by Sara Alexi
‘Yes.’
‘Loves mornings.’ Loukas says this as if it is beyond his understanding.
‘Needs a job.’ Mitsos takes a sip of his coffee.
‘He can have mine. Not that it is really a job. You’re supposed to get paid for doing a job.’ It is as close to humour as his mood will allow and neither of them laughs, but once he has said it, the idea plays on his mind. ‘You know…’ He pauses before finishing his sentence. ‘If it was possible for him to take my job, then I could do the bar job and everyone is happy.’
Mitsos lets out a breathy snort through his nose.
‘Until they close the hotel. Planning are really pressuring Stella.’
‘Is it that serious?’ Loukas asks. As Mitsos nods, there is that nagging feeling again. The one that came last night when he was talking with someone, who was it? Oh yes, what’s-his-name, the old woman’s nephew, Vlassis. He screws up his eyes to help his thoughts form.
‘You alright?’ Mitsos asks.
‘Yes, just something, something, if only I was not so hung over, I can almost see.’
‘See what? A fairy with a magic wind?’ Mitsos says but he doesn’t even smile. He is still watching the front of the eatery. Waiting to catch a glimpse of his beloved Stella, presumably.
‘Yeah, right!’ Loukas replies. He can think no more; if he is to talk, idle chit chat is easier. ‘Tell me something, what is your relation with the Old Town Bakery?’
The night on the floor in the airport chapel has to be one of the most exciting nights she had ever spent. Part of the appeal was because it was a chapel, where sleeping would have been an unthinkable sin as far as Father was concerned. Through his eyes, it would show a lack of reverence, no respect. He would have gone ballistic if he had been there. But to her, it was the nicest thing the church has ever done for her: provide her with a warm, safe, carpeted place to sleep whilst she waited for her flight. The best thing about it was that no one else came in to disturb her the whole night.
She woke well in time and felt just slightly smug to see how many people had slept on the cold vinyl floor in the main waiting area. Most of these were young people too, although there was one woman with long grey hair and a multi-coloured jacket under her head and a colourful chunky-knit woollen blanket wrapped around her. Everyone else was young and cool, and Ellie felt excited to be one of them.
She finds am ATM and draws out more cash from her dwindling university fund.
‘But this is going to be an education,’ she reasons. Ellie cannot hold her joy inside; the words come out loud and although the man behind her pretends he did not hear, she can feel his eyes watching her as she walks away.
The flight is due to leave in an hour. She will be in Greece in four, and in the village in five or six hours.
‘Oh Loukas.’ Ellie feels she may burst.
Chapter 28
‘So you are saying that The Old Town Bakery haven’t got the hotel’s bread order because they are your relatives?’ Loukas says. They are on their third coffee and Theo has brought biscuits over. Really, they should find some lunch, but neither of them want to move. The kafeneio is a safe heaven, a retreat from the world. As long as they stay where they are, they are untouchable.
‘No, no. It was just in with the package that Stella used to make the running of the hotel easier in the first few weeks. They deliver from Saros supermarket every other day, pick up the laundry, that kind of thing. The idea is that it is all smooth. But I think, if she can keep the hotel open, she wants to break it apart, you know, get the laundry done by someone who’s a bit more reliable. They brought back the sheets but no towels last time and she wants to use the local butcher to support him, that sort of thing. But all that takes time.’
‘Everything takes time.’ Loukas thinks he sounds older than he feels when he says this. Time is what is weighing him down. The years ahead spent making bread, getting up early, living under the roof of his in-laws, denied his own life.
Fillipos marches back across the square again, returning the way he went.
Loukas’ head jerks back as if a bee has stung him. He turns to Mitsos wide-eyed. His mouth is slightly open.
‘What?’ Mitsos says, looking across the square and thinking that whatever has startled Loukas must be out there.
‘It’s so obvious, it is staring us in the face. I cannot believe I have been so slow!’ Loukas can feel new energies stirring.
‘You have an idea?’ Mitsos asks.
‘Yes, yes, a solution!’
