“Anything is possible Did-Rees,” Adonis laughed. “Yous forget this is Greece.”
Chapter 8
Sweet Sofia Arrives
Toothless Tasos was silently fuming, standing at the bus stop beside Thea waiting for the bus from Athens to deposit Sofia. He’d tried to sneak out of the house before first light to go fishing but Thea had intercepted him, dragging him back indoors and insisting they present a united front to welcome Sofia. Their constant sniping and squabbling since Thea had ear-yanked Tasos out of the taverna provided free entertainment for the Doomsday Scots who found their antics much more entertaining than the indecipherable soap opera ‘Seven Deadly Mothers-in-Law’ which the Greek pair left playing endlessly in the background ever since Thea had discovered the now decommissioned television programme was available as a box set.
“Oh do stop sulking Taso. Is it really too much to expect you to support me in greeting Sofia to our home?” Thea nagged.
“She’s your goddaughter, not mine,” Tasos grumbled.
“Oh Taso, how can you dismiss Sofia like that. When we are married she will be your goddaughter too if you can ever be bothered to do anything concrete to extract yourself from that ridiculous fraud of a marriage you have with Stavroula.”
“Slick Socrates hints there may be developments soon to rid me of Stavroula and leave us finally free to marry, my little bougatsa,” Tasos said, thawing towards Thea. So besotted was he it was impossible to stay angry with her for long.
“Here comes the bus now, let me check if yous look presentable,” Thea fussed, combing her fingers through his untidy grey streaked hair.
The eighteen-year old girl who climbed down from the bus and was immediately swallowed in Thea’s embrace took Toothless Tasos by surprise. He had not expected Thea’s adored goddaughter to be a scary looking Goth with attitude. In fairness to Thea she’d had no idea the sweet teenager with a constant smile had morphed into a sulky Goth fashion victim sporting a nose ring and long purple hair. Dressed in a skin tight black mini dress teamed with black fishnet tights, thigh-high black boots and an ever present black leather jacket, Sofia immediately stuck out like a sore thumb in the small backwater village.
“Sofia, koukla mou, my little doll, I’m so happy yous is here. This is my fiancé Tasos,” Thea said, introducing him whilst showering the teenager with kisses.
“Nona, I can’t believe you are living in sin, it’s so wicked,” Sofia replied. After dismissively looking Tasos up and down Sofia whispered to Thea, “Oh dear, when I get started at the beauty parlour you can send him over and I’ll style him up.”
“I think Tasos is a bit past it for the Goth look,” Thea chuckled, thinking it was well past time her fiancé had a bit of a makeover, but definitely not at Sofia’s hands.
“Nonos, can you get my bags off the bus please,” Sofia requested.
“I’m not yous Nonos yet, yous can call me Tasos,” the fisherman replied, nearly falling over under the weight of Sofia’s luggage.
“I’ve arranged everything with Evangelia and you can start work at the beauty parlour tomorrow,” Thea said as they walked home.
“Nona, do you realise what a long and exhausting bus journey I have just endured? I will need a couple of days to recuperate before I start work,” Sofia replied.
“Don’t be silly Sofia, yous are young and healthy. It wouldn’t do at all to let Evangelia down now everything has been arranged.”
Entering the house Sofia sighed wearily. “Well if you insist on working me to death as soon as I arrive I had better go straight to my bedroom to rest. Can you bring me some snacks up?”
“But don’t you want to catch up, my dear? Tasos has taken time off from fishing to become acquainted with you,” Thea cried, disappointed in her goddaughter’s unsociable attitude.
“I’ve already said hello to him Aunty. Now don’t forget my snack,” Sofia reminded her, disappearing up the staircase with Toothless Tasos trailing behind her laden down with four suitcases.
“I can’t think what’s got into her,” Thea complained when Tasos reappeared. “She used to always want to spend hours in my company, but today she barely gave me the time of day.”
“She’s a teenager. From what I can gather they can be strange creatures,” Tasos said, taking Thea into his arms to comfort her.
“I’m sorry I was such a nag Taso, do you forgive me?”
“Of course I do my cherub,” Tasos reassured her, leaning in for a passionate kiss. Their mutual ardour was interrupted by the sound of Sofia’s whiney voice demanding “Nona, where’s my snacks?”
