Naomi cooked a rabbit casserole and baked a crusty loaf. The cottage filled with the aroma of fresh bread and of the cinnamon, orange, and savoury herbs in the stew. She took a substantial bowl of it and a chunk off the warm brown loaf across the road.
The priest’s eyes lit up. ‘My absolute favourite meal. Thank you, Naomi.’
Bubba, who made a slight improvement each day, also enjoyed the food. Propped by a few cushions, the old lady sat at the table for the first time since her stroke. She managed to feed herself, flashing her crooked smile at Naomi.
‘This is delicious, child.’
‘It should be. I used your recipe.’ Naomi nodded at the bookshelf over the sink.
Naomi had just finished eating when a knock sounded on the door and Marina stuck her head in. ‘Hi. I’ve brought your dishes back, Naomi,’ she said. ‘Grandpa really enjoyed the food. He said you cook every bit as well as Bubba.’
The old lady grinned and dribbled stew down her chin.
Marina was clearly embarrassed, not having seen Bubba since the stroke.
Naomi mopped her grandmother’s face.
‘You look nice,’ Bubba slurred, taking in Marina’s skimpy black shorts and red crop-top. ‘But you forgot to put your dress on.’
‘Bubba!’ Naomi exclaimed. ‘She looks absolutely lovely. That’s what young people wear to party these days.’ She turned to the priest’s granddaughter. ‘Take no notice. You’re as perfect as a top model. Where are you off to?’
Marina grinned and wiggled her hips. ‘Jason and I are going to DJ at an eighties disco in town.’
‘An eighties disco sounds like fun,’ Bubba said. ‘I wouldn’t mind attending that myself. You’d never catch me dancing in my underwear though.’
Naomi had a quick flash of Bubba cavorting in her big pants, knee-highs, and cross-your-heart bra, and she giggled.
Marina’s eyes widened and she took a step towards the door.
Bubba continued. ‘Do many eighty-year-olds go to these discos then? Are there any men there? Would you two give me a lift?’
Marina, clearly horrified, glanced at Naomi. ‘Ah, sorry! It’s booked up, Bubba. Oh, listen, Grandpa’s calling.’ She spun around and flew out of the cottage.
Naomi chuckled. ‘She means eighties music, Bubba, not a disco for eighty-year-olds.’ She paused to let the information sink in. ‘I’ve booked your hair appointment for next Wednesday,’ she said stacking the dishes in the sink. ‘Katarina offered to come to the house, but I said it’ll be nice for us to get out for an hour. Heleny will move her plant pots, so the taxi can get to the door. What do you think?’
‘Thanks,’ Bubba said. ‘I wish I could help you clear up, but I’m very tired.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘I guess I’ll have to give the disco a miss this week.’
Naomi blinked at her. ‘You devil! You knew exactly what she meant, didn’t you?’
‘Tee-hee, did you catch the look of pure horror on her face?’ Bubba’s shoulders jigged up and down.
Naomi laughed too. ‘Good to see your old sense of humour is back. Doctor Despina’s pleased with your progress too. She’s booking you in for physio at the hospital, now that you’re strong enough to travel.’
With Bubba settled and the dishes washed, Naomi moved to the patio with half a glass of red. The air, still warm after a sunny day, hung motionless in the quiet street. She could hear faint whispers from the shore and knew from its sound, the sea was flat as oil. The deep throaty chug of an old fishing boat meant it was heavily laden, returning to the local harbour where restaurateurs, and chefs, would be waiting to have the pick of the catch.
Naomi swished her hand through a knee-high pot of basil, closed her eyes, and inhaled the minty-liquorice scent. Her mother taught her to do the same after cleaning shellfish, to remove the stench of fish from her hands and clothes.
Despite her financial difficulties, her sick grandmother, her darling boys residing in distant Cyprus, her husband away on a floating palace with the rich and lonely, and her estranged sister not speaking to her, Naomi found it hard to imagine anything but peace and tranquillity in the narrow street of Spartili, in Paradissi Village.
Apart from a few years spent at Heraklion’s University Hospital in Crete where she studied nursing, Naomi had lived her entire life in the little house. Memories of Crete came tumbling back. Costa was heading to Heraklion now, waiting on passengers in the cruiser’s fine-dining room.
