Page 35 of Villa of Secrets

The occupants of the jeep were laughing. The leader glanced at his watch, flapped his hand at the driver, and the convoy continued.

‘Don’t move, they’re watching,’ the boy said from the corner of his mouth, before dashing about like a dog with fleas again.

When the vehicles were out of sight, he returned, shifted his bike and lifted the sage brush. ‘You okay?’ he asked softly, dropping to his knees at my side. ‘I saw you fall from the truck.’ He slipped his arm under my shoulders and tried to help me sit up, but I cried out with pain. ‘Were you one of the Jews from the ships?’ He plucked a twig from my hair, tossed it away, and peered into my eyes as if seeing me for the first time.

Chapter 17

Naomi rubbed her eyes, surprised to find it was almost midnight. Heat rose in her cheeks after reading that last line. The fatal evening her parents left for their fishing boat came rushing back. She recalled sitting on the kerb, playing jackstones with Heleny after a game of hide-and-seek in the dry river bed. Her father came over, his smile wide and his eyes crinkling in the corners, ‘Be good for Bubba, will you? And help her with the baby.’ He pulled a twig out of her hair and absently put it in his pocket. She jumped up and hugged him, and he kissed the top of her head.

Mama appeared at his side. ‘You’re growing so fast, Naomi. We’re very proud of you. And she stooped and kissed her cheeks. ‘See you after school tomorrow. Be good, bye now.’ And they continued hand in hand down Spartili Street. Naomi closed her eyes and could see the backs of them as they walked away, the sky turning red.

All the years since Papas Yiannis told her they were lost at sea, she’d been angry that they had never said goodbye, but all the anger that came after the night of the storm had blanked out the previous evening.

They had said goodbye.

She sobbed, her tears breaking free. Why hadn’t she remembered all that when she was a child so cruelly orphaned? For a moment, her anger surged. She sensed her mind had played a cruel trick, and she understood a little of Bubba’s pain when her deeply buried memories surfaced.

She wiped her eyes, wondering if Sonia and Zorba had said goodbye to Bubba, and she guessed that they had. But perhaps the shock of their deaths had also wiped that last memory from Bubba’s mind? Naomi imagined she would come across the answer later in the diary. A diary that closed the divide between innocent sixteen-year-old Pandora and grandmother Bubba, a stalwart woman and tower of strength before the stroke.

*

Mid-morning the next day, Naomi nipped up the road for a carton of milk. Activity in the tiny shop on the corner of Spartili and the main village road drew her attention. They were moving out, hefting boxes and chairs into a van that blocked half the narrow street.

Her chest tightened with hope and excitement. How often she had dreamed of having a shop.

She stood in the village supermarket, staring at the shelves, imagining what it would be like to own business premises. That place was tiny, and right at the end of her street, perfect. At the counter, she paid for the milk and asked what they knew.

‘They’ve moved to the car showroom that’s been empty a while. Now, the Lotto’s a big posh place with sports TVs and a coffee shop of its own.’

Uplifted to hear the Lotto shop had done that well, she returned to the top of Spartili Street. When she had time, she would work out how much money she would need to get the place up and running. Then she scolded herself for having ambitions beyond her reach. But one could dream.

She peered through the dusty glass that made two walls of the three-by-four space. The removals had gone and the door was locked. Her heart thumped so hard she told herself to calm down.

The empty shop had white shelves on two walls, and a counter. She imagined her jars of cream displayed in little pyramids, with the prices painted onto pretty pebbles she’d collect from the beach. A jug on the counter stuffed with fresh wild flowers, or lavender and myrtle from her back yard. She would stand behind the counter wearing a new dress, something floral, and a touch of makeup, and she would dab her customers’ wrists with a sample of her latest scent.

She blinked the illusion away and looked again. A broken chair lay on its side, the floor was scattered with scratched tickets and torn football-coupons, and phone wires hung out of the wall. How many people had entered the betting shop with hope in their eyes and left with the dull look of disappointment. The Lotto shop had been a roaring success because get-rich-quick was the national sport of Greece.

*

Back home, Naomi wondered what a licence to sell perfume and cosmetics would cost? Although Greece was in dire financial trouble, the government did everything it could to stamp out the entrepreneurial spirit. She sighed.

‘It can’t be that bad!’ Heleny’s voice made her jump.

‘Sorry, I was daydreaming.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘That little shop on the corner.’ She nodded towards the village road. ‘I can’t get it out of my head, but I can’t come up with a way to obtain the premises on my meagre finances.’

‘Brainstorming, that’s what you need,’ Heleny said with glee. ‘Let’s do it. I’ll call Georgia, and we’ll get Bubba, Pappas Yiannis, and young Marina on it too.’

‘I don’t know . . . I’m being stupid, daydreaming. I don’t have any money, and they’ll all think I’m mad. Delusions of grandeur.’

‘Nonsense! Anyway, what harm can it do if your friends give you their honest opinion?’ Heleny dropped a huge carrier of kourabiéthes into Naomi’s lap and plopped into the chair next to her. ‘Three o’clock this afternoon okay?’

Naomi chewed her lip for a moment and then shrugged. ‘What’ve I got to lose?’ Yet she had already resigned herself to disappointment.

‘That’s the spirit.’ Heleny grinned.