“’Ave yous been playin’ away Taso? I’ll never forgive yous if yous ‘ave another woman on the side.”
“Of course not, yous is the only woman I ‘ave ever loved Thea. Yous is my goddess, my world, yous must know that. An’ whatever ‘appens my love for yous will never change.”
“Now yous is worrying me Taso, ‘ave yous got some ‘orrible disease?”
“If yous would just let me get a word in edgeways,” Tasos snapped. Instantly contrite he apologised, saying “my little love dove, just let me tell yous.”
Taking a deep breath Toothless Tasos admitted, “I ‘ave confessed to the police that I faked my own death in order to get a divorce from Stavroula and be free to marry yous. Unfortunately, this makes it official that I broke the law and the authorities are likely to send me to prison. Pancratius is typing up the official papers now to send to the prosecutor.”
“Prison. They can’t send you to prison Taso, all that is ancient history. You didn’t hurt anyone by yous actions, in fact as I recall Stavroula was singing an’ dancing on yous grave the night she ‘eard yous was drowned. She was positively delirious with ‘appiness.”
“But I still broke the law Thea.”
“That’s as maybe, but prison. Prison Taso, I couldn’t bear to have you locked away from me.”
“Socrates thinks the most I will get is six months. He is going to defend me and tell the court I was not of sound mind at the time of my crime.”
“The sanest thing yous ever did was getting shot of Stavroula. She’d have sucked the life out of yous with ‘er constant demands for more money.”
“What’s done is done, an’ the time ‘as come to pay. If yous will just promise to wait for me, Thea we can be married the moment I’m freed. Socrates said the divorce papers are just a formality now I’ve owned up to my crime.”
“Of course I will wait for you Taso, an’ marry yous as soon as we are able.”
“Things could be a bit tight for yous ‘cos I wont’s be able to earn from fishing when I’m locked up in prison, but I’ve got a few Euros buried under the courgette patch for emergencies.”
“If yous is going to prison the least Stavroula could do is hand over half of the assets you had together,” Thea suggested.
“No Thea, that will not happen,” Tasos said, putting his foot down firmly. “I not only deceived Stavroula by faking my own death, but by being in love with you the whole time I was married to her. I never made any effort to make ‘er happy ‘cos I was unfaithful to ‘er in my mind.”
“Oh Taso, that’s the most romantic thing I ever ‘eard,” Thea declared, dragging him from the floor to their bedroom. As their lips met in a passionate kiss Hamish’s stricken voice disturbed them, calling out “You couldn’t pass a sick bucket into the bathroom.”
Chapter 26
Off to Mykonos
“It goes against all my principles, but, I have to say threatening to tell the mayor’s wife about his affair with Pavlos the Pappas from Paraliakos was a stroke of genius,” Quentin remarked, as the village men raised a toast to their successful blackmailing mission. “The mayor was obviously on the fiddle, well versed not only in bribing folks for votes, but accepting bribes to line his own pockets at the expense of the village.”
“He’s always been a corrupt one,” Prosperous Pedros sneered. “The malaka tried to buy my vote with a kilo of souvlaki even though everyone knows I’m a vegetarian.”
“I think Bald Yannis revving his chainsaw whilst forcing the mayor to telephone the Kazakh to tell him our rubbish dump is beyond priceless, put the final nail in the coffin of the gold mining venture,” Quentin applauded. “Let’s have another toast, this time to retaining the rubbish dump.”
“To the rubbish dump,” they all toasted in unison.
Once they had broken down the door to the mayor’s office and dragged the cowering coward out from under his desk, the trip to the Dimos had been a resounding success. After revealing they were quite prepared to out his sordid affair with Pavlos the Pappas and fill his wife in on the seedy details, they told him they knew all about his scam to accept brown envelope bribes to sign off on the gold mine. With his secret out in the open the mayor confessed he was due to get his grubby hands on the slush money that very afternoon, but the Kazakh, having been struck down with a virulent case of food poisoning, had been prevented from delivering the readies. Fortunately the paperwork granting permission for gold prospecting hadn’t yet been signed and stamped, and Bald Yannis made a great show of shredding the papers with his chainsaw. As a final touch the village men had accepted the mayor’s written resignation.
