by Sara Alexi
Stamatis gave her a warm smile as she came through the back door. She was glad it was dark inside as she felt the events of the night before must show on her face.
'You look happy,' he said, and offered her a coffee. Argyro was at the table by the counter, reading a magazine, drinking a coffee and smoking a cigarette; if Vasso accepted a coffee, would she have to sit at the table too?
'Morning!' Spiros bounced in full of energy and grinned widely at Vasso. Stamatis looked from him to Vasso and back and then a twinkle came to his eye.
'Two coffees here, son. Take them outside with you.' Stamatis controlled his smiles and offered the cups to Spiros, who took them, nodding his head towards the door where the sun beamed in, beckoning to Vasso to join him. Argyro did not look up.
Orino Island was already bustling. The cargo ship had its tailgate lowered onto the harbour side, and each swell of the calm sea raised the boat and lowered it, grinding the paint off the tailgate, tattooing the flagged stone quayside. Men with their shirts unbuttoned unloaded pallets of water bottles, boxes of flour and rice and pasta. A washing machine was hauled off, along with dozens of shoeboxes bound to each other with tape. On the quayside, surrounding the end of the boat, men with handcarts had gathered in a semicircle, yokes of rope attached to the handles over their shoulders to assist them with the heavier loads, and teams of donkeys, eyes closed, ears flicking at the early morning flies, waiting to be burdened. The man she had seen yesterday, with the sand-coloured hair and the fuzz of growth on his top lip, was amongst them. He was feeding his lead donkey an apple. The apple disappeared in a succession of quick bites and he leaned towards the beast and seemed to whisper something in its ear. The donkey raised and lowered its head, shaking at the halter. The man patted its neck.
'So, how are you this morning?' Spiros asked, and his hands crept across the table to take hers. She automatically drew them back and looked towards the taverna, but no one stood there watching them, and she let her hands return; he found them, his fingers exploring hers, her nails, her knuckles, the creases between her fingers, the mound of her thumb.
'I’m well. And you?' she managed.
Chuckling, he rolled his eyes. 'Very formal. Vasso, you are allowed to be excited. I assume you feel the same way as I do? Tell me I’m not mistaking the signals? Is it not that we have found each other? If you feel the same way, it is a miracle, we can celebrate!'
She expected to feel the usual heat in her cheeks at his words, but it did not come. Instead, she shuffled in her seat and her spine grew straight, her chin lifted, her neck elongated and she laughed with confidence.
'Vasso!' The sharp shriek could be no one else’s and Vasso jumped from her chair to do Argyro's bidding. But no sooner was she inside than Argyro was outside and standing very close to Spiros. She seemed to be trying to speak quietly, but her words carried and Vasso looked away.
'Spiro, I do not pay either you or her' – she stabbed a nicotine-stained finger towards Vasso inside – 'to conduct a love affair in public. Besides, she is a nobody and it does not look well that you are amusing yourself with her.'
At this, Vasso took hold of the sink’s edge to steady her swaying and sucked in air, trying not to faint. Was Argyro right? Was he toying with her?
'What are you saying, Argyro? She is a distant cousin, a relative of mine and Baba's. If you call her a nothing, you are calling your husband a nothing!'
'And I have told you, you call him Stamatis in public. Let us at least try to look professional.'
'Professional!' Spiro’s voice began to rise.
'Don't you dare raise your voice to me!' Argyro hissed, and Vasso was afraid just witnessing the exchange.
'Argyro, my love…' Stamatis was outside on nimble feet, his arm around her shoulder but his eyes on Spiros, and Vasso could not tell whether, with that look, he was taking sides. His free hand reached out to touch Spiro’s arm, and Vasso wondered if the fear in his eyes arose from the possibility that his son might leave again.
Just this touch seemed to infuriate Argyro.
'You always take his side,' she spat. 'You dote on him on purpose to remind me again and again of…’ But she did not finish her sentence.
'No, no, no, no, Argyro!' Stamatis dropped his hand from Spiros and put both on her shoulders. She had all his attention now.
