The Illegal Gardener gv-1

by Sara Alexi

  “Tzuliet! Hello! Isn’t it a relief to have the temperature drop just a little? I can move now.” And as if to prove it, she stands up and pushes her crate footstool around the front of the counter to the door where she begins to fill it, one by one, with empty beer bottles lined like soldiers against the wall. “There! I have been meaning to do that for a while. Now! What can I get you?”

  “I was just wondering if you could tell me what I do with the vines once the fruit is all gone? I know they will need pruning, but when is the best time to prune and where about do you cut them? Is there a rule, near a nodule? I haven’t a clue.”

  “Ha! Neither have I. Best go to Mitsos. Ask him.”

  “Mitsos?”

  “Yes, you know, with one arm?” Juliet shakes her head, not recalling seeing anyone in the village with one arm. Marina goes to the window and points.

  “Go down to the taverna here, the little street that goes up the side there.” Her pointing is indiscriminate. “Before the road turns, you’ll see, not even a few yards, there is Mitsos. He has a shop for medicines for the farmers. I think he is open on Saturdays. Pesticides, that sort of thing. He will know. He went to school with my husband. Always getting into trouble, the two of them.” She crosses herself looking serious for a moment before her face lights with a thought. “So have you any plans for Christmas? Will you be going home?”

  “Marina, this is my home now. Besides, why would I want to leave here?”

  “For your family of course. Which reminds me. Guess what?”

  “What?” Juliet cannot help but smile at Marina.

  “They are getting married at Christmas! Can you believe it? Suddenly. Bam!” She clashes her hands together like cymbals, her housecoat across her bosom shimmies in response. “I was always sure about him, such a nice family. She has not chosen the dress, or a definite date, but you must come. Everyone must come!”

  “I would love to. So right by the taverna?”

  “Yes, you cannot miss it. Mr Mitsos.” She adds on the prefix in the traditional Greek way for someone who is older, but not quite old enough to rank as a Papous, a grandfather.

  Mitsos is not there, but his younger brother Stavros is very helpful, his young wife sitting with him in the shop, enormous with child.

  Juliet walks home wiser but feeling a little alone. She misses the boys. She misses company. She knows, but does not want to even give space to it in her thoughts, that she misses Aaman.

  At home, the kittens are everywhere, one on each of the director’s chairs outside, two on the sofa. The mother on one of the kitchen chairs and Aaman curled up on Aaman’s bed. Appropriate.

  Juliet takes up one of the sofa kittens, the stripy one. It droops boneless, and she plops it on her knee and picks up the phone. Thomas sounds happy, but he is talking very quietly, he has a hangover.

  “Ah, celebrating, but not just any old common or garden celebration. A very special celebration, I was going to call you today.”

  “Sounds interesting. Another promotion? Finally learnt your seven times tables? Bought a new tie?”

  “Ha ha, Mother dearest. Now, are you ready for this? I asked Cheri to marry me!”

  “Oh darling, I’m so happy for you. That’s wonderful.”

  Thomas sounds so excited but points out that the honeymoon (Cheri wants to go to Scotland) and general cost will push back the time he will be able to afford to come and visit Juliet. Juliet’s momentary disappointment is replaced with inspiration. Inspired Juliet offers them an engagement present of Christmas in Greece, flights, the lot. Cheri squeals in the background, picks up an extension phone and the three of them lay down the outline plan.

  They say their goodbyes, Thomas and Cheri clearly excited. Juliet pops the stripy kitten on the floor and makes a cup of tea before returning to use the phone. No sooner has Terrance answered than he interrupts her to ask if she has heard about Thomas and Cheri. Juliet tells him she has offered them a Christmas in Greece and asks him what he thinks. The conversation gets twisted as they both talk from their own viewpoints, Terrance not understanding it is an offer, Juliet not understanding his reluctance to join them to celebrate. Eventually they see each other’s view and talk over each other with sorries and explanations, until Terrance pulls the conversation to an end with, “Yes! Brilliant. Thanks, Mum. That’s fantastic. Yes!”

