by Sara Alexi
Theo takes the note and casually folds it into his shirt pocket, with a glance at Babis. As he pours a good measure of brandy, he eyes his cup on the draining board and shakes his head in disbelief. Whilst he is waiting for the water to come to the boil for Aleko’s coffee he takes a book from under the sink, opens it to the last page and crosses out the line that reads Aleko – 100.
‘There you go, my friend.’ He places the brandy by Aleko, who has pulled his chair as close to the wood burning stove as the other men around it will allow. ‘This one’s on the house,’ says Theo.
It’s nice to get out of the kafenio once in a while. The men are all content and it will only take a minute to nip over to Mitsos.
‘Hey, hey, my friend, a grim day! Are you wet?’ Mitsos greets him. The chicken hisses on the grill, the fat catching fire as it drips. At the end of the grill, cooked sausages keep warm by a stainless steel bowl of chips.
‘You have any business?’ Theo pops his head through the internal door to the small room that houses four tables. The two farmers sitting there nod and grunt their hellos, and Theo grunts and nods in return.
‘Roll on spring, eh, Theo?’ Mitsos offers him a sausage on the end of his long two-pronged grilling fork.
‘No, thanks.’ Theo takes the hundred euros and slots it between the old-fashioned keys of the ancient till. ‘Here’s what I owe you for the spirits.’ Then he is gone, running between the raindrops.
Mitsos looks twice at the note. It’s not often a hundred-euro note makes its way into the village. Putting down his fork, he wipes his hand on his apron and inspects it. At this time of year it feels like a lot of money, but he is fastidious about the eatery, and the butcher and the fuel man are both paid. … In fact, everyone is paid except Fillipos over at the bakery. Fillipos’s attitude is so relaxed that Mitsos feels he might have taken advantage a little.
Well, he can make amends for that right now.
‘You need anything?’ He pops his head through to the eatery.
‘Another beer would be nice,’ one of the farmers calls back, so Mitsos takes a bottle of Fix from the fridge. He puts the bottle between his knees to secure it and pops the cap off with the opener that hangs from a rather grimy piece of string attached to the handle of the fridge. He has had to find ways to adjust to having just one arm, and these days it is important to know that things are going to be in their place, like the opener, the grill fork, the tongs.
‘Here you go.’ He puts the beer on the table and looks out at the sky that seems to be clearing. There is a rainbow, too, which appears to rise from Stella’s hotel, or down on the beach somewhere, and it arches right across towards Saros. At the thought of Stella, as usual, there is a pleasant fluttering sensation in his stomach. How has he been lucky enough to have ended up with a woman like that for his wife?
‘Ah, Stella,’ he says out loud, and marches quickly across to the bakery.
The front doors are shut so he goes around to the back and finds the kitchen door ajar. Stheno, the old woman who owns the place, is sitting at the table staring into space, and she starts at the sight of him.
‘Fillipos around?’ Mitsos asks. She is small and frail, her clothes hang off her and she is all bone, so it surprises him, as it does every time, when the old woman screeches at the top of her voice and the sound echoes around the house. After a minute or two, footsteps can be heard, and then the double doors through to the bakery are flung open in a cloud of flour dust.
‘Mitso, come.’ Fillipos beckons him into the cloud. The old woman is staring at nothing again. The bakery is almost too hot, in sharp contrast to the weather outside. It is heated by an old-fashioned bread oven that burns olive logs. ‘I’ve been trying out some new biscuit recipes,’ says Fillipos, indicating a tray on one of the large wooden tables that run along the walls of the bakery. ‘Let me know which you prefer.’
He breaks a biscuit in half and steam comes out, and he offers half to Mitsos. He eats the other half himself, chewing thoughtfully, with his head on one side. He smiles encouragingly at Mitsos and hands him another.
Mitsos wipes the crumbs from his lips. ‘The second, definitely the second.’
‘Yeah, I agree. Does it need more cinnamon though?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Mitsos takes the hundred euros out of his pocket.
‘If you hang on for a few minutes there will be another batch.’
‘Actually I have Socrates and Thanasis over there so I need to get back. I just wanted to get up to date with what I owe for the bread. That’s about right, isn’t it?’ He holds out the money.
Fillipos looks at the note and then goes through to the shop.
‘That will take you through till next Wednesday,’ Fillipos calls through.
‘Okay, see you. Good luck with your biscuits.’
The old woman still hasn’t moved, and Mitsos wonders what she does all day as he makes his way out of the back of the bakery. The cold hits him after the warmth of the bakery, and he hurries over to his shop.
