Page 36 of Villa of Secrets

‘Thanks for the shortbreads. How’s it going with Fannes?’

Heleny’s face fell. ‘He’s married . . . the bastard!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. How did you find out?’

‘Credit card under my bed. Must have fallen out of his pocket when he tore his clothes off in a mad frenzy of lust and passion.’

Naomi bit hard on her lip.

‘Same name on the card, but Mrs. It had to be the wife’s. He denied it at first. Keeps calling me. I’m not wearing the perfume again until he gives up.’

‘Look, Heleny, all things have their opposite. Why don’t I mix you a different perfume that will stop his advances?’

Heleny appeared alarmed. ‘I don’t want to smell like shit,’ she cried.

Naomi laughed. ‘You won’t, trust me.’

Heleny looked sceptical. ‘If you’re sure.’ Her grin returned. ‘Anyway, I’d better go and organise the brainstorming meeting. Brilliant! See you at three.’

Inside, Naomi made four litres of lemon tea, stacked it in the fridge, and filled all the ice-cube trays, while her hopes and dreams soared and plummeted.

Who do I think I am . . . my own shop? It will never happen.

‘Come on, Bubba, darling. Breakfast outside today while I do your room,’ she said cheerfully, manoeuvring her grandmother onto the patio and into the chair.

‘You’re very perky today. What’s going on?’ Bubba asked.

‘Brainstorming lotions and potions this afternoon. We’re having a meeting with our friends, Bubba, so please try and come up with ideas to boost the business.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ she said. ‘Give me the recipe books. I might think of something useful, but don’t be disappointed if I can’t.’

Naomi stood back and looked at her. ‘Do you know, I’m seeing a huge improvement in you every day.’

Bubba frowned. ‘My mind seems good and strong after sleeping, but when I get tired, it’s as if I get jumbled . . . wires crossed. I see things from the past that have been buried for years. They come back so real that I think I’m there, living it all over again.’ She stared at the floor. ‘I’m afraid I’ll get stuck in one of those dark places, and never return.’

Naomi’s heart went out to her. ‘Oh, Bubba, you are getting better. Don’t worry.’

‘I wonder if, when my mind is stronger, I should read a little of the diaries, just a page or two, remember, and then come back to now – if you know what I mean. That way, I reckon the old grey matter would get stronger and sort itself out.’

‘Like a mental exercise?’

Bubba nodded. ‘Also, I want to say this: I don’t want to be a burden. When my time comes, Naomi, promise me you won’t let them keep my old heart going. No tubes and wires and bleeps. I want to leave with dignity, in my best nighty.’

Naomi swallowed hard. ‘You have my word. It will be difficult, because I love you so much, Pandora Cohen.’ She pulled in a shaky breath. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Yes. Every Clean Monday, when the Christians celebrate the start of Lent, go up Mount Filerimos, fly your kites and remember me . . . and Giovanni, Sonia, Irini and Evangelisa. Take some rose petals down to the harbour and throw them on the water, for Papa and all my family. They never had a funeral, even that was taken from them.’

Naomi nodded, unable to speak.

‘And fireworks . . . I’d like to go out with a bang.’

*

Naomi bustled all morning. She tried to concentrate on the brainstorming session, but her mind returned to Bubba’s words again and again. There was so much she didn’t know about her grandmother. Who was Giovanni, and what other secrets from the past would come to light?

After changing Bubba’s sheets and dusting her room, Naomi settled her grandmother down for a nap and then started mixing a new perfume for her friend. She leafed through Bubba’s book, studied scents she hadn’t considered before, and came across one titled Time to Say Goodbye. She read through the ingredients.

Powdered Iris: for its lack of warmth.