The Summer of Secrets by Patricia Wilson

Author:Patricia Wilson [Wilson, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zaffre Publishing

CHAPTER 28

SOFIA

Castellorizo, Greece, 1943

THE DOCTOR HAD SHAVED THE back of Sofía’s head and stitched a wound the length of her middle finger. Hearing returned to her right ear the next morning, but the doctor said it would be a few weeks before her left eardrum repaired itself. María and Mamá cleaned her wounds and the Papas, the local priest, paid them a visit asking Sofía many questions about what she remembered of the bombing and its aftermath, which was little.

‘It’s confusing, Papas. I remember Anastasia sending me back to help little Doris and me telling Anastasia I loved her. I don’t know why I did that . . . the words just came, with no help from me.’ Sofía battled to keep back her tears. ‘The planes came . . . a huge explosion . . . then I remember looking down on little Doris, knowing she was in danger and asking God to keep her safe.’

His mouth fell open slightly as he blinked at her with a curious glimmer in his eyes. ‘They found her in the mosque,’ he said. Leaning forward, he clutched the crucifix that hung around his neck. ‘When you say, you asked God to keep her safe, what do you mean exactly?

‘It’s a little mystifying, like when a kitten gets in the wool box and tangles all the yarn.’

‘Do you remember anything else – hearing voices, or perhaps a bright light?’ He gazed at her expectantly. ‘What made you ring the church bell?’

‘Me, ring the church bell?’ Sofía closed her eyes, weary from it all. ‘As I recollect, there was a bomb heading for our house.’ With her eyes still closed, she lifted her hand as if to push the missile away. ‘I was afraid for my family and prayed. In my mind I . . . well, I sort of made it miss. Although it seems I was wrong. The bomb hit the cliff behind the house instead.’

When she drew back from that awful moment and opened her eyes, the priest appeared slightly alarmed. He crossed himself and continued asking his questions until Sofía interrupted him.

‘Anastasia . . . she’s dead, isn’t she, Papas?’

‘She is, child, dead and in heaven, but it was so sudden she wouldn’t have known anything about it.’

Sofía shook her head and a sudden deluge of sadness washed over her. ‘She knew, Papas. We were together at that moment. Her only fear was for me. She didn’t want me to die.’

‘I’m told your mother had hold of your hand. She prayed for God not to take you and the next moment, you were alive, on the hill next to the chapel and the bell was ringing.’

‘Well . . . it’s all a little confusing, father. All I can say is: I was with Anastasia, she told me to go and take care of little Doris . . . then I was falling, as if from a great height. I saw Doris running wild on the quayside, completely terrified. I wanted to help her. I wanted to do what Anastasia had instructed – it seemed very important at the time.

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