Float the Goat

by Katerina Nikolas

  FLOAT the GOAT

  Book 6 in The Greek Meze Series

  KATERINA NIKOLAS

  FLOAT the GOAT

  Copyright © 2018 Katerina Nikolas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Many Thanks to Brenda for First Edits and to George for Edits.

  Cover Design by Yuse Art Works

  Interior Formatting by The Book Khaleesi

  CONTENTS

  Other Books in the Greek Meze Series

  Chapter 1

  Over the Edge

  Chapter 2

  A Clapped Out Contraption

  Chapter 3

  Secrets and Lies

  Chapter 4

  Shocking Pink Plastic Busts

  Chapter 5

  Positively Putrescent

  Chapter 6

  A Passion for Embroidery

  Chapter 7

  Done up Like a Dog’s Dinner

  Chapter 8

  Springing a Meringue Surprise

  Chapter 9

  A Flasher’s Mac

  Chapter 10

  Paella and Sangria

  Chapter 11

  A Pungently Presumptuous Guest

  Chapter 12

  Bald Yannis is Diagnosed with a Syndrome

  Chapter 13

  A Far-Fetched Fishy Fib

  Chapter 14

  Skinny Dipping in the Moonlight

  Chapter 15

  Trifled Affections

  Chapter 16

  Stumped by an Artichoke

  Chapter 17

  A Vacant Position

  Chapter 18

  Soula Plants a Seed

  Chapter 19

  Scissor Happy in the Salon

  Chapter 20

  Discovering a Duck in the Plumbing Aisle

  Chapter 21

  Goodly News for Soula

  Chapter 22

  Voula Receives a Generous Gift of Poo

  Chapter 23

  The Grand Opening of the Tourist Tat Annex

  Chapter 24

  A Disaster and a Delivery

  Chapter 25

  Happy with Granny

  Chapter 26

  The Grand Greek Tour

  Chapter 27

  Bald Yannis the Gigolo

  Chapter 28

  Impatient Patients

  Chapter 29

  Shaking off the Chaperone

  Chapter 30

  Doctor Konstantinoupoleos, I Presume

  Chapter 31

  Quentin Loses Deirdre

  Chapter 32

  Chicken Soup and Taverna Barriers

  Chapter 33

  Deirdre Drifts in the Dark

  Chapter 34

  Tall Thomas Goes Courting

  Chapter 35

  Drilling for a Dowry

  Chapter 36

  Holy Goats and Amorous Seals

  Chapter 37

  A Lucky Escape

  Chapter 38

  A Midget Blancmange

  Chapter 39

  Waiting at the Altar

  Chapter 40

  A Beautiful Bride

  Chapter 41

  Goat Afloat

  Other Books in the Greek Meze Series

  Book 1: Goat in the Meze

  Book 2: Rampaging Roosters

  Book 3: Olive Virgins

  Book 4: Goatly Goings On

  Book 5: Greek Capers

  Chapter 1

  Over the Edge

  Quentin’s vision was obscured by droplets of stinging sweat dripping from his sun-reddened forehead into his eyes as he ineptly negotiated the hazardous hair-pin mountain bends in the unreliable old banger. Beside him Deirdre was busily slapping Greek yoghurt onto her sunburn, smearing it into the gritty salt encrusted deposit left on her skin from the afternoon’s swim.

  The hapless American couple had enjoyed a summer drive, discovering an idyllic little cove for a refreshing afternoon dip. As it lacked a shower Deirdre had simply thrown a caftan over her sodden swimsuit when they departed, leaving her inflamed skin uncomfortably wet. Luckily, she’d remembered her Greek neighbours had recommended yoghurt as an alternative antidote to vinegar for sunburn and there was a tub conveniently in the car. Unfortunately it had ‘turned’ in the hot sun and it gave Deirdre a distinctively rancid smell of sour goat’s milk of which she was seemingly oblivious to.

  Leaning over she smeared a dollop of yoghurt on Quentin’s nose, remarking, “This should stop you from peeling, dear.”