Unbeknown to the celebrants the mayor had already pocketed a sizeable backhander from the Kazakh as a sweetener. Terrified the dastardly Dastan would pursue him for breach of promise and wreak revenge by making him the ball for the national Kazakh sport of kokpar, the mayor deserted his wife and fled with Pavlos the Pappas. The pair smuggled themselves onto a boat heading to Mykonos, hoping to blend anonymously into the gay pride crowd. Within a week the mayor’s deserted wife, relieved to be rid of the greasy malaka, would set up house with the rival butcher.
Dastan was incensed with rage when he heard the gold mine was a non-starter, but was impotent to act, not daring to lift his head out of the toilet. Retching miserably and clutching his agonised stomach he swore revenge on the devil that had poisoned him.
“I will kill the culprit who gave me the trots and kneecap the mayor who reneged on the gold mine before returning to my great nation of Kazakhstan.” His only consolation was that his trip to Greece had not been entirely wasted as he planned to take the magnificent Masha home with him, irrespective of her wishes. The ruthless Dastan was happy to snub his great nation’s law against bride-kidnapping, considering the traditional way of acquiring a woman was his manly right.
Chapter 27
Floating Fish
“You’re late Sofia, your time-keeping leaves a lot to be desired,” Evangelia reprimanded her new assistant when she turned up ten minutes late for her evening shift at the beauty parlour.
“I’m sorry; I had a date with Iraklis. I tried to get away but Mrs Kolokotronis was chaperoning and wouldn’t stop jabbering on.”
“Well make sure it doesn’t happen again. You can get busy giving Gorgeous Yiorgos a shampoo; you’ll need to rub hard as he’s overdone it again with the boot polish. I have to get the fish pedicure set up for my ladies, they’ll be here any minute,” Evangelia said, tipping the carrier bag of assorted tiddlers Gorgeous Yiorgos had just delivered into the newly scrubbed out fish pedicure tank.
“We wants to try out this fish foot thingy we’ve been ‘earing about,” Nitsa announced, entering the beauty parlour with Fotini.
“Certainly ladies. You’ll find it very relaxing and rejuvenating, it’s all the rage in high class salons,” Evangelia gushed; delighted her new treatment was proving such a popular attraction.
“Kyria Fotini, it really is best if you remove your pop socks before sticking your feet in the tank,” Evangelia added, worried Fotini would complain about the cost of replacing her pop socks when the fish nibbled through the nylon.
Sofia sidled up to Evangelia hissing “I thought you were going to ask them to wash their feet first, it’s not hygienic like this.”
“Don’t make a fuss dear, it’s only feet. It’s a very delicate matter to suggest they should wash first, these two old crones would likely turn nasty if I implied their feet are filthy,” Evangelia cautioned.
“But no one gets offended when you wash their hair before cutting it and those two old ladies have more hair on their legs than Gorgeous Yiorgos has on his head,” Sofia reasoned.
“Yes, well if you butter them up nicely you could try out your first leg wax on them when they’ve finished their foot pedicure. That would be good experience for you dear.”
“So they’d be offended if we tell them they have to wash their feet, but they wouldn’t mind at all if we tell them their hairy le
gs need waxing?” Sofia asked in confusion.
“Not if you offer them a nice cup of coffee and smile nicely,” Evangelia advised. “You just have to learn how to be tactful, dear.”
The next customers had barely got through the salon door when Sofia rushed over to ask them, “Would you like a nice cup of coffee and a leg wax?”
“I have an appointment for a fish pedicure,” Blodwyn replied, wondering if the girl had psychic powers as she really was overdue a good waxing. “My friend Fenella can’t make it as she’s down with a nasty case of food poisoning, so I’ve brought my husband Hywel along to take her place.”
“I’ve painful blisters after trekking through all those olive groves,” Hywel explained, ripping his socks off and dipping his feet in the tank.
“Bloody hell man, that’s a bit of all right,” he grinned, giving Fotini a friendly yet forceful nudge that nearly sent the scrawny old woman flying into the tank.
