Another cackle escaped me. Angus laughed, but only briefly. Phaedra’s eyes flicked towards us and then away.
Angus leaned towards me again, whispering, “Do you want me to go and talk to Leo, Bronte, and tell him he’s a feckin’ toerag doing this?”
“No. He probably didn’t know.” I dipped my head towards Thekla, who was piling her plate with barbecued octopus.
“Ah, I get it. She had to get even with you for snaring her favourite,” said Angus, his eyebrows bunching with intent to commit some kind of felony.
I nodded. “Maybe, but let’s all keep calm,” I said, dousing my rising stomach acid with a quick gulp of water.
Underneath the table I heard Zeffy growl lightly. Perhaps he’d picked up a change in mood and didn’t like it, or the roast lamb had awakened his senses. Then he growled louder.
Thekla pulled up the tablecloth.
“Panayia mou! You have that vromiko dog under the table, Bronte?” she said with a grimace.
“Yes, and that’s where he’s staying. And he’s not filthy as you say,” I snapped.
Phaedra flipped up the tablecloth and glanced at the dog. More cautious than critical, I thought. Trying to catch a glimpse of his molars perhaps. Eve was daintily eating her appetisers and quaffing wine, occasionally giving me a sisterly smile. I saw her appraising Phaedra from time to time, as if wondering how she might one day work her into the plot of a romantic thriller of some kind, if she could actually ever write one.
I skulled a half glass of white wine, poured another and smoothed my dress over my knees, trying to gather my thoughts. But whatever I did, I knew the afternoon was finished now. I watched as Adonis at the spit started to carve lamb onto two large platters and one of the women brought them over to the long table. Bowls of salad and baskets of bread were also brought and we tucked into lunch. Leonidas chose to sit at his own small table near the kitchen, sharing it with the women and the lamb carver, safe for now.
The lamb was delicious and despite momentarily having lost my appetite, I was suddenly starving and decided to at least enjoy the food, and most especially the wine. Zeffy was getting restive again and when no-one was watching, I took some of the grisly morsels from the platter that no-one else wanted and slipped them under the table. That was a mistake, of course, because it made him want more.
After the main meal, the village women offered the plates of dessert, the things that everyone had brought: galaktoboureko (custard pie), sticky baklava and plates of fruit. It was quite a feast. Now and then I saw Leonidas in the distance enjoying his lunch and laughing with the villagers. He was always easy with most people, able to fit in. It was one of the things I’d always loved about him up until now, and his essential goodness. He never spoke to Phaedra, who kept a vigil by Thekla’s side. Beauty and the beast.
With a lull in the proceedings, I wandered over to ask Adonis if I might have some of the leftover bits for the ‘skilos’. I thought he’d pull a face, but as there was plenty of meat left over, and some of it less edible, he was only too happy to pile a small paper plate with meat and a piece of the barbecued kokoretsi. This is a Greek specialty for these occasions, a long sausage construction stuffed with different bits of offal, like a kind of Hellenic haggis. I wandered back to the table and made sure that Thekla saw the pile of meat as I slipped it under the table for the dog. I could hear Zeffy sluicing it down. Only the piece of kokoretsi was left. I should have kept that back for later – that was my biggest mistake. I momentarily forgot about Zeffy’s habit of hiding food, like an obsessive magpie. Often, I found food in the house in odd places, in corners, under furniture – once I discovered a chicken bone hidden inside a vase.
When he got to the kokoretsi there was no turning back. He bolted out from under the table so fast that his collar came off and it lay on the ground at the end of the lead, trapped under the leg of my chair. He dashed into the garden, with the kokoretsi clamped in his mouth like a trophy.
Everyone looked up to see what the dog was doing. Thekla mouthed something in Greek. Leonidas turned and gave me a disapproving look. Angus was mumbling about more clusterfucks. Myrto was laughing.
“Better than an Aussie barbie this one, Bronte,” she said, slapping her knees with mirth.
