The Gypsy's Dream

by Sara Alexi

  ‘The thing is, if it was this easy people would have done it already, wouldn’t they?’ Abby asks Juliet. Vasso has returned to the kiosk so as not to lose too many customers. Stella sits with her legs tucked under her on the sofa outside, her head leaning back, soaking up the sun, eyes closed. Abby is just inside the doors, in the shade enough to be able to see the screen of the laptop. Juliet is cutting bread to go with the Greek salad she has made. Through the small window in the back door a block of sun spotlights her golden hair. On the dresser behind her is a photograph of two young men standing either side of a pretty girl. One boy has his arm jealously around the girl’s shoulder, the other boy has a wider smile, a carefree look. They both look like Juliet. Next to that is another photograph of an Indian-looking man with a kind face and a petite woman holding a new-born baby, the silver frame bright in the shaft of sunlight.

  ‘That was a game I used to play when I still lived in England.’ Juliet arranges the bread on a plate. ‘When I used to go to the pub with Mick - ex-husband,’ she doesn’t smile, ‘he would be droning on about nothing new so I would listen to all the plans of all the people around me. Pubs seemed to be the place to plan back then.’ She tears kitchen roll off in sheets and folds the rectangles diagonally and places one on each of the three plates she has laid out. ‘Everyone seemed to have a five-year plan, or a ten-year plan, and they would brag: “Oh, me and Stacey are out of here in five. Gonna live in Thailand. Stacey’s been training in Thai massage. We gonna open a salon on the beach. Cheap out there, we will live like kings” or, “Oh we will visit you, me and Kaitlyn are going to open a kennels out in the country. Just need to pay off a bit more mortgage, another five years should do it and then we will sell up and move to the country. Our time will be our own.”’

  Abby laughs at Juliet’s impersonations.

  ‘No recession then. Everyone dreamed. But …’ Juliet bends her knees to reach into the back of a cupboard. ‘All these dreamers never did anything. I went to the same pub five years later, and there I was doing the same thing, listening to Mick whining, and there were all these planners, still planning. The five-year plans were still five-year plans, not four or three or two, no countdown. Stella, you want to eat?’ Juliet calls as she puts the oil and vinegar on the table and looks over all she has laid out to see if anything is missing.

  ‘Yes, but you did do something, you moved here,’ Abby says, standing as Stella languidly walks in.

  ‘And that’s what we have in common.’ Juliet sits. Abby has hold of the back of her own chair but is looking at Juliet, waiting for more. ‘You, you came here too, you didn’t just talk about earning a living in the summers to pay for Uni, you actually booked a ticket and got on a plane and …’

  ‘And made the mistake of getting on the wrong boat to end up in the wrong place.’

  ‘No such thing as accidents.’ Juliet offers Stella the salad bowl.

  ‘Course there are. If a man walks out of a building and a piano falls on his head, is that not an accident?’ Abby laughs. Stella passes her the bowl.

  ‘No, I mean the ones we do to ourselves. Like …’ She looks across the sitting room. ‘OK, like Mick. I caught him kissing someone. Was it an accident I caught him? No, he wanted out of the marriage. We had a party. People started leaving. I felt unwell so I went to bed and let Mick finish up, see the last people out. Later I woke up, no Mick next to me, the house was quiet, but too quiet. So I got up. I was silent. I could have fumbled my slippers on and stomped down the hall, that would have been usual, but I didn’t, I glided to the landing, I hovered down the stairs and I went through the kitchen to the sitting room so I didn’t have to open any creaking doors and there he was.’

  ‘Harsh,’ Abby says quietly.

  ‘Couldn’t give a monkey’s.’ Juliet takes the salad bowl from Stella who is saying, ‘What are these monkeys?’ to herself. ‘But the point is, he could have taken her outside, to her house, even into the dining room which you had to open a door to get into, which would have given him warning. I could have been noisy, coughed, opened a door. If either of us wanted for things to remain the same we could have made that happen. We didn’t, we chose that he would be caught, that I would “accidentally” find him, and then things had to change. All subconsciously, of course.’

  ‘So, taking the wrong boat by accident and coming here?’ Abby takes a piece of bread, warm from the oven.

  ‘You didn’t want the bar job, perhaps?’ Juliet says. Stella nods.