‘Theo my friend,’ Mitsos shouts across to Theo, standing behind the bar drying coffee cups. ‘Two ouzos, and you’d better bring some olives. We need to sustain the boy; he has an idea.’ Mitsos matches Loukas’ turn of spirits. ‘So, come on, tell all,’ he encourages as Loukas formulates what he is about to say. Theo is quick with the olives and they both look up at him as he puts down the plate.
‘You see, all you need is just a little time away from the women,’ Theo chuckles, putting down two shot glasses and filling them with ouzo before returning to his counter.
Mitsos stabs an olive with a toothpick. ‘Come on, I cannot be kept waiting!’ he says.
‘It will depend on you,’ Loukas begins, and Mitsos looks intrigued. ‘Do you think you could find a way to talk to your cousin in the old town bakery, explain to him that Stella needs to spilt up the package, that it is no reflection on the quality of his bread, that you want no argument, you know what I mean?’ Loukas talks quickly. Mitsos is frowning, pondering but then starts to nod his head slowly in agreement.
‘In that case, it is simple.’ Loukas exhales his relief. ‘If the village bakery got the hotel’s bread order, the old woman could afford to pay a worker. But that person does not need to be me!’
And then he stops speaking abruptly and looks at Mitsos, eyebrows raised.
‘Fillipos.’ They say the name at the same time.
‘Then I can take the bar job and everyone is happy!’
Theo’s smile matches his own and his hand goes around his ouzo to lift the glass in the salute that Loukas is offering. But Mitsos’ drink stays where it is and he shakes his head as if he is disappointed.
‘What? Why not?’ Loukas scowls.
‘Well, for one thing your mother-in-law came to the eatery the other day and said some things she should not have said to Stella. I don’t think there is any way Stella will give her the bread order now, not even if the old woman asked on bended knee!’
Loukas can feel his energy drain away as quickly as it was ignited. Just for a moment, he sensed his freedom, what it was like to choose his own destiny. Just for a moment, he felt like a man, not someone’s boy.
‘Also,’ Mitsos continues, ‘even if you did get Stella to agree to this, it doesn’t alter the situation with the legalities at the planning department.’ Mitsos slugs down his ouzo, but not with joy.
‘Hang on,’ says Loukas. ‘I was talking to Vlassis last night. He really got under my skin and something that he was saying bothered me, like it meant something…’
‘Vlassis?’
‘You know, he works in the planning office. The nephew of the old woman.’
‘Ah!’ Mitsos exclaims as if it is he who has been stung now, and this time, Loukas is not keeping up. His hangover may be clearing but that doesn’t mean he is thinking straight. ‘I see what you are saying,’ Mitsos says slowly. Which is more than Loukas does. He wonders if Theo will have any aspirins behind the bar, and rubs his temples. Mitsos continues, his slow speech suggesting he is thinking whilst he is talking. ‘You get the old woman to talk to her nephew,’ Mitsos says, ‘to see if he can clear the way with planning. I can talk to my cousins to release Stella from the bread contract. Then the old woman and Stella can do an exchange. The planning in return for the bread order. Ha! With that order, the bakery will make enough to pay Fillipos to do your job and you can take the bar job, and the world is tranquil once more.’ He exhales loudly and sinks into his chair, raising his ouzo
glass, a satisfactory smile playing on his lips.
His excitement came through in his voice as he spoke and he looks up, surprised to see he has the attention of everyone in the room. Loukas is no longer rubbing his head. Instead, he has his own ouzo glass raised towards Mitsos and a big smile has brought out his dimples.
The other men in the café lift their glasses, following Loukas’ lead, some shaking their heads, as they have no real idea of what is going on.
‘Yeia mas!’ Loukas shouts in return to Mitsos’ speech, and all the old men in the bar back him.
‘Yeia mas!’
‘Stin ygeia!’
‘Sto kalo.’
‘Yeia sou.’
Each alters the toast according to their personalities. Although no one is really sure what it is all about, there is general chuckling and laughter and one by one, they return to their own conversations, their own affairs.
When Mitsos’ glass is drained, he pats the air, implying Loukas should sit. Loukas is grinning, Mitsos is not.
