by Sara Alexi
No, his place in the village does not concern her; in fact, it attracts her. He may have connections but he is still a bit of an outsider, like she is. It’s just – well, some people heal fast and some don't, and it seems she does not. The children may be all grown and her relationship with their father may have ended years ago, but she cannot forget how her life was before they separated. It was one of the reasons she moved to Greece – to create as much space as she could between her and Mick. And it surprised her that she had agreed so easily to meet Miltos the day after the baptism, on what they both knew would be a proper date.
'It is good to have a friend,' Poppy says, and Juliet relaxes. Poppy is looking at her as if she understands all the things she has said but also those she has left unsaid.
Chapter 9
Outside, Miltos has moved to the sofa, where he is reclining with his legs – too long to fit – crossed at the ankles up on the arm. He is amusing himself, teasing Aaman with a piece of string. The cat is on his chest, patting at the end of it.
'You know what?' Juliet says. 'Poppy knows you are here now and she has everything she wants for the moment, so if it’s all right with you I’m going to nip to the chemist and get those gloves myself.'
It feels odd asking him to stay at the house whilst she goes out, but a walk into the village will give her a few moments alone and a change of scene.
'Sure.' Miltos does not look up from his game with the cat. The other black-and-white cat has come to watch and sits neatly by the sofa, her eyes fixed on Miltos and Aaman, and on the string.
It is another hot day and the sun is directly overhead but she won’t be long, so there is no need for a hat. Passing under the arch of the gate Juliet trails her hand along the wall down the side of Michelle’s house. Inside, the barn is very modern, and not at all like Juliet’s house, which retains the original rustic charm. That was another thing Juliet loved about her house when she bought it – all the originality, the history on show, the wooden cupboards built into the thick stone walls, the wooden proving trays just abandoned by the bread oven out in the yard, dried and bleached by the sun. Michelle’s barn next door was in a much worse state than her house. The walls were still strong but the roof had fallen in and it had not been used for years and years. Juliet is grateful that, on the outside at least, Michelle has restored it sensitively, keeping the elevations and the windows and doors as they have always been, resisting the urge to install double glazing, which would have been maintenance free but at odds with the whole building. There was no avoiding replacing the roof, though, and the new tiles are harsh in their flat burnt-umber tone compared to the old lichen-covered ones they replaced.
Down the lane towards the village, beyond Michelle’s, is a cottage that is shut up for most of the year. The owner lives in Athens now and only comes down at Easter and the tail end of summer. She usually brings her mother, who is ancient, her creased old face mottled with large age spots, and who pretends not to understand Juliet's Greek. Beyond that is Georgia's, and she is there now in her floppy hat, repotting a plant at the back of her neat garden. It seems strange to Juliet that she has tiled the whole of her garden and grows everything in pots except for a single lemon tree, when she seems to enjoy gardening so much. Georgia does not look up and Juliet does not call out. The house on the corner at the end of the lane, after Georgia’s, belongs to a Russian icon painter who moved there with his family about the same time that Juliet bought hers. They didn’t stay long, though, and the house is now rented to Sophia, who works in the sandwich shop opposite Stella's eatery. According to Sophia, the Russian man moved to Cyprus, where his icons are in demand. On the porch, a dog lifts a sleepy head as Juliet passes, only to replace it on his paws and close his eyes again. It is too hot even to bark.
The lane opens onto a small square and, crossing this, Juliet follows the road that leads to the main square. Now that she’s out, Juliet can feel her chest expand. Having people at her house is somehow stifling, as if the air is too thick. Tables are arranged in the square, in the shade of a palm tree, across the road from Theo’s kafenio. A couple of farmers have made themselves comfortable on the rush seats, and Theo trots across the road with a tray held high, his frizz of curly hair bouncing with each step. Petta, Miltos’s son, is standing on the threshold of the corner shop beyond, his arms folded, watching the world go by. A tractor rattles past him and up the road towards the monastery. The driver jolts up and down on his sprung seat, his wife sitting on the wheel arch, her feet next to his, a hand on his shoulder for balance. Behind them run two working dogs with collars.
