by Sara Alexi
‘How much?’ She is a little shocked by his display of poverty.
‘To you, lady, it is cheap.’ He shows her the price tag. Not even the price of a coffee at her favourite restaurant back home. It’s obviously not really silver, but it is pretty. Without quibbling, she fishes in her pockets and pays. He takes the money with a broad grin. ‘A watch for your husband?’ he persists, at which point a waiter walks past, pausing to see if the man is being a nuisance. The man looks nervous and moves on.
Sarah admires her bracelet. She pinches the hook to keep it closed; the metal feels soft. Still, it is pretty.
Looking up, she sees Stella and her husband heading towards her. What was his name? She shrinks a little into her chair. She does not wish to be unfriendly, but she would just like this time on her own. It may be the only chance she gets to sit here in her own company out in the town. They get closer. Sarah picks up the menu, feigns interest, lifts it a little higher.
‘Hello, you need help with the menu? They do have English ones you know.’ Stella’s voice is so full of life, it lifts away Sarah’s reservation with these words.
‘Hello Stella, hello ... ‘ Sarah turns to the man but she still cannot recall his name.
‘Mitsos,’ Stella bubbles and she takes his arm. The sleeve of his left arm is ironed flat and tucked into his trousers. ‘Have you tried the, how you say, balls and honey? It’s very good, but that is Greek. They have waffles, too.’
Mitsos speaks quietly in Stella’s ear.
‘He would like to offer you the balls and honey because it is Greek and you are in Greece,’ she interprets.
‘Oh how kind. Will you join me?’ Sarah puts down the menu and Stella pulls out a chair to sit, pats the one next to her whilst making eye contact with Mitsos. He is clearly a good few years her senior, but they seem so happy.
‘You are liking the Greece?’ Stella asks.
‘Well it has been a bit of an emotional roller coaster so far.’
‘Rolla Kosta. What is this?’ Thin skin crinkles above her nose, her eyes narrow, and she thinks.
‘No. Roller coaster. It is a fairground ride, you get in a ...’ She is about to say ‘carriage’ but thinks this might lead to another explanation, ‘seat and it goes along a track like a train, only it goes up and down.’ She uses her hands to explain, ‘So quickly, sometimes your heart is in your mouth.’ She wonders if Stella will understand.
‘Ah, like the Crazy Mouse at Allou.’ She nods her understanding. She sits up straight. ‘Ah, I understand, the emotions you have been having are up and down like the Crazy Mouse ride.’
‘Yes,’ Sarah agrees and makes a mental note to Google the Crazy Mouse.
‘Oh, so you no have fun?’
‘Well, in between, I can see Greece is a very beautiful place.’
‘Very beautiful.’ Stella looks at Mitsos.
‘Have you guys been married long?’ Sarah asks on a hunch.
Stella turns to Mitsos and speaks in Greek. He smiles as Stella answers, ‘Nearly two years now.’
‘Ah newlyweds,’ Sarah sighs.
‘But we know each other for many, many years, only I was in a bad marriage.’ The joy drops from Stella’s eyes.
‘Oh I am sorry.’
‘Ha, ha.’ Stella laughs. ‘It was he who was sorry and Mitsos chased him off.’ She wraps an arm around his.
‘It seems everyone has a bad relationship somewhere in their lives.’ Sarah sighs. Mitsos talks to the waiter.
‘If you stay long enough, Greece will heal everything. You just have to be, pos to lene.’ She talks in Greek, trying to remember a word. ‘Ypomoni. Ah yes, patience. We need patience. Nothing happens quickly but like the Crazy Mouse, the fun is in enjoying the ride.’
Sarah wonders if Nicolaos has enjoyed his ride. Greece did not heal his rift.
‘Do you know Nicolaos the shepherd?’ Sarah asks.
‘The Australian.’ Stella smiles.
‘Yes, but he’s Greek, isn’t he?’
‘But there is another Nicolaos who has sheep, so he is The Australian who has sheep.’