Naomi closed her eyes and evoked the city. Lion Square with its magnificent fountain, bustling coffee shops and tavernas, The Venetian castle on the long sea wall that dog-legged into the Aegean Sea. Cardiac Avenue, as they called the harbour wall at the hospital, because every patient with a heart problem was ordered to walk to the end and back once a day.
After her first schoolgirl kiss, Naomi hardly saw Costa. Then, as if fate was waiting for the right moment, she came across him in Crete, Lion Square, on New Year’s Eve. She’d gone with a gaggle of student nurses, drinking and dancing at the public party in the city centre. As church bells chimed midnight, people leapt into the fountain. Someone grabbed her hand and said, ‘Come on, Naomi. Let’s do it!’ They jumped in together and, under a torrent of water at midnight, she and Costa kissed.
‘Make a wish,’ Costa said, and then he kissed her again.
Two days later, they had their first date. Costa, who studied at Heraklion’s Hotel Leisure and Tourism College, took her to Knossos archaeological site. Thrilled by the ruins of the Minoan palace, she gazed at dark red pillars, sacred bull horns, and colourful frescoes. He entranced her with stories of King Minos, the Labyrinth, and the Minotaur.
They had been together ever since.
With a smile on her lips, Naomi opened the diary and started reading.
Tuesday, 18 July 1944
Because I am sixteen, I have new responsibilities. My mother says that at first light I’m to go up the mountain of Filerimos with Evangelisa and Irini to collect our flock from the shepherd, and herd them to our pen behind the convent so the sheep can be shorn.
I’ve done this job before with my brothers. When I say, ‘done this job’ I actually mean that I took a book and let the boys do the work. This time Danial was supposed to come with us, but he must have a tooth out. Samuel has to help Father in the shop, and Jacob has a violin lesson. The shearer won’t wait another day. If I’d known herding would be my job at some point, I would have paid more attention. Evangelisa’s worried we can’t do it, but I convinced her (and myself) we can.
I am actually looking forward to the challenge. It’s a chance for me to prove myself as an adult and I’m determined to do a good job.
Irini arrived with long staffs of mulberry for guiding the sheep. We have a seven-kilometre walk to the shepherd, and five more to our pen. Papa has a wooden hut next to the sheep fold where we’ll sleep for three nights, while the shearer does his job.
Danial will come on horseback later to drive the flock back. I’m pretending to be full of confidence for the sake of Mama, whose legs are swollen and painful, and also to stop Evangelisa fretting.
Papa says we should set out before sunrise, so I must stop writing now. I’ve packed a bag with a change of clothes, some rusks and honey, and I’ll take my writing things of course.
I just peeked out of my bedroom window, which overlooks the square. The choir’s gathering. I saw the Curly Haired Boy peer at the shop. He’s really dreamy. I wanted to open my window and wave, but I ducked behind the curtain instead.
That’s when I thought, Why can’t I be bolder? At that moment I made my birthday wish.
I wish I was really, really courageous!
A spark of bravery seemed to ignite and grow inside me right then and there. I lifted my hand to wave, stuck on a smile, and stepped into the centre of the window.
The Curly Haired Boy had turned away, but his friend, Carlo, who Irini adores, saw me and waved back. Pure embarrassment! I yanked the curtain closed.
Wednesday, 19 July 1944
I begged Evangelisa to stop fretting. We’d be fine. Papa told us there was no time for breakfast, we should take the boiled eggs and bread to eat later. He seemed anxious. I hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts about putting me in charge.
We slung our bags on our backs, grasped our mulberry staffs, and said goodbye to everyone. The sun rose over the horizon. Yellow light sliced between dark pines and threw broad stripes across the Mount Filerimos road. The air smelled rich and damp and wonderful.
After walking the steady slope for an hour, we came to a roadside spring and stopped to drink cold mountain water. We sat on the lower branch of a wind-bent pine. I wanted to write in my diary, but Irini and Evangelisa kept bobbing up and down and laughing at me, so I gave up.
Irini threw me a smile, then turned to my sister. ‘Let’s collect pine nuts. Look, I’ll show you how,’ she said, jumping down. She picked up a fat, newly fallen cone and cracked it open with a stone, then she popped the kernel into Evangelisa’s mouth. ‘Tasty, hey? You’ll find two under each scale, Lisa. Mind your fingers now.’