  “I think we should start swimming in sun hats like the Greeks do,” he suggested, wiping the beads of sweat from his eyes and tentatively peeling a layer of red skin from beneath his comb-over. “It was a beautiful spot though; the sea was so calm and clear.”

  “It was like a languorous warm bath,” Deirdre agreed, choosing to forget her close encounter with the water was entirely accidental. She’d been turning lobster red on a floating lilo until the violent wash from the vibrations of an obnoxious oik on a jet-ski had shaken her into the sea.

  Taking time away from her yoghurt ministrations she admired the azure blue water glistening hazily in the distance through a host of olive trees and summer foliage.

  “Quentin, stop,” Deirdre suddenly commanded shrilly just as the old banger rounded a sharp hair-pin bend.

  The rubber tyres screeched on the hot asphalt as the car skidded dangerously before coming to an abrupt halt. Quentin’s face drained of colour, horrified he may have unwittingly managed to road-kill a goat.

  “Have I hit something?” he asked shakily.

  “No, but I absolutely must get a cutting of that herb over there,” Deirdre replied, rummaging around in her enormous handbag to produce a trowel. As she dashed from the car with the garden implement poised to uproot some random greenery Quentin shouted, “Deirdre, get a move on, this is not a safe place to park.”

  His unease was amplified by a large truck hurtling towards the car with the driver blasting his horn in warning and making obscene gestures as he narrowly scraped by. Climbing back into the banger Deirdre offered the driver a cheery wave and tutted at Quentin’s impatience.

  “This herb will be a lovely addition to the garden Quentin and it’s so economical to take cuttings,” she observed, sticking her nose into the bunch of leaves she was clutching and sighing appreciatively.

  “That’s as may be Deirdre, but in future please confine your lust for cuttings to a straight stretch of road. It is far too dangerous to just stop anywhere that takes your fancy,” Quentin grumbled, thankful at least that the uprooted mountain shrubbery temporarily masked the revolting smell of rancid yoghurt.

  “Now buckle up dear.”

  Deirdre had just secured her seatbelt and Quentin was about to release the handbrake when a speeding pick-up truck rounded the corner, smashed into the back of the old banger and jolted the front wheels over the edge of the sheer mountain precipice. Deirdre’s scream scared the birds into flight as the old banger dangled precariously before settling into an unsteady wobble.

  “A goodly day to yous K-Went-In and Did-Rees, fancy seeing yous ‘ere,” the booming voice of the handsome Adonis greeted the two jinxed Americans as t
hey sat rigid with fright contemplating the steep drop in front of them, scared that even the slightest movement would send the old banger toppling over the edge. Adonis, completely oblivious to this, pushed his way through the shrubbery to extend a helping hand, making the old banger teeter terrifyingly.

  “You blasted fool Adoni, you were driving much too fast. Now look at the fine mess you’ve got us into,” Quentin barked angrily.

  “Yous was the fool K-Went-In, parkin’ up on a hair-pin bend,” Adonis replied huffily. “Just sit tight an’ Achilles an’ I will ‘ave yous out of ‘ere in a jiffy.”

  The grinning face of Achilles the borrowed builder appeared over Adonis’ shoulder and he observed,

  “It looks as though yous ‘ave overdone the sun Did-Rees, if yous dont’s take more care yous will end up looking like a wrinkled old handbag.”

  Deirdre, offended at the suggestion she was getting wrinkly, made a hasty adjustment to ensure the sodden caftan covered her décolletage and shrieked in horror as her clumsy movement caused the car to rock. Stretching a shaking hand through the open window she grabbed the hip flask of ouzo proffered by Adonis and took a generous slug, wondering if this was an opportune moment to take up smoking to steady her nerves.

  “Yous is lucky it is a windless day,” Adonis commented just as a breeze picked up, rattling the leaves on the olive trees and alarming Deirdre so much she ended up with a chin full of dribbled ouzo.

  “Do something instead of standing there gassing Adoni,” Quentin implored. “I don’t think you understand what a dangerous predicament we are in. We could plummet to a certain death at any moment.”

