The Housekeeper (The Greek Island Series)

by Sara Alexi

  'You are right, you are right,' Juliet concedes. 'I will only regret it. In fact, I have already regretted not feeling the wind on my face.'

  'So there you go, then.'

  'And you, Poppy, how will you really live?'

  'Ah, I think I will have a chance yet. I just feel it in my bones. If I open my mind and seek the wind on my face too, there is still time.'

  Chapter 36

  'So tell me, Poppy, what happened when the twins turned eighteen?'

  They have been left to man the jam stall; Marina and Vasso will be back later to relieve them, but Stella wished them well and explained she had a group of Americans arriving at the hotel. She will bring them to buy some jam later, if she can.

  'Anna went to Germany, of all places, to study dentistry, and Vass went back to the States. I think he wanted to stay near his baba, but he moved to Germany when Anna had her first child. Vass is a lot like his baba, married and divorced now. I’m still hopeful for him.'

  'So how did you end up here in the village? Oh, just a moment.' Juliet breaks off to sell two jars of marmalade to Cosmo the postman.

  'I stayed in the house until the twins had finished their education. I thought it was important that they had somewhere to call home, even if they didn’t visit.'

  'Didn’t they visit?'

  'Oh yes, when they could. But they had their own lives, as we all do, and it was a long way to come. First to Athens, then Saros, then a boat to Orino. And then Pantelis started talking about selling the house.'

  'Oh!'

  'No, it was fine. I wanted to move back here, where my mama had been happy, where I had grown up. So anyway, he sold the house and he bought me the shop and my little house and then – well, I’m not sure what else he would have done with the stuff – he gave me the contents of the house to sell in the shop. That was the plan we sort of came up with so I would be set up and no longer dependent on him.'

  'Ah, so that's how it happened … Oh, another customer.'

  'How many marmalades have you got?' Theo asks. 'Morning, Poppy.'

  'Seven left, how many do you want?' Juliet finds a plastic bag.

  'I'll take the lot,' Theo replies. 'I’m amazed you have any left. The reputation for your marmalade being what it is.'

  The trickle of customers continues throughout the day. Marina comes back for a while and mutters to Juliet that only a few of the quince jams have sold, and isn't it a shame their plan hasn’t worked? Poppy grins at Juliet behind Marina's back. Vasso returns too and says more or less the same thing. By now, it is late afternoon and everything except a dozen jars of quince jam has sold.

  'Well, that should be plenty for the vets, at least,' Poppy observes. 'It’s a shame Stella didn’t bring her Americans, though – they would have bought the quince jam. Gosh, I am tired.'

  'You’ve been standing a lot today – sit for a bit, put your bad leg up,' Juliet says. 'I'll start to pack up.'

  Poppy does not need asking twice. She sits heavily, with a sigh, and Juliet is reminded that she is an old lady, despite the youthful sparkle that lights up her eyes. It’s not long before her head lolls and her chin drops to her chest, and her breathing becomes a little louder, but calmer. Juliet picks up one of the jars of quince jam and tries to imagine Poppy putting it out on the back wall of the house on Orino, and the delight, the thrill she would have experienced at finding it gone the next day. Her friend, Kithoni, nicknamed after the fruit he so loved, will be old too, now.

  'Am I too late?' Grigoris bustles in through the school gates. 'Gosh, I’ve not been in here for a while, but nothing has changed! So, what will you sell me, Juliet?' He looks at Poppy, whose head has dropped even further.

  'Quince jam, the finest there is,' Juliet enthuses.

  'Ah, quince, eh? No marmalade left? I’ve heard about your marmalade.'

  'Only quince.'

  'Well, seeing as it’s for the animals, eh?' He seems to think this is funny. ’Keep the change.’

  It seems everyone in the village has been through the school gates at some point in the day, but it’s quiet now, and nearly all the jam has gone. Poppy’s breathing is shallow now, peaceful.

  'Well, that’s a job well done.' Juliet begins to pack up the remaining jars. It was always a long shot, the whole idea of making quince jam and finding Poppy's first love, but nevertheless she realises that she was harbouring a hope. Or is the hope for her and Miltos? She hoped he would come today, a sort of chance meeting, so she could start to repair the damage she has done, but that plan was not to be realised either. Now she will have to be proactive and go and find him. Well, if that is the price she must pay, then that is what she will do. A little thrill trickles through her at the thought of seeing him again. He talks about her – she must keep that in the front of her mind. It will not be as if she is cold-calling. He wants her to change her mind, and she has.

  'Am I too late?' A voice disturbs her train of thought.

  'Oh, you made me jump!' Juliet smiles at Thanasis. The smell of donkeys fills her nostrils, warm and somehow comforting. 'I have a few jars of quince jam,' she says, taking one out of the bag she has put them in.

  'Quince? My favourite.'

  'Really?' Juliet looks at him more closely. He is a nice-looking man, with kind eyes, but his scruffiness is always the first thing she sees. It cannot be easy for him; his cottage has never been modernised and most of his time is spent with the donkeys.

  'Absolutely! How many do you have? Maybe I can buy enough to last me a while?'

