The Music Trilogy (17 page)

“Isn’t that the great soprano, Valentina Vidalis Malandros?” A woman said.

“Yes, yes. Quiet now, she has the most amazing voice, listen to her,” another man whispered.

Valentina once again started singing. Only this time it was an old familiar folk song, one that everyone knew. Nico stood up, put the coat on his beloved wife, and sang along with her, as did Melina and every soul in the shelter.

Valentina sang and sang, from old folk songs to arias. She didn’t waver, kept at it and continued throughout the night, stoically and diligently. She kept the people entertained, helping them temporarily forget their predicament. She was so successful in her endeavor that instead of feeling miserable in a cold damp basement they found themselves at a unique impromptu and heart-warming concert. They sang along with her and thought of how important even one person was, one person that could sooth their soul with hope through music. Valentina and her family gave them a souvenir they would always remember.

During a break Valentina looked at her daughter and said: “You know, I never really heard you sing before. Do you like to sing?” She asked, very much as her own mother had done when she was her daughter’s age.

“Oh, yes, very much!”

“You have a lovely voice, and I’m not saying that because you’re my daughter. Would you like to take lessons?”

“Really? That would be wonderful. I would be happy if I were even half as good as you.”

“Actually, I think you would be twice as good,” Valentina said. Melina beamed.

Daylight drifted in and announced itself. The sun slowly warmed them up and the curfew was over. One by one they filed out of their cramped quarters. Each one thanked Valentina, kissed her, or hugged her. She had given them several hours of joy throughout the long cold night, but most of all, she had given them hope. “
O Theos mazi sou!
May God be with you,” they each said.

Nico brought his family out of the basement and they returned home. Melina still had the cat under her coat. He smiled as he remembered his daughter promenading her cat in a baby carriage around the neighborhood when she was still a child. When the people looked inside to see the baby they found
Monsieur Chat
instead. Some laughed, others gasped in surprise. Melina always did things her way. His daughter was the most independent person Nico had ever known, and knew beyond any doubt that she followed in the footsteps of the women in her family.

Like her mother and grandmother Melina was passionate about her music. She studied diligently at the Conservatory and also enrolled herself in the prestigious
Schiller Institut
in Athens—to learn German and to be able to attend free performances, she had said. She convinced her mother to let her attend, and in turn Valentina convinced Nico that it was a good idea and good educational exposure. She knew how important a good education was to Nico and the German Institute was of the highest caliber. Musicians, singers, prominent scholars, poets and some of the best teachers were frequently brought in from Germany. Of course the propaganda specialists came as well. The school was free and the Germans were enthusiastic when the locals signed up. Not only could they keep an eye on the Greeks who attended, they also thought it was a marvelous opportunity to recruit them to their side. But the blood that flowed through young Melina’s thin body was Greek—the blood of warriors dating back centuries to great wars, to unsurpassed resistance fighters and to martyrs who had given up their lives for their country and for freedom. As much as they would have wanted her on their side it would never be. What Nico didn’t know was the real reason his daughter attended the school. Melina was not only learning German and getting a good education, she was also making connections—just in case her family ran into trouble, or were picked up by the Gestapo or by any other enemy. She adored her father and looked up to him. In her young mind there wasn’t anything her Daddy didn’t know, and of course he was a hero from the Great War. He had fought gallantly, been wounded in Verdun and received several medals. What Melina didn’t consciously know, or even the rest of her family, was that in those same genes that ran through her body, she was very much like her father—a survivor and quick-minded.

“Bye everybody, I’ll see you after school. Love you!” Melina singsonged as she ran out of the house. Valentina waived and blew her a kiss.

A few minutes later a neighbor came by the house. “Valentina, I have to speak to you, it’s urgent,” the woman said, hurrying up to her.

“What is it?”

“They have taken the Eleftheriades’ away, on those trains going to hell!” She crossed herself as she said it.

“Oh, no!” Valentina exclaimed. She had heard about the camps the trains took people to. They never came back. “What about Rebeka? Did they take her too?”

“She wasn’t home, thank God. But now what is she going to do?”

Valentina thought for a moment. “Do you know where she is now?”

The woman looked at her, a little unsure. “Uh, yes.”

“Good. This is what we will do. She will stay with us. Melina and Rebeka are good friends and they went to school together.”

“Are you crazy? She’s Jewish. They will kill you and your family if you hide a Jew. Besides, none of us have any food to eat. And how will you hide her? Or even feed her?”

“We can each spare a few extra raisins. No one will know. And I know you won’t talk, because if you do, then I will just have to kill you,” Valentina said very slowly, without batting an eyelash. The woman looked at her and took her very seriously. “Bring her to me tonight, just before curfew.” The neighbor nodded and left.

Valentina hurried into the house and came back out with shears and clippers. She went to an enormous bush located on the side of the villa. It was big and thorny, and stood very close to the kitchen window. She put gloves on and went to work. She looked at the branches, and then carefully cut the plant exactly the way she wanted it, painstakingly trimming off each thorn with the clippers from the middle of the bush. Valentina went into the kitchen, looked out the window and smiled.

That night, when the family was all together Valentina told them about Rebeka and that she would be staying with them. She explained her plan in detail. At first Melina was ecstatic. She thought of the companionship, especially since she was an only child, but then realized what the consequences of their hospitality could be. She immediately dismissed her last thought. She would be as brave as her parents.

“You have done a good thing, Valentina,” Nico said, supporting her completely.