Evangelisa hopped off the bough, which swung a little higher. Irini glanced my way again, her wonderful smile wide and her eyes bright in the dappled light. Something passed between us that made me warm in the pit of my stomach, and I found myself squirming with pleasure against the rough branch. I wished Irini was my sister.
Thursday, 20 July 1944
Danial didn’t turn up yesterday, which is a problem because Evangelisa’s shoe has come away from the sole. My parents are proud that we’ve never gone barefoot, but it’s made our feet tender and walking any distance is impossible for Evangelisa. I have no choice but to trek home and get my old shoes for her. I’ll take my diary and update it as soon as I have an opportunity.
*
What a terrible day this has turned out to be! On the way back, long before I reached the city, the haunting sound of a tsambouna drifted through the bushes. I peered through a gap in the shrubbery and saw a sun-browned boy sitting on a rock under a gnarled but magnificent holm oak. Surrounded by sheep and engrossed in his music, he squeezed the tsambouna’s goatskin bag under his arm while his fingers raced over the bamboo pipe. His clothes were in a poor state of repair, and he sported an oversized black leather cap at a jaunty angle.
The area was grazed bare apart from hundreds of mauve globe thistles that stood a metre tall. The wild flowers surrounded boy and sheep. Regal, silver-green stems held their perfectly round flower heads still, like an enchanted audience listening to his music,
The sun, blindingly bright, made me squint. I watched him through half-closed eyes. There seemed something almost biblical about the scene and I wished I had my watercolours with me.
I had to overcome my shyness and tell the boy we would be late collecting the sheep. When I stood tall and waved my arms to attract him, he jumped off the rock, left his tsambouna behind, and pushed through the flock towards me. He was around my age, much taller than me, but very dirty and rough-looking. It occurred to me he would be an interesting character to write about, and I wondered what sort of life he lived, alone on the mountainside with his sheep.
The moment our eyes met, I felt the heat of a blush in my cheeks and forgot what I was going to say. I looked away quickly and stared at his bare feet while I composed myself. As my courage grew, I studied him carefully, inch by inch, and by the time my attention had returned to his face, he looked blatantly contemptuous.
‘You just going to stare at me all day or something? Forgot your manners, have you?’
Indignant, I put on my best voice and said, ‘I am the tailor’s daughter. Please inform your master we’ll not be collecting our flock until later this afternoon.’
‘Oooh, later this afternoon,’ he sneered, his wide Mediterranean face mocking me. He pulled off his cap and made a sweeping bow. As he stood, his dark curly hair fell to his shoulders and although it was difficult to believe, I realised in an instant, this unkempt youth was the smartly dressed young man who had stolen my heart when he sang in the choir. The person I had dreamed about. The one whose arms I wanted around me more than any other’s.
I couldn’t speak, and hated myself for blushing in front of him. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, and I felt my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. Thoughts became a confused jumble and I didn’t know if I was pleased to be this close to him, or disgusted that he was so dirty. I wanted to say something clever to hide my insecurity, but before I had a chance, he grabbed my shoulders and kissed me hard on the mouth. Our teeth clashed. It happened so fast I retaliated without thinking. I bashed him hard on the side of his head, and struggled free.
This wasn’t how it should happen! A woman’s first kiss was supposed to be the most special moment in her whole life. The start of a beautiful romance, true love, marriage, a home, perfect children. And now, he’d ruined it all! For a moment I couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think, then I exploded with embarrassment and anger,
‘How dare you!’ I yelled, the words almost strangled by fury. I wanted to punch him and yell; Watch out, stupid shepherd boy, I’m a born fighter! but I didn’t. I spun away from him so fast everything went off-kilter. I staggered a few steps, pulled myself together, and then marched away. A first kiss was a first kiss, it couldn’t be taken again, and he had turned mine into something snatched and sordid. The entire experience was horrible! I hated him for destroying a magical moment in my life that I had looked forward to for so long.
The urge to run was difficult to resist, but I clenched my teeth and walked tall, like an adult. As I travelled down the road, towards the city, I decided not to tell my parents, or anyone else except for you, dear diary. My parents have enough worries without me adding to them. I ordered myself to shut up and stop snivelling. I was sixteen! The time had come for Pandora Cohen to grow up.
*
I arrived home three hours later and found Mama distraught.
