Page 57 of Villa of Secrets

Despotakis pulled a sheaf of forms from his briefcase. ‘We need some details. First, Mrs Cohen’s birth certificate, ID, and deeds for the property you’re claiming.’

Naomi shook her head, remembering the diary. ‘I don’t think she has any documents. The Nazis confiscated our family papers in L’Aeronautica, many decades ago, before they transported everyone to Auschwitz.’

The two officials glanced at each other.

Gianakopulos, dark circles under his eyes and several warts on his face and neck, frowned and then smiled, snake-like despite his fatness. ‘No papers, no claim,’ he said brusquely. ‘No point in going any further. Nothing we can do.’

Naomi clenched her fists. Who did he think he was?

‘Are there any living relatives besides yourself and Mrs Cohen?’ Despotakis persisted.

Naomi dragged her eyes away from the fat bastard. ‘I have a younger sister. I think Pandora Cohen was the only survivor of all my ancestors. The rest were transported to the death camps, Bergen-Belsen and Auschwitz. As far as I understand, nobody else survived.’

The fat man turned his eyes towards the ceiling like he’d heard it all before.

Naomi, seething, squinted at him as she continued. ‘You know what I mean, Mr Gianakopulos, after being handed over to the Nazis by Rhodians who then looked the other way.’

Gianakopulos’s eyes flicked up from the forms and glared at her before playing his spiteful card. ‘And Mrs Cohen’s daughter, father unknown, it says in our records.’ The words came with a sneer.

‘Then I’m sure it also says “in your records” that my mother, maiden name Sonia Phoenix Cohen, died in 1980, when I was ten years old.’ Naomi matched his glare. ‘And my Uncle, Jacob Cohen, one of the few survivors of that hell-hole called Auschwitz, died in Italy ten years after my mother, and his wife followed him some months later.’ Naomi thought it best not to mention her nieces, as they had long lost touch.

Despotakis lowered his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. How come Mrs Cohen . . .’ he glanced at the forms, ‘Pandora, wasn’t taken to Auschwitz too?’

Naomi took a breath, pushing back her frustration and concentrating on Despotakis. She exhaled and said, quietly but forcefully, ‘Because my grandmother escaped deportation on those disgraceful ships, the vessels that took all the Jews from this island. I’m proud to say my grandmother joined the Andartes and risked her life for the liberation of Rhodes and her people.’ Her words were choked with emotion. She stared from one to the other, taking a moment to recompose. ‘Pandora Cohen fought for a country that didn’t fight for her. The least Rhodes can do is give back what’s rightfully hers.’

Gianakopulos snorted. ‘You mean her boyfriend was hiding with the bandits and draft dodgers in the mountains? That’s more like the truth.’

His mockery was galvanising, and for a moment it left her speechless. But Gianakopulos had pushed her over the edge. She banged her clenched fists on the wooden table top.

‘No, I do not mean that! My grandmother was an assassin who executed Nazi informers. Countless Rhodian lives were saved through her actions, possibly the lives of your parents and grandparents too. And while she fought and risked her life for the island of Rhodes, the local thieves and cowards trembled behind their closed shutters! Or should I say, the shutters of the Jewish homes they stole hoping and praying the true owner didn’t escape the gas chamber or crematorium, and return!’

She’d gone too far, she knew it. The men looked past her, and Naomi turned to see Bubba in her socks, nighty, and cardigan, standing in the doorway looking bewildered.

Naomi stood and pointed a stiff finger at Gianakopulos’s face. ‘Don’t ever let me hear you speak disrespectfully of Pandora Cohen again, or you’ll have me to deal with. Now, get out of my house!’

Gianakopulos narrowed his eyes and Naomi knew she had an enemy before her.

The door opened and Papas Yiannis rushed in. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking from one to the other. ‘I could hear the shouting across the street.’

Naomi didn’t take her eyes off Gianakopulos. ‘Leave! Get out of my house before I reward your ignorance with words I might regret!’

Gianakopulos looked smug. ‘Your house . . . I don’t think so, madam.’ He hauled his bulk out of the chair.

Papas Yiannis stepped forward. ‘Actually, it’s my house. You can check your records: Papas Yiannis Voskos, Orthodox priest of Paradissi. Now I think you had better leave the building, as this lady requested.’

Despotakis cleared his throat and handed Naomi a card. ‘If you find any papers, would you contact me?’

Naomi nodded.

*

‘Sorry,’ Naomi said when the officials had gone and Bubba returned to her room. ‘He was rude and insulting, that Gianakopulos. A horrible man. Still, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. He’s the type that will make me pay for my words.’

‘Never worry about what’s said in haste, Naomi,’ the priest said. ‘There’s no point. Now, what will we do about Rebecca? Have you heard from her?’

‘Actually, I phoned her.’ She told him her concerns about the diary being destroyed. ‘She promised to read it, then post it back.’

‘Good. I came over because I believe they’re bringing the court case forward, again.’ He shook his head. ‘A little devious, as people living in distant lands, Canada, Australia, and so on, have already bought their expensive plane tickets and booked time off work.’