“Keep yous ‘ands to youself, yous young pervert,” Fotini screeched, grabbing a sardine from the tank to batter Hywel round the head.
“Ooh,” Blodwyn exhaled with relief, “I can already feel it doing wonders for my sand-infested fungal foot infection.”
“Yous should think youself lucky yous ‘aven’t got warts,” Nitsa piped up. “I ‘ear there’s a plague of ‘em in the village; it ‘as Vangelis the chemist baffled.”
“Will yous be chucking these used fish out again when yous close up Evangelia?” Fotini called out.
“What do you mean, again?” Evangelia asked. “Do you know something about yesterday’s fish going missing? It’s been on my mind all day how I came to mislay them. I distinctly remember leaving them in the mop bucket.”
“What would I know about yous missing fish?” Fotini lied. “I was just making conversation.”
“You were here yesterday evening, wanting change,” Evangelia recalled, staring at Fotini suspiciously. Before she could voice her accusations she was distracted by Gorgeous Yiorgos screaming, “Yous ‘ave burned me, yous stupid girl.”
“Sofia, what have you done?” Evangelia panicked, rushing over.
“Nothing, I was just trying to help him disguise his grey hairs. That boot polish he was using was so obvious and I read that strong coffee works wonders on grey,” Sofia explained.
“But you have to let it cool first, Sofia, not drench his head in scalding coffee,” Evangelia cried, applying an ice pack to Gorgeous Yiorgos’ head and wondering if she could ever train Sofia successfully.
“Is this a good time for a bit of tash styling?” Melecretes asked, popping his head round the door. “I thought I’d close up for ten minutes before the evening rush.”
“I think I can squeeze you in if Sofia can manage the leg waxing,” a flustered Evangelia replied.
“I think you should ‘ave it off,” Fotini called. “Look how different Nitsa looks without ‘er moustache.”
“I ‘ave to be honest Fotini, I’m rather missing mine. I think it gave my face character,” Nitsa said.
“I’m too attached to it to take the plunge. I’ve been cultivating this tash for twenty years and they’ll ‘ave to bury me in it,” Mel admitted. “It makes me look like a handsome devil, dont’s you think Evangelia?”
“It’s an integral part of your face, you wouldn’t look the same without it,” Evangelia blushed.
“Bloody hell man, are these fish meant to be floating on the surface of the pedicure tank like this?” Hywel called out.
“It looks to me like they is dead,” Fotini observed. “We wont’s get much foot nibbling out of fish corpses.”
“I can’t think what’s happened,” Evangelia said, looking in horror at the line of lifeless fish floating atop the scummy pedicure water.
“I’ll scoop ‘em out for yous Evangelia, “I knows ‘ow sensitive yous can be,” Fotini offered, wringing the water out of her now holey, dripping wet pop socks and filling the pockets of her hideous old lady dress with dead fish, thinking they’d come in very handy for another very popular fish meze.
“Ooh that looks ‘orrible,” Nitsa exclaimed, pointing at Blodwyn’s now sand free festering fungal foot infection. “What yous need for that is a traditional herbal remedy of some mashed up Greek capers.”
“I guess yous will be wantin’ me to catch yous some more tiddlers tomorrow,” Gorgeous Yiorgos said. “Yous dont’s seem to be ‘aving much luck with ‘em, Evangelia.”
Before she could reply Sofia dragged her to one side, hissing “It’s her festering fungal foot infection that killed the fish, I told you it wasn’t hygienic, everyone who’s had their feet in that tank will probably catch it. And the plague of warts was probably spread by Mrs Kolokotronis sticking her feet in it yesterday.”
“Well we don’t know that, dear. I did give the tank a good scrub earlier and the fish might have just been a bit off colour,” Evangelia said, grasping at straws. “Now you get everything ready for the nice leg waxes while I just trim Mel’s moustache.”
Turning her attention back to Melecretes, Evangelia was soon blushing like a school girl at his effusive compliments. When she had finished snipping and styling she called out to Sofia to pass her the wax, thinking to finish his moustache off with a dash of pomade.
“Is this moustache wax meant to be so hot?” Melecretes asked.
