by Sara Alexi
“No, listen. I need the gardening doing, and this work will be paid whoever does it so it might as well be you, but better than that I have a computer and you are an extraordinarily fast learner. I am sure there will be programming courses online. You can learn by yourself and when you return, I will write you a reference saying you have been here, writing programmes for me. Ha, you will have the pick of jobs. Brilliant!”
“That is not honest.”
“Then I am formally asking you to write me a website for my translation business and I will pay you for it. Then it will be honest and you will have a large sum towards your harvester.”
She has gained Aaman’s attention; he is sitting bolt upright. He begins to smile and it breaks onto a grin as big as Mahmout’s.
“I do not need all the money for the harvester, only my portion.” He calculates on his fingers and holds up his hands to show her how much.
“Then I don’t think you will have any problem at all. You can return with the money as a programmer. How fantastic is that?” Juliet grabs her wine glass.
“To you, Aaman. No, sod that. To us! May we both overcome our fears and create a better future for ourselves.”
“And our loved ones.”
Juliet drinks it down in one.
“Right, come on.” She marches indoors.
Aaman is comfortable where he is and has no idea why Juliet has gone inside. He feels reluctant to move. He is comfortable. It takes a few seconds to lift his back from the chair. The village is quieting now, the noises are less harsh, some shutters have been closed. He stretches and goes inside.
Juliet is sitting on the sofa with her laptop on her knees. She pats the seat next to her without taking her eyes from the screen.
“Here, what about this? Teach yourself C++ in twenty-one days. Is that any good?”
Aaman is mesmerised. He reads the screen and then scans the keyboard. There seems so much to learn and it thrills him.
“What do you think?”
Aaman is momentarily lost.
“I would have to work on the garden for free to pay for the use of your computer.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“No, it is right, it is business.”
“OK, here’s the deal, you work in the garden and get paid, and you use the laptop as a friend, because that’s what friends do. If you want me to stop being your friend then you have to ask me to stop.” Juliet laughs and the cat that had been sitting on the arm of the sofa takes the opportunity to try to walk across the keyboard. Aaman picks him off and puts him down. The second cat comes in and licks the first cat.
Aaman is grinning now, his hand eager to take the laptop and start. Juliet hands it over and shows him the basics of using Google and then stands up. Aaman doesn’t notice. He is searching and reading.
“Call if you need me.” She doesn’t expect an answer, nor does she get one. She strokes both cats and wanders into the garden through the back door.
It is spooky by night, the pole with the vine sticking up in the middle of the garden. There are two smaller poles now, both with vines hooked to them. The olive tree in the far corner rustles, a dense black against the deep, dark blue of the sky. It is beginning to get cool. Juliet wraps her arms around herself and wanders onto the waste site. There is no more mess; The Mess has gone. There is nothing to trip over, no buried bits poking out. It is all weeds and roughly turned soil. She considers turning it into lawn. It would need watering. But if she planted trees, the lawn could grow in their shade. Fruit trees.
She walks the length of the house and round the end. The space at the end of the house would be good for vegetables. Next door’s disused barn would provide a small amount of shade at either end of the day and she could set up a watering system from the house.
The front of the house is mostly gravel, which needs weeding. But down the edge against the wall where the three orange trees are, she could have a herb garden. Basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme. Oh, and lavender. It will be nice to have the smell of lavender as she comes in from the lane.
The patio looks bright compared to the garden in the moonlight. The folding chairs give it an air of comfort. The table and chairs make it look very Greek. Perhaps she could hang a hammock somewhere for when the boys come over. They would come over, surely.
Juliet suddenly feels far from home. It may be a while before Thomas can afford the time to come over. Terrance will not be able to afford the money even if he had the time. Her Greek neighbours are lovely, but she needs more than a passing chat. Michelle is right, as usual. It takes more than the language to merge cultures.
Michelle. Poor Michelle. How mean she has been over the years. Never calling, never giving her the time of day. She had become her punch-bag. What was due to everyone else, she gave to Michelle, who just kept coming back for more. A true friend. And she, Juliet, had been a true bitch. Something needed to be done about that. But she wasn’t sure what. She would call her soon. No big drama, she would just start treating her with respect. She would treat her as Aaman would treat a friend. She was sure he would be calm, thoughtful, and attentive. He was towards her and it made her feel calm, important, cared for. She would do the same for Michelle.
Juliet stays on the patio and listens to the last of the sounds of Easter diminishing in the village. The dogs have started barking again. Their midnight telegraph conversation. They are keen for the early morning, for their owners dressed in khaki, for the rabbits to be retrieved. The moon disappears behind a wispy cloud and the village submerges under a dark blanket. She turns to go back inside, the glow from the window in the door encouraging her entry.
Aaman is engrossed and does not hear her enter. She picks up the book she has been trying to read and settles in the battered leather armchair. She is grateful that the house has come with some contents. The previous owners saw no value in their inheritance. The furniture that remained had been left piled in one room. To Juliet it is treasure. She tucks her feet under her and settles to read. She is asleep within twenty minutes.