“Yes,
Manoula,
we’ll be fine,” Melina answered quickly. She was already thinking of how she could make a little extra money to buy food on the black market. She knew that her parents’ assets had been confiscated and there was no money left. They couldn’t work, besides, there were no jobs. The Malandros’ had used what they had to survive and to help others stay alive. All that was left were a few antiques in the house and some jewelry, which were being bartered piece by piece for an occasional piece of meat, a little oil, or a loaf of bread. Athens was sealed off. Only the farmers outside the city were able to survive off their land and they in turn smuggled in what they could for exorbitant prices. Still, the Malandros’ were a happy family, grateful to be alive and together.

That night young Rebeka arrived with the neighbor who quickly dropped her off at the Malandros home. Valentina let her in and hugged her.

“I’m very sorry about your parents, but I want you to know that you can stay with us for as long as you want. We will take care of you. You will be safe here. Is that alright?” The girl was the same age as Melina, and looked very much alike. They were about the same build and height, and had been friends in school and knew each other well. “Come,” Valentina said, “it’s time for dinner.” Rebeka slowly stopped shaking. She had been hiding all day long and had watched her parents being taken away by the SS. She had debated with herself if she should give herself up to be with them, or to stay hidden. The answer came to her when a neighbor, the one who told Valentina about her predicament, came to her rescue.

She followed Valentina into the kitchen. Melina jumped up and hugged her friend.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Melina said.

“Alright, everybody,” Valentina said, “please sit down. Rebeka, you and Melina will sit on one chair, as if you are only one person. You are both thin and the chair is wide enough.” Too thin, Valentina thought, this war is killing the population by starvation. “You will share the same plate, glass and silverware and you will use the same napkin,” she continued. Basically, the two of you are one. Understood?” The young girls nodded. “One more thing, the most important thing. If for any reason, Rebeka, you need to disappear quickly, like someone coming to the house, you dive out the kitchen window. It is always open, and you will land in the bush outside. I have cut it in such a way that you will not get hurt or scratched and the branches of the bush will cover you up. Is that clear?” Rebeka nodded. Nico was impressed, Melina was proud of her mother. Sela smiled.

Their evening meal consisted of a small handful of raisins each and a slice of toast (which Valentina had bartered for a bunch of her patio grapes.) “We will have better food very soon,” Valentina said, a little embarrassed.

“This, this is wonderful, Mrs. Malandros, thank you,” Rebeka said.

Nico had tears in his eyes. Poor girl, he thought, they have taken her parents and probably hasn’t eaten in days.

Melina was thinking the same thing and gave Rebeka her slice of toast. “Here, take this, I’m really not hungry.”

Valentina smiled, proud of her daughter, but deep down she felt her heart tightening as she knew how hungry her own little girl really was. “Alright, now the two of you will sleep in Melina’s bed, it’s large enough. Oh, you’ll know what to do, you’re both responsible and intelligent. Just remember, you are one,” Valentina said.

“Yes,
Manoula
, don’t worry. Come on Rebeka, let’s go upstairs.”

Rebeka silently followed her friend. Melina led her into her room, gave her a pair of pajamas and the girls promptly went to bed. They were practically asleep when Rebeka sat up with a start. “What’s that noise?” She whispered worriedly.

“What noise?” Melina listened carefully and then started to giggle. “That’s my grandmother playing the piano,” she laughed, “although I never heard it put quite that way. She’s a great concert pianist you know.”

Rebeka listened a little more and put her face in her hands. “Alright, I’m totally embarrassed—she is absolutely divine. Does she do this often?”

“All day and all night. Puts me right to sleep, especially when she plays Brahms’ lullaby, like now.”

“She is truly a beautiful player. How wonderful to fall asleep with little Brahms in the house.”

Melina laughed again. “We’ve always called her little Mozart, now we’ll add little Brahms.” The girls giggled, forgetting for a few moments that the hands of misery and war were upon them.

“Bye,
Manoula,
I’m off to the
Schiller
. I’ll be back before curfew,” Melina announced, dashing out of the house.

“
Be careful!” Valentina shouted after her.

“I will. Don’t worry.”

Melina walked to the
Institut.
It was a long way, but there was no money to take the trolley. She marveled at her beautiful city. No building was higher than two stories so that wherever you were standing you could see the Acropolis. But as she turned the corner near the school, she gasped and jumped back—a man was lying on the ground. She immediately realized that he was dead. The skin on his face was drawn and gray. He was so thin, she thought, he must have died of hunger. She ran the rest of the way thinking how lucky she and her family were, never contemplating that this fate was a strong possibility.

“Today, we have a wonderful surprise,” the heavy German headmistress announced with pleasure. “We will all go to the concert hall. An orchestra is here from Berlin and we will hear an opera.”

“
Frau
Schneider,” Melina said, “do you know what opera they will be playing?” She asked excitedly, her musical passion awakened.

“Oh,
ja,
of course, Wagner! Germany’s best,” she said proudly.

“Oh, lovely,” Melina answered, realizing that she had never heard anything by the German composer.

Once the concert was over the guests moved from the theater to the cafeteria, where they were serving little pastries. Melina followed them, feeling as if she had suddenly acquired new weight—she had never heard anything so grave in her life. Coming from a musical family she respected the composer and his genius, but it wasn’t uplifting like the Italians. She suddenly saw the pastries and forgot about the music. One of her classmates, Dimitri, was walking beside her. “Dimitri, look a those pastries! Oh, how I wish… Quick, stand behind me and don’t turn around,” she ordered, and idea having manifested in her young mind.

“What are you up to?”

“Sh, just do what I say.”

“You’re going to get us in trouble!” He whispered.