by Sara Alexi
'Stop it.' She growls a quiet warning to herself. 'You'll be fine when you’re home,' she adds for comfort.
But if she were at home in her own bed, how would she get downstairs to cook? Perhaps she could have a daily order from Stella's, although she always finds the portions at the eatery too big these days. The cats are happy to eat any chicken she cannot manage but the chips go to waste unless there is a village dog around. But she will not be able to feed the village dogs from her bedroom.
'Stop it, Poppy. You are fussing and worrying to no effect.' She folds the top edge of the sheet over and smooths it flat. 'When someone comes I will arrange to go. One step at a time.'
'So, how is the patient today?' Miltos opens the gate and stoops to stroke the cat as he strides onto Juliet's gravel driveway.
'Are you an official visitor, then?' Juliet teases him, putting her book face down on the arm of the sofa and uncurling her legs from under her to slip on her flip-flops. Miltos’s face is dappled with shade as he steps under the vines and onto the terrace. It highlights his strong bone structure and the hollows of his cheeks.
'Now you have a patient you cannot shut yourself away. Anyone can visit without being invited first!' Miltos parries her defence, but the look in his eye is understanding. He knows he is treading on sensitive ground.
'For someone who has not known me long, you talk like you know me quite well?' Juliet is not sure if she is flattered or unnerved.
He eases himself into the hanging canvas chair uninvited. To Juliet this seems odd; of her friends who do visit, no one ever chooses that chair, and she considers it her own. It looks small with him in it, and precariously low to the ground. As he settles back she can imagine him on a beach in Thailand, or in a banana grove in Guatemala, letting his form sink into a hammock.
'So how is she?' He lets his head tip back, swinging gently.
'I went in first thing and she was sleeping, but I’ve not been in since.'
'Well, it was a good thing they gave her a sedative yesterday! I thought she was going to try to walk home.'
'I can understand how she felt, though. I think I would be the same.'
'I’m sure you would be exactly the same! Maybe you two have more in common than you think.' He hasn’t stopped swinging, with his head back, a patch of sun playing across his face; his eyes are closed. One of Juliet’s cats jumps on his knee, but even then he doesn’t open his eyes.
'Which one’s that?' he asks.
'Aaman,' Juliet replies.
'Ah yes, he feels like a boy. More muscular than the girl cat. I suppose you’ll have to go in soon, see if she needs help with the toilet.' His eyes remain shut and Aaman pads out a circle on Miltos’s black jeans.
'Have you asked around the village? She must have some relations here, or maybe in Saros.' Juliet can hear the edge of desperation in her voice.
'Cosmo says there are some relatives, and she went to them last New Year apparently, but he does not know where and it’s not right to go poking around in her house looking for address books or whatever.'
'Did you ask Marina?'
'Of course, she was the first person I asked. Anyway, we can ask Poppy when she wakes up. But right now, seriously, you should go in there, or she might' – he lifts his head, leans over the cat towards Juliet and whispers hoarsely – 'pee your bed.'
'Oh, just stop it now.’ Juliet is not sure what she is more annoyed about – the thought of the old woman wetting her bed or Miltos’s sudden, uninvited familiarity. It feels like their relationship has taken another step forward without any agreement on her behalf. On the other hand, she likes his humour, and that feels just a little unnerving.
'I think I can hear her. Is she calling?' Miltos puts his hand behind his ear.
'You are a fool,' Juliet responds, but she knows that she must check. She stands and, unable to find any more excuses to procrastinate, goes inside.
Chapter 7
It seems odd to tap on the door to her own bedroom, and the double doors rattle on their hinges as she does so. They were one of the original features she fell in love with when she first saw the place. Notches have been cut out of the frame on one side to allow wires to pass through. Juliet had the whole place rewired after she moved in, and she can vividly recall the dust and mess it created, but at least she feels safe now. It seems like ages ago. The boys and her friends at home were horrified when they realised that she really wasn't going back. Each of them had their own way of expressing it, of course, and the consensus was that no one wants their holiday to end but she must face reality.
