by Mandy Baggot
‘You are sure, Margalo?’ Bemus asked her.
‘Yes, I am sure,’ she said, controlled. ‘Bemus… this is my son.’
Fifty-Nine
Beth had no idea where Alex had got to with their drinks, but Heidi was urging her into a cart attached to an ugly, old-looking, long-haired goat apparently called Bruce. Heidi’s steed next to her was named Daisy.
‘Whoever came up with the name “goat-karting” needs a branding award of the highest order,’ Heidi said. ‘Do you think they would franchise? Because this would go down an absolute storm for corporate events in London. Can you imagine it? Dave and Mikey racing each other, Tilly keeping track of the bets.’ She laughed. ‘It would be brilliant.’
‘I thought you said it was cruel,’ Beth reminded her, trying to settle herself on the wooden seat without picking up a splinter or seven.
‘That was before Elektra told me that goats do this all the time here. If they do this all the time then it’s in their nature, isn’t it? And ours are going to be fine. Not completely sure about the goat pulling Errol over there… He told me on the minibus he’s waiting for his gastric band operation.’
‘Where is Elektra?’ Beth asked, not seeing her in the row of contestants readying themselves to ride round the course.
‘She’s placing bets on us obviously. Well, when I say us, I really mean me, because, no offence, Beth, but I’m totally going to win.’
‘I think you’re forgetting who was better at handling their horse the other day.’
‘I think you’re forgetting who was actually faster.’
That was true… and why was she getting competitive anyway? She was half-drunk, at an unknown location on a Greek island, sat in a trug on wheels waiting for a goat to sprint her round the course to win a plastic trophy… and the vague possibility of cash if Elektra had actually made a bet on her.
‘And,’ Heidi added, ‘I’m driving Miss Daisy.’ She laughed. ‘Get it… Driving Miss Daisy.’
And then the time for any more thinking was gone. A whistle blew and Beth found herself shaking the reins attached to Bruce. Bruce, however, seemed to have no intention of moving anywhere and dipped his face to the small, fine tufts of grass left on the patchy brown earth, tearing them up with his teeth. Heidi on the other hand was screaming. Daisy had shot forward the second the pea had rolled about the whistle, galloping with all the finesse of a camel, but with the speed of a horse straight out of Sheikh Mohammed’s stables.
‘Beth!’ Heidi screeched, bumping up and down on the plank of wood seat, voice juddering a constant vibrato.
‘Come on, Bruce!’ Beth ordered. ‘Don’t you want to win? Or at least catch Daisy?’ She looked at the other competitors, the excited crowd all cheering them on. Some goats were walking, others were jogging, Errol’s goat was doing more of a sideways crab-step and dragging motion…
‘Go!’ Beth said, raising her bottom off the seat and flicking the reins again. ‘Go!’ Maybe she should try talking in Greek. What was Greek for ‘go’ or ‘come on’. She remembered!
‘Ela!’ she yelled to the goat, whipping the harness. ‘Ela!’
Whether it was the Greek language, or the pure authority Beth had said it with, Bruce was off and running. And, for an older goat, he was certainly not holding back in the speed department. Although the ridiculousness of this event was not lost on Beth, neither was the slightly childish, pure and simple pleasure of giving her all to riding a goat round an oval circuit like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. The humidity had dropped, the air was cooler and refreshing and it was buffeting her hair and removing the stickiness she had felt in the nightclub. She had Heidi in her sights and a woman with bright yellow hair whose goat seemed intent on weaving out of its lane. This was so stupid! But brilliant! And she wanted to win!
‘Ela, Bruce! Ela!’
Suddenly Bruce seemed to find another gear and Beth was flying towards the finishing line, her chariot swerving off line a little with the rapid running of her hooved-Uber. Except there seemed to be a ramp before the fluttering blue and white finish tape and she hadn’t seen that from the starting line…
Bailing out at pace wasn’t an option, she could only imagine the scrapes the ground would deliver if she fell to the floor here. Forget pole-dancing injuries, this would be a trip to the hospital for reconstructive surgery. There was nothing else to do but go with it… and pray.