  'There are these,' Juliet says counting the jars on the table. She does not know a great deal about Thanasis, except that he was born in Saros, made some money doing something or other – a taverna, a bar, something like that – and then gave it all to his nephews and started breeding donkeys, tucked away on the outskirts of the village.

  'I’ll take them all,' he says, grinning, and takes out a handful of notes.

  'You like quince jam, then?' Juliet knows it is a stupid question.

  'Have done ever since I first tried it.'

  'And where was that?' Juliet feels the school playground is a suitable setting for her childlike optimism and ridiculous hope.

  'Orino Island, of all places,' Thanasis says, and Juliet’s heart leaps. If she were closer to Poppy she would kick her feet to wake her up.

  'Orino, you say?'

  'Yup, I had a summer job there for a couple of seasons when I was nothing but a boy. My uncle had donkeys and an olive grove or two.'

  'And who made the quince jam?' Juliet's heart is in her throat; her hands tremble with the excitement. It’s like being in an Agatha Christie novel, at the point when it will be revealed ‘who done it’.

  'Ah, such a pretty young thing. We were never properly introduced but she managed this big house. She would leave the jam on the back wall for me. Such a sweet, tender thing.' He looks beyond Juliet and off into the distance. 'It's funny how our first emotions mean so much to us, isn't it?'

  Poppy stirs. 'Oh, I had a little snooze,' she says, but Juliet knows her well enough by now to detect a tone in her voice that suggests she has been listening,.

  Juliet almost wants to introduce them formally, but they have lived in the same village for years so that would be ridiculous. What else can she do?

  'Oh, Poppy, yes, a little snooze. I was just talking to Thanasis here. Apparently, the first time he had quince jam was on Orino Island … Didn't you stay there for a while, when you were younger?’ and she excuses herself, suddenly remembering that she left her phone in the car.

  'Really?' Marina exclaims. She is sitting behind her counter in the corner shop.

  'I made some excuse and left them to it,' Juliet says.

  'Oh my, Thanasis, really?' Marina asks again. 'Oh, I wish I had been there! Thanasis, you say! Well, well, there is a turn-up!'

  'Should I stay away so he has to take her home or should I go back? I don’t want her to think we have all abandoned her …'

  'Nice man, I’ve alw
ays thought. I could see him as a looker if he were younger. I hope she doesn't mind the smell of donkeys, though!' Marina snorts with laughter.

  'What? What's going on?' Vasso comes in.

  'It's Thanasis,' Marina says still laughing.

  'What's Thanasis?'

  'The boy Poppy knew from the olive groves on Orino.'

  'Thanasis? The donkey breeder? I hope she likes the smell of donkeys!' Vasso is laughing now as well.

  'Nothing a good bath wouldn’t cure.'

  'So, do I leave them?' Juliet asks.

  'How strange is life, eh?' Vasso says.

  'His place would be all right if it was modernised, although it’s a bit out in the middle of nowhere there, stuck in the olives as it is. I’m not sure I would like it,' Marina says.

  'You've got them married off already, have you, Marina?’ says Vasso. ‘And will you be the bridesmaid?'

  This has them both cackling; Marina is holding her sides.

  'Stop, stop, I can’t breathe,' she begs.

  'Meanwhile,’ Juliet points out, ‘I have left Poppy and she has no way to get home.'

  'So Thanasis will have to throw her on the back of one of his donkeys,' Marina says, and she and Vasso start hooting with laughter.

  'So I should leave them, then?' Juliet looks out of the open door, where her car is parked on the square, not leaving much room for other drivers to pass. Marina tries her best to pull herself together.

  'Who’s got the keys to the school?' she asks, and Juliet jangles them. 'Well, you will have to go back to put the table away and lock up, won’t you? But I would give it half an hour.'

  'They could honeymoon on Orino Island, that would be sweet,' Vasso ponders.

  'More likely they will get a week in his barn and a roll in the hay,' Marina says, and the two of them dissolve into fits of laughter all over again, and Juliet is drawn in despite herself.

  Chapter 37

  The temperature inside the car is stifling. She should have left the window open; a biro she left on the dashboard, along with the batteries she bought for the kitchen clock, has sagged with the heat, and is now curved and leaking ink. The batteries might be a little worse for the sun too. She throws them into the door pocket and turns the key in the ignition.

  She can hear no voices as she approaches the schoolyard, and as she peers through the gate, ready to retreat if it seems prudent, she can see that the yard is empty.

  'I hope that’s a good thing,' she muses as she goes in to fold up the collapsible table and take it inside. Someone has left a small, smooth stone on the table, with a note under it, and Juliet unfolds it to read the message.

  Quince jam, priceless. I am completely sold.

  How Poppy's eyes would have twinkled as she wrote it! The thought fills Juliet with joy. She wonders where they are – her house, his? Has he taken her for coffee in Saros? They will have so much to say to each other, and even if the old spark has died, as these things do, theirs will be a friendship, that is for sure. A shared history will do that. It builds invisible bridges that link people together. Poppy has told Juliet all about Pantelis and Monica and the twins, and she feels she shares some of this history too now, but how much more meaningful it will be for Poppy to share it with someone who was actually there, who knew them some forty years back. She will go round later and see if Poppy is at home.