‘But what will it take to convince this, what was his name? In planning, your cousin. What will convince him to do this for the old woman?’
Loukas loses his smile; his dimple fades. His brow furrows, he shakes his head, shrugs.
‘What do you know about him?’ Mitsos says.
‘Not much. He goes to a bar in Saros every night because he is lonely. Well, that’s what the barman says.’
‘Is he married?’
‘I don’t think so. He was looking at every girl that walked past the bar.’
‘Really.’ Mitsos’ lips are tight and twisted to one side of his face; he is in deep thought. ‘How high up is he in planning?’
‘Oh, high enough to be able to push this through, I expect. There is only the deputy planning officer and the planning officer above him, and as far as I know, they spend their days in the kafeneio, leaving the work to him, this Vlassis.’
‘Ah, so all we have to do is convince him that this is a good idea.’
‘Why, what are you thinking, to bribe him? What if he tells the authorities? That will close the hotel for sure.’
‘Oh no, nothing so obvious and direct. I am sure I will think of something when we talk to him. Come on.’ He stands, puts some coins on the table, nods his thanks to Theo. Wandering over to a table where the local taxi driver is sitting, he whispers a word or two and with Loukas one step behind him, the three of them leave the kafeneio.
‘Saros please, Yianni,’ Mitsos tells the driver when they are all seated in the taxi. ‘We need to go to the planning department.’
Chapter 29
The look on Stella’s face as they approach the eatery would, under normal circumstances, be enough to make Mitsos think twice and perhaps retreat again to the security of the kafeneio until things have calmed down. But although he is by nature a timid man, he has also a boyish sense of excitement that spurs him on in this instance.
‘And what is the purpose of you being here?’ Stella spits at him as he steps into the eatery. Loukas wants to jump in, explain everything, for the two of them to be in love again but Mitsos holds up a hand and gives him a sideways glance.
‘Agapi mou,’ Mitsos begins. The air conditioning unit in the room with the tables and chairs creates a background hum.
‘Don’t you “agapi mou” me. One farmer after another has kept me here all afternoon whilst you have being knocking back your ouzos.’ Stella throws a dirty plate onto the counter and the fork that’s on it slides off and chimes on the floor, catching the sunlight as it does so. ‘A girl from the hotel kitchens has taken it upon herself to answer the reception bell! What do you think that looks like to the public? Not exactly professional. All it takes is for a bad review or two, but oh no, drinking ouzo is more important to you!’ Loukas has never seem her so angry, her shoulder-length hair more like a lion’s mane, her kind eyes flashing with scorn. Although she is physically small, she is very intimidating.
‘Ah, but I come with gifts of repentance.’ Mitsos smiles. His weight shifts from one foot to the other as if he is excited.
‘Too late. Get out, Mitsos. I don’t need your humour. I need practical help. Just go,’ Stella retorts, her movements not slowing, her anger not subsiding.
Loukas takes a step forward, ready to reassure her. Mitsos puts his hand up again, another sideways glance. Loukas becomes still.
‘What would it take for you to forgive me?’ Mitsos asks.
‘If you don’t go, I will throw you out myself.’ Stella’s eyes flash again.
‘Stella, wait.’ Loukas cannot control himself. Her gaze turns on him. It stops him in his tracks. Stella the pussycat, the sensitive calmer of all troubles, has her claws out, talons exposed. Loukas has no idea of what she is capable, and no desire to find out. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.
‘So, what is this gift?’ Stella turns to give her attention to the pockets of Mitsos’ jeans as if the gift is there.
‘What would you like most in the world?’ her husband asks her. Loukas wonders if Mitsos is pushing her too hard, teasing her, toying with her. But the sparkle in his eyes says he is enjoying himself.
‘Look, I am tired. I need to go to the hotel now you are back, so if you have something to say, just say it.’ Stella relaxes her stance and leans against the upright fridge. The beer bottles inside rattle as she does so. She looks exhausted.
‘You must tell me the answer, Stella. What do you want most in the world?’
Stella shuts her eyes as if to find some patience.
‘World peace.’ She sighs the words.
‘No, seriously.’ Mitsos does not seem to be able to stop himself.