Chapter 9
Decaf Frappuccino, Extra Sweet
“Can yous do anything with my ‘air Evangelia?” Nitsa demanded, walking into the beauty parlour and whipping off the old fashioned rubber swimming cap Hattie had lent her to cover up the disastrous hairdo.
“Well, I do have to say it will be a challenge,” Evangelia replied tactfully. “What on earth did you do to it?”
“It wasn’t me, it was Fotini what sprayed my ‘air with so much bleach it fell out.”
“Yous ‘ead is full of bald spots, yous looks like that eejit at the ‘ardware shop,” mail order Masha laughed.
“You can take a seat Nitsa, but I’m rushed off my feet doing Masha’s nails. When you didn’t turn up for your ten o’clock appointment I gave your slot to Masha.”
“It’s ten on the dot, ‘ow dare yous accuse me of bein’ late,” Nitsa complained.
“No, it’s ten-thirty,” Evangelia argued, pointing to the clock on the wall. She had no idea Sofia’s first act of the day had been to wind the clock forward so she could finish early.
“The old bag is right, it’s bang on the dot of ten and yous clock is out,” Masha acknowledged. “But yous can’t leave my nails ‘alf done or they’ll dry funny.”
“Surely my ‘air is more of an emergency than the trollops nails,” Nitsa huffed.
“Wait yous turn old woman, I was ‘ere first and I’m in an ‘urry to get to the ‘ospital to visit my ‘usband who is in a coma,” Masha snapped.
“Fat lot yous think of ‘im when yous prioritise ‘aving yous nails done over turning up at ‘is bedside,” Nitsa scoffed.
“Mind yous own business,” Masha retorted. She considered it important to look her best for her dinner date spying mission with Dastan the Kazakh later, confident Vasilis would have no clue what time she turned up in his comatose state.
“Nitsa let me finish off Masha and then I’ll be right with you. I was supposed to have help today, but I can’t think where the new girl’s got to. She was only here five minutes before she popped out for a bag of coffee, but that was thirty minutes ago,” Evangelia sighed wearily, hoping Sofia would not prove to be as unreliable as first appearances suggested.
The chime over the door rang out and Evangelia looked up, hoping it was Sofia.
“Good morning, could you possibly squeeze me in for a hair cut?” Fenella asked. “I know it sounds silly wanting to look good when the world could end at any moment, but you know how it is.”
“A woman should always look ‘er best, that’s why I told Bald Yannis to put lipstick in ‘is stupid apocalypse kits,” Masha chimed in. Looking the Scottish woman up and down she asked, “If yous want to look good why is yous wearing that hideous old lady dress? It is not a good look for foreign women. It makes yous look frumpy.”
“I thought it was the fashion here,” Fenella said in flustered confusion.
“Only if yous want to look like that old crone,” Masha replied, pointing at Nitsa who was wearing an identical dress.
“Well take a seat and I’ll be with you shortly,” Evangelia invited Fenella, hopeful Sofia would return at any moment to help her.
Sofia was actually propped up against the counter of Stavroula’s taverna, texting her best friend in Athens to complain about how hard she was working. Melecretes hadn’t intended to open the taverna at such an early hour, wanting to familiarise himself with Stavroula
’s kitchen before opening for business, but the teenage Goth had hammered the door down desperate for coffee and the ever obliging Mel hadn’t the heart to turn her away. After introducing himself as “Call me Mel” he immediately regretted his decision to open when she shushed him to take a call on her new-fangled mobile phone and then started texting. Patiently waiting for her to finish Mel hovered ready to take her order. Finally finished with her texting Sofia looked up to place her order.
“I want a decaf frappuccino, extra sweet, with half sweetener and half regular sugar. And no more than three ice cubes. Can you believe they only have Greek coffee at my nona’s house?”
“Well I ‘aven’t got a clue what kind of coffee yous just ordered young lady. Perhaps you could choose something more normal.”
“Okay, I’ll take an iced cappuccino, sweet, with whipped cream instead of regular milk,” Sofia decided.
“Not from ‘ere yous won’t. Yous can ‘ave Greek coffee or Nescafe.”
