“Are they likely to take Tasos away from me again?” asked a worried Thea.
“No Thea, they’ll let you keep him. He’s out on parole for three months and when the divorce is officially stamped he will be free to make an honest woman of you.”
Chapter 37
Playing Hard to Get
“I’m thinkin’ of going brunette. It creeps me out the way that old hag Nitsa keeps flaunting ‘erself in my cast-off clothes and copying my signature hair style,” Masha mused, leafing through the hair dye colour charts in the beauty parlour.
“I think you should stay blonde, Masha. It might help Vasilis to recognise you as he struggles to come out of his amnesiac state,” Evangelia recommended, contouring Masha’s eyebrows.
“I’m off to visit the old fool when yous ‘ave done my eyebrows and nails,” Masha said. “The doctor says he’s dribbling less today which is a good sign.”
“Sofia, you’re late again,” Evangelia admonished as her trainee arrived.
“Only because I stopped to pick up some juicy gossip you’ll be pleased to hear,” Sofia defended herself.
“We’ve heard all the latest gossip about the prison escape and Toothless Tasos’ return with his ankle monitor, thank you very much,” Evangelia replied sharply.
“No, it’s not that. I just heard the public health inspector has been taken badly with food poisoning so he won’t be able to inspect the salon over the fungal foot and wart outbreak,” Sofia revealed.
“Oh that’s wonderful news. Nothing trivial, I hope,” Evangelia declared sarcastically.
“Apparently his wife served him undercooked chicken and he’s got salmonella. He won’t be able to resume his duties for weeks,” Sofia beamed.
“He can’t expect anyone to take him seriously after that. What sort of health inspector allows his wife to keep a filthy kitchen?” Evangelia crowed with relief that he wouldn’t be around to pin the wart outbreak on the now decorative fish tank.
Thinking about warts prompted Evangelia to remark, “Who would have ever supposed Fotini could have invented a wart and fungal remedy that actually works. Mel is so excited about it he’s even talking about staying on in Greece to market it, rather than return to his gyros restaurant in Idaho.”
“I think yous is a bit sweet on ‘im,” Masha teased the blushing Evangelia. “Oh look, ‘ere comes Iraklis, make sure yous plays ‘ard to get Sofia.”
Iraklis stuck his head through the salon door, timidly stammering “Sofia, would you like to have coffee with me this afternoon? Mrs Kolokotronis is free to chaperone us.”
Before Sophia could reply Masha piped up, “Irakli, yous should get yourself some of Fotini’s ‘Granny’s Traditional Greek Cure All.’ She swears it’s good for acne.”
Iraklis blushed with embarrassment that Masha had drawn attention to his pimples when he was hoping to make a good impression on Sofia. His face fell even more when Sofia declined his invitation, simply saying “I can’t today Irakli. I have an appointment this afternoon,” without elaborating further.
Iraklis slunk off dejected and Masha said, “that’s the ticket, it doesn’t do to be too keen, keep playin’ ard to get. ‘Ave yous got a date with another boy?”
“No. Gosh I hope Iraklis didn’t imagine such a thing. I managed to persuade the Pappas to come along to the hospital so we can give blood. It’s my hobby. I was intrigued when Iraklis told me the Pappas underwent a personality change after receiving a blood transfusion and I thought it would be fun to see if he changes back again when he donates some,” Sofia explained.
“That’s a dangerous experiment Sofia,” Evangelia warned. “I’d rather see him stop as he is than revert to his old horrible self.”
“Po po, that god botherer won’t be able to keep up his fake nice act for long,” Masha scoffed. “I can see right through ‘is phoniness. Yous can share my taxi to the ‘ospital Sofia, it will take my mind off things ‘aving the Pappas to wind up because I know he hates needles.”
“It will be my first time to visit Paraliakos, I can’t wait to find somewhere that sells proper coffee,” Sofia said.
“Don’t be expecting to get one of your fancy cappufrothies at the hospital,” Evangelia laughed.
Sighing heartily Masha said, “I miss my good Russian Raf.”
“What’s that?” Sofia asked.
“It is strong espresso with creamy foam, one plain sugar and one vanilla sugar. The best Russian coffee ‘as a shot of vodka, but is not good for me now I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t know why you can’t be satisfied with traditional Greek coffee,” Evangelia said. “If you want something fancy you can always have Nescafe.”