  Juliet suggests he get in touch with Thomas and she promises to ring when dates and tickets are final, and they hang up, both happier for having spoken.

  Tiger leaps onto his sister next to Juliet on the sofa and they play fight in a ball. Juliet strokes the writhing mass and gets a scratch for her troubles. Smiling, Juliet goes in the kitchen and rummages through drawers, counting cutlery and crockery. The crockery is a mismatched affair, mostly in white, which prompts Juliet to start a list headed with Red Table Cloth and quickly adds Christmas Tree and Crackers. She spends a pleasant day planning and making lists, but as the evening draws in, the familiar, uncomfortable feeling of being alone creeps in with the shadows, and Juliet gets fidgety.

  Terrance, the last to arrive, thinks they are terribly childish and resorts to lying on the rug in front of the fire dozing most of the first day he is there. However, Cheri encourages the kittens to lick cream from her fingers, Thomas puts a blob of cream on Terrance’s nose. The kittens, lined up by Thomas, run up Terrance’s chest, and with their paws on Terrance’s chin, two of them manage to be the cats that get the cream. Thomas howls, Cheri cries with laughter, and Terrance wakes to two little furry faces with big eyes on the end of his nose. Juliet makes the boys take the ensuing food fight into the garden.

  The days merge into nights and no-one keeps track of time. Michelle declares she needs a serious holiday, not just a two-week break, and Juliet gives her the key to the spare room and says she has to watch that she isn’t deported.

  Cheri declares she is going to move in and sleep with the kittens. Juliet tells her that traditionally in Greece the daughter-in-law spends her wedding night in the bed of her mother-in-law to show her subservience and after that it is her duty to keep the mother-in-law’s goats for her, so therefore it would be very apt for her to move in with the kittens.

  Michelle jumps up and goes into the garden, returning with an armful of pomegranates. She splits them open on the table, the juice squirting at the inquisitive Terrance. Once they are split, she encourages everyone to eat. Terrance, of course is the one to ask why.

  “You don’t know your Greek myths, do you?” Cheri admits she doesn’t and that she is in the mood for a good story. “Well, there was this goddess called Persephone, daughter of Zeus, I think. Anyway Hades, king of the underworld, falls in love with her but obviously Zeus is not into the idea of his daughter living in the underworld. Nor does he want to upset Hades, as you wouldn’t!” Michelle hands out pomegranates, and Cheri gets herself a plate. “Anyway, one day Persephone is sitting by a lake and Hades kidnaps her and takes her to the underworld to marry her. Her mum is worried sick and, being a goddess, decides none of the plants should grow, and people and animals start to die because there is no food.” Michelle eats a few pomegranate seeds and holds her glass out to be refilled.

  “Is that it?” Cheri asks.

  “No.” Michelle takes a drink. “The mum, as I said, was not too pleased and all the crops are dying and it’s a bit of a disaster. So Zeus demands that Persephone should be freed. Hades can’t argue with Zeus, but he tricks Persephone and gives her a pomegranate to eat, and lets her go.”

  Thomas cheers.

  “But,” Michelle continues, “The law of the Underworld says that if you eat anything while you are down there you have to stay. Anyway, after a bit of a fuss it is decided that she can live on the earth for nine months of the year but has to go to Hades for three, so in those three months, her mum, I forget her name, makes sure nothing grows, that is, it’s winter.” Michelle drains her glass and takes a bite of seeds. “So, the moral of this story is that if we eat pomegranates whilst we ar
e here, we will have to come back at least once a year.”

  “Aaman loved pomegranates,” Juliet says. Everyone goes silent until she opens another bottle of wine and declares she is not slurring sufficiently.

  They all go to the church to see Marina’s daughter married in time for Christmas. Marina shocks everyone by not wearing her housecoat, turning up instead in a very sophisticated dress. She looks like she has lost weight and is stunning with her hair loose. Juliet hears a few locals discussing what a beauty she had been back in her day. Juliet takes offence as they are about the same age and she reckons her “day” is now.