Aaman moves once to find a blanket and lays it over Juliet. After that, he becomes motionless, his mind in a programming course he has found on the Internet. He falls asleep just before dawn and awakes only a couple of hours later, feeling an urgency. Opening his eyes, he sees the computer, remembers the urgency and begins his studies again.
When Juliet surfaces, it is as if he has studied straight through the night. She smiles and stretches.
Chapter 11
Aaman insists that he start work on the garden at eight and continues until four before resuming his studies on the laptop. Juliet relishes this sense of order, limiting the hours in which she can do her translation work. She knows she will be more productive within these confines.
Aaman seems to devour everything he finds online. He sits motionless for hours and then frantically taps away until the next period of reading. Juliet looks over his shoulder once or twice, but it means nothing to her, and she spends her time in the evenings painting the kitchen cupboard doors.
At eight o’clock, Juliet asks if he is hungry. Aaman immediately leaves the laptop and offers to search through the kitchen for things he can use. Juliet yields and produces a pen and paper, suggesting that Aaman give her a list of things she should buy for the week. Aaman begins the cooking whilst he dictates a list of everyday ingredients. The air becomes infused with heated spices and Juliet’s stomach is clawing.
Juliet looks forward to sitting with Aaman and lays the table on the patio. The evening is warm. Aaman brings the dishes out and sits. Once the table is laid, he slows his whole pace down, looks over the food, offers to serve Juliet, selects choice pieces for her and then himself and eats slowly. Juliet enjoys the reverence of the process. She asks how his learning is going and if he is finding suitable courses online. He says he is and asks what will be next for the garden. They discuss the best layout. Aaman likes the idea of making the garden a fruit orchard and agrees that vegetables at
the end of the house will be a good place. The conversation meanders.
“What’s Pakistan like, your village?” She picks up a cherry tomato with her fingers.
“Pakistan is beautiful, but the most beautiful is the Punjab. I live in the Punjab.”
“I went to India, before I had the boys, before I met Mick, when I was at college. Anyway, I went to India. It was beautiful. Bombay was amazing, so full of people, life, noise, and bustle. I loved the cows everywhere, just wandering the streets.”
Aaman picks up the jug and fills Juliet’s water glass and then his own.
“I met a little girl who happily showed me her hand where there was a spot the size of a coin, leprosy. She seemed to be so pleased with this spot. It gave her the power to beg. All I could see was how she would be in a few years, still with a beautiful face but with only one useful arm. I looked it up when I got home, her fingers would shorten and deform as the body absorbs the cartilage.
“Anyway, in the bit of Bombay I was in, Colaba, the tourist area, I suppose, there was a hospital just down the road where they could treat leprosy and I knew the admission fee was a very small amount so I gave her the fee and pointed to the building.”
Juliet pauses to drink.
“She obviously understood me because she laughed when I gave her the money, but I saw her ten minutes later with her three friends and they all had ice creams. They obviously had a different view of life to me. Even though they had leprosy and no money, they seemed happy. They had each other, they were laughing and pushing each other, totally lost in the moment.”
She puts the glass down.
“I also went to the Taj Mahal. Have you been?”
Aaman shakes his head.
“The people were lovely on the train. Families all sitting together and strangers making friends and sharing their food. Everyone seemed really happy to be there and to be with each other even though they initially didn’t know each other. I had bought a ticket for a berth, but it was filled with people sitting on it. Eventually an old lady lay down on it and I had to sit up all night. She had her family and they all cuddled up around her, her grandchildren, I think, from their ages. She had her family and I had my berth ticket. She was a poor old Indian granny and I was a wealthy, lucky Western woman.”
Juliet feels that she can’t stop talking. Her life seems to need to escape from her, many images of the past need telling. High points need sharing, low points explaining. She is spilling over with the need to talk, her tongue needing flight.
“But I didn’t say anything to the old lady. It is just a matter of where you are born as to what your luck is. I mean, if I had had different parents that could have been me, that little old lady, with no money and lots of family love. It is just luck, there is no fairness.”
Aaman is finishing his meal.
“Can you understand when I talk quickly?”
“I know many of the words. Fairness I know.”
“Yes, and unfairness.”
They sit for a while. Juliet listens to the sounds of the evening, the village becoming quiet, shutters closing. Children called inside. Goat bells as the animals are brought in for the night. Aaman’s foot jiggles. Time has slipped by and he is clearly eager to return to his studies. Nevertheless, this is Juliet’s dream, this is the essence of what she has wanted. Being with someone else has allowed her to sit longer, enjoy it more.
Aaman’s foot twitches rhythmically. Every moment on the computer is precious, a chance, an opportunity he must take and use to his advantage. There are no such possibilities back at home. But time is passing. Each minute could be a minute learning something. But Juliet? Juliet, she is making all this happen for him. If she wishes to sit, then he will sit. He calms himself until Juliet stands to go inside.
Juliet continues with the kitchen cupboards, which becomes a bigger task as one of the cats rubs against one of the newly painted doors, leaving a trail of fur on the door and giving itself a very pleasant, muted sage green patch, which it objects to having washed off.
