In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree

by Sara Alexi

  Stepping towards Jimmy, Theo’s arm extends with the money he has been paid. Jimmy flashes him a warning look. Theo turns the movement into a flourish, putting it in his pocket. Jimmy borrowed the money from the till, and he will not want the boss seeing it being paid back.

  ‘Ouzo before you go?’ Dimitri asks.

  ‘I don’t drink when I work,’ Theo replies.

  Dimitri’s face splits into a broad grin and his laugh comes from the back of his throat, strangled, forced. ‘Ha, ha, I will save twice your wage in what you don’t drink.’ He stops laughing abruptly and looks at Jimmy, who is nursing a whiskey. He has not been without a glass by his side all evening.

  The air outside is so fresh, and Theo gulps it down in big lungfulls. The walk home adds to Theo’s fatigue. He collapses onto his new bed fully clothed, takes one shoe off with the opposing foot, and falls backwards and snores till late morning.

  The next day, the sun fills the balcony and front room. Theo washes all his clothes in the bath, along with himself, and then wanders from room to room, naked, as he has no towel. But the sun is fierce and his clothes dry quickly. He stands tall in the room but squats to a crawl to check the progress of his clothes on the balcony, in the sun, just in case.

  They are dry within the hour. His shirt is creased now, but it no longer smells. His trousers are still a little damp, but that is cooling, refreshing even. His socks need darning. He thinks of his mama, his lips purse, his breathing grows short. It is stupid to miss his mama when he is forty. A wife, yes, but a mama?

  Below, someone begins to cut the lawn with a hand mower. Theo hangs over the railing to watch a man in a shabby pin-striped suit with padded shoulders at a sloping angle as they fall down his arms. Theo wonders why he doesn’t take the jacket off. The flat roof next door has a blanket laid on it; it’s a good place to dry things. Maybe people are not so different here to those in the village.

  He sits for a while on the sofa that he has pulled out onto the balcony and listens to the rhythmic whirr of the lawn mower, the birds in the tree, and waits for the cockerel to crow. If this job is going to keep him up so late every night, he will never be up in time to gather the furniture he needs. He looks behind him into the empty room. He also needs a floor brush, maybe a mop and bucket to keep the place clean. When he has furniture, he will invite Tasia and her baba, and he reasons that should be incentive enough.

  The day passes quickly, mostly with Theo strutting around his empty rooms, feeling smug. He ventures out to eat and thinks of going to tell Eleni and Timotheos about his job, or maybe even walking as far as Tasia’s kafeneio, but in the end, he is too tired for company and eats at a nearby taverna. The food is not very good and he soon returns home to cat nap, trying to catch up on his sleep whilst enjoying the heat, and lounging in the sun. In his own sleepy way, he is handling Athens well today.

  Evening comes as he walks under clear, deep blue skies and on cracked flag-stone pavements to work. He can hear birds nearly all the way to the bar, which is on one of the few streets devoid of trees. His pace quickens as he gets nearer, with the memory of the night before, the constant worry of losing clients, losing his money. He hopes someone else turns up looking for a job, takes his place so he can go behind a bar. The increase in pay he negotiated is welcome, but it isn’t really enough to compensate the stress of being a runner.

  Outside, the Diamond Rock Cafe still looks grimy. Empty cans have rolled to the central gutter. Beer-stained serviettes, dried by the sun, adhere to the contours of the cobbles. There are one or two restaurants open for business, but many of the places are boarded up.

  The shutters of the Diamond Rock Cafe are lifted open and Jimmy is inside. He stuffs something into his pocket and closes the till as Theo enters.

  ‘Hey, you’re back.’ Jimmy smiles, but his cheeks colour. He gives a sideways glance at the till, as if to double check it is closed.

  Theo smiles back, discomforted with what he thinks he just saw. But he says nothing and Jimmy grins all the more, walking towards him eagerly.

  ‘You did well yesterday,’ Jimmy says in an ingratiating manner.

  Theo puts his hand in his pocket and draws out the note Jimmy lent him from the till the evening before.

  ‘Nah, man. Forget it.’ Jimmy waves it away.