Heidi’s vehicle was right beside her now and Bruce and Daisy seemed to be enjoying the fact they were neck and neck fighting for first place.
‘Give up!’ Heidi called to Beth. ‘I need to impress Elektra! It’s all right for you! You’ve been entrancing the DJ since 2009!’
‘I don’t know how to make him stop!’ Beth shouted back, bunching the reins in her hands.
‘Alex or the goat?’ Heidi shouted.
‘Heidi, pay attention! There’s a ramp!’ Beth yelled, the hump coming up fast.
The next thing that happened was that Bruce got even quicker and seemed to really be stepping away from the cart… until Beth realised that’s exactly what was happening. Bruce was getting away from the cart, because he was no longer attached to the cart. The reins in her hands were now devoid of a goat on the end and her cart had nothing to keep it going but momentum… and it seemed to still have a great deal of that. The wheels thumped against the ramp and she was catapulted from the cart, flying through the air, destination unknown.
Sixty
His mother was in charge. His mother was head of operations. Somehow, Margalo, who could not hold down a job because of her bad chest and arthritis was the brains behind this goat-karting business. Alex was finding it all too hard to take in. His mother was talking, and it was like it was someone else. Someone he didn’t know at all.
‘I can tell you are angry. You do not say much. You never say much when you are at your angriest. Just like me,’ Margalo continued. ‘I just want to say, in my defence, that nothing I am doing personally is illegal.’
‘Mama, there is gambling here,’ Alex blasted. ‘It is announced that you can bet on these races.’ He couldn’t believe he was saying the words. What was all this?
‘No,’ Margalo said staunchly. ‘What is said is “are you brave enough to take the gamble” and “you can bet on it”. There is nothing that says there is money changing hands or that the results of the races are contested for anything other than a plastic medal.’
‘Mama, there are white boards with the names of the goats and betting odds on them.’
‘And we play for chips, like poker.’
‘And like poker they will be cashed in at the end of the night.’
Margalo shrugged. ‘Prove this.’
Alex shook his head. ‘Mama, do you have licences for this? Public liability? Gaming? Serving alcohol?’
‘Everyone who comes here must wear a blindfold, so they do not know where it takes place. Everyone must sign a disclaiming form.’
‘Mama, if someone hurts themselves here, riding a… goat cart… they are going to sue you for damages.’
‘The operation has been going since April. Nothing has happened yet.’ She patted Milo on his head. ‘And no putting you with Lefteris again, my lovely boy. That one has very sharp teeth.’
‘April,’ Alex breathed. ‘You have been doing this since April.’ And he hadn’t known anything about it. Keeping his own secrets had obviously dulled his ability to see things that were going on right in front of his own nose.
‘I told you I had a plan to make money,’ Margalo said, an air of excitement to her voice. ‘And it is making money, Aleko. More money than you can imagine.’
‘Illegal money, Mama,’ he said in despair. After everything she had said about nightclubs being dens for underhand behaviour.
She shook her head, checking the gates of the pen were fastened securely. ‘Like I say. I am not doing anything illegal here. I have people who work for me. We have agreements in place. Should the authorities arrive, they are o
n their own and I deny all knowledge of their actions.’
‘Mama, this is not an episode of an American TV show. This is real life. You can’t do this,’ Alex told her.
‘I have almost twenty-five thousand euro,’ Margalo stated. ‘Next week we travel to the mainland… the word has gone out to some contacts I have made there. One night a month, twice as many people as tonight, Class A goats…’
‘Class A goats?!’ Alex threw his hands in the air. ‘Mama, have you heard what you are saying?!’
‘Did you hear me say twenty-five thousand euro, Aleko?’ Margalo asked. ‘This time next year I will have enough money for us to buy a bigger, better house. One with more land for more animals. You will not have to have three jobs. I admit, investing a little in a second business for my brother and having you manage it was my first plan but… perhaps… you could… buy more musical equipment if you wanted.’
