Page 21 of Villa of Secrets

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.’