  ‘Why are you nodding?" Abby laughs at Stella, whose mouth is full of bread.

  ‘You, in a bar.’ She laughs, spraying breadcrumbs.

  ‘What’s funny?’ Abby’s face flits between smiling and frowning.

  ‘I think she is casting a comment on your character.’

  ‘What is this “casting a comment”?’ Stella asks, swallowing her bread.

  ‘Cast, casting, throw out a line, like in fishing,’ Juliet clarifies.

  ‘I am not fishing, I want nothing back.’ Stella stabs a piece of cucumber.

  ‘What about my character?’ Abby puts down her fork.

  ‘I don’t understand this fishing, but I think that you are a nice girl and like quiet and peace and reading,’ Stella says and pops the cucumber into her mouth.

  ‘I like fun, too.’ Abby’s tone is indignant.

  ‘Would you, though, night after night, drunk English tourist and techno music on full blast so your ears hurt in the morning?’ Juliet asks.

  Abby shrugs and picks up her fork. ‘But I didn’t know that there was a job here, so that was an accident.’

  ‘There was no job.’ Stella dips her bread into the tomato juice of her salad.

  ‘What?’ Abby asks, putting her fork down again.

  ‘Stavros said he wanted a foreign girl to work but I think he wanted me to catch him kissing like Mick.’ Stella puts her own fork down and sighs. ‘But I said no. Maybe I was not ready to catch him kissing. Then you are here, and Vasso had heard Stavros talk.’ There is no joy in Stella’s voice and Juliet gives her a sad smile. ‘Vasso sent you over and I try to make you leave.’

  ‘Oh my God, yes, you were hot and cold. I thought you were just a bit nuts.’

  ‘Nuts? Like pistachio?’ Stella asks.

  ‘No, like mad,’ Abby says.

  ‘Mad, nuts, ok. Crazy language.’ Stella mulls and presses a large lettuce leaf into her mouth.

  ‘So how come you let me stay?’ Abby asks.

  ‘I like you, and I didn’t think you would be kissing him.’

  ‘Argg.’ Abby shakes her head at the memory.

  ‘I am sorry, Abby, I should have told you to leave at the beginning.’ Stella puts her hand on Abby’s arm.

  ‘You tried.’ Abby laughs.

  ‘But not enough,’ Juliet interjects, ‘and now you caught Stavros out and you and Abby will start a business together which fulfils both your dreams, which you have to do now to prove that my theory is right and there are no such things as accidents.’ Juliet raise her water glass. ‘Yia mas.’

  ‘Yia mas,’ Stella replies.

  ‘Cheers,’ Abby says.

  They eat in silence for a while.

  ‘So to make the business happen, if it was that easy why doesn’t everyone do it?’ Stella asks.

  Juliet and Abby laugh.

  ‘I just asked that when you were outside,’ Abby says. ‘Juliet pointed out that if you just get on and do things they change from plans to being real. That’s what most people don’t do.’

  ‘Like Onassis,’ Juliet says. ‘Suppose Onassis was the born the same year as Stavros and they discussed shipping plans way back when they were both young. What would have happened?’

  Stella laughs at the thought. ‘Stavros would have drunk another ouzo and fallen asleep dreaming and Onassis would have gone out and bought his first rowing boat.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Juliet puts her fork down and leans back in her chair, which she edges out of the sun that streams through the back do
or.

  ‘Ok, so we do it.’ Stella drops her chin onto her chest. ‘But what of Stavros and my ouzeri?’

  ‘What about my passport?’ Abby ask.

  ‘What about your passport?’ Juliet says.

  ‘Stavros has it,’ Stella replies.

  ‘He said he needed it, I presumed for something official so I could work for him. I haven’t seen it since.’ Abby pushes her plate away from her and looks away from the table, swallowing with difficulty.

  ‘I told you, it will either be in his back pocket, in the glove cupboard in the car or in the drawer under the sink at home.’

  ‘Right.’ Juliet stands. Stella’s mouth drops open. Abby looks up, her eyes wet and frightened. ‘For goodness’ sake, there are three of us.’ Juliet states ‘We will start at your home, Stella. If it is not there we will check the car and only as a last resort will we confront him. OK?’ Stella looks at Abby.

  ‘We’ll go, Juliet. Abby can stay here.’ Abby visibly relaxes. A cat jumps on her knee.