  “Quit yous griping K-Went-In, I ‘ave a sturdy rope in the pick-up,” Adonis assured him with a wink.

  Deirdre clenched her eyes tightly shut to avoid the sight of the precipitous drop, practising deep breathing to lessen her hysteria. Emitting a panicked scream at the sudden sensation of a wet tongue drooling along her arm, she shouted “Adoni, this is not a suitable time to get frisky.”

  Disgusted at the thought their Greek friend would try to take advantage of Deirdre at such an inopportune moment Quentin cried out “unhand my wife.” He felt extremely stupid when he turned his head to discover a random mountain goat slobbering over the yogurt on Deirdre’s arm while the two Greeks deftly attached a sturdy rope to the old banger’s rear bumper.

  Eager to gorge on more yoghurt the goat pressed itself against the side of the car, sticking its head directly through the open window, sending Deirdre into a further panic as it attempted to nestle intrusively into her ample bosom.

  “Don’t do anything to alarm it Deirdre, we may not survive any sudden movements,” Quentin advised as the car rocked from side to side. Exercising extreme caution he leant over Deirdre to wind up her window, effectively trapping the goat’s head in the frame.

  “Let the ‘andbrake off K-Went-In and ‘old on tight,” Achilles the borrowed builder boomed. “Adonis is about to pull you away from the edge.”

  With his heart in his mouth, Quentin looked at Deirdre and reluctantly released the hand brake. The old banger was abruptly yanked backwards to safety, taking the trapped goat with it.

  “Thank you for saving our lives,” Quentin gushed with gratitude.

  “Yous is welcome, think nothin’ of it,” Adonis replied, hopping out of the pick-up to examine the old banger. “Yous front underbit is bent all out of shape. I can tow yous to the next village an’ telephone my cousin Adonis the mechanic to come and get yous.”

  “Can’t you drop us back in Astakos?” Quentin asked, winding down the window to allow the goat to escape.

  “No can do K-Went-In. We ‘ave important business to attend to,” Adonis replied enigmatically. “I aven’t got time to be messing with the rope so I’ll ‘ave to tow yous backwards.”

  Deirdre took one look at the fickle goat now chewing its way through the rope and leapt from the old banger in almost indecent haste, clutching her cuttings and throwing herself into the pick-up where she announced,

  “I’ve had quite enough trauma for one day and have no intention of being dragged up a hill backwards by a flimsy rope.”

  Quentin, stung to the quick by Deirdre’s desertion, took a seat at the wheel of the bent out of shape banger, shaking his head in annoyance when Achilles the borrowed builder deposited the goat in the passenger seat to stop its relentless gnawing.

  “The least you can do is buckle up,” Quentin snapped at the goat, securing its safety belt. The strange coupling provided much merriment to a coach load of tourists stuck behind the clapped out old banger as it was towed backwards at a pitifully slow pace up the mountain.

  Resigned to being the butt of the tourists’ amusement Quentin lightened the moment by lifting the goat’s paw to manipulate a goatly wave.

  Chapter 2

  A Clapped Out Contraption

  “I can’t believe Adonis has dumped us up here in Ankinari,” Deirdre moaned, looking around the tiny deserted village and waving goodbye to their mountain rescuers. After their awful ordeal she just wanted to go home and shower, but they were stuck in a village named for an artichoke under the scorching sun waiting for Adonis the mechanic to show up and tow their car back to civilisation.

  “Deirdre, show some gratitude, Adonis saved our lives,” Quentin advised huffily, still smarting from the humiliation of being a laughing stock in front of a coach load of tourists.

  “Now, how about a nice drink in the shade whilst we wait for Adonis the mechanic to show up?” Quentin suggested.

  “You know there isn’t a kafenion up here,” Deirdre grouched, surveying the eerily empty village. The few houses all had their wooden shutters closed against the afternoon sun and the sound of barking reminded her that the village was home to a guard dog so fierce it had chewed through its chain.