  The legs of the table are being difficult, and it might be easier to turn the whole thing on its side and fight with it like that, but as she tries to turn it the table falls over, and now the legs will not close because they are scraping on the paving stones.

  'Stupid thing,' she grumbles. It is too hot for this, and it needs two people. Where are Marina and Stella and Vasso, who all said they would help to pack things up?

  'Are you having trouble? May I help?'

  His voice is like calming water and her shoulders drop and relax as she straightens.

  'Don't worry, I am not stalking you. Stella told me to come and put the table away and take Poppy back.' Miltos does not look at her as he speaks, folding the table legs in with ease. He carries the table towards the school in one hand.

  'Do you have the keys? I will lock up.'

  Without a thought, she hands them over. He is being formal – cold, even – in his manner, but who can blame him? She has made it clear that he should back off.

  'Here you are.' Once he has locked up, he dangles the keys for her but is looking towards the gate, ready to move on. She could take the proffered keys and then he would leave. But that is not what she wants. How does she move this on? Should she say she is sorry, explain herself? He looks at her, a question in his eyes.

  'Do you like quince jam?' She cannot think of anything else to say.

  'Er, I prefer marmalade.' The muscles over his eyebrows are not sure what expression to make; they twitch, form and reform.

  'On your toast for breakfast?' What a brazen thing to say! Her hand goes to her mouth, but she catches herself and takes a lock of her hair instead, twisting it.

  The intensity of his gaze seems like it is boring into her deepest secrets.

  'I love it for breakfast. But do you have any left? I heard you had sold out.' He is accepting her invitation to join the game she has started, but she is not sure of the rules.

  'I have some at home.' There is a tightness in her chest, a quiver of excitement in her stomach. She releases the strand of hair and lets her arm fall.

  'At your home, you say?'

  'Yes.' She cannot think of anything else that seems appropriate.

  'Well, I could come over tomorrow morning and share it with you over breakfast?'

  The tightness in her chest melts. He will come over in the morning, she can make amends then, and things might work out well after all.

  'But I don’t know if I want to wake up that early and come over unless I am sure there is marmalade …'

  For a moment, she stops breathing, trying to gauge whether he is teasing. He is, she can see it in his eyes. He has moved closer to her by a step, and she can detect the freshly washed smell of his shirt.

  'Oh, so what do you suggest, then?' She begins to find her feet with this teasing and flirting.

  'Well, perhaps I’d better come over and check now, you know, just to make sure my journey in the morning will not be wasted.'

  'Now?' That catches her off guard.

  He doesn't move. This is the moment, and Juliet knows it, when she can make the choice to stop pushing people away. What should she say? What was she going to do once she got home anyway?

  'Well, I was planning to sit in the garden and read a book. I suppose I could do with a headrest, someone to lean against.' She can picture this and she likes the idea.

  'You know, I’ve often felt that I have missed my vocation as a headrest,’ he replies without hesitation. ‘I have always felt, you know, deep down inside, that I would be very good at this. But, I feel it only fair to warn you, it would only work with the right person.'

  He has left it open. To answer the obvious feels like a big risk, inviting humiliation, embarrassment. Recollections of Mick’s charms, his humour and the unspoken offer of escape from living with her mother if she partnered with him skitter through her mind, followed by a memory of the charm that turned into control, the years that followed of raising her boys practically on her own while enduring his negative comments. But she is not in her twenties now. There is no mother to escape from, she has made her own life, and can trust herself.

  Here we go, Poppy, Juliet says to herself, and she takes a deep breath.

  'And do you think I am the right person?' – and before she even has time to worry what his answer will be he has already said it.

  'Most definitely.'

  They are standing close enough to touch, but he doesn't move, so Juliet takes his hand, and all the muscles on his forehead relax and his eyes smile, little creases forming at the corners. Their arms are touching all the way up now, and he could easily bend his head and place a
kiss, just a gentle one, on her lips. But he doesn't. So Juliet puts her free hand behind his head and he allows her to pull his head towards her until their mouths touch. A thousand electric shocks course through her body and it becomes necessary to break free. These are feelings that perhaps should only be felt in private, not out here in the open.

  'Well, I suggest we make a move before we are in trouble with the teacher for kissing in the schoolyard,' he says quietly, and they walk hand in hand to her car.

  During the drive back they are held in suspended animation, and when the car pulls onto her drive they are both quick to get out and their hands interlock again immediately. Juliet fumbles with the key to the door and Miltos's calm hand covers hers and they do it together. Once inside, they both know where they are going, but just before they head down the corridor Juliet stops.

  'What?' All the signs of panic show on his face.

  She reaches up and takes something from a hook on the wall beside her.

  'I just wanted to give you this so we both know where we are heading.' She presses something into his hand.

  'What’s this?' he asks, unfolding his fingers.

  'A key to the front door,' Juliet says, 'so you can come any time and rearrange my cupboards.'