Olive Virgins
Katerina Nikolas
Book 3 in The Greek Meze Series
Published by Amazon
Copyright © 2017
by
Katerina Nikolas
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses,
places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s
imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover based on an original sketch
by Roy Brittan
Many thanks to Brenda and George for edits
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: A Bundle Of Joy
Chapter 2: Soula Is A Sweetie
Chapter 3: Silicone Fame
Chapter 4: Keeping Secrets
Chapter 5: Toothless Tasos Loses His Teeth
Chapter 6: Deirdre Puts Her Foot In It
Chapter 7: Tourist Complaints
Chapter 8: Fig Cake and Onions
Chapter 9: Eureka!
Chapter 10: Stupid Superstitions
Chapter 11: Parrot Beater
Chapter 12: Saved At Sea
Chapter 13: Egg On The Pappas’ Face
Chapter 14: The Body In The Deep Freeze
Chapter 15: Stormy Weather Forecast
Chapter 16: Thea’s Cat Suffers An Unwanted Bath
Chapter 17: Fake Soup
Chapter 18: It’s Raining Men
Chapter 19: Brawling Fishermen
Chapter 20: Scared Of A Dark Puddle
Chapter 21: Herring Under A Fur Coat
Chapter 22: Lashing Waves And Paddling Paths
Chapter 23: Trapped In The Twilight Zone
Chapter 24: Nitsa Bags A Suitor
Chapter 25: A Stapled Stub
Chapter 26: Crumbs In The Wax
Chapter 27: Cackles And Curses
Chapter 28: Moustakos
Chapter 29: A Butt Full Of Pellets
Chapter 30: I Loves Yous Quentin
Chapter 31: Eavesdropping
Chapter 32: Soaking The Olives
Chapter 33: Price That Junk
Chapter 34: Bras Full Of Olives
Chapter 35: Shooting Blanks
Chapter 36: Stinking Rubbish
Chapter 37: Old Crone Hanging
Chapter 38: A Delicate Operation
Chapter 39: Pressing The Olives
Chapter 40: Cupid’s Arrow
Chapter 41: Olive Virgins
Chapter 42: Plucking The Parrot
Chapter 43: Oiling The Cat
Chapter 44: Dunking In Oil
Chapter 45: A Sinful Obsession
Chapter 46: Soula Is Broody
Chapter 47: Pick Yous Own Olives
Chapter 48: Hob-Nobbing With Custard Creams
Chapter 49: A November Christmas Dinner
I Hope You Enjoyed Olive Virgins
Chapter 1: A Bundle Of Joy
“Great bowls of borscht, the baby ‘as bushy sideburns, yous best shave ‘em off quick before yous mother-in-law spots ‘em,” mail order Masha urged, handing Tassia her newly delivered bundle of joy.
There was no denying the sideburns imbued the baby with a definite resemblance to Slick Socrates, a most unfortunate look for an infant girl.
“Fat Christos wants me to name ‘er after his mother,” Tassia told Masha, wrapping the baby in one of her mother-in-law’s knitted goat jackets for warmth.
“What’s ‘er name?” Masha enquired.
“Mrs Kolokotronis,” Tassia replied, contorting her face into a grimace.
“It’s a bit of a mouthful for something so small,” Masha pondered “and don’t Greek tradition dictate the baby should be called after yous ‘usband’s yiayia?”
“His yiayia was named Andromeda,” Tassia recalled.
“That’s ‘andy as we can calls ‘er Andy for short,” mail order Masha pronounced. “Quite appropriate as she looks like a boy.”
“She might improve with age,” Tassia said hopefully, looking down at the wrinkled little bundle. “I’m so grateful you was ‘ere to deliver the baby Masha, I don’t know what I’d ‘ave done without yous.”
“Are you sures yous dont’s want to get to the ‘ospital now?” Masha questioned, looking round the supermarket stockroom, crammed full of tourist tat, where Tassia had just delivered her baby in less than ten minutes flat.