It is late. Juliet feels tired and wonders how far Aaman has to walk to get home.
“Do you need a lift home?”
Aaman is startled and tries to pull himself from the inside of the computer. His shoulders face her before his head, his eyes coming last.
“Oh, ah, no. I am sorry I am keeping you up. It is just such an opportunity.” He carefully puts the laptop on the sofa and stands to put his coat on.
“Is it far?”
“No.” He is ready to leave. Unsure of how to depart, he sticks his hand out. Juliet takes his hand and he shakes it. “Thank you, Juliet. Thank you for being my friend.”
She watches him get smaller and smaller down the lane.
The next day he arrives at eight o’clock, works through till four, studies till eight, cooks, eats, washes and dries the dishes, and studies again through till eleven in the evening. This becomes their routine for the days to come. Juliet declares Sunday is a day of rest. Aaman says that he thinks it is good if they rest from the garden, but would it be too much to ask if Sunday could be his main study day?
Juliet spends the next few Sundays going through the treasures left in what will be the guest room. She discovers five hats stacked one on top of the other and several pruning saws with the price tags still on them in drachmas. There are various goat bells, an ox’s yoke for ploughing. The brass bed seems to be complete, but with no mattress, and there are two wooden pails.
Her greatest find, hidden behind a loose board lining a cupboard built into the thick walls, which she is cleaning out, is a very old-looking revolver. The handle inset had gone, just leaving a metal outline, and the trigger has been purposely bent beyond usage but the barrel still revolves. It reminds her that Greece has been a very uncertain place until relatively recently. She wonders what family had lived here in such insecure times that they had need to hide a gun. She chats to Aaman.
Aaman does not hear her talk as she clears the room. His mind is fully occupied, leaving no room for any digression.
Over these days, the garden makes progress. The trees are selected and planted and the grass seed is scattered handful by handful. Juliet has no idea how thickly to sow grass seeds.
“One handful for the ants, one for the garden to have grass, and one for the gods,” Aaman declares for each step of their steady march, as they fling seeds in an arch. The vegetable plot is planted and tended, and Juliet cultivates her herb garden that Aaman visits for his cooking.
They rig up an irrigation system for the vegetable plot. Juliet buys coils of plastic pipes and bags of connectors. Aaman trails the main pipe along the edge of the plot and takes off spurs to each furrow they have planted.
The hoses have holes in them at regular intervals, and Aaman folds the ends back, fastening them with cable ties. Juliet, to make her life simple, orders an electronic timer that they can connect to the hose at the tap so it comes on at regular intervals, but Aaman likes the thrill of turning the system on and off manually, and it is a while before he connects the timer.
After just under two weeks, Aaman looks up from the computer one evening.
“I have done it, come and look.”
Juliet, who is now painting the walls in the guest room, puts down her brush and wipes her hands on an old tea towel. She is still wiping them as she stands behind Aaman, who works at the kitchen table. The screen is filled with code until Aaman switches to another window and there is a page dedicated to her. There is her name, her services, her specialties, and a form to fill out to contact her to use her translation services.
“Wow! That is amazing. You have learnt to do that in these few days?”
“It is HTML, it is not difficult. Next I will learn php so I can write active pages that can do processing and call a database.”
Juliet smiles encouragingly but hasn’t a clue what he is talking about.
Juliet jumps at the shrill sound of the phone and picks it up quickly so it doesn’t disturb Aa
man.
“Are you busy now?”
“Hi, Michelle. No, I’m not busy now.”
Aaman looks up from his work and smiles at her.
“So tell me about the house boy!”
Juliet’s turns from Aaman, who is already lost in his own world again, before she goes through to her bedroom. It is cooler in here, the walls are two and three feet thick in what is the oldest part of the building. Juliet slouches onto the bed and pulls the covers over her legs. The cat appears and settles down on her warmth.
“He is not a house boy.” Juliet giggles.
“So what is he?”
“He is a pretty nice person, actually.”
“So tell me again, he’s doing your garden and he is illegal, right?”
Juliet brings Michelle up to date.
“That’s an interesting turn of events. Is he staying with you?”
“No, he goes home each night.”
“Oh, and where is his home?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really asked.”
“I don’t suppose it will be much from what you have said. What he expects to get paid is less the price of a hotel room. How do you get in touch with him if you need to cancel?”
“The thought hadn’t occurred. Anyway, how are you?”
“Are you feeling all right? Or do you want something? You never ask me how I am!” It is Michelle’s turn to giggle.
“Well, I am now so how are you?”
“The social reply is I am fine. The real reply, if you want it, is I am pretty fed up actually. I didn’t tell you that I caught Richard out, did I? It was about a year ago, with his secretary for pity’s sake. How clichéd is that? Well, I confronted him and, to cut a long story short, I filed for divorce and it came through last week.” Michelle drew a breath.
“Oh my God, Michelle, why didn’t you tell me?”
“We have been so out of touch these last couple of years. Besides, you had your problems. I just need to get on with mine.” There is a touch of humour in her tone and Juliet realises she has been remiss and her lack of effort has caused hurt.