“Are you serious? What kind of backwater place is this?” Sofia asked. Since exiting the bus the previous day she had shown no interest at all in the village beyond the confines of her bedroom where she had demanded Thea provide regular processed snacks from the supermarket. Sofia had been too bleary eyed this morning to notice anything as she’d crossed the harbour to the beauty parlour, having being dragged out of bed by Thea at some unspeakable hour on the wrong side of noon.
“How am I expected to function without proper coffee?” the now wide-eyed Sofia asked. “Oh just give me an espresso to go.”
“Greek coffee or Nescafe?” Mel reiterated, beginning to lose patience with this demanding customer.
“If I wanted Greek coffee I could get one free at the beauty parlour,” Sofia screamed in frustration, flouncing out and slamming the door.
Looking up from Masha’s nails Evangelia tutted at Sofia as she finally reappeared, asking her “where is the coffee?”
“The man over the road didn’t have a clue how to make coffee,” Sofia explained.
“Sofia, you were meant to buy a bag of Greek coffee at the supermarket so we can offer coffee to the customers. It will be your job to make the coffee.”
“Seriously? I thought we would just order in take-outs,” Sofia said.
“Well Masha has been waiting for coffee for ages and we’re all out. Let me run upstairs to the apartment, I have a bag in the kitchen,” Evangelia said wearily, wondering what kind of naive teenager Thea had lumbered her with.
“I can run upstairs for you,” Sofia offered, eager to sneak a look at her employer’s apartment.
“No, I’ll go. You can shampoo Nitsa’s hair,” Evangelia said firmly, having no intention of allowing her new trainee to snoop around upstairs and discover her photographic collection of convicted killers.
“Evangelia, before you go for the coffee, can I just ask what time my lunch break is and how much time I’m allowed off to donate blood?”
Chapter 10
Fotini Adds a Little Something Extra to Lunch
Melecretes had cooked up a lunchtime special of kolokithopita to offer his customers, using freshly picked courgettes, parsley and mint from Fotini’s garden. The Doomsday trippers who had packed out Stavroula’s taverna were eagerly anticipating the fragrant pie, tempted by the delicious aroma wafting out from the kitchen as they chatted about the imminent end of the world.
Hywel and Blodwyn, the Welsh tent dwellers, had been joined by Hamish who was wondering why Fenella was taking so long in the beauty parlour. Hywel was complaining that the delightfully sunny day was not in keeping with a Doomsday scenario, but Blodwyn bluntly told him to shut up as she loved the glorious change of weather.
“I fancy a nice walk this afternoon Hywel, it will make a lovely change from sitting in that damp tent getting sand in my undies,” Blodwyn suggested.
“At the speed the old dear is serving it will be bloody tea-time before we get any lunch,” Hywel pointed out, watching Fotini emerge from the kitchen with a single plate which she delivered at an absolute snail’s-pace. All the clientele watched with bated breath as Fotini tripped on a snag in the rug. The plate of pie she was carrying wobbled precariously before Fotini managed to save it from falling out of her gnarled hands. Having successfully delivered the pie Fotini doddered back to the kitchen where she surreptitiously spat on the next plate of food before heading back out to serve it to Hywel.
Nudging her husband Blodwyn said “I fancy strolling over to the next village; I hear tell it’s named for a radish. The route goes past a field of goats dressed in knitted clothes; don’t you think that would be something to see?”
“Bloody hell woman, the more I find out about this place the more I wonder about the sanity of its inhabitants. What kind of bloody fools dress goats up in clothes?”
“Well Hywel, you’d best get used to them. As you are so convinced only Astakos will survive the end of the world you’ll be stuck with the bloody fools for company.”
“I hate to say this Blodwyn after all the money we have forked out, but I’m beginning to hope this end of the world is a false alarm and we can get back to Wales,” Hywel told her.
“Well in that case I plan to make the most of the rest of my time here. Now you’ve emptied our bank account there’ll be no chance of a proper holiday this year,” Blodwyn fumed. “This is the very last time I indulge your end of the world gadding, next year we are going to Benidorm.”
Hywel couldn’t be bothered sniping back, his attention riveted by Fotini emerging from the kitchen with another solitary plate of kolokithopita. It felt like Groundhog Day watching her trip over the same snag in the rug, almost lose her grip on the plate, and then slowly totter over to drop it in front of him, knocking his water glass over in the process. “Bloody hell woman, you’ve only gone and soaked my privates,” he spluttered.