I ran down the garden after the dog, feeling like one of those bad mothers in a British supermarket, chasing a tearaway kid down the aisles. When I got near him, where he was sheltering under a vibrant orange tree, he thought this was some kind of game and leapt about, the ends of the sausage flapping. I chased him, my kitten heels gouging out divots on a patch of pristine lawn. I cursed loudly. I began to regret having brought Zeffy at all.
“Come here, Zeffy,” I cajoled. I knew I wouldn’t catch him. He was too young and wily. He took off back up the garden towards the pool while everyone watched. I noticed Thekla with her pinched eyes. Other Greeks were harrumphing with annoyance. How nice it must have been for everyone to see the xeni woman making a spectacle of herself while the woman who rightfully should have been at the head of the table, in their view perhaps, was skulking prettily on the side lines. I saw Angus making towards Zeffy with the lead and collar in his hand.
Zeffy stopped at the edge of the pool, the kokoretsi still in his mouth. He was staring at the second thing in the world he loved most: a big body of water, something to swim in. Oh no, he wouldn’t, surely! But what he did was so much more. In the middle of the pool was a blow-up plastic lilo, which Leonidas had put there, thinking some guest would actually want to dip in the pool today, apart from the dog. Zeffy launched himself off the side of the pool with a big belly-flop, which sent an arc of water my way, splashing the front of my lovely dress, soaking my shoes. Sharp intake of breath from the diners. With the kokoretsi still clamped in his mouth he paddled to the lilo and clambered onto it. Safe from human killjoys, he devoured the treat in a few satisfied gulps as everyone looked on in disgust. Dogs in Greece were barely tolerated in the sea, definitely not in posh swimming pools.
“Poli kako, bad dog, Zeffy,” I shouted, more for my self-respect than anything else. But despite my soaking, there was a bit of me that now applauded Zeffy’s spirit, his paw up to the established view of canines. It all seemed amusing until he decided that a proper swim was now in order and belly-flopped straight back into the water, swimming around in big circles, barking at anyone who came near or attempted an expulsion. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Leonidas bounce from his chair and rush over. He’d lost his cool and looked angry. Not something I’d seen often.
“Really, Bronte, I can’t have the dog in the water. I asked you to keep him under control,” he said angrily.
Angus was at the side of the pool, bending down, trying to grab Zeffy as he streamed past. Round and round he swam, enjoying his moment in the sun, a ‘catch me if you can’ expression flashing in his brown eyes, celebrating his new liberated life.
Leonidas gave me a look of sharp entreaty.
“Well, I’m not going in for him, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I snapped back at him.
Leonidas walked off towards a small shed under the house, to find something long, I assumed, to hoist Zeffy out of the pool. It was Adonis who had the most sense, and seemed to be the only one of the Greeks enjoying this impromptu entertainment. He brought me over a chunk of lamb and pointed to the dog. Brilliant. I held it up for Zeffy and in seconds he had managed to scramble out of the pool but not before he’d given himself one last almighty shake, which sent plumes of water over some of the Greeks at the table, splashing me across the face. As soon as I dropped the meat in front of him, he’d downed it, and Angus managed to slip the collar over his head, grabbed the lead and took him back to the table.
“Can you keep a hold of him, Angus? I need to clean up a bit,” I said, sitting down for a moment as I fetched my handbag from under the table.
“You’re fine as you are, Bronte.” He gave me an expression of comical paternalism, then flicked his eyes in Phaedra’s direction and pull
ed a sour face.
Eve hadn’t said very much but I could tell she was soaking up the antics of the day with certain mirth.
“My dress is soaked down the front. You’ll be sorry you gave it to me,” I said to her.
“Don’t worry, Bronte, there are more dresses where that came from. And I’m just loving the entertainment. I didn’t know Greek Easter could be this lively,” she said quite loudly, for a bit of benign mischief of her own, I thought.
That made me smile as I strode off to the house just as Leonidas was walking out with a net on a long pole, as if on some doomed fishing expedition.
“Don’t worry, it’s all sorted now,” I said, waving my arm airily towards the pool. He gave me a chilly look.