Sarah cannot fault the logic. A bird lands on the back of an empty chair at the table next to them. She watches it watching them, surveying the table for food. Their ‘balls and honey’ arrive and reveal themselves to be deep fried dough balls sprinkled with cinnamon and drenched in honey. They are light and crisp and delicious.
‘Loukoumades,’ Stella says, pointing to them with her fork. Three forks, one plate of dessert. Sarah cannot reply, as her mouth is full. She would like to know about Nicolaos but she feels it would be pressing the point to ask twice.
‘You have met Nicolaos the Australian?’ Stella asks, a laden fork by her mouth.
‘Yes, a couple of times when I have been out walking.’
Stella cuts up a honey ball and, stabbing a piece with a fork, lays it, heel end, towards Mitsos to pick up. Sarah watches the bird, now perched on the next table. Stella and Mitsos make eye contact.
‘Heart of gold that Nicolaos,’ Stella says, breaking her stare and turning back to Sarah. ‘He went out to Australia because his wife wanted it, came back from Australia because his wife wanted it. Now I hear she is not to follow, after all that work he has done.’
‘Work?’ Sarah asks, setting about another honey ball, cutting it with the edge of her fork and trying to scoop some walnut pieces up with it.
‘Yes, he came back to get everything ready. The house was shut up for a decade, needed so much work, then he got the sheep together, planted the vegetables, but she did not come. She says she would come in the following year, but now it is the next year and she is not coming. Instead he has rented out the place and he lives in the old shepherd cottage.’
‘So Greece did not heal his problems,’ Sarah says, hoping she isn’t showing too much interest.
‘Ha ha. That is where people who know his wife would disagree with you.’ She breaks into a gurgle of laughter and Mitsos says something in Greek, to which she replies. For a fleeting moment, a cloud crosses his face, but Stella’s laughter continues and his face lightens until he, too, chuckles.
‘Is she really that bad?’
‘His family will have nothing to do with her. They say she’s dilitirio, er, how you say, poison. But all these years he has been loyal to her and has not seen his family for her sake. So I hope now he will realise she is gone and be with his family once again. It would be a good thing.’
Sarah scrapes the last of the honey from the plate, hoping she does not appear too rude.
‘Kala, den einai?’ Mitsos says to her. She looks to Stella.
‘He says they are good, aren’t they?’
‘How do I say yes?’
‘Nai.’
Sarah turns to Mitsos, ‘Nai.’ It falls way short of a conversation so to emphasise it she says it twice more. ‘Nai, nai.’ The laughter is in his eyes as he nods in agreement.
‘Nicolaos has grown wise with his problems,’ Stella continues. ‘One time, by the side of the road, he was smiling, looking at his sheep. So I say, "You are happy today," and he says, in Greek,’ she pauses. ‘Wait I think of it in English—ah yes, he says "The earth asks nothing of me so I ask what can I give to the earth and the earth replies ‘Happiness. Be happy and make the world a happier place. So I try." That is what he said.’
Sarah can see Nicolaos sitting watching his sheep, saying this. She wishes him all the happiness in the world. Stella is taking to Mitsos, whose voice is like the hum of bees, warm and quiet. Sarah would love to speak the language, hear what he has to say, find out about his life. He has such kind eyes.
‘Mitsos just told me that Nicolaos said something to him once. He ... ‘ She pats Mitsos’s shoulder to show to whom she is referring. ‘ ...was talking through his thoughts with him as he was wondering whether to take me on a round-the-world cruise.’ Sarah raises her eyebrows as Stella says this, but then reins in her preconceptions. Why should they not have enough money to do as they will? She
cannot presume everyone is a poor farmer just because it suits her picture of the Greek village. Stella is concentrating as she listens to Mitsos and then translates, ‘Nicolaos thought about the idea of a round-the-world trip for a minute and then replied, ‘There are two types of dreams: one to realise, the other is to be there only to create hope, a direction, a reason.’
Sarah absorbs the words. How does someone decide which dreams you are meant to realise and which to hold as hope? More fundamentally, how does she create some dream in the first place?