‘Okay. Seriously, all I want is for this planning to be sorted. That is my heaviest weight. Can you do that, Mitsos? Can you and your gang of one manage to perform that miracle?’ She looks at Loukas as she says your gang of one.
‘Done!’ Mitsos says.
‘Please don’t tease. Mitsos.’ She sounds as if all her fight has left her and she pulls her apron off and wipes her hands as if she is about to leave.
‘It’s true; it is done!’ Loukas chips in.
Stella looks from Loukas to Mitsos.
Mitsos pulls, from his trouser waistband at the small of his back, an official-looking sheaf of papers. Stella uncurls the front page and reads the title and then thumbs through them. Her lips twitch. It turns into a smile. Her face lights up and she throws herself into Mitsos’ arm and he kisses the top of her head again and again. Their closeness, their joy, their love for one another feels so intimate, Loukas looks out into the sunshine, watches a dog sniffing at a stationary moped before it runs off down the street after a cat.
‘Hang on.’ Stella is looking at the back of the bundle of papers and she pulls herself away from Mitsos’ embrace. ‘This may be all correct and in place, but it hasn’t been stamped.’ She shows Mitsos and Loukas the dotted line with Vlassis’ signature, but there also should be the official stamp. There is always an official stamp in Greece.
‘Ah, well agapi mou, there is a small price that we must pay.’ Mitsos’ words drip like honey.
‘How much?’ Stella asks, her own voice hard and cold. Corruption in official places is, Loukas knows from their many talks together, one of Stella’s pet hates.
‘No money. But your ego may have to take a little hit,’ Mitsos says softly.
‘Why? What is wanted?’ Stella says cautiously.
‘The village bakery must have the bread order.’ Mitsos waits for Stella to ask what this has to do with her planning, but she doesn’t. She casts a look on Loukas. It is a look that Loukas would do anything to absolve himself from but before he has a chance to explain, Mitsos goes on. ‘Once the village bakery have the order, and only after that is agreed, Loukas can tell the old man and old woman that he is leaving.’ Stella’s eyes widen at this. ‘He can do this because they will have the money to employ Fillipos to make the bread. Then you must offer Loukas for the bar job
.’
The hardness of Stella’s face creaks and his eyes light up as she smiles. ‘Of course he can have the job in the bar!’ She puts a hand on Loukas’ arm as if to pull him into her, but then the implications of what Mitsos says seems to seep through and the smile fades and her mouth sets hard. ‘You mean I am to give the old woman the bread order!’ Stella’s eyes are on fire again. She releases Loukas’ arm.
‘Is it too high price, agapi mou? If it is, I will say so. We will let them close us.’ Mitsos puts his hand out to take the official document back. He clamps his fingers around the sheets and gives them a pull but Stella does not let go.
For a moment, there is a deadlock, nether pulling harder than the other until, with clenched teeth, Stella tugs the papers out of Mitsos’ hands.
‘Okay, but I am not asking her. Loukas, you can tell her.’
‘Actually Stella, we have already tried that,’ Mitsos says and Loukas can no longer look at Stella. Instead, he looks at the floor.
‘Oh, I see, the old witch wants me to beg, eh?’
Mitsos sighs.
‘If I beg, my prize is I get the hotel legal and Loukas working the beach bar,’ she summarises. ‘And she wants me begging her, to see me grovel at her mercy, lose my dignity because she would enjoy that!’ Stella’s words come out clipped.
Loukas can see that this might all go badly wrong. He has seen how petty the old woman is; maybe Stella is the same. He has never seen her in such a situation. Maybe all the villagers are the same. Oh God no, let her not be like that. He is so close to his freedom. He wills her with every ounce of his being.
‘Please,’ Loukas begins. But Mitsos’ fingers twitch again for his silence.
The two men watch Stella’s face, waiting. Her chest expands as she takes a breath, her lips tighten, the sinew in her neck taut until she explodes with, ‘She does not know me!’
With no warning, arms swinging, head held high, she marches across the road and straight into the bakery. The bakery door slams behind her. Loukas can just hear the bell above the door tinkling on the inside and then all is quiet.