Out of the corner of her eye, Vasso noticed an old man tentatively take a seat just outside the door of the taverna. His attention was caught by the commotion and his jaw dropped open at the scene.
'And, when goading me with that does not work, then one of you' – she glared at Spiros – 'always manages to mention our grandfathers.'
'No one had mentioned–' Stamatis began.
'That's because this time I mentioned it first to take away your spiteful power.' Argyro pulled away from them both and stomped towards the taverna door. Vasso decided this was a good moment to use the bathroom.
'And where are you going?'
Vasso froze in her tracks and turned around to find with relief that it was not her that Argyro was addressing.
The old man who had only just sat down was making an attempt to leave but Argyro fixed her stare on him.
'Stamatis, we have a customer here. Get him a coffee.'
'Actually, I have just remembered an appointment,' mumbled the old man. He did not make eye contact.
'Then it is best you fortify yourself with coffee before you go. Stamatis, is the briki boiling?'
Vasso willed the old man to stick to his guns and leave, and she felt such a sinking in her stomach as he sat down again, muttering, 'Just for five minutes, then.'
Chapter 13
For the rest of the morning Vasso felt as if she were walking on glass. There were very few customers and consequently not much to do. Stamatis cast her a few sympathetic glances – when Argyro was not looking – and Spiros just smiled broadly but there seemed to be a sadness behind his grin.
She spent most of her time watching the cargo ship unload. Then the one-day-cruise ship arrived and there was a flood of Asian people-perhaps Japanese-in pristine clothes and wide hats, with flashing cameras. Unlike the European tourists, they wore long sleeves and long trousers despite the heat, apparently to protect themselves from the sun’s rays, with little regard for comfort in the heat. A few sat for a drink, taking photographs of each other and anything around them. Very few ventured away from the port and none of them stayed to eat. They seemed amused by the cats that wound their way around the legs of the tables, begging for nonexistent scraps. After two hours, a low bass horn sounded from the bowels of the ship and the tourists gathered like chicks following a hen to head back to the gangplank. The vessel pulled away and Orino fell back into its usual calm. A donkey on the corner heaved its lonely cry, a bellow that faded into a wheezing whimper.
At last, Argyro and Stamatis wished them a good afternoon, and her round figure swayed after his thin stooping frame as he tiptoed to the turning, where they disappeared from sight.
'Right, I’m just off to the butchers,' said Spiros, watching them leave.
Vasso watched him go too. He neither tiptoed, nor swayed. He strode with authority and energy, purposeful.
From nowhere, a voice hissed in her ear, 'Where's Spiros going?' It was Argyro. Vasso jumped and put her hand to her heart.
'Oh, you made me jump,' was all she could think to say.
'Well, where is he going with such purpose?'
'Er, he didn't say. But he did mention he thought his hair was getting too long. So maybe…'
'Whatever. Where are my cigarettes?' Argyro headed inside.
'I'll get them.' Vasso trotted to the table inside and hurried back. The less time Argyro was there, the less chance there was of her seeing anything amiss.
'Here you are.'
'Hmm. Do you smoke?'
'No,'
'Hmm, I thought this was a full pack.'
'No, I don't smoke.' How dare Argyro accuse her? She would never take even a cigarette
without asking.
'Oh, don't get all offended. I can't stand people who get offended.' And with these words she trundled off after Stamatis, who was waiting on the corner. Vasso waited anxiously, willing her to hurry. Spiros would be back in a moment and people were beginning to gather in groups of twos and threes on the walkway, glancing towards Argyro. As soon as she turned the corner these people descended on the tables and chairs, filling those nearest to the taverna door first.
Seconds later, in strode Spiros. There was no mistaking where he had been, the heavy plastic bags in his hand emblazoned with a motif of a bull and a sheep.
'She came back,' Vasso whispered as they went inside together.
'Who – Argyro? What for?'
'Her cigarettes.' Vasso’s heart was still pounding but Spiros just shrugged and put the bags on the counter, and began to arrange his kitchen.
Dimitri came in rubbing his hands.
'Hello, my friends,' he called.