  Theo grasps the whole picture in that moment, and in that moment, he decides he will not be serving as a runner tonight, not even if no one else turns up. He turns to the little bar opposite the long bar.

  ‘Shall I work here tonight?’ It is not a question.

  ‘Er, well, that would be great, but Dimitri decides who works where, and the girl who works there is a sort of friend of his, in a way. It’s a sort of trust thing,’ Jimmy stammers.

  Theo can see how it is a trust thing. There is no one to monitor what is sold, there are no optics, and the bottles are unmarked. Everything is poured by hand. But that is not his concern right now.

  ‘I am sure you can explain how trustworthy I am to Dimitri.’ Theo steps behind the small bar. It smells bad. He takes a dirty cloth from the sink behind the counter and washes it through with hot water and soap and uses it to scrub down the bar counter before setting to work taking bottles from the shelves behind so he can give them a good scrub.

  ‘Have we got any Azax?’ Theo calls out and turns to find Jimmy is staring open-mouthed at his labours. ‘Window cleaner, Jimmy, for the glass shelves?’ Jimmy shakes his head but continues to stare at the bar that is beginning to shine.

  People begin to filter in, their attention caught by Theo’s gleaming bar. They make jokes about being in the wrong place, then sit and order. They are no more than kids and treat the place like a second home.

  The night draws in, and Theo’s bar is busy. The till does not work properly. If he tries to ring in an amount, it comes up as no sale and the drawer springs open. He tries to keep a mental tally. Dimitri turns up and across the chatting, smoking heads of customers he scowls as he talks to Jimmy, nodding in Theo’s direction. Theo keeps his head down, washes a few glasses, and has another look around in the shelves under the counter for something to explain the ever-present bad smell.

  ‘A beer please, my friend,’ a voice shouts.

  ‘There you go.’ Theo pulls the drink for a young man who he has been serving all night. The boy started with notes, now he is counting out his change. Feeling for the boy, Theo has been filling his glass really full; this time he leaves no room for froth.

  ‘You’re busy, eh?’ the boy shouts.

  ‘Isn’t this bar usually this busy? Theo asks above the music.

  The boy laughs ‘She’s a pretty girl, the one who is usually here, but her beer is all froth and she has no idea how to make a cocktail. Order a brandy, you may well get a whiskey. She usually sits here all night, looking at her fingernails.’ He grins at Theo, who smiles in return but can think of nothing to say that would be worth shouting over the music. The boy lifts his beer to salute, acknowledging the extra measure he has received.

  Dimitri begins a slow walk in his direction. He all but pushes the boy out of the way.

  ‘Hey, bartender,’ Dimitri shouts. ‘Give me a screwdriver.’ He looks far from happy. Theo clenches his teeth. For a second, he believes he is asking for a woodworking tool but in a heart-sinking flash, he knows he is being tested. The whole cocktail thing has been filtering over from America since the early seventies, but he has no idea what a screwdriver is made from. The boy drinking his beer looks over and notices the exchange and Theo’s blank look.

  ‘Got too clever too quickly, didn’t we?’ Dimitri sneers. The boy pulls a face behind him, then rummages in his inside pocket.

  Theo tries to recall films he has seen that might have shown someone making one, but he is drawing a blank. He could fake it and make something up, give it a new name, The Dimitri, perhaps. But it probably wouldn’t wash.

  ‘Oi friend.’ The boy with his full beer pushes Dimitri to one side and leans right over the counter. ‘
A hot girl just asked me to give you this.’ He winks at Theo and disappears into the crowd with his drink. Theo holds the paper and then, as he will probably get the sack anyway, he unfolds the sheet in front of Dimitri.

  Scribbled words read ‘vodka/orange’.

  Theo refolds the slip of paper, tucks it in his pocket and looks straight at Dimitri. ‘Sorry. Girls just dig the hair.’ He half smiles. ‘One screwdriver coming up. Ice?’

  Dimitri drains the drink. ‘You are either smart or tricky,’ he says, looking Theo straight on. ‘What have you made on this bar so far today?’