Their chatter was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Kolokotronis clutching a bawling Andromeda. Masha leapt out of her seat to grab the baby, saying “Come to Nona, Andy. Let’s see if Evangelia ‘as a nice big pink bow to put in yous hair.”
With the baby occupied Mrs Kolokotronis turned on Sophia, asking “what on earth did yous say to young Iraklis, he left ‘ere all upset?”
“Nothing, I just wasn’t free this afternoon.”
“It doesn’t do for the girl to appear too keen, I told ‘er to play ‘ard to get. Iraklis ‘as to do all the running,” Masha interjected.
“’Yous know ‘ow shy the lad is, likely he’ll never pluck up the courage to ask ‘er out again,” Mrs Kolokotronis sighed. “He’s a good catch Sofia, but yous ‘ave to be more sensitive to ‘is feelings. Remember this is all new to ‘im what with ‘im being a late developer.”
Her reprimand left Sofia crestfallen and she hastily said “I wasn’t playing hard to get, I have to go to the hospital to give blood. I didn’t mean to hurt Iraklis’ feelings.”
“There, there, dry yous eyes girl. Why don’t you pop over and eat with me and Iraklis this evening after yous shift.”
“Really, that’s so kind of yous,” Sofia said, selflessly adding “And it will give Nona chance to be alone with Tasos without me hanging around and cramping their style.”
Mrs Kolokotronis smiled widely; pleased her matchmaking skills were so effective. Scooping Andromeda off Masha’s lap she whispered to Sofia “Dont’s be taking tips on ‘ow to handle men from Masha, everyone knows she’s a bit of a trollop.”
Chapter 38
Handsome as a Movie Star
Nitsa dug deep into her stash of mail order Masha’s purloined cast- offs, selecting what had been a sexy skin tight gold beaded mini dress on Masha. On Nitsa it was transformed into a knee-length baggy shift dress with the deep cowl back exposing the elasticated waistline of her bloomers. Generous applications of ‘Granny’s Traditional Greek Cure All’ to fix her festering fungal foot infection had resulted in the black hairs on her legs undergoing a miraculous growth spurt and they now poked out enticingly through her pop socks. The look was rounded off with a totteringly high pair of Masha’s gold wedges, much more suited for an outing to a geriatric disco than for hospital visiting.
Sofia and Nitsa bonded beautifully in the taxi on their way to the hospital. Something about the devil-may-care pensioner appealed to the teenager’s rebellious nature. Nitsa’s outrageous sense of style reminded Sofia she shouldn’t suppress her individual style simply to conform to village norms. She reasoned if Nitsa could get away with such idiosyncratic fashions in her eighties, then she shouldn’t completely abandon her distinctive Goth image. Even with her neon pink hair Sofia felt rather drab next to Nitsa’s gold luminescence, but cheered up immensely when Nitsa offered to lend her some clothes when they went clubbing together.
“They aren’t yours to lend, I want my stuff back yous thieving old hag,” Masha shouted.
“Dont’s be such a goat in the manger,” Nitsa retorted. “It was a harrowing an’ ‘orrible experience climbing into the stinking rubbish bins to retrieve yous chucked out glad-rags.”
“Masha my dear, the bible says ‘God loves a cheerful giver,’” the Pappas butted in.
“An’ what does it ‘a
ve to say about thieving old witches?” Masha snapped back.
“Well technically Nitsa didn’t steal your clothes as you’d already cast them away; think of it as pearls before swine,” the Pappas reasoned.
“Who’s yous calling a pig, yous obnoxious twerp?” Nitsa shouted, narrowly avoiding swerving into a ditch as she clouted the Pappas with the stick she kept in the cab to threaten any reluctant to pay passengers.
Arriving at the hospital Masha sashayed away to visit that old fool Vasilis. Masha had carefully chosen her most devastating outfit, a shocking pink mini dress with a silicone asset revealing low cut cleavage and matching pink stilettos, in the hope it would jog Vasilis’ memory.
“She looks sensational,” Sofia gawped in admiration, watching Masha walk away with a casual toss of her long blonde hair extensions. Nitsa clung to Sofia’s arm, finding it difficult to walk in Masha’s cast-off wedges. Sofia was disappointed to discover the blood bank didn’t open for another half-hour but approved the Pappas’ suggestion that it would be charitable to visit Stavroula and Vasilis whilst they waited.