'Yeia sou, Dimitri,' Spiros returned. He was alive again, his eyes bright and his energy pouring into his work.
The lunch went well. Spiros grilled lamb, first flavouring the meat with lemons, garlic and oregano. The oregano was fresh from a bush in a corner of the courtyard, and he ground it in a marble mortar with a blunt, heavy pestle. The lemons, of course, came straight off the tree in the courtyard, and Vasso was tasked with skinning the garlic. Spiros showed her how to shake a whole garlic head between two metal bowls to skin all the cloves within seconds. He added one more element to this mix of flavours, teasing Vasso, saying it was a ‘secret ingredient’, and then rubbed the concoction onto the lamb before cooking it. The main dish was served with a salad of tomatoes, cucumber and coarsely chopped onion, topped with thick slices of feta and plenty of olive oil. The plates came back empty, wiped clean with hunks of bread.
Tired but happy, Spiros had a brief nap, and encouraged her to do the same when he got up, but she could not sleep for the excitement of it all, so she swilled her face with cool water instead. As she headed back to the taverna Spiros met her in the courtyard. His hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her in for a kiss that she could not resist.
'You are the girl for me,' he whispered. As quickly as it happened they parted and he was back outside, chatting to potential customers, drumming up trade.
Presently Argyro returned, and as soon as she put down her bag and lit up a cigarette she called them.
'Spiro, come in. Vasso, you too.' Her face was grim.
'I saw Kyria Papadopoulos on the way here,' she began, her voice turning sharp. 'She congratulated me on the trade we are doing.' Vasso felt her forehead turn cold. 'She seemed to think we were doing very well indeed, especially at lunchtime.'
She looked from Vasso to Spiros and back.
'Why would she say that?’ Spiros asked.
'Yes, that is what I wondered. Why would she say such a thing? Is it, perhaps, that we have one or two customers you do not tell me about? Eh? Keep the money to yourself, perhaps?'
Vasso wanted to spit 'How dare you!' at her, but the woman’s size alone scared her.
'Ah, but Kyria Papadopoulos does not know how organised you are.' Spiros seemed calm in his reply. 'You would know if I had served even one meal by what was missing from the fridges. Come, let us look.' And he made as if to head for the fridges.
'I do not need you to patronise me, Spiro.' Argyro tried to sound calm but there was now an inflection of uncertainty in her voice, and her neck took on a reddish tinge. 'I cannot believe that she would say such a thing without good reason.'
'I agree, it does sound strange,' Spiros replied and the two walked away from each other, leaving Vasso standing alone, a cold sweat on her brow. Argyro clearly believed something was going on, and she did not seem the sort to be satisfied before she had dug out the whole truth.
Later, when Argyro and Stamatis left for the night, Vasso was no less agitated. The calm everyone was displaying felt false, like the silence in the playground at school a second or two before the boys broke into a fight. The fear of what seemed inevitable kept adrenaline coursing through her all day and, by the time she and Spiros were alone, she felt exhausted, even though nothing more had happened.
'She might come back tomorrow, to try and catch you,’ she ventured, hoping Spiros would say something to reassure her.
'Yes, I know,' he said, downing his first ouzo. Neither his words nor his drinking made her feel any less tense.
'Why don't you just cook her something, show her how good you are?’
'Because her mind is already made up.'
They were sitting under the lemon tree. Spiros tipped his head back. Vasso could not understand how he could be so calm.
'Look at the stars, Vasso,' he encouraged her, and she leaned back to look up at the sky. Immediately his hand came to her throat and trailed a line down to her collarbone. His lips descended on her so slowly she almost grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to end the exquisite pain of the anticipation. But she controlled herself and waited, and the waiting made her yearn, yearn to be his everything. It seemed only a matter of time before she would lose herself to him, and somehow the right and the wrong of it all no longer seemed important.
Chapter 14
'I can’t believe you’re doing this, after yesterday!' Vasso exclaimed the next afternoon.
'Where do you want these?' Dimitri asked, holding up two carrier bags. They looked heavy. Argyro and Stamatis had only been gone five minutes and since then Spiros had been in the kitchen area, clearing and organising.