I made my way up to the main bathroom in the villa. The house was cool and quiet with its light marble floors and pale furniture. Despite having chosen to live in Villa Anemos with Angus, I did like the solitude and quietness of Villa Ambelia and it was especially welcome then, far from the chaos below. In the bathroom I managed to pat the dress dry. No damage there. I wiped my face, reapplied some make-up and sorted my hair. When I left the bathroom, I found Leonidas sitting in the living room, waiting for me.
“Sit here for a minute, Bronte,” he said quietly. His mood had lightened, but not much. I sat on the opposite sofa, brushing my hand over the dress nervously.
He was about to say something but I rushed in first. “Don’t criticise the dog, please. It’s not his fault.”
“You didn’t have to bring him though.”
I held up my hands. “I like the dog. My choice. You didn’t have to invite Phaedra.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t. Thekla must have gone to the church in Kalamata for the Sunday service. She must have seen Phaedra and invited her back here. I don’t have the whole story but it’s not an issue, Bronte. Today, everyone socialises.”
“But Phaedra didn’t have to come …” It occurred to me that she should have been in church in Koroni, where her family and she were always supposed to celebrate Easter together, or so Polly had once told me. But I let the point go.
“Phaedra wouldn’t have come if she didn’t think she was welcome; if you two weren’t still comfortable together,” I said, petulantly.
“We’re not together at all,” he replied impatiently.
“Angus saw you both together in the city, looking very friendly. He even took a photo, with his mobile.”
“Really!” he said, more surprised, I thought, that Angus – who’d always been a Luddite with mobiles – had actually taken a photo.
“Yes. It’s a very cosy image.”
He sighed. “But pictures can be deceiving.”
“Maybe. Look, it’s no big deal. But the fact is you’ve kept all this a secret.”
“Phaedra came for Easter and wanted to see me, to talk. She has some problems with her life in England. She wanted to talk to me about them.”
“What problems?”
“I cannot say, Bronte. She wouldn’t want that. It is confidential.”
“Can’t you give me a clue?”
He was quiet a moment, his face turned towards the view from the window, as if collecting his thoughts, but when he looked back at me, I could see his eyes beginning to simmer with annoyance. Why all this faff and secrecy over Phaedra’s problems? I wondered. Were they matters of national security?
Then the thought plopped into my head.
“Perhaps the issue is … she wants to come back to Greece. She misses her family, her life here? Am I right?”
“In the middle of this economic crisis?”
“Maybe.”
I could tell he wasn’t enjoying this much and the less he said, the more I tried to fill in the gaps out of sheer frustration.
“Isn’t it the case that it’s not Greece she wants, it’s you! Maybe you’ve both decided you made a mistake – splitting up. It was all very sudden.”
“I haven’t made a mistake, Bronte. And you know how I feel about you.”
I said nothing. He came out with a torrent of Greek and I was clueless, except for the word ‘Thekla’, several times. I hoped he was damning her to hell.
“The point is, Leo, you told me you had family business to sort out last weekend. You lied – it was all about Phaedra.”
“In a way, but I wanted to give her advice quietly before she left for England.”
“And have you?”
“I think so.”
There are some expressions in the English language I don’t like because they are ‘leaky’ in my mind, never quite embracing the truth, and ‘I think so’ is up there with them. It’s an expression that sounds reassuring but it’s often a giant get-out clause that leaves the way open for a change of heart.
I took a deep breath to calm my mind. I felt weary all of a sudden.
“Maybe it’s more complicated than we all know,” I said quietly. “Maybe you should examine your heart a bit more, Leo. As I should perhaps. And I think it would be best if I don’t see you just for a bit. I want time to think things through.”
He sighed with annoyance. “Think what through? Ach, Bronte. Don’t let Phaedra’s problems come between us. It’s nothing you should be worried about, trust me!”
“But the problems have come between us already. Whoever invited Phaedra, she’s here now and it looks bad,” I said, getting up and smoothing out the front of my dress again, like some Sorority Princess who’s had a bad night at the Prom. He stood up as well and came towards me, trying to give me a hug. But I pulled away.
“Let’s talk later on today, when everyone’s gone,” he said.