Juliet crosses the square, raises a hand to acknowledge Vasso in the kiosk. Vasso is busy arranging empty beer bottles in a crate by the side of the tiny emporium and does not see Juliet. Beyond the kiosk, on the other side of the road that passes the square, is the chemist’s, next to the bakery. The chemist’s is often closed, and Juliet can never make sense of its timetable. Coming down to the square for the gloves was something of a gamble, but it has paid off today – the door is ajar.
'Hello, Juliet.' The young woman behind the counter greets her in English. She is a lovely girl, in her late teens probably. Juliet has noticed that her mama and baba keep her close, and her baba is by all accounts quite strict, and rather old-fashioned. But then, most of the farmers in the village live by the old ways, slow to change. Juliet wonders why someone so old-fashioned as this girl’s father married a woman who has not only qualified as a pharmacist but who has even trained abroad. How can they possibly have anything in common? They are clearly very fond of each other. But with the mama having seen a bigger slice of the world and the baba never having travelled further than the end of his olive grove, Juliet is left with the impression that the daughter is a little confused about life. It seems obvious that if the girl’s father does not ease up a little, she will break free sooner or later. But for now she helps her mama in the shop and seems keen to improve her English. Juliet is glad of this – the shop often seems to be full of old women who have gathered there for no better reason than to gossip and find out who is suffering from what ailment, but thankfully none of them understand English.There are no old women in the shop today.
'Hello,' Juliet smiles. 'How are you?'
'Fine,' the girl replies, but she does not ask how Juliet is. Perhaps she is sick of listening to people describe their ills all day and does not want to know.
'Do you have any disposable latex gloves?'
'Disposable?' The girl does not understand the word. Juliet thinks for a moment.
'One use. Mias chrisis.' She says it in both languages, just to be sure.
'Ah, yes. Okay, I know what you mean. Disposable.' The girl repeats the word as if logging it in her memory, and bends to open a drawer behind the counter. 'Here you go!'
'Now, anything else while I am out?' Juliet asks herself back out in the square.
Marina and Stella are talking to Vasso outside her kiosk, and Juliet idly wonders how Vasso always gets her hair to look like she has just come out of a salon when she works such long hours. Vasso is tall and imposing, with good legs, and her bouffant hairstyle suits her. Stella looks so small next to her, lithe of limb and childlike. Marina, Juliet notes, has lost a little weight recently, but she is still by far the most curvaceous of the group.
'Ah, you are there. We were just talking about you.' Stella calls her across with a nod of her head.
Juliet looks up and down the deserted road before crossing. In the distance she can hear goat bells. Sometimes they are herded straight through the village square, causing Vasso to run out of the kiosk, shouting and flapping her hands at the animals to keep them away from her magazines. As the flow of animals turns the corner at the top of the square Theo will pause, coffee cups in hand, and the old men sitting in the square will turn their heads to watch as the beasts wander past.
The three women watch Juliet as she crosses over to them. 'How is Poppy?' Marina asks.
'Oh, you know, well eno
ugh. She just cannot move,' Juliet says.
'A terrible thing to happen! I have watched her many times crossing the road so slowly it is amazing it has not happened before.' Vasso looks grave and shakes her head as she speaks.
'But she is not so old,' Marina says. 'She just sits too much. It is so easy to do when you run a shop.' Marina runs her finger around the waistband of her skirt.
'She is older than you, though, Marina,' Stella says.
'My grandmother remembers when Poppy’s mother used to bring her here as a child,' Vasso adds.
'Really?' Marina encourages this line of information.
'Yes, her mother was from Saros, but she liked to walk and she preferred the church here. I remember someone saying something about her liking the ceiling in the church, the blue with gold stars.'
'Well, it is beautiful,' says Juliet. When she first visited the church the ceiling and the icons took her breath way, the gold glowing dimly in the candlelit gloom.