‘Ah that only applies if you have dreams.’ Sarah tries to make light of her thoughts, but Stella’s face becomes serious.
‘You have to know what you want. How else can you live your life?’ she says. Sarah’s mouth tightens; she links her fingers on her lap.
Mitsos speaks to Stella, and Sarah looks away. She would like to be alone again now. She watches the children playing football, using the tourists as obstacles to improve their skills. Women saunter slowly in their fine dresses, a gypsy woman holds a hundred balloons, offering them to children, asking the parents to pay. It is hard to believe it is still warm so late. Looking up, the branches of the tree hang beneath a pink-tinged sky. It is a wonderful country. She is really lucky to be here, to see all this, to meet the people she has met. If she had not come, everything would have stayed the same. Nothing would have changed, and this shift she can sense is happening to her would never have been catalysed.
She looks back to Stella and Mitsos. Lovely people, she decides, and it must show on her face as they smile at her in unison.
But the question remains as to how to make the most of all this. She might feel like something is changing, but until something actually changes, everything is the same.
‘Okay, we go now. We are meeting people.’ Stella stands. Mitsos is paying the waiter.
‘Oh okay. Thank you for the honey balls.’ Now they are going, Sarah wants them to stay.
‘Lou-kou-mades.’ Stella breaks down the word.
‘Loo-koo-mar-thez.’ Sarah tries. ‘Well, thank you again,’ She catches Mitsos’s eye. He says something directly to her.
‘He says that he thinks Nicolaos was right, but he adds that some dreams are a blessing and a blessing ignored becomes a curse.’
Mitsos says something more. Stella looks horrified before she smiles, her open hand coming down on his chest in a gentle slap.
‘He is teasing. He says that I am proof. I am a blessing to him but if he ignores me, I become a curse.’ She laughs again and her hair swings and she takes her husband’s arm and they wander off toward the seafront.
Sarah watches them go before wiping her mouth well with a serviette, wondering if that was a normal conversation for Greece. To her, it felt a bit bizarre but fascinating to know more about Nicolaos. Yawning, she checks the time. Laurence and the boys will be back soon. She feels too tired to face them—well, Laurence anyway. They will smell of the sea, their skins all fresh, rosy cheeked. Laurence will be puffed up if he has steered the boat or explained to anyone about the sails.
If she goes down to the harbour now, she will see them coming in from afar.
The water is like black glass, the sky now dark. The mountains on the other side of the bay are just visible, black against black, twinkling lights picking out helmets and villages.
A purring of an engine comes from around the headland. There are no sails; there is no wind. She hopes their evening has gone well and that Finn has phoned or at least texted Helena.
The boat pulls in stern first. Sarah catches the rope and loops it over a bollard. She grins at her boys but they are not smiling. The other passengers are, especially the couple and the captain. With a deep breath, Sarah wonders what’s happened now.
Finn is first off.
Chapter 17
‘Did you have a good time?’
No one answers. Laurence shakes the captain’s hand.
They all walk to the car solemnly. Sarah grabs Laurence’s wrist. He looks back at her, his eyebrows raised. She yanks at him to slow his pace.
‘Now what?’ she whispers, releasing him.
‘Finn phoned Helena, tried to make it up with her. They seemed to be getting on well, they were even laughing, but then he said something about Pru, so now the boys have had a fight.’
‘Oh for goodness sake, everyone is acting like they are kids.’ She will corner Finn later, find out how things are with Helena.
‘The sailing was good, though. The captain was an interesting man, speaks several languages. Last year, apparently, he was held up by a pirate at gunpoint who wanted to sail to Morocco or somewhere. He has a commemorative plaque awarded by the police. A very interesting man.’ There is admiration in Laurence’s voice. She looks back to take another look at the sailor, who is round-bellied with thinning hair and sturdy legs. The captain looks up and smiles and the most notable feature is his eyes, as if the wisdom of the world lays behind them. She almost wishes she had gone along, too. Maybe he could have made some sense of her life.
‘Come on.’ Laurence is stepping into the car, impatient.