Fillipos watches him cross the road and disappear into the shadows. He smiles to himself at his luck. He loves his work, and being up before anyone else, and he loves the creativity of making new biscuits or plaiting the bread for celebrations. The old woman who owns the bakery has lost all interest and Fillipos is given free rein to manage the business as he sees fit. Her husband hardly makes an appearance at all these days. Originally he was just paid a wage, but now, with the help of Babis the local lawyer, he is drawing up an agreement that will allow him to buy the place: a sort of rental purchase agreement that the old couple seem more than happy with. The papers are all but ready to sign, and all he has to do is pay the last hundred euros. And here it is in his hand! He cannot help but give a tiny yelp and jump on the spot. Maybe tomorrow Babis can get the old couple to sign. He says nothing to Stheno as he passes her on his way to the kafenio. The woman only seems half there these days. He hopes that won’t be a problem.
Babis is sure to be at the kafenio. Yes, there he is, sitting at a table that commands the view through the front and side windows, a coffee and an ouzo in front of him. Fillipos enters and Babis extends his arm, but it is not held out for a handshake. No, the fingers twitch, ready to take what is offered.
‘Right, then.’ Babis pulls out a chair, but Fillipos explains that he has a batch of kourambiethes in the oven.
‘Can we go ahead tomorrow now?’ he asks.
‘I don’t see why not.’
And with this he is gone, happy to be out of the atmosphere in the kafenio, with its stale smoke, and into the rain which is at least fresh.
Babis looks at the hundred-euro note, turns it over. There are a thousand things he could do – needs to do – with this money. The papers are nearly ready for Fillipos; this is the final payment. So this hundred euros needs to take care of some of his debt. Now, what is most important? So much of his time lately seems to have been spent smoothing the path that will take him to the office of deputy mayor – it would probably be a good idea to settle some of those bills. The expense will pay itself back many times over. So the best use of a hundred euros would be … Actually, the best thing he has done recently has been to take the mayor for a meal at Stella’s hotel. He still owes her for that, and he may want to do it again.
He stands and throws a few euros on the table. The rain has stopped and the clouds are white now, and puffy against a bluish sky. A stroll along to the hotel will clear his head of the ouzo and prepare him for the evening, which he will spend finishing off Fillipos’s papers.
Outside, the air smells of ozone and biscuits. A couple of dogs run about the square and some children dash out of their houses, eager for freedom. The walk past the church is not an unpleasant one and the sky becomes still clearer as he nears the hotel.
‘Hi, Stella,’ Babis calls. Stella is pulling out books and papers from behind the reception desk. ‘Have you lost something?’ he asks, but Stella seems too focused to hear him.
&nb
sp; ‘I can see this is a bad time. I’ll just leave this here,’ he continues. ‘It is for the dinner I had the other day with the mayor. His cannot help his chest puffing out as he says these words.
Stella stops and stares at the hundred-euro note he has put down. It takes a moment but then her shoulders drop and she exhales loudly.
‘Thank goodness,’ she says, and pockets the money.
‘What, did you think I wouldn’t pay?’ Babis asks.
‘Oh no,’ Stella begins, but she does not want to tell him the whole story. ‘No, just a busy sort of day.’
Just at that moment a shiny car pulls into the car park. Babis watches as a man in a sharp suit climbs out and walks into the hotel with the air of someone who has made something of his life. Babis cannot help but compare this man’s appearance to his own – the cut of his suit, the shine of his shoes, the preciseness of his haircut. ‘One day,’ he promises himself, and leaves to go home to work on Fillipos’s papers.
‘I’m very sorry, but I’ve been called back to Athens,’ the man says. Stella takes the hundred euros from her pocket and puts it back on the reception desk. His manicured fingers play with the note’s corners as if it means nothing to him. ‘But I am very interested in the area. It has so much history. I will come back as soon as I can.’
Stella nods. She employs Stheno’s nephew, Vlassis, to conduct tours of Tiryns, Mycenae and Agamemnon’s Tomb for guests in the summer.
‘So’ – he pushes the note towards her and then takes out his wallet from his inside jacket pocket – ‘I would like to book for two weeks … This place will be splendid as a base. Do you have a suite? I will have to work as well so a suite would suit me best. And, if it’s all right by you, I will pay in advance, so I have less to think about. How much would you like?’
Also by Sara Alexi
Good reviews are important to a book’s success and will help others find The Eastern Fly and Other Stories. If you enjoyed it, please be kind and leave a review wherever you purchased the book, or on Goodreads.com.
I’m always delighted to receive email from readers, and I welcome new friends on Facebook.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorsaraalexi
Email: [email protected]
Happy reading,