'Her mother got to know some of the village women, my grandmother for one, and naturally they were invited to eat. I think I can almost remember Poppy and her mama coming, but maybe I have just imagined this,' Vasso says vaguely.
'So Poppy’s mama preferred the village to Saros.' Stella says. It is not quite a question, more a statement of understanding.
'Well, some of the Saros women think that they are so superior to us,' Marina says. 'But they are just the same. Village girls with a bit more money and their noses in the air, because Saros has tourism now.'
'Let’s not wish tourism on the village, though,' Juliet says, and all three women look at her as if she is crazy.
‘Well, I’ll take one or two,’ Marina says seriously, and Juliet finds she cannot meet her eye.
‘And I’ll take the rest,’ Vasso agrees, with humour in her voice and a smile for Juliet.
‘And I’ll have a full house every night! In the eatery and down at the hotel.’ Stella laughs out loud at the thought of this boost to her businesses. Juliet’s cheeks flush at her own insensitivity and she reshapes her thoughts. Clearly her friends would all benefit greatly from a bit of tourism in the village.
'So, Poppy is not from the village, then?' Juliet tries to change the subject.
'They lived in Saros but I heard that they moved briefly to Orino Island at one point. Her mother got a job as a housekeeper to someone over there one summer. Wasn’t it the headmaster’s cousin? She was the cleaner at the school in Saros so she came back when term began, of course.' Vasso is clearly enjoying imparting this knowledge. Juliet wonders what stories were told about her when she first moved to the village. Is it a mark of acceptance that she is now standing in the square gossiping?
'But Poppy,’ Vasso concludes, ‘did not come back with her mama at the end of the summer. As far as I know she stayed by herself on Orino.' This last revelation is punctuated with a knowing nod.
‘I bet she was kidnapped by one of those island men,’ Marina chortles. ‘She was quite a looker, I seem to recall.’
'What about her baba?' Stella asks.
'Oh, I don't think there ever was one!' says Vasso.
'A miracle!' Marina chuckles.
'You know what I mean.' Vasso laughs at Marina’s joke. 'He abandoned her mother when she became pregnant.'
'So what did Poppy do on Orino?' Stella asks. 'Was she married?' She fishes in the box of individually wrapped sweets that Vasso keeps in the kiosk’s serving window. It is there to treat the children who come to the shop for their parents for a bottle of water, a box of aspirin, a bottle of beer or a packet of cigarettes. Stella picks out a purple sweet, pops it in her mouth and deposits the wrapper back in the box.
'No idea,' Vasso says, and Stella, Marina and Juliet all look at her in mock shock. 'What?' Vasso asks.
'You don't know?' Marina teases, her eyes glinting. 'But you know everything about everybody.
'I can't help it if people tell me things,' says Vasso in her defence, picking Stella’s sweet wrapper out of the box and putting it in the flip-top bin by the drinks fridge.
'Marina is teasing you,' Stella rescues her.
'So how old was she when she went to Orino Island?' Marina asks.
'About nineteen or twenty, I think. But why are you asking me, Marina? You are good friends with her. You should be telling me.'
'I may be good friends with her, and I admit I enjoy her company, but she is silent about her past. It is only now that I am realising how little she has told me about herself in all these years.'
'Well, you will have plenty of time to get to know her,' Stella says to Juliet.
'Actually, she must be getting very bored there without any company. Come on, let’s all go to see her,' Marina says with enthusiasm.
'Well …' Juliet begins.
'Good idea.' Stella links arms with Juliet.
'Report back!' Vasso says, and she chuckles to herself as Marina and Stella lead Juliet back up the road towards her house, one either side of her.
Chapter 10
Neither Marina nor Stella seems in the least surprised to see Miltos asleep on the sofa on Juliet’s terrace. Juliet wonders if she should ask them to be discreet about his presence at the house, but she immediately reasons that this would make the whole situation seem more scandalous than it really is and would guarantee that it became a subject of eager gossip in the village square. Better to act as if there is nothing to hide, which of course there isn’t!