Fotini ignored him, glancing towards the door as another customer entered who she completely failed to recognise as Nitsa. Even though the old crone was clad in her usual hideous old lady dress and wrinkled pop socks, her appearance was transformed. The crop of dyed orange curls with bald patches was gone. Evangelia had made Nitsa over with long blonde hair extensions to rival those of mail order Masha. Her half-moustache had disappeared and every last one of her wiry chin hairs had been plucked clean away.
“Fotini, it’s me Nitsa, what does yous think?” Nitsa called out pouting and pirouetting like an Instagram addict, and flicking her fake hair.
“Nitsa, is it really yous? Yous look like a porn star. Yous will make a fortune with the taxi looking like that,” Fotini cackled. Her words rang out, cutting through the total silence as everyone else gawped at the ludicrous spectacle Nitsa presented.
“I cant’s stop. I promised to drive the Russian floozy to ‘ospital in the taxi to visit that old fool Vasilis. I want to get a black leather jacket in town. There’s a young girl working at Evangelia’s an’ we hit it off right away. She swears a jacket like ‘ers would take years off me. She suggested we go out clubbin’ together, whatever that is.”
“I’m sure Mel will ‘ave ‘eard of it,” Fotini suggested, having no clue what clubbing was either.
“I tell yous, it’s a breath of fresh air ‘aving young blood in the village. Fotis is goin’ to be floored when he sees me,” Nitsa said, heading back out to the taxi.
“Is there any chance you could bring my wife’s pie if it’s not too much trouble?” Hywel asked sarcastically.
Fotini shot a malevolent look at the Welsh man before making her way back to the kitchen where she spat in his replacement glass of water.
“Bloody hell man, I could swear the old dear just cursed me,” Hywel shuddered.
Melecretes ventured out from the kitchen to chat with Toothless Tasos who’d just arrived for a coffee and a moan. The fisherman immediately launched into a complaint.
“Sometimes it’s like living with Jekyll an’ Hyde living with Thea. I went ‘ome for a shower after the morning’s fishin’ an’ she
only starts accusing me of cutting the cat’s fur, even though I swore blind I never touched it.” Barely pausing for breath Toothless Tasos continued, “An’ then when I got out of the shower all my chest ‘airs turned purple for some inexplicable reason.”
“Purple yous say,” Melecretes pondered. “I ‘ad a young girl in ‘ere earlier with purple ‘air demanding all manner of fancy Athenian coffees.”
“That sounds like Thea’s goddaughter Sofia what is staying with us,” Tasos mused. “She shut herself in her bedroom ever since she arrived, eating nothing but junk food snacks from the supermarket.”
“’Appen there’s some connection between ‘er purple ‘air and yous chest hair,” Mel suggested with raised eyebrows, suspecting Toothless Tasos must have got up close and personal with the youngster to turn his chest hair purple. He didn’t consider the perfectly innocent explanation that the dye from Sofia’s hair had come off all over the bath towel Tasos had used after his shower. “Anyway I must get back to the kitchen, there is pie to plate.”
“Ah, here’s Fenella now,” Hamish said as his wife arrived with a lop-sided fringe. No one had told her it was Sofia’s first day in the beauty parlour and Evangelia had been so busy with Nitsa’s extensions she’d allowed her new trainee to get snap happy with the scissors.
“I ordered you a plate of courgette pie dear, but it could be a long wait,” Hamish said, pointing at Fotini making yet another painstakingly slow trip from the kitchen.
“Wasn’t that our host Tasos?” Fenella asked, watching the fisherman leg it out at great speed to avoid them. He was feeling unjustly accused as it had suddenly dawned on him the Scottish couple could be responsible for giving Thea’s cat a trim. It didn’t occur to him Sofia was the guilty party and had been practising her hair cutting technique on the unfortunate feline. He didn’t think she’d been out of her bedroom long enough to become acquainted with the cat.
“One thing I will say about this village, they sure know how to cook,” Hywel announced, finishing off his kolokithopita and draining his glass of water. Standing up to take his glass to the counter for a refill exposed Hywel’s soaking flies, causing Fenella to raise her eyebrows in disgust and whisper to her husband “are you sure these are our kind of people?”
Greek Capers Page 5