“Oh gosh, Sofia passed me the hot leg wax. I’m terribly afraid Mel that if I strip the wax off your tash will come with it.”
Chapter 28
Onos, My Darling
The end of the world day dawned with not even a whimper, never mind the expected calamitous bang. The villagers had other more important things on their minds, distracting them from the Doomsday scam which had proved very lucrative for the village coffers, but was now nothing more than a damp squib that had failed to attract any media attention.
Blodwyn, eager to get back to the salt factory, threatened to expose Hywel as a smuggler, for purloining a tortoise and hiding it in his suitcase. The pair left for the airport without even bothering to say goodbye to their new friends Hamish and Fenella, whose departure was delayed by their still sickly state. The other Doomsday trippers were skulking out of their tents, caves and hotel rooms, ready to leave Astakos, eager to embrace the next proselytising charlatan peddling phoney end of the world propaganda, having learnt nothing from being scammed.
Mail order Masha, relieved to hear Dastan the Kazakh was still so green around the gills he daren’t move two feet from the toilet, laughed off her earlier fears about his evil intentions, never suspecting bride-kidnapping was part of his dastardly agenda. She was off to visit Vasilis at the hospital. Determined to bring her husband out of his coma she used all her considerable charms to persuade Prosperous Pedros to drive her to the hospital, with Onos the donkey stashed in the back of his pick-up.
“The old fool is so besotted with the donkey I am convinced if he could only feel it lick ‘im he would come to ‘is senses,” she said to herself, dressing in a sexy flesh coloured pair of hot pants that accentuated her voluptuous curves.
Arriving at the hospital Prosperous Pedros asked, “’Ow are we supposed to sneak the donkey up to the old fool’s hospital room without anyone seeing us?”
“Leave it to me,” Masha instructed, smoothing her long blonde hair extensions, slipping on her sunglasses and adjusting her luscious cleavage. “There are only a few doctors in the lobby. I will saunter over and distract them with my curvaceousness while yous sneak the donkey into the lift, then I will run and join yous.”
Masha’s strategy proved highly effective and five minutes later she led Onos the donkey out of the lift and into the hospital room.
“You can’t bring that thing in here, my dear. This isn’t a veterinarian surgery,” the Pappas objected at the sight of the ouzo sozzled donkey.
“Mind yous own business. The donkey is just the thing to bring my ‘usband out of his coma,” Masha retorted looking around, surprised to find Stavroula absent.
“Wh
ere is Stavroula?” Masha asked the Pappas. “Did she get fed up of playin’ the doting daughter?”
“She has locked herself in the bathroom. The poor woman is stricken down with a virulent form of food poisoning,” the Pappas replied.
Lured by the overpowering scent of Masha’s perfume, the smitten old doctor arrived, remarkably retaining his composure at the sight of the donkey. “Masha, we dont’s usually allow pets in the building but I’m sure in your case we can make an exception. After all you are a celebrity.”
“Doctor, I am sure the donkey will lovingly lick my ‘usband out of his coma. He is so fond of it.”
“Well I certainly think it is worth a try, but first I must attend to your step-daughter who is terribly sick and must be admitted to a hospital bed at once,” the smitten old doctor said. Turning to the Pappas he told him, “You will have to give up your bed for Stavroula, you are well enough to go home.”
The doctor was disappointed none of the tests he had run could account for the Pappas’ seeming personality transplant, but he hoped he could write a prestigious paper showing the remarkably recuperative benefit of donkeys interacting with coma patients.
“Chop chop, what are you still doing lying around, we need the bed right now,” the doctor demanded. “I’m sure the bible has plenty to say about people lying around idle.”
“The bible says ‘an idle man will suffer hunger’ and I’ve certainly suffered that in here. Stavroula has never stopped gorging herself on endless takeaways Slick Socrates brought her from the taverna, whilst I have eaten nothing but bland hospital food since young Iraklis kindly brought me a spinach pie.”
“Excellent, so it wasn’t the hospital food that poisoned Stavroula,” the smitten old doctor gloated, rubbing his hands together gleefully. He’d been certain Stavroula was the type to encourage her flash lover to sue the hospital over her bout of food poisoning.
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