'Spiro?' Vasso leaned over the counter. 'Argyro suspects. I feel sure she’ll come back. Why are you risking this?'
'Because I don’t have enough money for a down payment for the rent of my own taverna yet.' He took a knife and began to sharpen it, the steel and the knife flashing back and forth, the sunlight through the doorway bouncing off the blade.
'But if she catches you, you still won’t have enough money but nor will you have a job. Then where will we be?'
'We?' He stopped sharpening and grinned at her.
'Spiro, why aren’t you taking this seriously?' Vasso implored.
His grin faded.
'I’m taking it very seriously. If she suspects, then she suspects. She may come back today, or maybe she will wait until tomorrow, or next week. Am I supposed to stop and lose all those days?'
'But to keep going as if nothing has happened the day after she mentioned it! Surely the biggest chance is that she will come today?'
'Or maybe she will be sneaky, think that we will expect her today and so come tomorrow. That is what I would do.'
'Spiro, I’m scared.' Vasso held in her breath, forced back the wave of emotions, denying the tears. At this, Spiros dropped both knife and sharpening steel to come out from behind the counter and put his arms around her shoulders.
'Ah, it was only a matter of time.' Dimitri came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his shorts. 'But maybe save that for later. Look, the tables are filling up.'
'Argyro knows.' Vasso unburied herself from Spiro’s embrace, from his rich, musky scent.
'She knows!' All merriment was gone from Dimitri.
'She suspects,' Spiros clarified.
'You think she will come?'
Spiros shrugged.
'So, I can wait on the corner and give an alarm,' Dimitri suggested.
'And then?' Vasso asked. 'We are meant to hide everyone, wave a magic wand so everything is cleared away?'
'It was just a thought.'
Spiros had broken away and was back behind the counter, chopping and cooking.
'Ah, Vasso.' Dimitri folded his arms. 'The man cannot help himself.' They both watched Spiros.
By the time the first plates of food were ready, Vasso was still hovering nervously by the doorway, watching for Argyro.
At one point, a young boy who had been hanging a piece of string into the harbour’s water, his spine visible through his dark brown thin s
kin, straightened up from his play, hitched up his oversized shorts and wandered over and asked her, in an disinterested way, what she was doing.
'I’m just watching out for someone,' Vasso replied.
'Who for?' the boy asked, but she did not answer, and he began to guess, naming people she had never heard of. But when he guessed ‘Kyria Argyro’ the truth must have shown on her face.
'She’s scary,' the boy agreed, and made a grab for a kitten, ever hopeful of crumbs, winding its way between the tables.
Soon the food was ready, and Vasso took out plate after plate until everyone was served. She began to relax, and wondered if her fears were unfounded. Some of the customers had left and she had started clearing up when the boy who had chased the kitten came running up to her.
'She's coming,' he puffed. 'She’s on the steps around the corner.' Vasso could practically feel the blood drain from her face at these words.
Running inside, she hissed at Spiros, 'She's coming, she’s round the corner, on the steps.' How near or far this was she didn’t know.
'Gamoto!' he swore. 'So the game is up!' And he threw the tea towel he was holding down onto the counter.
'Great food.' A man came in from outside. 'Bit short of cash today, I haven't been to the bank. Well, see you tomorrow.’
Dimitri put down his fork and sighed. 'Bad luck, Spiro,' he said. But Vasso was not sure she wanted to give up so easily.
'Clean up, I’ll distract her,' she told them and ran from the taverna. The smooth flags were slippery and she could not run as fast as she would like. She rounded the corner and saw that, up ahead, the narrow path divided between the shops. To the left, the path continued level but, to the right, steps curled up and round the corner. She took these two at a time and at the top nearly collided with Argyro and Stamatis.
'Did you see him?' Vasso breathed heavily, panting for air. She exaggerated, wheezing, buying every second she could.
'See who?' Argyro asked, stopping in her tracks.
'He definitely came this way. I can’t believe he isn’t just here. He wasn’t walking fast.' Vasso gasped between words, taking her time to speak.