‘But, Mama, if the police come here, they will shut this down. You are breaking so many rules. You could go to prison.’
Margalo’s eyes narrowed at him then. ‘You preach this to me?’ She cursed and shook her head. ‘You say this when you are making alcohol without licences under the ground of our own home?!’
What? His mother knew about the laboratory? He didn’t know how to respond.
‘You think I am stupid?’ Margalo asked. ‘You think I do not know what is going on right in front of my eyes? I know exactly what goes on and I choose to ignore it. You are making what Greeks have made for centuries. Raki and tsipouro are nothing new, Aleko.’
It was time to come clean. ‘Oh, Mama, I’m not making alcohol. I’m not making anything. Elektra is. And… it’s brilliant.’
Amid the braying from the goats and the whooping of the crowd watching animals racing round the track, Alex told her about Kalm Life and his idea of getting the business off the ground and his contact at the large hotel in Dassia.
‘I do not understand,’ Margalo admitted, studying him hard. ‘Why, when you have come up with such a wonderful idea, would you want to sell this after a few years?’
He looked at her then. His mother. The woman who had spent her whole life telling him to avoid bad places, telling him never to do bad things and to always stay holy, was standing in the middle of a field at past two o’clock in the morning, dressed like a Bond villain talking about Class-A goats and ready to deny any knowledge of book-making activities. What had happened to them both?
‘Because,’ Alex began, ‘it isn’t what I want for my forever future. Kalm Life is about jumping on the kumquat health benefits market before anyone else does.’ He sighed, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘It was about earning enough money to be able to leave you with enough cash to maintain the house and the animals and the farmland and maybe hire someone to help… when I left.’
‘Left?’ The word stuck in his mother’s throat.
‘Mama, tonight at The Vault went really well and I’ve been offered this great opportunity on the mainland. I don’t know any of the details yet, but I do know that I want to take the chance. I deserve to take the chance.’
Margalo didn’t reply, looked back to the goat pen.
‘I don’t want a bigger house with more animals and land. I want my independence and I want that… without having to worry that I have lost you.’
He knew his mother didn’t agree with his choices. Most of their family fights had been about what he wanted to do and what she didn’t want him to do. But there was no doubt in his mind now that whether Margalo was behind him or not, he was going to walk his own path.
‘You stupid boy,’ Margalo said, turning to him now, tears pricking her eyes. ‘You will never lose me.’ She let out a sob and it was his cue to connect them. Putting his arms round her he held her tight and breathed in the familiar scent of soap and chicken feed.
‘I know I have not been fair,’ she continued. ‘I have been hard and I have hidden things from you. Things you deserve to know. About your father…’
Alex didn’t want to say anything in case she stopped talking.
‘As you can see,’ Margalo said, ‘I have not been honest about many things… but my excuse is that I thought I was keeping these truths for the right reasons.’
He went to say something then, but she stopped him.
‘There are no excuses. You deserve to make your own choices. It is your life, Aleko. And I would not be any sort of mother if I did not want you to live it to the full.’
He squeezed her closer, love for her overriding any other emotion.
‘Now, let me go,’ she urged. ‘Before any of my staff see.’ She pulled her black coat round her a little tighter. ‘Here I try to give off the personality of an Agatha Christie character. Am I the murderer? Am I not? It is good for no one to really know.’
‘Mama, you really can’t keep this goat-karting going. If someone tells the police then…’
‘Sshh,’ Margalo ordered him as they walked back to where the action was taking place. ‘The first rule of goat-karting club is…’
‘No one talks about goat-karting club?’ Alex asked.
‘Exactly.’ She smiled. ‘But no more secrets between us, Aleko. I can promise you that.’
Sixty-One
‘Please, Beth,’ Alex said, holding a pack of ice to the side of her head. ‘Please sue my mother and then she might actually put an end to this crazy.’