'Go home to what?’ she can remember asking Michelle. ‘A tiny one-bedroomed flat in some grey town working a forty-hour week in a job I don’t like?'
Michelle didn’t have an answer to that. Terrance was positive, of course, as he always is. Thomas was all grown-up and practical.
'But Mum, how can you get a job out there? I mean, I know your Greek’s pretty good but night school Greek, no matter how long you’ve been learning, it’s not the same, is it?' Bless him.
She taps again. Thank goodness she was better at written Greek than spoken! There were no guarantees she would be able to support herself with translation work, but she trusted that life would provide, and in any case anything was better than the life that had stretched out before her in England. She pauses, her hand raised to knock again.
'Nai!' A sharp Greek ‘yes’ gives her leave to enter.
'Yeia sou, Poppy. Ti kaneis?'
The old woman is sitting up in bed and has the sheet up almost to her chin. ‘I’ve felt better,’ she replies.
'Poppy, I think we have some difficult days ahead of us,' Juliet says.
‘I think we do,' Poppy agrees.
‘Especially for you, perhaps …' Juliet begins, before stopping herself. 'But I think it will be difficult for me too.' She cannot help but look longingly over at her desk.
'Yes, I suppose you are right. The correct thing would be for me to thank you for your room, your kindness in offering it to me. And I do thank you, it is a kind gesture. But I am sure you understand when I say I cannot accept and that we must make arrangements for me to be taken home.'
Juliet sits on the linen chest and crosses her legs. This might be a longer conversation than she anticipated.
'Do you remember the doctor at the hospital?' she asks, trying not to sound like she is talking to Terrance or Thomas when they were little.
'Of course I do.'
Poppy lets the sheet drop a little, and it drapes over her low-hanging chest. The short sleeves of the hospital gown do nothing to hide the sagging, wrinkled skin of her upper arms. Juliet is aware that this will be her one day, with folds of skin on her neck and slack muscles. She makes a mental note to take a brisk walk in the evening when the day is cooler. She will pump her arms, carry stones, to stave off the inevitable.
'All right, so he said I needed care, but you are not the person to give me that. It is totally inappropriate.'
'So who is?' Juliet says. 'Do you have family?'
'Everyone is so far away and their jobs are so important.' Poppy sounds like she is evading the question. She moves in the bed and winces with pain.
'I hate to ask you this, Poppy. I’m sure neither of us wants to face it, but do you need the toilet?'
'No, I do not!' Poppy barks as if offended, as if she has never used a toilet in her life.
'But you are going to at some point, and with your hip fractured and one arm strapped up you won’t manage alone.' Juliet recoils at the thought of helping Poppy use the loo. But then, what is the difference between this woman and her own mother? Didn’t she do the same for her in her last days?
'I will manage.' Poppy looks away. The sun is trying its best to come through the louvred shutters.
'Shall I open the shutters, let some light in? The view of the garden is lovely from this room.' Yes, this is a better approach – let it be casual, make it conversational, keep it easy.
'Leave them,' Pop
py grumbles and Juliet cannot hold back.
'Look, Poppy, I can hear how cross you are and I’m sorry. I do feel somewhat responsible, what with catching your attention at the market and everything, and even though neither of us wants this situation this is what we’ve got. Now, we can either be snappy and unkind to each other or we can find a way to get on, get you better and get you out of here.'
She didn't mean to say that last bit. In fact she hadn't meant to say any of it, but Poppy is just being too self-important. There are two of them in this mess.
Maybe Poppy will explode back, shout at her, tell her to get out of her own bedroom. Well, let her try. She did not make the big move to Greece to be under someone’s thumb again. No! The point of moving here was to get away from people telling her what she ought to do. Get a proper job, they said, even if you don't like it. It will give you a pension and security. Buy this rotten little damp flat, they said, live a half-life because that's all you can afford as a divorced woman with only half the money from the house.
