Page 16 of Villa of Secrets

‘I’ve been in love,’ he said. ‘In a way I still am, so I understand Marina wants to be with her boyfriend, but I also realise she’s not going to tell an old man she has a lover.’

‘Would you like me to have a word? Make sure she’s being sensible?’

‘I’d appreciate it. Meanwhile, I’ll watch out for her safe return at dawn. Tell them they should use the front door. They think they’re being quiet, but dragging that ladder above my bedroom ceiling makes an awful racket at four in the morning when I’m trying to sleep.’

They exchanged a smile and drank their tea in silence. Naomi picked up the exercise book. The journal seemed oddly heavy considering the size of it and she wondered at the weight of the revelations that lay inside. ‘Thanks for this,’ she said staring at the name, Pandora, ornately written on the cover.

Back home, Naomi looked in on Bubba who slept soundly. She settled in her grandmother’s chair, opened the faded diary and studied the neat handwriting before starting to read.

Chapter 8

This book belongs to Dora Cohen.

!!!PRIVATE!!!

Sunday, 16 July 1944

Paradissi Village, Area of the Butterflies, Rhodes, Dodecanese Islands of Italy, Europe, The World.

Today is my sixteenth birthday. After breakfast, my mother gifted me this book to celebrate. My father has given me the pen I’m writing with, which is a new invention. I don’t have to dip it into an inkwell, like at school. It’s called a fountain pen and has a black rubber tube inside, and a little gold lever on the outside. I must place the nib in the ink bottle and pump the lever a few times to suck ink into the tube.

The pen is marvellous and I believe I’m the first person in Rhodes to have one. Danial, the eldest of my brothers, gave me three bottles of ink: black, blue, and red.

I received a box of six bath cubes from my grandparents. They look so pretty through the cellophane window, each wrapped in gold foil and a band of flowery paper. I took the lid off, closed my eyes, and inhaled the beautiful smells. Lily of the valley, roses, honeysuckle, and jasmine. My senses drifted in a fragrant jungle, bumping into one perfume, then another. I’ll never use them because they’re too lovely to disappear in our tin bath.

Mama made a birthday cake with candles, but when I blew them out, I couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I’m always wishing for something: to be pretty, to have a larger bust, to be in the choir.

I also wish Mama hadn’t written ‘Pandora’ on the front of my book. Everyone calls me Dora, even my teacher. I like Dora. I’ve decided the diary will be my secret friend. I’ll tell her everything, all my confidences and imaginings, which I shall write down every day, starting now.

I am exactly sixteen years old and I’m in love. I don’t know his name, so I refer to him as the Curly Haired Boy. He looked at me today and nearly smiled. I can hardly explain how that made me feel, except like my blood rushed through my veins at a thousand kilometres an hour and my heart couldn’t keep up. I can’t stop dreaming about him. I want to go and talk to him, but that’s not the way to behave. My father would be disappointed.

My schoolbooks are spread over the bed because I should be doing homework, but I’m not. I am drawing hearts with our initials scrolled in the centre, and an arrow piercing through. D.C. & C.H.B. I’m also trying hard to look pretty. I brush my hair until it shines, and wear my whitest socks. I smear a little olive oil on my eyebrows and lips, and stuff my second-best socks inside my new brassiere.

I hope nobody else (especially Mama) notices my sudden bust development. Curly Haired Boy sings with the Italian choir. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Being a good kisser is important because if I don’t get it right first time, he may never want to kiss me again.

My best friend Irini, who’s one week older than me, said she’s heard you can get pregnant from kissing, but I don’t think that’s true. I am not sure how you do get pregnant, or how the baby gets out. Irini says it must come out of your belly button. Otherwise, what’s the point of a belly button?

We made round dolly-bags in sewing class at school and they close by pulling a cord threaded through the top. Irini says your belly button probably works like that because she has been told that when the baby’s born, they tie the cord in a knot and cut it off. So, we guess that after the baby’s out, they pull the cord to shut the belly button, tie it and cut it off. Then I imagine it sort of heals over until it’s needed again.

My mother has told me about periods, which I’ve been having for two years now. Mama promised to tell me more about the facts of life when I need to know, which isn’t yet, she said. And I’m forbidden to talk to anyone about these things because they’re completely private.

Growing up is a weird business. I constantly feel I’m on the edge of some huge revelation that will change my life. Yesterday, Irini asked me if I’ve got any hairs you-know-where yet, and I felt really stupid because I didn’t understand what she was talking about. We did an inspection of my legs and under my arms, and Irini told me they were coming. She said her sister has great bushes under hers and we laughed a lot, but then I was ashamed of being childish and found I was blushing. It’s all very confusing.

I’ve tried to ask Mama about these things, but she gets flustered and tells me I will find out soon enough. I think there should be a book, How to Become an Adult on your Sixteenth Birthday. When I understand everything, I might write it myself to help others in my predicament. One thing is for sure, when I have a daughter and she is sixteen I will tell her everything, or perhaps I’ll just give her the book I am going to write.

Irini received a pair of fully fashioned nylons and a suspender belt for her birthday. I longed for the same, but they don’t make them in my size.

Being very small for my age has always been a problem for me. People treat me like I am a child. Once, someone called me ‘Titch’ at school and I was so upset I sat under the table when I got home and cried my eyes out. Papa coaxed me out and made me sit next to him on the sofa. He put his arm around me and told me I’m small for my age because my mother had me very early, seven and a half months, instead of nine. He said I should have died, being so small, but I didn’t because I’m a born fighter. Although I didn’t die, I’ve never actually caught up in size.

I’ve always remembered that, and when anyone teases me about being small I tell them, ‘I may be small, but I’m a born fighter, so watch out!’ and I’m tempted to give them a punch. Twice, I got into big trouble because I really did clout somebody, and I had to promise Papa I’d never do it again.

The worst thing was, I had to apologise to the pig who had tripped Irini up and laughed at her sprawled on the ground. I punched him hard under his ribs, and for a horrible minute I thought he was going to die. He doubled up, fell to his knees, and made awful noises like he couldn’t breathe in. Still, after that incident, the teasing stopped.

When Irini and I dress up, she’s promised to draw a line up the backs of my legs with her sister’s eyebrow pencil, so it looks as though I’m wearing nylons too.

On the day the Athens ferry comes in, Irini and I go to the port. It’s against the law to kiss in public, but people don’t seem to care when the person they love is boarding the Athens ferry. It’s the only place we can study people kissing.

When I get home, I rush to my bedroom and practise kissing on the back of my hand. I look forward to having a real boyfriend, and I want to be prepared and get everything right when I do find my special person. Papa says preparation is everything. He’s the best tailor on the island and he taught me the saying, ‘Measure twice and cut once’. This is to avoid mistakes, and I think it’s a good rule to live by.