smelled of sweat, cigarettes and cheap perfume. A strip light flickered. Someone had an irritating cough. A ragged butterfly fluttered repeatedly up the dusty window then fell exhausted to the sill.
A panel of three judges sat on the bench. Only the central one, a mature woman, spoke to the claimants. Naomi, wiped out by tiredness and worry, stared blankly at the dais. The lawyer, Bubba, and Rebecca sat next to her, and in the row behind, Papas Yiannis, Naomi’s sons, and Fritz. All eyes were on her as she was called to stand.
She took an oath and answered all the questions asked, but her head was filled with nothing but the cruise ship.
‘Madam!’ the judge said sharply when she didn’t respond to a question but stared blankly into space.
‘I’m sorry, Your Honour. My husband works on The Royal Sapphire. I haven’t heard from him and I am sick with worry.’
The judge raised her eyebrows. ‘Very commendable that you attended court given your circumstances.’
A man in a silver-grey suit asked to speak. The judge allowed it. He took the stand.
‘State your name and occupation.’
‘My name is Lord Elijah Bloomberg. I own a chain of retail stores.’
The magistrate nodded. ‘And what would you like to say, Lord Bloomberg?’
‘I’ve come here to question the integrity of a system that rewards theft and condemns bravery,’ he said calmly. ‘The matriarch of this family risked her life, again and again, in a heroic effort to rid this island of the Nazis. And Rhodes rewarded her, not with a medal of valour, not with a statue in the town centre or any kind of recognition, but by stealing her property, by defiling the Jewish war monument, by continuing to bully and oppress her and any people of her religion.’
He paused to allow his words to sink in. ‘If it wasn’t for Pandora Cohen and the other members of the Andartes, you might all be speaking German today. Pandora Cohen is a person who should inspire us all. To fight for your rights and your beliefs is an act of bravery we are all capable of, but few of us undertake.’ He gazed around the courtroom. The silence was absolute.
‘I came over from America to speak to you. Unfortunately, I’m not from this beautiful island. If I were from Rhodes, I would place this woman, Pandora Cohen, on a pedestal, build her a statue, and ensure she was recognised as a hero throughout Europe, certainly in Greece. I would be exceedingly proud to have her as a citizen of Rhodes.’
Lord Bloomberg sighed and turned to the bench. ‘But, at the risk of alienating myself from this court, I must speak the truth as I find it. Here, we have a fine example of the age-old problem not only of Greece but of the world over. Greed and Jealousy. Grasping at grants and chattels. Aristotle would turn in his grave if he knew what his great nation had fallen to.’
He turned back to face the courtroom. All eyes were on him and complete silence reigned. ‘To quote Aristotle, if I may: “At his best, man is the noblest of animals. Separated from law and justice, he’s the worst.” ’
The judge spoke. ‘What’s your point, Lord Bloomberg?’
‘My point is Aristotle’s point: justice. We become “just” by performing just actions. Property that was taken from the Jewish population should be returned to them. That’s just. That’s in your power. As the philosopher said, “We are brave by performing brave acts. What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do.” You have the ability to give this family its property back. That choice is yours. Pandora Cohen had the option to fight for your people. She didn’t hesitate. She was prepared to sacrifice her life for the freedom of this island. What will you do to reward her? I ask you to return to Pandora Cohen what is rightfully hers.’
‘Thank you, Lord Bloomberg. I would like to know if you have claim to any property in Rhodes, indeed, in Greece?’
‘None at all.’
‘Then why are you here?’ the judge asked, peering over her half-glasses.
‘Because in 1944, Pandora Cohen committed an act of incredible bravery. She risked her life to save a wounded British soldier from the Nazis, at Kamiros Scala. That soldier was my father: Sergeant Tommy Bloomberg. Later, my father was awarded the highest honours for bravery from the British Army. Although I owe my life to Pandora Cohen, as do many people on this island, she received no recognition from the Greek government. Instead, her home, the only thing she had left, was stolen from her. Some people have tried to claim their property back, but the deliberate system of delaying tactics implemented by an overbloated bureaucratic system means that most cannot afford their mounting lawyer’s bills.’