  Christmas day feels like they are in England, with chestnuts by the fire, mince pies and the traditional dinner. They all bundle up to go for a walk after eating so much, to be surprised at how mild it is outside. They strip down to thin jumpers and march off over the hills, greeting a goat herder eating feta and olives in the sunshine, which he offers to share. Later, they meet some children who are excitedly anticipating New Year’s Day, the traditional Greek day for exchanging presents. They arrive back as it is turning dark and cold. Thomas and Terrance bring wood in for the fire. Juliet thinks of Aaman and his brother.

  The days pass swiftly. It is Thomas who brings about the first reality check as he announces that his and Cheri’s flight is the following day. Terrance’s flight is the day after, giving Juliet and Michelle a little time to catch up and sober up before Michelle’s flight back to the rat race the day after that.

  Michelle raises a glass to Juliet. “It’s been a brilliant Christmas. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” Their glasses chink.

  “Can you do that then, make Christmas happen anytime?”

  “That’s easy. You should see what I can do with Easter.”

  “So how clever are you? Can you borrow Lent?”

  “Only if you will draw me up a contract with terms and conditions.”

  Juliet chuckles as she holds the phone and stands and looks out of the glass in the kitchen door to the garden.

  “Funny how it is easy to sort out other peoples’ lives, but not your own.”

  “You’re thinking of Aaman?”

  “Yes.”

  Juliet opens the door and steps into the cool night. His old gardening shoes are under the shelves he made for the tools. She hasn’t noticed before. Michelle stands beside her. The sky looks vast. There are no street or town lights to dull the hood of bright stars. Stars beyond stars. The more Juliet looks the more she sees. Michelle hangs an arm around her, hand dangling. They look up to the myriad of scintillating pinpricks in the galaxy. Distance and time at its mercy, the enormity crashing everything into perspective.

  “I don’t think we should leave it twenty-two years before we see each other again,” Juliet says.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Want to come out again at Easter?”

  “Sod that. Easter’s in March. I thought I might take a two-week holiday beginning of February. I might manage to work that long. Besides, that company owes me so much overtime, I could come out for a year and still be in the black.”

  “Seriously, when do you want to come back?”

  “Seriously, I don’t want to go, but seeing as I have to, I mean it, I can be back in February if I am invited.”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “Well I didn’t even dare ask for—”

  “Twenty-two years,” Juliet and Michelle say in unison, laughing, walking farther into the garden.

  “Juliet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who owns that disused barn next door?”

  “Yiannis the taxi driver. Why? Oh, what are you thinking? Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  “Just playing with the idea. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be brilliant, and if you have to stay in England and work, I could holiday let it for you. An extra little earner for you.”

  “And you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Friendship is friendship, but business is business.”

  “No, I think I owe you.”

  “Will you look into it for me? See if he wants to sell, how much, if we can convert it and so on. Let’s see if it’s feasible first.”

  “Sure. You would become my neighbour from hell, building works day and night. I would have to sue you, you know.”

  “I understand your best friend is a lawyer so it wouldn’t cost you much.” Michelle laughs.

  “Is that even technically possible, to represent someone who is suing you, sue yourself, as it were?”

  “I understand in Greece anything is possible. It is the land of myths and dreams,” Michelle says in a terrible Greek accent.

  Chapter 21

  Juliet sits outside in some rare warm sun.

  January had been fine, but cloudy. At the beginning of February, Michelle had popped over for a week with promises of returning at Easter to talk to Yiannis some more about the barn. The winter was passing quickly. But by March, Juliet is becoming impatient for the summer sun.

  The countryside bursts with wild flowers and colour. Banks of yellow flowers flank the road to the town. Women in black collect edible weeds in fields, under trees, on hillsides. Purple flowers crack through the cemented lane. The sky is cloudless, but a pale blue, not the deep dark blue of the height of summer. It looks warmer than it is. There is still a nip to the air and there is a steady breeze. But tucked on the front patio, Juliet can enjoy the sun and is free of drafts. The bougainvillea the neighbour gave her is popping with buds, and spikes are hidden with tender green leaves, a pink flower here and there promising a cascade for the summer.