  Theo made a rough tally just before the boy with the beer made his last purchase. But since he came to work this evening, he has learnt a few important things. Drinks are measured haphazardly, so there is no way of tracing how much has been sold. He has also been told that this little bar does not normally do good business and lastly, and probably most importantly, Jimmy is on the take from the till on the main bar and Dimitri cannot have noticed, or he would have been sacked.

  ‘I haven’t really kept track, around …’ He names a figure well under the real take.

  ‘Wow, really. That much?’ Dimitri turns his head to look at the girl who is normally on the little bar and who is working as a runner tonight. She is sweating and looks far from her usual attractive self. He slides from his stool and cruises over to her.

  ‘Give me your glass,’ Theo shouts at the boy who has all but finished his beer. He fills it and hands it back. The boy winks again and drinks.

  ‘He tries to make people think he is in the Mafia,’ the boy says, nodding at Dimitri, who is talking animatedly to the bargirl. Her chin has sunk to her chest. Theo watches, recognises her determination to not react, but he does not think she is strong enough. He judges that her investment is not big enough, and he is right. She tolerates a few more words and then she picks up the drink nearest to her and throws it in Dimitri’s face before storming out. Theo looks away quickly.

  He has cleaned everything, but there is still a bad smell behind the bar.

  The rest of the evening is uneventful and when the last customers sway their way out, Theo realises he has a dilemma. Shall he be honest and leave nearly double what he told Dimitri was in the till, or does take enough to pay back his baba with money that won’t be missed?

  It is not as if anyone will know; it is not like anyone will be unhappy.

  He no longer feels like Theo from the village.

  That man left last night.

  As Theo says goodnight Jimmy, who has a glass in his hand, gives him the slightest of bows and a colluding smile. Theo straightens his back and walks out with his head held high, disinclined to be a part of Jimmy’s world.

  It is late when he gets home, but the old lady downstairs has her lights on in all her rooms with the curtains drawn back, meaning Theo can see inside. She has a room on either side of the front door: the bedroom on the left, kitchen with a door, presumably to the bathroom, on the right. It is half the depth of his own flat. It goes as far back as his arched door and the five steps that lead to his kitchen. If there are any rooms on the ground floor at the back, they will be low storage rooms.

  A dog is barking, and through one of the windows, Theo can see something white jumping up and the old lady cooing and fussing, trying to calm it. But the excited dog just keeps leaping around, its long spiral-haired coat flopping around it. It looks more like an animated mop than a dog, and it amuses Theo who starts the climb to his room. His legs are tired from standing for eight hours. At least in the kafeneio, there is an opportunity to sit when no one wants coffee. The bar was just nonstop tonight.

  He slumps onto his sofa on the balcony. Lifting up the cushion he is not sitting on, he looks around into the darkness, then takes the roll of cash from his pocket. Flattening out the notes, he lays them on the sofa, counts them carefully, and places the cushion on top.

  One more day and he could go home if he wanted, pay his baba off in full and then some, but Theo is beginning to see a way he could go home in style. He will stay a little longer than a couple of days and see where he is by then.

  If he stays, maybe he could even have his own bar. Maybe Tasia will work with him.

  The trees rustle in the breeze. Whistling through the night, a black Mercedes pulls up outside the house, the paintwork glinting between the branches. A man with a chauffeur’s cap climbs from behind the wheel, walks stiffly to open the passenger door, and stands erect, waiting. Theo jumps to his feet, trots down and slides into the car, inhaling the smells of new leather and carpet cleaner. The chauffeur bows slightly and Theo recognises him as the boy drinking beer from the Diamond Rock Cafe. The boy grins and closes Theo’s door, then drives silently and sedately through the suburban streets.

  They turn in to pass the Diamond Rock Cafe. Jimmy and the other staff line the pavement, waving drinks, cheering. The girl who does not speak Greek stands next to Tasia, both of them mopping their eyes, sad to see Theo go. Theo winds down his window and calls to Tasia who runs over and climbs in the car beside him.

  ‘Hey Theo, you are the man!’ Jimmy calls. The others cheer in agreement.

  When the car turns at the end of the street and hits the main road, it builds up speed. The city lights become a blur outside the windows as they race past building after building, driving like the wind. Tasia’s hand finds his and their fingers intermingle. The air rushes all around them and they are lifted from the tarmac and take to the skies to fly through the inky night, dodging stars, marvelling at the earth below and curving an arch to the village, where the car descends to land just on the outskirts, and then drives slowly into the square.

