Page 128 of Villa of Secrets

My daughter had my dress made from the same white lace as her wedding gown. The style’s similar in that it’s fitted, but it finishes just below the knee. The neckline is less dramatic, and the sleeves are three-quarter length. I have a huge white hat. The brim is so big I can hardly see past people’s chins.

At first, I was shocked and said, ‘Sweetheart, I can’t wear white at my daughter’s wedding.’

‘Mama!’ she cried, ‘You are going to wear white, hold my bouquet, and have rice and rose petals thrown over you. You’ve been mother and father to me, and I want you to have a little of the fancy wedding you never had. And you can give me that ring from around your neck, because I’m having it altered to fit your finger in time for my wedding.’

At that point, I thought my heart would burst with pride. ‘No, child, you must have the ring made to fit your finger. It belonged to your grandmother, and it must go to your firstborn daughter. That’s the way it is.’

Sonia smiled. ‘I’ll be proud to wear it, Mama.’

Giovanni, how I wish you’d known her.

‘Besides,’ Sonia said, ‘Zorba had better understand; if he marries me – he marries my mother.’ She laughed at my shocked expression. ‘You know what I mean, Mama.’

Sonia’s going to walk down the aisle between me and Jacob. And I’m to stand next to her throughout the service, holding her bouquet. It’s my daughter’s big day, but I’m secretly thrilled and excited by the role I will play, and I believe tomorrow will be one of the most special days of my life.

The new priest came over and introduced himself. Although he’s a bear of a man with a big hairy face, he seemed nervous. I did my best to relax him and made him coffee. After some chit-chat, he asked me about Sonia’s father. He had touched a nerve and I turned away, reluctant to tell him anything, save that her father was the only man I ever loved, a shepherd boy by the name of Giovanni.

*

The ceremony was wonderful. The new priest did an amazing job. He has one of those voices that you feel you know, like an old friend or a brother, and I warmed to him immediately.

At the end of the service, Sonia and Zorba sat in two high-backed chairs to the side, and Jacob, holding his violin, joined me in the central aisle. We turned to face the congregation, the priest standing behind us.

Full of emotion, I concentrated on my breathing while Jacob played the beautiful introduction on the violin. As I sang, Oh my dear father, I saw Papa before me, his fingers wiggling over his head. ‘Run, little rabbit, run!’ I felt his presence in the church. I was a little girl again, with his arms around me, his face smiling and his eyes shining with love. ‘Follow your dreams, Dora.’

My voice waivered as I battled against emotion, and then I heard Giovanni, ‘Be brave, Pandora Cohen!’ His voice was so real I almost turned, expecting to see him right there behind me.

I recalled the night I wrote the words to a song, and then Giovanni and I sang it together. We made love by the light of a full moon. The first time for me – I suspect for both of us – under the beautiful cinnamon tree. Memories drifted through my head and filled my heart with renewed energy. In that Greek Orthodox church, I sang like I had never sung before.

When the music finished, I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. There was a moment of complete silence in the church, and then the congregation burst into applause.

Sonia came to my side and kissed my cheek, almost knocking my hat off. She slipped her hand into mine and squeezed it, and immediately Evangelisa came to mind.

My pretty sister. If only she could have been with us today. It occurred to me, for the first time, that at least Evangelisa never knew the horrors that befell our family. She believed they would return soon. Evangelisa had no notion of the appalling things they were forced to endure before their lives ended. I could never forgive myself for what I had done, yet with that thought a little guilt lifted from me and I felt light-headed.

‘Thank you, Mama,’ Sonia whispered. ‘I’m sorry my father isn’t by your side. He would have been proud.’

‘Honestly, darling Sonia, I feel as though he is here,’ I said. It was true. I had a sensation I wasn’t alone. For a moment, I was lost in a time long gone, when I gave myself to Giovanni. The pain of what had been taken from me by the enemy, started to heal. I could smell the rosemary in Giovanni’s hair, the red wine on his breath, and the sheep’s lanolin on his strong, soft hands.

But to imagine he was actually there was a stupid idea, and I dismissed it immediately. Yet my heart ached to share this special moment with the shepherd boy.

Jacob stood next to the priest. He carried a fine wine glass and a white napkin. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud that my niece wants to end this joyous ceremony with an old Jewish tradition, and I thank Papas Yiannis for allowing it.’ He gazed over the curious congregation. ‘The breaking of the glass symbolises many things; each couple have their own interpretation.’ He placed the glass in the cloth and passed it to Zorba.

Zorba said, ‘I believe this is a very good custom. It made me think carefully about what this day means to me. Shattering the glass signifies how irreversible my vows are. I can’t go back on my promise to Sonia, to love and honour her always, just as the glass can never return to its previous state.’

Sonia placed her hands over Zorba’s, her eyes met mine, and she smiled.

‘For me, the shattered glass is a reminder of how fragile love is. A single action or thoughtless act, or breach of trust, can shatter a marriage. Life is delicate and may come to an end suddenly. We should remember when glass is broken, it can’t go back, like a lost life or a broken heart. From this day on, my life will never return to the time before I met and fell in love with Zorba.’

They threw the bundle down and, holding hands, stomped on it.

We all clapped. A small part of me was sad. My daughter had left me for the man she married. He was a good person and there was no doubt he adored Sonia, yet I felt a little abandoned. But doesn’t every mother on their child’s wedding day?

Hopefully there will soon be children. I long to be a grandmother!

Chapter 53

Rebecca closed the diary. She wished she had known her parents. Naomi was lucky to have memories of them. She recalled starting school and realising her classmates had a mummy and daddy and she hadn’t. Naomi would sit on her bed and tell her stories of her father and their fishing boat, Elevtheria . . . Freedom. There would be mermaids and sea monsters, and always a safe haven in a storm.