Lord Bloomberg held his hands out, palms up. ‘The majority of the property owners were murdered, entire families wiped out, leaving no living relatives. Over one thousand properties were taken away from Jewish Rhodians. We are requesting only a tiny fraction, less than a hundred, of those places to be returned to their rightful owners.’
‘You may step down,’ the judge said. She glanced at her watch. ‘We shall break for lunch. Please be back in the courtroom at two.’ Everyone stood as the three judges left the bench.
‘I’d forgotten about that,’ Bubba said. ‘The soldier at Kamiros Scala. Isn’t it odd that his son turns up here?’
‘Quite a coincidence,’ Papas Yiannis said, but Naomi caught his eye and guessed the priest had more to do with Lord Bloomberg being in Rhodes than he was admitting.
‘We’re all so proud of you, Bubba,’ Naomi whispered before she faced the priest and mouthed, Thank you.
He turned his mouth down dismissively and held his arms out, like a stained-glass saint displaying the pierced hands of a stigmata.
*
Naomi spent the break on her phone, trying to obtain news of Costa. By the time she returned to court, where all mobiles had to be turned off, she felt light-headed and sick. She stared at the judge but her mind was in the Santorini caldera. Papas Yiannis squeezed her hand. ‘Have faith,’ he whispered.
The judge was summing up. ‘We’re not here to discuss the war or the holocaust. This case has nothing to do with the Nazis. We are not here to “make good” atrocities that happened in the war or to reward our heroes. As Aristotle said, “Law is reason, free from passion.” ’ Her eyes flicked to Lord Bloomberg for a second before she continued. ‘I want to make clear that the issue we have come here to resolve must be devoid of historical context.
‘What we have to do is find resolution to a case of injustice. Yet, the complexity of the situation is exacerbated by the length of time that has passed, and the fact that at the time of the acquisition of the claimant’s property, this island belonged to Italy.
‘However, with the documents recently discovered in the city police station, new evidence has come to light regarding the lost Rhodes census. Also, the last known will of Pandora Cohen’s grandfather has come to light, which states that the property be left to his grandchildren, and clearly shows the property’s history and boundaries. I am going to rule that a committee be set up to instigate the restitution of Rhodes property to its rightful proprietors, where those owners or their direct descendants are still living.’ She banged her gavel.
There was a second of silence, then uproar. All around Naomi, men and women were clapping and shouting, ‘Bravo!’ The decision was all that they’d hoped for.
The courtroom emptied. Everyone spilled down the wide stone steps. People grabbed her affectionately, hugged her, called ‘Congratulations!’ Rebecca and Naomi’s sons shielded Papas Yiannis and Bubba, but Naomi was jostled. She checked her phone. Seven missed calls! A reporter rushed through the crowd and pulled on Naomi’s arm. Everyone grinned and shook hands. She thumbed redial. Someone took her hand, shaking it boisterously. Someone else slapped her back, unbalancing her.
‘Bravo! Bravo!’
Naomi’s phone fell to the floor, bouncing down the steps between people’s feet. She lunged, desperate to rescue the device before somebody stepped on it. Breathless, she snatched it up, sat on the bottom step, and returned the call. A well-wisher congratulated her, grinning, the gleeful face only inches from hers. She turned her back.
‘I’m replying to your call,’ she said shakily. ‘My husband works on The Royal Sapphire.’ She pressed her free hand over her other ear so she could hear over the tumultuous throng. Her heart hammered. The spin of vertigo dragged her away from the building and everything solid. She recalled her dream, holding Costa as he slipped into the dark depths of Santorini’s caldera. Reality took a step back. Naomi was alone with the voice in her ear.