  “But that old chap Pedros we met on our last visit here is sure to offer us a warm welcome, especially as we seem to have acquired a goat on our travels,” Quentin suggested, reminding Deirdre of the house they had gatecrashed, mistaking it for a taverna on their previous visit.

  “I’m in no mood for another encounter with that randy old goat-herder or his surly peasant daughter strapped into a neck-brace,” Deirdre said in a whining voice.

  Their sniping was interrupted by the arrival of old Pedros declaring, “That’s a fine looking specimen.”

  “We didn’t intend to kidnap the goat, it just came along for the ride,” Quentin jokingly explained.

  “I wasn’t talking about the goat,” Pedros quipped, winking lewdly at Deirdre.

  “Ah, this is Adonis the mechanic now,” Quentin said with relief when his mobile phone trilled. “Oh no, he can’t get up here for hours,” he added after a quick conversation with the mechanic.

  “Leave the car ‘ere for the mechanic an’ I’ll drop yous back in Rapanaki,” the old goat-herder offered, remembering the American pair lived next door to Fotini who he’d not seen for many years. He smiled at the memory of the fine-looking woman Fotini had been in her youth, so full of spirit, though it still hurt him to the quick that she had rejected his advances.

  “That does sound like the ideal solution,” Quentin agreed eagerly as the old goat-herder stomped off to arrange transport.

  “Just as long as I don’t have to sit next to him,” Deirdre hissed at Quentin. “The randy old fellow has wandering hands, not to mention he stinks of goats.”

  “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll protect you from Pedros’ groping,” Quentin assured his wife. “I can’t wait to see Fotini’s face when we drive up with him. I suspect there’s a bit of history between them.

  “It may be interesting. Fotini certainly has an aversion to men, look how she’s always labelling you a pervert.”

  “It could be amusing if he turns out to be an old suitor of hers,” Quentin laughed. “Though he won’t get very far even if he still has designs on the old crone. Don’t forget Fotini still thinks her husband is away in Athens on business, even though h
e’s been in his grave for a decade.”

  The pair gawped in disbelief as the old goat-herder reappeared, wheeling a decrepit old motorcycle held together with rust and stray reams of straw.

  “Surely he can’t intend to take us home on that disgusting clapped out contraption,” Deirdre scoffed.

  “It looks like it’s a choice of that or sitting around here for hours on end waiting for Adonis,” Quentin reasoned, secretly thrilled at the prospect of hurtling down the mountain on a motorbike. Deirdre had never allowed him so much as a moped, insisting they were death traps.

  “Don’t look so nervous Did-Rees, I managed to find an old ‘elmet to make yous feel safer,” Pedros piped up, handing her an ancient crash helmet that had last been used as a handy spot for his cat to give birth in.

  Speechless, Deirdre picked the detritus from the helmet before securing the most unflattering chin strap.

  “Now ‘op up behind me and don’t yous be shy about putting yous arms tight around me,” Pedros instructed, revving the engine. “Now whose lap will the goat be sitting on?”

  Chapter 3

  Secrets and Lies

  “Sofia. This is the last time I will call yous. Get out of bed,” Thea yelled, wading through the untidy heap of discarded clothes surrounding Sofia’s bed to shake the leaden lump burrowed beneath a mountain of covers despite the muggy heat. Thea was heartily weary of the repetitive morning routine spoiling her previously peaceful mornings ever since the stroppy teenager had moved in.

  “I’m up Nona, there’s no need to scream like a fishwife,” Sofia grumbled, blearily rubbing her eyes and grabbing her mobile phone. Glancing at the time she screeched “Why didn’t you wake me, Nona? Evangelia will be furious if I’m late for work again.”

  “I’ve been in six times in the last hour Sofia, really yous is so exasperating.”

  Catching sight of Sofia’s newly dyed turquoise hair Thea exclaimed, “Good grief, tell me yous didn’t experiment with that colour on the cat?”

  “Nona, you just don’t appreciate fashion. It’s all the rage for pets to be matching accessories. I’m going to be late, can you just stop nagging and make me some breakfast while I get dressed.”