Page 61 of Villa of Secrets

How could we get over the bridge that spanned the moat without being seen? The moon was up, spreading a moody, gangrenous light over the island. We crouched low and scooted across the moat.

As we approached the shack, Zeus nickered and whinnied. The top of the stable door was open, and the moment I reached our horse I shushed him. Irini rubbed his nose and I patted his neck before we opened the bottom of the stable door and slipped in.

Exhausted, we dumped the heavy bundles in the shack, glad to stop for a well-deserved rest.

The moon was high and our eyes had their night vision, but hardly any light reached inside the stable. I saddled Zeus, fumbling, unsure of what I was doing. Danial had tried to teach me to ride, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was happy to muck out for him. Now I wished I’d paid attention.

When Danial started helping in Papa’s shop, after his work at the port, he gave a little money each month to a young Albanian who cared for Zeus. The boy had done a good job; the stable was tidy and the horse, well kept.

In the silence of the night, we heard a vehicle approaching. A Nazi patrol.

Chapter 27

Bromley, London.

Standing in the kitchen in her white silk pyjamas, Rebecca stared at the calendar. Seven weeks. One more and she had made it to two months pregnant. Life could not be better, and she wanted to put her arms around Fritz and tell him how happy she was. But on the first Monday of the month, Fritz would leave for work at dawn and not return until after nine, tired, worried, and restless.

‘An early start to set the month ahead,’ he would say.

She decided to phone him at ten and tell him how much she loved him. Before that, she would shower, wear something nice, and do her hair in case he wanted to video call.

After making herself a green tea, she sauntered into the living room to reread some of the diary. Dora’s story amazed her. She saw in the two sisters similarities between Naomi and herself. Naomi had always taken care of her. In the minimalist lounge she stared at the driftwood coffee table, sure that was where she had left the diary the night before. Perhaps Fritz took it to work; she’d ask him when she phoned.

By ten o’clock, she looked her best. She called his mobile but it was turned off. He must be in a meeting. She called the office to see what time he would be free.

‘Can I take a message?’ the woman said. ‘Mr Neumanner doesn’t work on the first Monday of the month. I’ll get him to call you back tomorrow.’

Rebecca frowned. ‘Sorry . . . Mr Neumanner, Fritz Neumanner doesn’t work on the first Monday of the month? Since when?’ she asked.

‘Three months or so. Can I take your name, madam?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll call his mobile, thank you.’ With that, she hung up. What was going on? Fritz never had a day off work. There must be a simple explanation, but she couldn’t think of one. She hunted around for the diary again. As if on cue, the post came, and as soon as she saw the envelope she knew another diary had arrived.

This was turning into a very strange day.

Where was Fritz on a Monday? Why hadn’t he mentioned taking the day off? Perhaps he was ill, going for treatment and didn’t want to worry her. She searched her mind for anything unusual the previous first Mondays of the month, but came up with nothing apart from his extremely long day and his excessive tension when he eventually arrived home.

In his home office, she glanced over the desk and found it neat and tidy with no clues to the mystery. She opened drawers and searched through the contents, until she came across his diary. After a moment of hesitation she sat in the swivel chair, licked her forefinger, and flicked through pages of business appointments and notes, until she came to the previous month and stared at a blank Monday. Four weeks before that, another vacant page.

Pensive, she spent the rest of the day in a daze, analysing Fritz, their relationship, and this mystery. In the end she asked herself if she trusted him, and she answered herself with a resounding yes, totally. Whatever was going on, she believed he kept it to himself for her sake, and she didn’t doubt he would tell her in his own good time. Best to have faith in him and put the whole thing out of her mind.

She looked at the kitchen calendar once more. The next first Monday fell on the day he flew to America, and she would be almost three months pregnant and packing her case for Rhodes. How would Bubba and Naomi receive her? She didn’t doubt there would be tension on all sides, but they had to work things out and grow back together. She picked up the brown envelope slathered in Greek stamps and tore it open.

As she expected, another diary slipped out.

*

Rebecca lost track of time. Curled on the sofa with the diary, she raced through the pages, horrified to discover what Bubba had been through. The stories were simply written and moving, and Rebecca saw a new side of her grandmother. She wished she had inherited some of Bubba’s bravery, and she understood how lonely young Dora must have been without her family around her.

When Rebecca stopped reading, in order to make a herbal tea, she thought about how much Dora cared for Evangelisa. Although Dora had put herself in terrible danger for the sake of a few dresses, Evangelisa seemed to have no notion of her sister’s selflessness.

Rebecca considered how Naomi had looked after her when they were younger. A devotion that she had always taken for granted, she realised shamefully. But now she could repay Naomi by helping with the court case. Satisfied with herself, she settled on the sofa and returned to the diary.

Dora and Irini were trapped in the stable. Imagining their fear, Rebecca continued reading.

Chapter 28

‘They’re coming!’ Irini whispered urgently. I closed and bolted the stable door, and we scurried into the hay pile, burying ourselves. The scent of damp grass enveloped us.