“I don’t think I’ll bother now, but will go ‘ome and ‘ave the rest of day off,” Tassia answered.
“Why’s nobody minding the shop?” Fat Christos called out, returning from a quick coffee at the kafenion.
“Yous could ‘ardly expect yous wife to give birth to the baby on full display behind the cheese counter while serving customers,” Masha replied, adding, “comes and meets yous new baby daughter.”
“Good grief that was quick,” Fat Christos said, rushing to Tassia’s side.
“What a beautiful baby,” he gushed, oblivious to her bushy sideburns. “Tassia you ‘ave made me so ‘appy,” he said, showering sloppy kisses on his wife and new baby.
“I’d best get to the television studio or I’ll be late with my weather report. Thank goodness winter is coming; I’m getting sick of announcing it is sunny, day after day. Christo can I ‘elps myself to some washing up liquid as the baby ‘as sicked up all over my dress?” mail order Masha asked, making a dash to the chauffeur driven car waiting for her outside the supermarket.
“Yous took your time,” the smitten young doctor complained as Masha climbed into the car. “I thought you were only popping in for some vodka.”
“I ‘ad to deliver a baby,” Masha replied.
“But surely if there was a baby to be delivered you should have called me,” the smitten young doctor protested.
“Po po, yous ‘ave been struck off for poisoning peoples with them dodgy botched Botox injections and forgets yous is only a lowly chauffeur now,” Masha reminded him. “Yous can ‘elps when Onos ‘as ‘er foal, I think a donkey birth would be too messy for me. Now get yous foot down as I can’t keep my admiring public waiting.”
Chapter 2: Soula Is A Sweetie
As the chauffeur driven car sped past Bald Yannis’ house, mail order Masha waved to Soula who was busy pegging her smalls out on the washing line. Recognising her distinctive silk thongs Masha mused, “I must have left some of my underwear in the bag of second hand dresses I gave to the new bride.”
Soula was singing to herself as she hung out the washing. Her life had improved beyond recognition since she married Bald Yannis and came to live in the beautiful village of Astakos. The pair of them rubbed along nicely and she considered her workload of keeping house, helping out in the hardware shop and tending the dowry herd of goats to be an absolute doddle compared to the endless drudgery she had been subjected to in the high mountain village of Osta. A smile often lit up her plain face and she was making friends among the villagers. There was time to relax at the end of the day with Mrs Kolokotronis’ knitting while watching her glamorous new friend mail order Masha deliver the weather report on the new fangled television.
Soula witnessed first-hand how Bald Yannis openly mocked his customers, calling them malakas and morons to their faces while delivering scathing one liners. She saw through his bluster, defending him to the hilt in appreciation of his rescuing her from her tyrannical father, and hoped one day Bald Yannis would realise they were truly soul mates. Her very loyal streak made her an excellent wife and friend, yet she suffered no fools and had taken an instant loathing to the
Pappas with his smarmy God-bothering ways.
Soula prepared a simple lunch of homemade bread, cheese, raw garlic cloves and olives, wrapping it up in greaseproof paper to take along to the hardware shop. She hoped she could persuade Bald Yannis to eat a late lunch with her on the harbour wall as she loved to relax there and watch the fishermen repair their nets. Strolling along to the hardware shop her eyes feasted on the wonderful sights of the crystal clear sea, the lovely stone houses with their painted shutters and the trees laden with lushly ripe purple figs and crimson pomegranates.
Her contemplative mood was interrupted by the sight of her husband physically ejecting Fotini from the hardware shop, shouting “I wont’s tell yous again, that parrot is banned.”
“Buts I can’t get it off my ‘ead,” Fotini screeched in response.
“Then yous is banned too. Not only does yous parrot ‘ave a foul mouth an’ ‘as insulted me, but it ‘as been shoplifting.”
“The parrot is not a thief yous eejit malaka, it couldn’t ‘elp swallowing them screws; it thought they were food,” Fotini protested.