Well, she was not about to live a half-life back then and she is not about to now. Shattering the illusion that staying in England with a secure job was the only way forward was hard. The realisation that her money would go further here in Greece was weighed up against the insecurity of being self-employed and not knowing the country in the same way that she knew England. It was hard, a mental jump. It was scary. No, she has fought for her little cottage and her way of life in the sun, in charge of her own time against all the odds and the advice of her family and friends. She is not going to be told what to do in her own home ever again. That was why she divorced Mick, after all! She stands with her hands on her hips, daring Poppy to challenge her.
Chapter 8
'So how did it go?'
Juliet is startled by the sound of his voice. She had forgotten that Miltos was there, and not only is he in her canvas chair but he is sipping on a frappe, which means he has been in her kitchen, in her cupboards and in her fridge. There is a second coffee on the floor by the sofa.
'It's fine, it's all fine,' Juliet says, but she is talking more about Miltos using her kitchen than about the issue of Poppy's care.
'She didn't need the toilet, then?' He points to the drink on the floor by the sofa. It has just the right amount of sugar and no milk, two ice cubes and two straws. Perfect!
'This is needed, thank you,' she says, and she forgives him for rummaging about in her things. 'Yes, she did need the loo, but we worked it out – well, sort of. With a carefully draped sheet and a bit of guidance. I left her alone and came back when she was done … This is a strange conversation!'
'Ah, that’s life for you,' Miltos says as if it is the most natural thing in the world. 'So you will be stuck here for a while unless we take shifts. Or if you need anything, you can send me. Whichever works best.'
'That’s very kind of you …' Juliet begins, but the truth is she values her time and enjoys her own company, and it seems important to keep some control over how often she sees him. But he has a point; she will have to be on call for the old woman, at least for a while. She had not thought of that. No more coffees in Saros when she feels like it, no strolling through the market twice a week. This is worse than she thought.
'Oh!' She reflects for a moment. 'Yes, I see. I will be stuck. But why are you being so kind and helping me out?'
'Short memory! It was my bike, remember?'
'Oh yes … Well, disposable latex gloves, sooner rather than later, is the first thing on my list.'
'Did you ask her if she would like any company? Marina is always ready for a chat, as you know.'
'I never thought to ask,' Juliet confesses.
There will be doctors, friends and curious neighbours nosing around her house on the pretext of concern for Poppy. The place she calls home, her bolthole, is going to become like Piccadilly Circus, the Times Square of the Greek village. And it’s not just her terrace and her kitchen that will be invaded, but her inner sanctum, her bedroom!
'Why the sad face?' Miltos says.
'All the people who might come,' Juliet replies honestly.
'What is it with you and people?'
'It's not people, not really. It’s just my own hard-won space I feel protective about.'
'Ah, I see.' The way he says this gives the impression that he does not really see, and it leaves an opening for her to explain more clearly.
‘My ex, Mick, was controlling in his own way. Also belittling.’ She checks his face to gauge his reaction, but there is no judgement so she continues.
‘In fact, he was the reason I first came to Greece about a million years ago when the boys, my boys, were really tiny and I needed a break.'
She searches his eyes, wondering if he will find this stuff interesting. She has turned it over in her mind so often over the years that it bores even her. But Miltos seems eager to hear more.
'Mick’s mother came to look after them, and I came out with Michelle. She bought the place next door not long ago …' Juliet points with her raised glass at the rough stones and tiled roof of the converted barn that is visible behind the orange tree by her gate. It feels far more comfortable to be talking about Michelle than about herself.
'That place? I thought that was a holiday let?' Miltos seems genuinely surprised. Juliet thought the whole village knew about the barn.
'No – well, yes. Well, Michelle lives there in the winter, and in the summer she runs her bed and breakfast on Orino Island.'