  ‘I could clear the table and wash up,’ she suggests.

  Juliet slips on her flip flops. ‘Come on, Stella.’ She marches towards the gate. Stella hurries after her. They turn to close the metal gate, which neither latches nor locks but gives a vague sense of security, when Abby comes running towards them.

  ‘Wait, I’m coming.’ She squeezes through the opening and they leave the gate ajar. Juliet winks at her and smiles.

  ‘Good for you, Abby. Don’t be scared …’

  ‘… of the bars-tard.’ Stella finishes the sentence. Abby giggles and they walk in silence.

  As they approach the square Stella sees, from a distance, Mitsos shuffling in the direction of her takeaway. She gasps. Juliet turns to her.

  ‘You ok?’ She follows Stella’s gaze and sees the man with the cane and the slight stoop. ‘Is that Mitsos? I am glad to see him up and about. You know he came to see me the other day, to get something translated. Nice man, old fashioned.’ Stella does not answer. Juliet looks back to Stella’s face. The focus of her eyes betrays the content of her heart. ‘You are kidding me,’ Juliet states as she reads Stella’s features. Stella breaks her stare.

  ‘Kidding, like kid, like goat, or like child?’ Stella is not focusing on Juliet. She is looking at the empty square where Mitsos was.

  ‘Kidding, teasing, joking.’ Juliet is still searching Stella’s face. ‘But you aren’t, are you?’

  ‘He is very kind to her,’ Abby interjects. Stella glares at Abby. ‘Well, he is.’ Abby stands her ground.

  ‘Well I …’ Juliet begins. ‘He seems a very nice man indeed,’ she concludes, and after a small hesitation adds, ‘and you deserve a nice man.’

  They agree to nip up a side street that takes them on the smallest of detours to avoid the front of the kafenio which abuts the tiny cheese factory. At the back there are two small windows.

  ‘That is the window of my grandma’s room,’ Stella says as they pass. She lifts her head a little higher and her back becomes a little straighter. ‘My gypsy blood,’ she says in a quiet but strong voice. ‘We have good music and do lots of recycling,’ she states.

  The detour turns back to the square. They hurry past the rubble of the shop on the corner, hoping that Stavros is not sitting in his thronal position in the window surrounded by the farming men. None of them looks back to check until they are hidden by the corner wall of Marina’s house. Juliet is the bravest and the first to look.

  ‘No,’ she says in a flat tone, ‘He’s not there,’ and they hurry on to turn down Stella’s lane, past Vasso’s house. Stella takes Abby’s hand to reassure her. She lets go when she sees Stavros’ battered car is not there, although as he sometimes leaves it outside the ouzeri its absence is no guarantee that he is not at the house. She stops walking, Abby just behind her.

  Juliet puts a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she looks at them. ‘He is not going to do anything if we are all here together. If he is in there we will just walk out again, ok? No confrontation. Just turn and walk away. We will get the passport some other time. Agreed?’

  Stella and Abby nod. Stella takes Abby’s hand again and pats it with her other hand before they walk on. Stella only reaches Abby’s shoulder.

  The porch is as it has always been, but for Stella it seems different, cold, empty, unknown.

  Juliet pushes open the door.

  ‘Yia?’ she calls into the shaded darkness. There is no response.

  Stella looks round the kitchen. There are no signs of the horrors that now arc between her and Stavros. The static of their silence. The room strangely echoing, with one half of the double bed on its side, the thin mattress hanging over it.

  ‘I’ll wait outside,’ Abby says, and turns to sit on the porch step in the blazing sun.

  Juliet opens the drawer under the sink. She pulls out a ball of string, several screwdrivers, a pack of cards, a hammer, some receipts. She pushes her hand into the back of the drawer and pulls what’s left forward.

  ‘No, not here.’ She bundles everything back into the drawer and pushes it shut. A screwdriver handle jams it from closing but she is walking away and does not go back.

  ‘Where else?’ Juliet asks.

  Stella is standing by the fridge, having taken down a photograph in a frame that was displayed on its top. Juliet looks over her shoulder to see Stella looking childlike in a long white dress that is clearly a little on the big side for her, Stavros slim, standing tall, looking handsome by her side in a suit.

  ‘Bars-stard.’ Stella spits, the ‘a’s long and running into the ‘r’s.

