Page 136 of Villa of Secrets

Bubba beamed and nodded, as if her plan had come together. She was on form, her first evening out since her stroke. After the meal, she drank a little wine and said to Naomi, ‘Child, I’m so happy to have all my family around me. I feel that even my Sonia’s here in spirit.’ She looked towards the ceiling and smiled. ‘I would like to sing something for you all. I haven’t had the urge to sing for a long time. Do you think I could?’

Naomi remembered how Bubba would go down to the beach and sing when Naomi was just a girl, before her parents were lost at sea. She hadn’t heard her sing since that tragic day.

‘Of course you can, Bubba, we would love it if you did, wouldn’t we, people?’

‘Rip it up, Yiayá!’ one of Naomi’s boys shouted, and everyone laughed.

Bubba grinned and gave him a shaky thumbs-up. ‘I’ll do my best, son.’

Naomi helped Bubba to the music area in the corner of the taverna.

‘What music would you like?’ Antonis asked as he fiddled with his iPad.

Bubba thought for a moment. ‘Have you got the music for I Dreamed a Dream?’ Bubba asked. ‘Just the music. I’ve got my own words.’

Antonis nodded. ‘Anything you want.’ His eyes met Naomi’s with a question.

‘Don’t worry,’ Naomi said, sensing his concern. ‘She can do it.’

‘Would you like a chair?’ Antonis asked, adjusting the microphone.

‘No!’ she replied indignantly, clearly forgetting her age and fragility.

Naomi supported her grandmother behind the microphone and, for a moment, she was overwhelmed by the love she felt for this remarkable woman. Lord Bloomberg was right, Pandora Cohen should be placed on a pedestal. The intro came through the speakers. The old lady surveyed the room, looking into the faces of her family, smiling and nodding to each of them in turn. The taverna stilled. Bubba closed her eyes, her shapeless bosom rising and falling as she concentrated.

When she started her song, the notes were clear and strong.

Naomi smiled to see Costa’s jaw drop. Like most of the people there, he had never heard her sing before.

When Bubba opened her eyes, they were glazed, her expression blank and distant, and it became obvious to them all that she had slipped into her memories of past times. It was sixteen-year-old Pandora Cohen on that small stage.

Naomi remembered the line in Bubba’s diary: I was holding the last note with every ounce of energy I had. I thought I’d suffocate with the need to breathe in before I got all of the note out. Then she realised, the words that Bubba sang were not I Dreamed a Dream. She recalled Bubba’s songbook, on the shelf over the sink. These were her own lyrics, her own song.

Naomi listened carefully.

I knew a time when life was fine

With songs to sing, their words uplifting.

I searched for love, a heart divine

Then war broke out, all hell existing.

I lost them all, it went so wrong. . .

She waivered, took a breath, and continued.

My precious dreams they all flew by

My hope was lost, life at its bleakest.

I’d dreamed my loves could never die

And prayed to God for strength when weakest.

Bubba’s voice broke and her lips trembled. Papas Yiannis heaved himself out of his seat and took Naomi’s place. He slipped his arm around Bubba’s waist and supported her.

Papas Yiannis whispered into her ear, but the microphone picked up his words. ‘Be strong, Pandora Cohen. We’ll sing it together. Remember?’