“I dont’s care if it intended to eat the screws or not, if I let yous parrot get away with it I’ll ‘ave ‘alf the village in ‘ere eating stock ‘an claiming it was accident so theys dont’s ‘ave to pay.”
Soula rushed over to calm the situation, saying “Kyria Fotini my ‘usband doesn’t mean to shout at yous. If yous can get the parrot to sick up or pass the screws brings ‘em back and we will says no more about it. Now let me see if I can coax the parrot off yous ‘ead an’ then yous can go back inside an’ finish yous shopping.”
Soula spoke soothingly to the parrot, easily coaxing it from Fotini’s head onto her own shoulder where it sat contentedly nuzzling her neck, squawking “Soula is a sweetie.”
Fotini emerged with her new purchase of a hideous old lady dress. “We ‘ave the same dress!” Soula exclaimed delightedly, adding “my ‘usband ‘as great taste when it comes to stocking women’s clothing.”
“Yous ‘usband is a malaka and everythin’ the parrot said about ‘im was true,” Fotini retorted, straining her eyes to see where Nitsa had got to with the taxi. “I suppose I’d better takes the parrot back ‘ome before yous ‘usband cuts it open with ‘is chainsaw to get ‘is screws back,” grudgingly adding, “I must say yous do ‘ave a way with birds.”
Beaming with pleasure at the compliment Soula helped Fotini, who once again had the parrot perched firmly on her head, into the taxi driven by a scowling Nitsa, whose nose was still put out of joint that Soula had snared her man.
Chapter 3: Silicone Fame
The local television station in Paraliakos was inordinately pleased with the viewer response to their new weather girl, mail order Masha. Her silicone attractions drew a vast new audience and her weather reports uploaded on YouTube had legions of international fans who had fallen for Masha from the first moment she shot to fame at the prison protest. Although Masha was not particularly skilled in her actual reportage, tending to point at the wrong spots on the map with her pointer after being a bit free with the vodka, her on-screen antics were doing wonders for the television stations ratings.
So popular was she her salary had already been doubled; her bosses provided her with a generous wardrobe allowance and a chauffeur driven car to take her between Astakos and Paraliakos, as it was too long a trip to endure on the back of the donkey. The chauffeur was also tasked with replying to mail order Masha’s vast pile of fan mail by sending out glossy photographs of the silicone icon, on which he forged her signature.
That old fool Vasilis had initially been enraged to discover the smitten young doctor was spending so much time with his wife but her sneering comments asking “does you really thinks an international television star would be interested in a lowly chauffeur?” reassured him she was faithful and considered the smitten young struck-off doctor nothing more than her dogsbody. He never suspected his wife was actually carrying on behind his back with the smitten young reporter, the latest admirer she had attracted at the prison protest.
Masha’s work schedule meant less time to spend with her husband, so that old fool Vasilis was spending lots of time with his new found daughter Stavroula. She had given him a job washing up in her taverna kitchen and persuaded her new found father to invest extra cash in her tourist tat extension. Achilles the borrowed builder was due to recommence work on it any day, having finally finished the renovation work on the ‘Lemoni Spiti.’
Quentin and Deirdre were packing the last of their things from their room over Yiota’s taverna in excited anticipation of moving into the newly renovated house. “I can’t believe mother is refusing to move in with us,” Quentin complained, feeling insulted she preferred the company of the two awful old crones next door.
“She will only be next door and it will be lovely to have the new place all to ourselves,” Deirdre responded, struggling to shove a glow-in-the-dark Acropolis into her suitcase.
“What on earth possessed you to buy that tacky ornament?” Quentin asked, only to be reminded how persuasive Fat Christos could be.
“Well I suppose we can hide it out of the way in the guest toilet.”
“What a good idea,” Deirdre replied, wondering where on earth she could display the other load of tat she had impulsively purchased and so far managed to keep hidden from Quentin.
“Have you bought a gift for the new baby yet?” Quentin asked, reminding his wife they needed to call in to coo over the new arrival before they headed over to Rapanaki.