“I can’t wait to meet Vasilis. He must be as handsome as a movie star to have attracted someone as gorgeous as Masha,” Sofia enthused.
“Po po, he’s nothing but a dirty old man with a bank balance big enough to buy a mail order bride,” Nitsa scoffed. “Even when he was young he was an old letch, I remember ‘im trying to lure me into an overgrown olive grove.”
“Indeed, I recall Stavroula was conceived in such circumstances,” the Pappas reflected. Reaching the hospital room he immediately launched into a pompous oration about his role in bringing the church to the sick in their time of need.
“Po po, the only time I’ve known my old fool of a father go to church was when he was inside his coffin at his own funeral, an’ he ‘ad no say in the matter. An’ I wont’s be putting another foot in the church till they sack yous,” Stavroula said contemptuously. She would never forgive the Pappas for withholding her mother’s deathbed confession about her paternity from her until it had suited him to use it for a spot of blackmail.
“It is never too late for Vasilis to be welcomed into the fold,” the Pappas intoned.
“’Ow dare yous try to take advantage of an amnesiac, yous bogus bible basher,” Stavroula shouted.
“Leave ‘im alone, I could do with a bit of church comfort,” Kyria Moustakos interrupted in a shaky voice. As the Pappas approached the ancient woman’s bed she grabbed hold of his sleeve with a withered old hand, pulling him close and whispering “give us a slug from yous hip flask.”
The Pappas recoiled in horror from her fetid breath, uncharitably thinking it wouldn’t take the requisite seven years for her to rot in the coffin.
Sofia was shocked to discover the scrawny dribbling mess with his head pressed into Masha’s cleavage was the glamorous Russian’s husband and immediately felt ashamed she’d been a tad embarrassed by Iraklis’ acne.
“Vasili, yous ‘ave to snap out of this,” Masha shouted. “’Ow can yous not remember me in this stunning dress, it’s yous favourite. See, I even ‘ave the gold brooch in the shape of a donkey, with diamonds for eyes, pinned on my voluptuous breast. Yous must remember parting with a small fortune for it.”
“Who are yous?” Vasilis replied. “Why do you keep saying yous is my wife? She’s been saying the same thing all night,” he stammered, pointing at Kyria Moustakos.
“I was just teasing the old fool,” Kyria Moustakos cackled. “Dont’s worry, he was in no fit state for marital relations.”
“Of course he wasn’t, I binned all his Viagra when I got pregnant,” Masha revealed. “Where is the smitten old doctor? I am going to find ‘im, there must be something he can do to speed up the return of my ‘usband’s memory.”
Masha flounced out in search of the doctor and Kyria Moustakos turned her attention to Sofia, saying “Yous is a pretty young thing. Yous would make a lovely wife for my young Fotis, much better than that disgraceful Nitsa with her man ‘ungry ways.”
“Sofia, just ignore the old bat. Fotis is my boyfriend, but I’m thinkin’ of trading ‘im in for a toy boy.”
“You have so much spirit Nitsa, perhaps we can find you a toy boy when we go clubbing.”
“I must find out what this ‘going clubbin’ is,” Nitsa hissed to Stavroula as Sofia and the Pappas left to donate their blood. “I don’t want to end up joinin’ a club of old fogies where they sit around doing cat jigsaws or folding tea towels into decorative swans.”
Masha returned, followed by the smitten old doctor with his eyes glued to her silicone enhanced bottom. “Yous ‘ave to do something doctor, the old fool’s no use to me like this. He’s an expectant father and needs to be acting like one,” Masha beseeched him.
“The only thing that made a discernible difference to his condition was the presence of his beloved donkey,” the doctor mused. “I think I can approve another visit from the animal in the hope it will help your husband to regain his memory. The sooner his memory returns, the better.”
“Onos is in the donkey sanctuary after being rescued from the cruel clutches of a criminal who put ‘er to work giving donkey rides on the beach,” Masha revealed. “I ‘ave to go there and sort out her release papers.”
“Paperwork can be so time consuming and onerous with all the petty bureaucracy and official stamping,” the smitten old doctor sympathised.