No attempt is made to be quiet, but Miltos does not stir anyway as the women troop past him indoors. His mouth hangs slack, his features at rest. He looks almost like a boy when he is asleep, Juliet decides. Aaman is curled up on the back of the white sofa, also fast asleep. The bougainvillea in its large terracotta pot in the corner, which Georgia gave her last year, has shed petals alongside him. Pink on white, like ice cream.
'Anyone want a drink?' Juliet offers, but Marina and Stella are already inside and looking around them, clearly eager to see Poppy and to have a good nose around Juliet’s house. Stella is already halfway to the guest room, which is just off the sitting room.
'Oh, she’s in my bedroom,’ Juliet explains. ‘They couldn't get the stretcher in there.'
'Oh.' Stella and Marina seem to hesitate, and Juliet realises that her instinct to protect her private space must be more obvious than she thought.
'Yes, the room’s there.'
She points to her bedroom door. With permission granted they march straight in without knocking, and Juliet listens from the kitchen as Marina breaks into a rant about how Poppy should take more care.
'You could have been killed!' she exclaims.
'No, I could not! Don't be so dramatic, Marina.' Poppy is emphatic.
'You could have been if it had been a car.' Stella’s tone is sensible and kind.
'Well, it wasn't, so stop fussing.' Poppy sounds annoyed, but Juliet can hear in her voice that she is pleased by the attention.
'Where would I be if you had been killed?' Marina persists.
'If this is all you came to say you can go again.' Poppy is doing her best to sound serious but Juliet can tell she is flattered by her friends’ concern.
'Are you sure you don't want drinks?' Juliet calls to them.
'Another frappe would be nice,' Poppy says.
'If you are making them, I'll have one,' Marina calls through the open door to the kitchen.
'I won’t say no if you are making them anyway,' Stella says.
'Make it sweet to help me get over the shock of my friend nearly dying,' Marina adds and laughs. Poppy chuckles and then groans.
The coffee mixer drowns out the conversation. Juliet takes out another glass for Miltos who, even now, sleeps on like a baby.
Juliet shoulders the door to her bedroom open. It seems strange to have people chattering away in there. She has spent so many quiet hours there reading, or working, or just stretching out on a Sunday morning on crisp, clean sheets, that for some reason she feels slightly embarrassed by their pr
esence.
Marina, who is sitting side by side with Stella on the linen chest, seems to be giving the patient a good-natured grilling. Juliet takes her writing chair around from her desk and places it at the end of the chest so she can join them.
'So, how old were you when you moved to Orino Island?' Marina demands.
'About, eighteen, or nineteen. What is all this sudden interest in my teenage years?' Poppy retorts.
'Vasso told me you lived there for a while but I’ve never heard you mention it,' Marina says.
'Maybe there is nothing to tell.' Juliet senses that Poppy is reluctant to offer any information.
'There must be something to tell,' Marina insists. She doesn’t seem to get the hint, or if she does she doesn’t care. 'Why did you stay when your mama came back? If you tell me now that you were married, then you can call our friendship over. Hiding a husband from me, indeed.' Marina giggles as if this is the funniest thing in the world.
'No, no husband. I was simply offered a job.'
'Oh, how exciting, was it a good job?' There is no stopping Marina now – she is on a roll, determined to know everything. Stella has crossed her legs away from Marina and Juliet has the impression that the situation is making her feel slightly uncomfortable. Juliet wonders if, since they are in her house, and she is the host, it is she who should stop this interrogation. After all, it is not as if Poppy can walk away.
'I was offered a job as a housekeeper. So, a good job, yes, but not a very exciting job. I am so sorry to disappoint you, Marina.' Poppy is unflustered and replies calmly to Marina’s grilling. Juliet relaxes a little.
'Disappoint me! Why should it disappoint me? Did it disappoint you? – that is the question!' Marina finds this funny and Poppy smiles too. 'Were the people nice?'