‘Dora, why are you here? You’re supposed to be taking care of Evangelisa on the mountain. Where’s Irini? You haven’t left your sister alone on Filerimos, have you?’
‘Irini’s with her. Don’t worry, Mama. Evangelisa’s shoe’s broken. I’ve come to get my old pair. But what’s the matter? Why are you crying?’ I asked.
She blew her nose, stared at me for a moment, then said, ‘You may as well know the truth. Your father and the boys . . . they’ve gone. The Nazis have them. What am I going to do, Dora? Why wouldn’t he listen to me? We could’ve been in Turkey by now.’ She hugged herself, then me. ‘I kept saying we should leave, but nobody listened!’
‘Where are they, Mama? Tell me! What happened?’
‘Oh, my dear Dora, there was gossip that no one wanted to believe. That’s why I persuaded your father to send you up Filerimos. Thank the Almighty he heeded me for once, but now, here you are again! You must go back and stay out of sight. Don’t let them get you too!’
Panic swelled in my chest and throat until I couldn’t speak or even think straight. I stared at Mama and waited for an explanation.
Her crying went on for what seemed like forever. Eventually she lowered her hands, blew her nose, and stared as if surprised to see me.
‘Mama, tell me what’s going on. Stop treating me like a child!’ I’ve never spoken to either parent like that before, but she seemed hysterical.
Mama jerked her head back, as if slapped. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But tell me what’s happening, please.’
She nodded. ‘It started the day before yesterday, we heard gossip about the Nazis that worried your father. I persuaded him that you two should go up the mountain. I knew you’d be safer there. Oh, why didn’t I send your brothers too?! Your father was trying to get us all on a boat to Turkey but . . .’ She broke down again, this time sobbing uncontrollably. ‘Too late. He’s gone, Dora! And the boys! What’s going to happen?’
‘How do you mean, “Gone”? Where are they, exactly?’
‘After you’d left for Filerimos, Gestapo soldiers with megaphones came into the Juderia.’ Her eyes stared wildly ahead as she recalled. ‘Oh, Dora, we were about to face the moment we’d refused to believe would ever occur in Rhodes. The Nazis ordered all men and boys, fourteen and over, to present themselves at L’Aeronautica.
I knew this building, just outside Rhodes Old Town. It was the Italian Aero-Nautical offices, now taken over by the Germans.
Mama was still talking. ‘The Germans threaten severe reprisals if anyone disobeys.’
‘Reprisals?’
She shook her head. ‘Your father started packing and said we must go to the mountains. He planned to collect you and Evangelisa on the way.’
Mama buried her face in one of Papa’s big white handkerchiefs and sobbed some more.
‘He wouldn’t listen! You might as well know. There’s talk of appalling things the Nazis are doing to Jews. Everyone else seems to think it wouldn’t happen here. They tell me I’m wrong to worry, but how could they know? For the past year, I’ve been begging him to take us to Turkey to start afresh! There are Jewish communities there. They’d have helped us. But he insisted we wouldn’t run. He applied for a visa to move to Cyprus, more than a year ago. Every day we’ve waited for that document, but it never came. Now look at the mess we’re in!’
I absorbed all this information. It didn’t seem real, and Mama was a great one for doom and drama. Yet the shop was closed and my father and brothers, gone.
A tap on the window drew my attention. An excited sparrow hopped up and down on the windowsill, pecking at a column of ants that marched across the glass. Each insect followed the other. Systematically, the bird annihilated the entire tribe.
I went to investigate.
‘Leave it!’ Mama shouted. ‘It’s getting rid of the ants. I hate those things.’
‘What shall we do, Mama? We have to get Papa and the boys out of there.’
‘We can’t. The Nazis said ten people will be shot for every one not turning up.’
‘How would they know if anyone was missing? Surely some could escape.’
Her face became bitter. ‘Because, Dora, our fellow Rhodians sold us out!’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked at me as if I was stupid, then folded her arms around me in a tight embrace. ‘That’s why Rabbi Asher brought us the newspaper. It said the Rhodes Town Council handed the last census to the Nazis. They have the names, ages, and addresses of every Jew on the island.’
‘But, why?’
‘For the same reason they confiscated all the Jewish property, invented a land registry, and changed the ownership deeds to suit themselves. Because they are greedy and jealous.’
