by Sara Alexi
Babis looks down the street to where the Mercedes has parked. The back door opens, and a shiny shoe descends onto the pavement. This must be the minister. Where are the fireworks? ‘Right,’ puffs Angelos, back at Babis’s side and looking a little stressed now. ‘We are ready. Shall I light it?’
‘Yes!’ shouts Babis. ‘Light it! Light it now!’
The minister is out of the car and is starting to walk up the street. Should Babis have been there to greet him as he got out of the car? No, better this way, let him enjoy the spectacle undisturbed, and be there to meet him on the steps of the town hall.
The first of the fireworks takes Babis by surprise, and draws murmurs of appreciation from the sizeable crowd that has now gathered.
The display begins with a cascade either side of the double doors, raining onto the pavement, little sparks bouncing back up to meet those coming down. It is more beautiful than Babis had hoped and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. His money has not been wasted. He looks at the faces in the crowd, smiling, or with mouths open, hands pointing. The minister, in his dark suit, has stopped walking up the road and is watching the fireworks along with everyone else. He will have the best view from where he is standing.
The transitional fireworks that Angelos threw in for free are just as wonderful, and then the rockets start, drawing gasps from the crowd. They whizz and whistle into the sky, lighting up the square in front of the town hall in reds and greens and purples. Each rocket explodes with a loud bang into globes of stars, each of which in turn fizz and crackle as they burst again into glowing embers that spiral into extinction.
As the last hiss dies, the crowd cheers and claps and the mayor looks at Babis. Is that awe he sees in the mayor’s face – or a little jealousy, perhaps?
The minister resumes his steady pace towards them and Babis readies himself for the accolade.
‘Impressive,’ the minister says in his Athenian drawl, and he holds his hand out.
‘Thank you.’ Babis shakes the man firmly by the hand. ‘Just a little token of our esteem for our colleagues in the capital. Now, if you would like to follow me, I’ll see if we can find you a cup of coffee before we begin. I’m sure you must be in need of some refreshment after your journey.’
‘Ah, yes, very kind,’ says the minister, and slaps Babis on the shoulder. That’s a good sign. They are clearly going to get along well. Babis glances around to see if he can spot the TV cameras. Yes, there they are, trained on his group. That will look good! The visit has got off to a great start, with no hitches so far, and Babis feels sure the hardest part is over. They say that first impressions count, and it is clear the impression he has made is first-rate. Great things will doubtless stem from this. He steers the minister up the steps into the town hall. The mayor is two paces behind. One of the secretaries is hovering uncertainly just inside the entrance, and she stands to one side to let the entourage in.
‘Ah, Evgenia,’ Babis calls to her. Is that her name? Does it really matter? She is only a secretary. ‘Now then, my girl,’ he continues, ‘how about a cup of coffee for the minister?’
‘Er …’ the minister mumbles. The woman looks a little confused.
‘Greek coffee?’ Babis says to the minister. ‘Yes, two Greek coffees,’ he continues, addressing the secretary now. ‘Please bring them up to the mayor’s office.’ Babis turns around and spots the mayor. ‘Better make that three coffees,’ he says.
‘Er,’ the minister starts again. ‘I think there’s been some confusion …’
‘Oh,’ says Babis, ‘don’t you want a coffee?’
‘Oh no, it’s not that. It’s just that … You do know I’m not the minister?’
Babis freezes. Not the minister? But the Mercedes, and the sharp suit, the polished shoes. If he is not the minister, then who is he?
‘No,’ the man continues, ‘I am his assistant. The minister is travelling separately with his wife, and he asked me to let you know that he will be a few minutes late … I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience?’
The panic that Babis feels must show on his face immediately, because a concerned look comes over the not-minister’s face now, and he puts a hand on Babis’s arm.
‘Don’t worry, my boy,’ he says kindly. ‘The minister will be along in a few minutes, and if the display you have ready for him is anything like the introductory show I just saw, I’m sure you’ll get on like a house on fire!’
Also by Sara Alexi
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