They drop Joss at his hotel. Finn does not say goodbye to him, and they drive home in silence. The term dysfunctional family comes into Sarah’s head. She always thought that was reserved for families on low income, or unmarried mothers with hundreds of children, but there is no avoiding that her family is not functioning.
Finn goes to bed on the sofa with a grunt of a goodnight. Laurence is in bed and sleeping by the time Sarah has finished her shower. She looks out of the bedroom window, the fig tree silhouetted against a million stars. If she wasn’t too tired, she would go for a walk beneath them, walk and walk until she found her dream.
The next morning, Finn goes out for a walk, taking his phone, and Sarah sits quietly as Laurence looks through his e-mails.
‘So was the wind strong enough yesterday?’ Sarah ventures. Maybe if she and Laurence functioned, it would be a start. But then, it is not as if they do not function, they just don’t have much to say to each other. Sure, they talk about what she is going to prepare for dinner for the days he is home during the week, how the garden is coming on each year, his timetable and destinations for the month, and the boys.
‘It was,’ there is a long pause as he types, ‘alright.’
‘Did you have to tack?’ Sarah tries to recall some of the sailing terms.
‘What?’ He glances at her before resuming his typing.
With a sigh, Sarah gets up.
If she walks down the lane, she might meet Finn coming back, find out if everything is alright with Helena. But really, she almost doesn’t care any more. Everyone is so stuck in their own bubble. Maybe she will walk up to Liz’s, take some wine, start the day as she would like it to carry on.
Down at the lane’s end, the floppy dog runs past and back, avoiding being petted. One of the women in black, whom she has seen several times, mostly when the van is there selling its assortment of goods, is walking from one house to another. She waves and calls ‘Yia.’
‘Yia,’ Sarah replies, and some of the weight on her shoulders lifts. Finn turns the corner.
‘Are you speaking Greek to the locals?’ he asks, smiling.
‘Of course, and you are smiling.’
‘I am meeting her tomorrow in Saros for a coffee. Away from both families.’
‘I am glad it’s all blowing over. It’ll be fine.’ A little weight lifts from her shoulders.
‘Well, if I play my cards right. Where are you going anyway?’ He cannot stop grinning. It fills Sarah’s heart with joy.
‘I thought I would go and see Liz. Do you want to come, or shall we do something else?’
‘No, you go. I am going to laze by the pool, get a tan for the wedding day.’
‘Ah, so it’s back on then.’ She winks.
‘Well she hasn’t said as much, but I made her laugh.’ All the smile lines around his eyes crease. ‘See you later then.’ And off he marches, energy in his st
eps, looking so much younger than he did yesterday.
There is a chance she will meet Nicolaos on the walk up through the olive grove to Liz’s. He will probably be sitting there, camouflaged with the goats under the blue-green olive leaves. She wonders how old he is. Laurence is fifteen years older than her, but there is no way he is as old as Laurence. It reminds her Neville will be sixty-six soon; she must remember to get a card. The age difference between Liz and Neville and her and Laurence seemed almost insurmountable even for friendship when they first met, but as the years slipped by, the age gap seemed to get smaller, the difference acceptable. It is the young she increasingly struggles to understand these days. Having said that, there is an edge of comfort in Laurence’s advancing years. If nothing else, it makes her feel young.
She turns into the olive grove where the cicadas are rasping loudly, but there is no sign of any goats or their shepherd. The disappointment she feels seems completely inappropriate and she reminds herself that she is married and that Nicolaos has shown only friendship. The rest is in her mind. Before she can ask herself what she means by the rest, she shakes her head and decides it is better not to know.
Concentrating on her immediate surroundings, she watches a thin lizard zig-zagging the track, then rustling off into the dried grass. She can smell the heat in the trees, the dryness coming up from the ground. It is an anti-climax that she reaches Liz’s drive, leaving nature behind and returning to tarmac. Deflated, Sarah enters Liz’s house through the patio.
‘Hey Sarah, how nice. Liz is not up yet.’ Neville jumps up from his chair in the shade, puts his newspaper on the seat, and opens his arms to greet her.