‘Is that why they took Papa’s shop, yet allowed us to continue as if we still owned it?’
She nodded. ‘They were planning for this day.’
‘But they’ll have to return everything after the war, won’t they?’
‘Don’t be naive, Dora. We won’t get anything back! We’ve been robbed by people who make their own laws. Laws that have nothing to do with justice.’
I had never seen Mama so bitter.
‘Nobody wants to endanger the lives of their friends and neighbours, so everyone obeyed the order. Your Papa said I shouldn’t worry, that the Germans were going to put them to work. Why else should they take their papers? He’s a fool! Why couldn’t he see? Why wouldn’t he listen? Stupid, stupid man!’ Then she completely broke down. ‘If anything happens to him or my boys, I’ll die!’
‘Papa must be frantic with worry,’ I said. ‘We must find a way to help them.’
‘Wait for news. That’s all we can do. If we run and hide, God knows what the Nazis will do.’
Neighbours came to our house. A lot of whispering took place on the doorstep. I don’t think Mama or her friends have a plan. Nothing like this has ever happened before. While Mama is occupied by her neighbours I’m taking the opportunity to update my diary. I suspect Mama is going to demand a lot of my attention until all this is sorted out.
*
In the afternoon, police knocked on every door in the Juderia. The women were ordered to present themselves, their children, all their papers and any valuables they have, at L’Aeronautica at 7 p.m. that evening.
‘Mama, why do we have to take our valuables? And what about Evangelisa and Irini?’ I asked.
‘Leave the girls where they are. They’re safer up Filerimos.’
‘And our valuables?’
‘If the men are going to work on another island, perhaps the German base on Kos, our Rhodian banknotes will be worthless. Gold and silver are the next best thing.’
At 6 p.m., the Greeks and Italians disappeared from sight, doors and shutters closed. Jewish grandmothers, children, and babies in their mother’s arms, came together in the square. We walked as one body of misery, passing through empty streets. Outside the city walls, groups from other villages including our relations from Paradissi, joined the throng. More than a thousand women and children gathered at L’Aeronautica. Silently as souls entering Hades, we filed into the building.
Before we were all inside, the Germans changed their minds and ordered us home again, instructing everyone to return tomorrow morning with food and clothes for ten days. If we don’t, the men will be shot. What if they notice Evangelisa and Irini are missing? I am afraid.
*
Dear diary, I am writing this by candlelight. It’s the middle of the night and our house is full of my relations, but everyone is asleep now. All our Paradissi aunts and cousins are staying with us in the city. Our house at the back of the shop is crammed, but it takes the pressure off me a little as Mama is occupied by my relations. For once I am glad they leave me out of the conversation.
My aunty and two cousins went to sleep in my small bed. I slept at the bottom of my parent’s bed with Mama and my grandmother at the top end. My grandmother’s feet smell. Everyone else slept in the boys’ room. Grandmother’s snoring woke me in the night and I worried about my father and brothers, and Irini and Evangelisa. If somebody didn’t follow orders, would the Nazis really shoot the men? Would they realise my sister and my friend were missing? Could they force me to tell them where they are?
I wondered if they’d heard the news on Mount Filerimos? If we were moving to another island, they should come with us. I have decided to write all this information in my diary and then hide it under Evangelisa’s dresses, so that if we have to leave Rhodes, she will find it if she should return home before us. I really don’t want her to read about the shepherd boy kissing me, but I don’t have time to change anything. I will pack my new school exercise books in my duffel bag and start a fresh journal tomorrow. Also, I’ve written Evangelisa a letter, just in case things don’t go to plan.
Thursday, 20 July 1944
Dear, Evangelisa,
I’m sorry I left you on Mount Filerimos with Irini, but I didn’t know, when I returned home to fetch some shoes for you, what was taking place. You will have read the diary, and know the awful things that have happened to everyone, so far. I might be sent to Kos with Mama, Papa, and the boys, and if so, I know you will be fine with Irini. Stay hidden from the Germans, be brave, and do whatever Irini tells you.
I am sure we will be reunited soon, but until that day, remember we are thinking about you, and missing you. And Irini also. We all love you very much, and we are sorry to leave you behind, but Mama says you are much safer hidden away on Mount Filerimos with Irini, than under German eyes, on Kos.
Lots of love from your sister, Dora and all you family, XXXXX