'Have all your friends moved to Greece?' Miltos asks with raised eyebrows, a smile in his eyes.
'No, just Michelle.' Juliet lingers for a moment on a memory from last winter, sharing a meal with her friend around the wood-burning stove.
'Your face is so soft and pretty when you think about things that do not worry you. You should worry less.' Miltos’s remark causes the memory to evaporate and she rolls her eyes.
'Yeah, right! Well, anyway, I was saying that … What was I saying?'
'That because of your husband, Michalis, you and Michelle came to Greece.'
'Oh yes, on a holiday. And I just felt, well, like I had come home. Greece felt like the place I should be. So when I went back to Mick and the boys I took Greek lessons at night school.'
'Ah, so this is where you learnt!'
'Twenty years or so of night school can do quite a lot! Actually, after the first fifteen I was nearly as good as my tutor and so he started to ask me to help him with his translation work if he had too much, so my move here was not as crazy as it might sound.'
'Well, that is your excuse, but what about your friend Michelle?'
'That is something you will have to ask her when she arrives at the end of summer.'
'I look forward to meeting her, and thanking her.'
'Thanking her?' It is Juliet’s turn to be surprised.
'Sure! Without her, you would not have come and I would not have met you.'
'You can be very smooth when you try.' Juliet takes a long drink and rolls her eyes again, but the corners of her mouth play with the idea of a smile.
'Who says I am having to try?' Miltos flirts.
'Oh, for goodness’ sake.'
'Juliet?' The voice is croaking and weak.
'Oh, that’s Poppy.' Juliet scrambles to her feet and deposits her drink on the floor by the sofa.
'You have some time to go with this, Juliet,’ says Miltos. ‘Take it easy, there isn’t such a rush.'
But Juliet has gone inside and through to the bedroom, with only the briefest of taps on the door.
'My throat is so dry,' Poppy says.
'Okay – yes, of course, water or frappe?' Juliet answers.
'A frappe would be appreciated.'
'Sugar? Milk?'
'Both. Lots.'
Juliet retreats to the kitchen, where Miltos has already started the process.
'That was not good of me to forget Kyria Poppy.' He uses the formal address as he speaks about the patient. He hands the glass to Ju
liet.
'Who is out there? Who are you talking to?' Poppy demands as she takes the drink.
'Oh, it’s Miltos.'
'Petta's baba?'
'Yes.'
'Hm.' Poppy sucks on the straw but one eyebrow is raised and her eyes are fixed on Juliet, who feels she must explain his presence, or, rather, make it clear that he is only visiting. It seems important for her to make it clear that she does not indulge in insubstantial relationships and that she and Miltos are just friends.
'Yes.' She tries to sound casual. 'We met at his grandson’s baptism.'
That was quite a night! The ouzo flowed and the music seeped under her skin and the warm summer evening melted her bones until she merged with the night and lost all sense of time and individuality.
'He walked part of the way home with me.' As they walked, he slipped his hands into hers, and she can recall it so clearly it makes her hand tingle. It was such a natural, simple gesture that she could find no reason to object.
'We talked a little.' In fact they sat on her terrace and talked until the sky grew light. There was still so much more to say even then, but exhaustion prevailed and, reluctantly, he went home, and Juliet curled up in her own bed. The next day they happened to meet again and they had just as much to say to each other as the night before. And although she felt very aware of why he originally returned to the village, it just didn't seem to matter that he once had the briefest of relationships with Marina. He has been absent for too many years for that to be an issue, and nor is it a problem that he is Petta's baba and Angelos’s papous. None of these relationships are a problem. Didn’t Marina even encourage her at the baptism?
'We loved for a night but we have nothing in common now,’ she whispered in Juliet’s ear, wine slurring her words. ‘He is too travelled and worldly for me.' Marina nudged Juliet and encouraged her to dance with Miltos when he stood before her with his hand held out in invitation.