  The remaining pomegranates hang low under the leaves, cracked and gnarled, bloated and split by the rain. The orange trees are bare as Juliet has plucked and eaten all the fruit, freshly squeezing them for breakfast, snacking midmorning and using them as afternoon refreshers. The kale is still producing its curly compact leaves, but Juliet replanted most of the vegetable plot at the beginning of January, and it is currently growing deliriously along with the weeds. It thrills Juliet to see, bringing the promise of fresh food and summer around the corner.

  One of the kittens, now more cat than kitten, is on the roof of the barn next door. The orange tree rustles against the barn with the breeze, and the cat turns sharply, crouching instinctively in response, before continuing its way. The gate buffets a little against its chain. Juliet makes a mental note to get the old lock mended, although she knows that she really will not get around to it. The lavender by the gate is doing well and the climbing rose, which she hopes will grow in an arch over the gate, looks sturdy now, after a thin and hesitant start.

  Another layer of gravel would help, but keeping up with the weeding on the drive is a job for which Juliet can never find enough time. The wall behind the pomegranate trees could do with a fresh coat of white paint, and the lane also needs weeding. Juliet cannot quite manage it all as everything grows so furiously.

  She puts her feet up on the chair opposite. A cat jumps on her knee, but Juliet’s eyes are closed, her head thrown back to face the sun. She feels and guesses which one it is. Possibly Tiger, definitely not Aaman. She has not seen Juliet, the mother cat, for some weeks now and suspects she has deserted Aaman for another. She opens her eyes to nothing but blue sky, a trail of a long gone jet frilling out at distant heights.

  If she sits much longer, she will break her habit of translation in the morning. She knows herself well enough to spot the slippery slope. She looks down. It is Tiger. She lifts him as she stands and puts him back on the warmed seat. He purrs.

  She wanders into the house. Two of the kittens are on the bed in the guest room play fighting, the sheets twisting beneath them. Juliet shoos them out, straightens the bed and closes the door. It has begun to squeak again.

  Today Juliet decides to work at her desk in the bedroom. She sits down and opens her new laptop, presses return and waits for everything to appear. Looking out the window, sh
e still thinks it would be nice to have a pond by the pergola, something natural looking with a few rocks behind, all overgrown with ground-covering plants.

  She opens her email account and starts to delete unsolicited emails from the top, working down. She reads ones that are work related and answers them. There is one from Michelle. She puts it in the ‘Michelle’ file for later. There’s one email address she does not recognise. Her heart beats quicker. The ‘Country Code Top Level Domain’ is for Pakistan.

  She opens it, and her stomach turns over, her pulse doubles, and she momentarily feels dizzy.

  Dear Juliet,

  It is nearly six months since I left you. I thought it best to leave some time before writing to you. It has helped me. I hope it has helped you.

  I am sure much will have happened in your life since I have left. Much has happened in mine.

  The aeroplane was a little bit frightening and took a long time to get to Lahore.

  I attended the interviews that we had arranged. I received offers of work but I then took a courageous move. I hope you do not think this was ungrateful of me but I did not take the jobs offered. I looked for jobs in Sialkot. I found several software houses and applied to them, printing out the email that you wrote. I hope you don’t mind?

  It was a great success and I was offered a job that would have been my boyhood dream.

  I stayed in Sialkot for a month before I returned home. I did this because I wanted to be sure that I had the job and that I was not going to be sacked for not being good enough. I also did this because each day that I worked I could feel my confidence growing and I wanted to go home a confident man, not a man who had last been seen as an illegal immigrant. I also needed some time on my own to be back in Pakistan.

  When I decided I could go back to my village I felt very nervous. Many things could have happened. I feared my grandparents could have died, or my mother could be unwell. Many things I thought as I took the bus to near our village. The last part must be walked and so I entered the village on foot.