Thinking it would offer the perfect opportunity for him to get up and close and personal with the delightful Masha, the doctor suggested, “It may speed things up my dear if I was to come with you to the donkey sanctuary and stress the importance of the donkey’s early release on medical grounds.”
“That’s very good of yous,” Masha said, batting her false eyelashes beguilingly before turning to Nitsa and saying, “Nitsa, Prosperous Pedros is expectin’ to meet me outside the hospital on the dot of five. Can you pop down at five and tell ‘im I ‘ave already left for the donkey sanctuary with the doctor, and tell ‘im to drive straight to the sanctuary to collect the donkey in ‘is pick-up.”
“Can I keep the clothes I got out of the bins?” Nitsa negotiated.
“Yes, okay, but don’t forget, the dot of five,” Masha reminded her as she left with the doctor.
Chapter 39
A Case of Mistaken Identity
Mail order Masha enjoyed an emotional reunion with Onos the donkey, quite overwhelmed by the obvious affection the donkey lavished on her after being rescued from the horror of being forced to give beach rides to fat tourists.
“I think yous is as ‘appy to see me as yous would be Vasilis,” she cooed into the ear of the cheerfully braying donkey. Bill and Barbara, the ex-pat Brits now volunteering at the donkey sanctuary, ran around fetching Onos a saucer of ouzo, star-struck to meet the famous weather girl celebrity in the flesh. Masha claimed the donkey sanctuary’s only comfortable chair and happily sat examining her nails whilst the smitten old doctor tackled the reams of paperwork necessary to secure the donkey’s release.
Back at the hospital Sofia was on tenterhooks wondering if the Pappas’s personality would revert to the innate nastiness she’d heard was his defining characteristic prior to his blood transfusion. Sofia offered a reassuring smile as the nurse stuck the needle in the Pappas’ arm.
“Thank goodness you have a gentle touch, I have to confess to a dread of needles,” he said kindly while visibly cringing.
Sofia watched like a hawk as the blood pumped out of his arm whilst he sat back with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. “Hmm, let’s see,” she muttered, deliberately thwacking him hard on the head with a fly swatter to see how he would react.
“What the blazes?” the Pappas screeched, before regaining his composure and meekly saying “flies can be such a nuisance,” feeling around to locate the presumably by now dead fly squashed on his head.
“I missed,” Sofia apologised, inwardly elated she had spotted the first chink in his niceness.
By the time the r
equisite amount of blood had been drained from their arms Sofia had managed to slaughter seven more imaginary flies on the Pappas’ head, enjoying the sight of his composure unravelling with every calculated swat.
“Excuse me, my dear, I must step outside for a breath of fresh air, I’ll be back in a moment,” the Pappas said.
Sofia rubbed her hands with glee, muttering “I think it really was true the Pappas experienced a personality transplant with his blood transfusion and now he’s having his new personality sucked out of him through blood donation.”
Once out of Sophia’s sight the Pappas slipped into the toilets to throw cold water on his face. Experiencing an inexplicable urge to kick the paper towel dispenser, he settled for cursing Sofia, wishing the interfering girl hadn’t talked him into giving blood as it had left him feeling decidedly strange.
Nitsa scurried hurriedly past the toilets, on a mission to meet Prosperous Pedros on the dot of five to relay Masha’s message he should drive straight to the donkey sanctuary and meet the mail order floozy there. Stepping outside she spotted a handsome young security guard with a thick moustache and a full head of hair. Sidling over to him with a lascivious wink she muttered to herself “he’d make a lovely toy boy, he’s got the sort of bottom I could get my ‘ands round.”
The security guard stared open-mouthed at the sight of the hideous old crone wobbling towards him on unsuitable gold wedges, dressed in a gold beaded frock that looked like it belonged on a pantomime dame. As the vision of horror tossed her obviously fake hair extensions in a repulsive gesture she obviously thought was seductive and twirled round to expose the grubby elasticated waist of her bloomers, the security guard fled into the hospital, nearly sending the Pappas flying as he headed out for some air.
“Ooh, yous is bold, I like that in a man,” Nitsa cackled delightedly, feeling a strong pair of hands hoist her off her feet, erroneously presuming she was too much for the handsome young security guard with a thick moustache and a full head of hair to resist.
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