They were sat on a bench a little bit away from the main racing arena, two beers on the table beside them. All around, the olive trees were rustling in the breeze, their silvery leaves swaying in the moonlight. Wherever they were located, it was another slice of Greek beautiful. Beth just wished her head wasn’t throbbing so much. She wasn’t even sure the ice was doing anything other than making her skin freeze. She had won the race, although there had been some moaning – mainly from Heidi – that because cart and goat had not crossed the line simultaneously, some disqualification was in order. But she had been left with a slightly bruised forehead and scrapes up one side of her body that she didn’t dare investigate further. She could walk, she could breathe, and she had got up from the ground laughing her head off.
‘I’m not going to sue your mother,’ Beth answered. ‘I was offered a helmet that I declined at the starting line and, despite the bump, it was one of the best things I’ve ever done.’ She laughed again then, remembering the dramatic crash, before drawing in a sharp breath as Alex moved the position of the ice pack a little. ‘Ow.’
‘You should go to the hospital,’ Alex told her. ‘You might have concussion.’
‘And where do I tell the ambulance to come because I’ve looked at my phone. I can’t even get on to Google Maps which means they must have some mobile phone jamming equipment up here.’
‘It’s been the craziest time since…’
‘I arrived back here?’ Beth offered.
Alex smiled. ‘Yes. I was going to say exactly that.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Beth said. ‘I think you had a whole lot of crazy in your life before I turned up. Underground kumquat empire. DJ plans. Goats.’
‘And what comes next?’ he asked her, putting the ice down on the table and taking hold of her hands.
‘Everything comes next,’ Beth breathed. ‘The whole world is out there.’
‘And so is my father,’ Alex stated softly.
‘You know where he is?’ Beth squeezed his hands, knowing how important this was for him.
‘It is amazing what my mother will divulge when she is counting money she has made from goating activities.’ He took a breath. ‘He is in Athens. She has an address. And… she has been sending him photographs of me growing up since he left.’ He sighed. ‘That was the deal she gave to him. If he left and didn’t come back, then he got to see me growing up, if only in photographs. If he tried to make contact then she would break all of it.’
‘Oh, Alex, that sounds so harsh.’ She was struggling to understand how Margalo could keep a father from his son in
that way. But she didn’t know the full situation, and didn’t her mother keep stories about her father close to her chest until she almost ran out of time?
‘I think there is a lot about my mother’s life with her parents that I do not know. Maybe even more than there is to know about my own father. I think the way she is with people close to her comes from the behaviour of her father. The way she loves is challenging.’ He shrugged. ‘But whatever she has done, there is no point in holding on to bad feeling. Whatever her reasons were, I have to put it behind me, behind us, and start new communications.’
‘Fresh starts,’ Beth agreed. ‘There’s a lot of that going round.’
Alex brought her hands to his mouth and kissed the skin softly. She had enjoyed reconnecting with her gorgeous DJ. It had been so unexpected to find him still here, almost as if time had stalled. And the growing up they had done apart had only intensified their feelings when they became reacquainted. It was even better this time. Even stronger.
‘I do not want our fresh starts to mean that we forget,’ Alex told her.
‘Oh, no,’ Beth agreed. ‘Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I mean… I’m not going to forget you… That would be impossible because…’ She was searching for things to say because, right at this moment, with him holding her hands and before, when he had swooped in after her karting crash and picked her up and looked after her, and every single second of her time here when he had made her feel beautiful and special, she didn’t want to think about all that having an end.
‘Because?’ he asked, one eyebrow raising.
‘Because… you don’t forget your first love… or your strongest love… in the world…’ She needed to stop, or she was in danger of crying. They only had the rest of her holiday and that time was racing fast. ‘Ever.’
She swallowed as he kissed her hands again. ‘Can I tell you something, Lex?’
‘Anything,’ he breathed.
She wanted to tell him. Because, at the time, it had been both joyful and saddening to her. It had meant everything for a minute and then it had been nothing at all.