“Yes, we have bought her the most adorable stuffed goat,” Deirdre told him. “Stavroula was saying she had never seen such an ugly baby, but I suspect she was just in one of her moods.”
Deirdre quickly realised Stavroula had not been exaggerating when she and Quentin arrived to greet the new arrival who was bawling at an ear-piercing level. “Oh she’s so cute,” Deirdre lied, peering at the purple wailing baby with a nasty case of stubble rash where Tassia had shaved off the tell-tale sideburns.
“Perhaps the stuffed goat will calm ‘er down,” Tassia said hopefully. “Truth is my little darling never stops screaming unless Fat Christos picks ‘er up. I’m thinking I will ‘ave to run the supermarket and Christos will ‘ave to look after the baby and become one of them new fangled ‘ouse ‘usbands.”
“Nonsense,” Fat Christos declared sweeping into the room, grabbing the baby and smothering her with kisses. Christos was a natural with the baby and her silence was instant. “Business will suffer if I’m not there to run things, but I can take Andy with me in the baby sling. ‘Ave yous ever seen such a beauty K-Went-In and Did-Rees?”
“She’s certainly one of a kind,” the American pair diplomatically hedged.
“She just loves the stuffed goat,” Tassia said, thanking the Americans for their thoughtful gift. “Perhaps she will be a shepherdess Christo.”
“Nonsense,” the doting father shouted “my little cutie pie will be a bank manager or a politician, won’t you my beauty?”
“’Ave yous ever seen anyone make such a fool of themselves over a baby?” Mrs Kolokotronis questioned, barging into the room. Much as she loved her son she thought he was getting a bit too carried away with his doting new father performance, especially as she still suspected he wasn’t actually the father.
“I think it is admirable Christos is so devoted to Andromeda and he will be an excellent father,” Quentin said. His ear drums were nearly shattered when Mrs Kolokotronis made a grab for the baby who instantly started screaming again. Fat Christos protested, yanking the baby out of his mother’s clutches.
“Andy wants ‘er Baba, don’t yous my cherub. I will tuck ‘er into the baby sling and take ‘er out for a walk. Now yous lot get out, Tassia needs to catch up on ‘er sleep,” Fat Christos said, ushering everyone out of the room. Tossing Tassia a packet of wax ear plugs he added, “’e
re my dear, put these in for a bit of peace.”
Tassia, grateful her husband was so thoughtful, followed his advice. She could put up with the baby screaming but she had no appetite for Mrs Kolokotronis’ spiteful digs about the baby’s passing resemblance to Slick Socrates.
Chapter 4: Keeping Secrets
The Pappas had been keeping a low profile since his live-in housekeeper, the amorous widow Mrs Christeas, had been exposed as the rooster thief. Unceremoniously thrown out of the Pappas’ house, the widow left the village in abject humiliation. The Pappas managed to keep the lid on the scandal of his carrying on with the widow by threatening to reveal the intimate secrets of the few villagers who knew about the affair if they didn’t keep their mouths shut.
Stavroula had been hard to convince, but he promised if she blabbed about his disastrous liaison he would in turn spread the word her mother Melina had been a floozy. Stavroula seethed with resentment over the Pappas’ threat to reveal Melina had been seduced in an olive grove by that old fool Vasilis. Even though it was now quietly accepted the old fool was indeed her father the details of her conception remained secret.
Mail order Masha agreed to keep the Pappas’ secret as she didn’t want people gossiping maliciously about her old fool of a husband. Soula had simply responded to the Pappas’ plea for silence by giving him a withering look, stating “I ‘ave never been a gossip, I never even revealed yous sordid secret to my ‘usband.” That just left Gorgeous Yiorgos and Petula in on the secret and they agreed to keep it in exchange for the Pappas agreeing to give up visitation rights to the pet goat Nero.
The offending photograph was duly destroyed by Gorgeous Yiorgos. The Pappas, now confident the Bishop would never find out about his indiscretion, went into full God-bothering grovelling mode. He was optimistic when Fat Christos and Tassia had the baby baptised it would be a good opportunity to fill up the church pews.
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