  The old men are all sitting inside, waiting for his return to take their chairs onto the square for the summer.

  ‘Ah, you are here!’ Stathis calls, and it seems to be all the permission he needs to carry his chair into the square. The other men follow his lead, gathering around Theo, patting his back.

  ‘We have missed you, Theo,’ says one.

  ‘The coffee has been undrinkable since you left,’ says another.

  ‘The meze so small, and no olives.’

  His baba runs from the back of the kafeneio out to him, smiling, hugging him, an arm around his shoulders, refusing to let go as he tells everyone of the success he has become in Athens.

  ‘He ate Athens for his breakfast and spat it out for lunch,’ his baba brags to his peers. ‘Look at his car. Look at his suit. My boy!’ he exclaims.

  His mama comes running, with her apron still on, to kiss him.

  ‘I have a leg of lamb in the oven, crispy on the outside, with potatoes and salad. We can eat whenever you are ready, son.’ Her hand comes up to stroke his hair on either side of his face to make a parting so she can see him, a gesture she has made ever since he can remember, and one he feels he has outgrown. But this time, she stops. Her eyes drop to the floor.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mutters, and Theo takes her hand to bring a smile back to her face. Tasia is handed a round bouquet of flowers which she takes with both hands like a bride and confetti is falling from the heavens and the whole village comes out to celebrate, to cheer Theo as he announces screwdrivers all round and they marvel at his knowledge, his city ways.

  Theo rolls off the sofa and lands badly on his funny bone. He leaps up holding it with his other hand, hopping about and trying not to moan. The sofa and balcony and his clothes are covered with some sort of confetti of pollen, yellow in the moonlight. It will be from the pine trees.

  He pushes the sofa back into the room with his knees and closes the windows, trying to take his mind from the pain in his elbow. By the time he is in bed, he has forgotten his funny bone. The promise of sleep is delicious. He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds outside his open window. The trees still rustling, and it is possible the old lady downstairs has let the dog out as he hears the sound of unclipped nails pattering on flagstones.

  Then a new noise, a murmur and a tapping that sounds like it is co
ming from below his bedroom. Maybe a cat has been locked in the storage rooms, if that is what they are. He listens, the murmur is not regular, the noises not ones of panic, and soon his eyes close.

  Chapter 10

  Age 40 Years, 5 Months, 17 Days

  The cockerel crows and Theo spreads his wings. The sun streaks through his window, cutting the room and his bed diagonally. If he turns his head one way, he is in the shade, the other in the sun. He turns his head back and forth slowly until the muscles around his eyes release and open his lids. The dog downstairs is barking.

  Stretching and pulling on his trousers, Theo makes his way to the balcony. The man in the pin-striped suit is there again, mowing the lawn. Theo watches him as he pauses in his work to fill a bowl from a tap for the dog, the droplets ringing in the metal dish. Then he resumes his mowing.

  A breeze picks up.

  Across the road, balloons have been tied to the railings of the first floor balcony of a new house and they bob in the breeze, with ribbons that flutter and spiral. Behind the sheet glass windows, a child wearing a pink dress with a big bow at the back is running around. Her mama grabs at her arm as she passes to slow her down, to avoid collision with the table laid with sandwiches and buns. The breeze drops and the branch of the monkey-puzzle tree relaxes, blocking Theo’s view into the party house.

  The gardener below is now tending the roses.

  Theo’s stomach grumbles. He has no food in the house, and it is about time he had a better look around the neighbourhood. Pulling on his shirt, he trots down the stairs and into the glare of the sun. The heat warrants him rolling his sleeves up. The man in the suit is nowhere to be seen, and neither is the dog.

  Letting himself out of the gate, he pauses to watch a BMW pull up to the lamp post opposite, which also has balloons tied to it. A little girl jumps out and runs up to the house. Her mama, in high heels and pencil skirt, her hair piled to a perfect bouffant, saunters leisurely behind her carrying a gaily wrapped box. The sun reflects on her numerous gold rings; her face remains hidden behind large dark glasses.