Page 60 of Villa of Secrets

The flare of a match. A glimmer of candle flame lit the stairway. The faces were grotesque in the flickering illumination. Then, I recognised the conductor from the choir.

‘It’s me, Dora, from the tailor’s shop,’ I said. ‘Sorry, we must have made a mistake.’

He came downstairs and turned on the light. ‘What are you doing here? They told us you were gone – away on the ships.’

His wife blew out the candle and followed him.

I looked around, confused. I hadn’t been wrong; it was our house, our home, but everything was different. Many things that didn’t belong to us cluttered the place. Cushions, pictures, ornaments. I felt myself in a nightmare where nothing was as it seemed. Irini came to my side, held my hand but didn’t speak. We both stared at the room.

The choirmaster spoke again. ‘Child, what are you doing here? You must leave. Go! Now! Or I’ll call the Nazis.’

‘It’s my house. I live here.’ I wanted to ask what he was doing in my home, but I was so afraid at the mention of Nazis that I couldn’t speak.

His wife, wearing a long cotton nightdress and a pink knitted bed jacket, scurried down the stairs and stared at the door. ‘Where are your parents?’ she said kindly, patting her pin curls and fiddling with the hairnet strap that cut into her double chin.

‘They were taken away on the ship. Everyone was but I escaped.’ I sniffed, near to tears again. ‘Mama, Papa, my brothers, grandparents, all my cousins, aunts, uncles. I don’t understand why. Do you know why? I miss them. And I’m scared.’

The choirmaster grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘Where is it, your father’s gold?’ he said. ‘Where’s it hidden?’

‘Gold? We don’t have any,’ I said, suddenly noticing a hole into the floor where we had replaced some broken tiles.

‘It’s here somewhere. I know it,’ he snarled, staring about the room. His fingers dug into my shoulders and he shook me. ‘Tell me where it is or I’ll call the Nazis!’

How often I’d watched this man from my bedroom window, admired him, thought he was the sort of person I would like to model myself on. At that moment, I recognised nothing but a greedy rodent.

His wife said, ‘Now, now, Petro. Let’s feed these children and see what we can do for them. Poor girls.’

‘We can’t harbour Jews! They’ll kill us, you stupid woman!’ He jerked his chin towards us. ‘Get them out of here, or I’ll summon the patrol and hand them over.’

‘Stop it!’ she said harshly. ‘Keep your voice down. Poor child,’ she said, turning to me, glancing at my wrist and the crude splint. ‘Sit down and tell me all about it. There’s chickpea soup in the pan. Would you like some?’

I nodded frantically. ‘Starving.’

The woman looked at Irini, who also nodded eagerly. ‘Eat a small donkey, mane and tail too,’ she said, which made the woman smile.

She fed us dishes of thick soup, drizzled with olive oil and a squirt of lemon juice and accompanied by hunks of fresh wholemeal bread. A simple, yet amazing meal that I will never forget.

I told her I’d come to get our possessions and provisions, and would she mind?

She helped us collect things, including the Babushka dolls. Although Papa’s small-change had gone, the dolls were nestled together and I knew Evangelisa would love them.

The choirmaster grumbled and said if we ever returned, he’d hand us over.

‘Petro! Stop behaving like the backside of a mule!’ his wife exclaimed. ‘Or you’ll feel the sting of my carpet beater!’

Clearly, the choirmaster’s wife was the boss in that marriage, and also on our side. Strangely, I didn’t mind that they were looking after our house. It seemed better to leave it with people taking care of things until my family came back. Which I knew they would.

With our stuff bundled into two blankets, we crept into the courtyard. The choirmaster’s wife followed. ‘Now, Dora, tell me: is there any treasure, or savings, hidden in the house? I can keep it safe for you, out of my husband’s greedy clutches.’ Her face pinched and her eyes narrowed keenly, glinting over a tight-lipped smile.

She appeared snakelike in the moonlight and I couldn’t look away. I shook my head. ‘Honestly, we had to take all our valuables to L’Aeronautica. The Nazis took everything and they searched us all, even the children. Nobody has left anything of worth behind.’

‘So, the SS have it all, yes?’ Her face relaxed and her kindness returned.

We thanked the woman, before I followed Irini towards the city walls and the bastion gate of Saint John.

We stopped many times to rest our arms, aware that a Nazi patrol might discover us at any moment. To be caught out after curfew carried the penalty of death. Shot on the spot. At least everywhere was in darkness, in case the British bombers came over again.

Our horse was stabled five hundred metres from the entrance into the Old Town. As we approached the gate of Saint John, we heard men talking and realised there were sentries posted on the fortifications.