  ‘Try to really force the ‘b’, saying the “a’s” as in slap, and cut the second syllable as short as you can - Bas - tad!’ Juliet demonstrates in a strong Yorkshire accent.

  ‘Blastad,’ Stella shouts, and flings the photo of her wedding on the floor and stamps on it with her thin sandals.

  ‘Mind your feet.’ Juliet pulls Stella’s arm a little.

  Stella kicks the remains under the fridge and crunches over the glass fragments to open the bedroom door, Juliet right behind her.

  ‘Which is his?’ Juliet waves her hands at the built-in wardrobe and the free-standing chest of drawers.

  ‘He has the three drawers inside the wardrobe.’ Stella opens the door. The wardrobe has hanging space next to the drawers. Above, as the built-in wardrobe is floor to ceiling, there are empty unreachable shelves.

  Stella pulls out the drawers roughly and flings them, upturned on the bed. Boxer shorts, mixed with socks, familiar items that she has washed a hundred times now threatening her with their inanimate presence.

  ‘What’s up there?’ Juliet points to the shelves above.

  ‘Nothing.’ Stella sighs. Juliet hurries into the kitchen and returns with a chair.

  ‘What if he comes back? I think we should go,’ Stella says in Greek.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, don’t worry,’ Juliet soothes in Stella’s mother tongue as she pushes the chair up against the cupboard and climbs onto the seat.

  ‘Oh! There’s a shoe box.’ Juliet reaches.

  ‘Leave it,’ Stella says.

  ‘What?’ Juliet pulls the box to the edge and takes it in both hands and climbs down from her pedestal.

  ‘Guys!’ Juliet jumps as Abby walks in the room. The box slips from her hands. Stella watches it fall but makes no attempt to catch it. As the corner hits the tiles Stella puts her hands over her face and turns away. Abby’s jaw drops open. Juliet’s hands scramble mid-air but do not manage to retrieve the box or lid. The lid slides from the top of the box as it falls and hits the floor to skid across and under the bed. The box splits on the corner it lands on, the weight of the contents spreading out of the sides, and the floor is filled with photographs.

  Stella does not turn to look but begins to sob.

  Abby’s hand covers her mouth.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ Juliet freezes for a second before turning to comfort Stella.

  Abby reache
s into the disgusting pile and retrieves her passport with finger and thumb and wipes it on her trousers, as if it is physically dirty, before putting it in a pocket.

  ‘Did you know, Stella? Is that why you said leave it?’ Juliet’s voice has a small edge of hardness even though her hand is around Stella’s shoulder.

  ‘No!’ Stella’s voice is high-pitched. ‘No,’ she says again at a lower tone. ‘Not until you told me there was a box. Then I knew.’

  ‘You knew!’ Abby’s voice has tears behind it.

  ‘No.’ Stella repeats. ‘I didn’t know about the box. How could I? Even on a chair I cannot reach up there. But when Juliet said there was a box …’ She begins to shake before another round of tears takes away her control. It takes some minutes before her breathing steadies. Her words come out staccato, sobs in between, ‘Part of me has always known. After we were married,’ she pauses forcing the tears back, ‘we lived in his village. In the beginning there were rumours,’ she sniffs, Abby puts her arm around her, Stella looks up into her face ‘a girl who was too young.’ She bites her lip to hold back more tears. ‘People looked at me with strangeness in their eyes.’ Abby squeezes her and kisses her on top of her head. ‘When I was introduced as his wife in the church that Sunday it was as if everyone breathed out, relaxed, and then I heard no more rumours, although I was asked several times my age.’

  ‘It’s ok to cry.’ Juliet squeezes her shoulders.

  ‘No, I will not give him tears, look.’ She turns and faces the photographs on the floor. ‘Look at that. Look at those children, who cries for them? We lock people like Stavros up but it does not stop these poor children from having memories. People seem pleased to lock people like Stavros up for ten, twenty, thirty years. But who cares, put them in a hole and leave them, the people should spend their energies to show these children that the world is not like this.’ She kicks at the multi-coloured shining pile. Her legs lose strength and she sinks to the floor crying.

  Both Abby and Juliet sink with her and hold her one on each side, all three heads close together, all three crying, until Juliet pulls away and shuffles the photographs into a smaller pile and turns the top ones over so they cannot see the faces.