“I’ve got nothing more to say right now. Maybe we’ll talk next weekend,” I said, turning and walking out of the room.
On the way down the stairs I saw Phaedra ascending quickly, like a smooth homing pigeon. There was no way to avoid her. I was a couple of steps above her. She smiled. It was perfunctory but I got a sharp view of very white straight teeth, as you’d expect of a dentist, and attractive dark eyes.
I didn’t want to play the wounded heroine so I said, “Hi, Phaedra. Leo tells me you’re working in Brighton.”
She looked uncomfortable and took a moment to answer. “Yes, I’ve been there well over a year now,” she said in perfect English.
“That’s nice,” I said stepping down a stair, ready to bolt, but she continued, “It’s very strange, is it not, that you are living in my country now and I am living in yours. The crisis has …”
I cut across her. “Yes, curious, but I am loving your country despite the crisis.”
“And I yours,” she added, looking comically shocked.
Liar, I thought, as I bade her farewell and dashed down the stairs, out of the house and into the garden. Now the only real thing I’d ever remember favourably about Phaedra was her teeth.
I got back to the table to find Angelos sitting on the other side of Eve, having a laugh over something, their shoulders slightly hunched together, which didn’t surprise me at all. He was young and attractive and Eve was at her charming best. I glanced quickly around the assembled guests and knew that the image of the pair would cause a frisson of interest, no more probably. But Thekla, who was communing with one of the village women, noticed everything. She had eyes like a fly that seemed to look everywhere at once and I knew they were darting towards Eve and Angelos frequently. I wondered if Eve, despite her years of coming and going to Greece, really understood the dynamics of the Greek village. Perhaps not. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Myrto looked a bit tipsy. Angus also.
I kissed Eve on the cheek. “I’ll be off now, if you don’t mind. I must change anyway. I’m so annoyed that Zeffy splashed the dress.”
She whispered in my ear, “Pity you have to leave but I quite understand, Bronte. I’d do the same. And what a brass neck, that minx turning up at lunch.”
I nodded.
“Come over and see me one day soon,” she said, before turning back to Angelos. I
caught his glance just before I turned to go.
“Bye, Bronte. Thank you for the invite today. It was fun!” he said, with a faltering look in his eyes, before he carried on his chatter with Eve. It was that look that children get when they’ve been caught out doing a slightly naughty thing. Ach, it wasn’t my problem, but I’d been here long enough to know that, actually, it probably was.
Chapter 18
A woman and her mangas
Angus decided to leave with me, saying he was tired with all the excitement, but I knew he was doing it out of a sense of loyalty, which was sweet, especially as I knew some of the Greeks were his regular drinking buddies. Adonis rushed over to say goodbye before we left, handing over a bag with more leftovers. He was laughing and pointing at Zeffy. “O skilos, einai poli mangas.”
Angus laughed and slapped the man on the back.
“What did Adonis say?” I asked as we walked towards Villa Anemos. I slipped my arm through his.
“The dog’s a mangas, a real character, a daredevil, that kind of thing. A compliment.”
“He’s right. Zeffy knows how to stir up the disapproving masses.”
“He’s Greek. You don’t spend months on the street without becoming a rebel.”
“So it seems.”
“By the way, pet, I don’t know if I said it before but you looked absolutely beautiful today in that dress. You just glowed. Still do, despite your baptism by Zeffy. I was proud of you.”
“Thanks, Angus, that means a lot coming from you,” I said, my eyes prickling a bit with tears. “I should have stayed longer at the lunch. Leaving looks like total defeat, but I couldn’t stay. I would’ve lost my temper in the end.”
“You did the right thing, Bronte. Sometimes keeping your dignity means more than winning.”
Back home, we sat on the kitchen balcony. It was still hot and the gulf was calm, with serried rows of fluffy clouds scudding overhead. Now and then we could hear a peal of laughter from Villa Ambelia and the sound of Greek music drifting up from the pool area. I dreaded the lunch would morph into a party in our absence, with singing and dancing, which would ramp up my resentment even more.
How Greek Is Your Love Page 17