A Stranger in the Village

by Sara Alexi

  Between the buildings, tantalising slices of blue are visible and the promise of the sea draws Miltos further into the complex. The corners of the building are rounded and the doorways have no doors, except those to the rooms Miltos suspects are for guests, who would naturally demand some privacy. The few window openings are unglazed and form a repeating pattern of equilateral triangles; the walls, all of which bear the fingermarks of their maker, are undecorated and pale in colour. The intense blue of the sea, in contrast with the sandy walls, takes his breath away. The way it sparkles is almost the same as in Greece, but not quite. Having travelled the world, he knows there are many ways the sea can sparkle, or not; this particular sea view feels very familiar.

  There is no need to call out again, as down on the thin strip of beach there is a large wooden structure with a fabric roof for shade and a low rickety fence around it, which is filled with both cushions and people. As he draws closer, the riot of colours that make up the clothes, the cushions and the batik patterns on the inside of the tent’s roof jumble into one another and it is hard to make out how many people there are. At the far side of this oasis is a bar, with bottles suspended on optics and glasses shining in the sun. It looks jarringly out of place.

  ‘Hello, my friend.’ The bartender welcomes him with a wave of his hand and Miltos recognises the voice from last week’s phone call. The bartender, Joshua, is younger than he expected. With a flourish Josh pours ice and a pink liquid from a large jug into a tall glass, lifting it high as he does so to create a brief cascade. As Miltos steps into the shade of the tent the Australian holds the drink out to him, grinning.

  ‘Drink that,’ he says, ‘and we’ll head over to the pool a bit later.’

  Over a cool fruity drink it is agreed that a refresher dive or two would be a good idea for Miltos.

  ‘I shoulda asked you before taking you on when you last dived. You’ll be all right, it’s like riding a bike. No worries,’ Joshua drawls, and they head to the pool, where the equipment is laid out, all ready to be checked before the students head into the water.

  ‘You’ve dived here before though, right?’ Joshua says as they lower themselves into the diving school’s pool.

  ‘I learnt here, got my coaching certificate here,’ Miltos replies. It seems strange to be in a wetsuit again, but familiar.

  ‘Well, nothing’s changed. The reef still falls away sharply, there are still the same dangers, and the same wonders, would be my guess.’

  Joshua is gently treading water, waiting. Miltos tries to balance on one leg to put on his flippers, but after an ungainly fall he remains seated to finish the job.

  ‘You probably won’t need those in the pool.’ Joshua states the obvious.

  ‘Finding my feet.’ Miltos makes a joke of it, but he knows he just switched to automatic pilot rather than thinking what he was doing. It does not make him look professional.

  He is careful not to bash the tanks as he climbs into the water. What on land was a weight now provides buoyancy.

  ‘Okay, so let’s go down and then we can just run through the basics. We can do everything from emptying the mask to breathing from the same regulator and stuff. You know the lot – just to jog your memory about what you will be teaching first off.’

  Joshua says it casually and then sinks under the water. The pool is so shallow he has to cross his legs for his head to become submerged and as it does it creates foam on the surface. Miltos watches the bubbles pop one by one and wonders if he is on trial.

  The moment the water closes over his own head and his limbs lose their weight he relaxes. He had forgotten that feeling: the stillness, the sensation of entering another world. In open water he would flip his feet up, turn his head downwards and go deeper, looking for fish. But the pool is not deep enough for that.

  Joshua is sitting on the smooth blue-tiled bottom of the pool. He is cross-legged with a hand on each knee in the ‘okay’ sign. As Miltos settles near to him Joshua gives a very clear signal for Miltos to move closer to him. He had forgotten that too – not the fact that divers use signalling, but the clarity of the way they use it, the balletic grace that hand gestures take on in the water.

  They move closer together until he can see into Joshua’s mask, see his eyes. The cheeky Josh of the surface is gone and before him is a professional. He points at Miltos and then, with the same hand, points two fingers at his own eyes and then a finger to his own chest. Without words and with complete simplicity he is saying you, watch, me. This is followed by further clear signalling: remove mask, clear mask, replace mask.

  Miltos lifts the mask from his eyes and it immediately fills with water. He leans forward, exhales bubbles to fill the mask and as he rights himself performs a careful refit. The glass is clear now and it feels as if he last performed this action only yesterday, his muscles remembering the movement more than his brain.

  With smooth gesticulations Joshua leads him to practise clearing the regulator of water using the purge button.

  Time slows down until it no longer has any relevance and the graceful movements of signalling and performance become a silent symphony, and he can see the smile in Joshua’s eyes, which is no more than the reflection of his own delight at being in this world and watching his own expertise return to him.

  Eventually, after running through the remaining skills, they bob to the surface, pulling out their regulators and pulling off their masks in unison.

  ‘You’re a fish,’ Miltos says, and he slaps a hand on Josh’s shoulder. The sun is hot after the relative cool of the water.

  ‘If that is true then you are Old Neptune himself,’ Joshua replies.

  Miltos tries to accept it as a compliment, but the word that lingers in his ears is not Neptune: it is the word ‘old’.

  Chapter 23

  After refreshing his memory in the pool, Miltos heads back to the beachside with Josh. The multi-coloured roof of the tent mottles the sunshine that lands on the girls sitting in one corner, who talk quietly, with the occasional loud giggle. Miltos rubs the back of his neck with a hanky. The boys from the bus lounge in the opposite corner pretending to be cool, listening to their music through headphones, trying their best not to glance too often at the girls.

  Josh sits between the two groups with a clipboard in one hand, making notes. ‘Listen up,’ he calls out over the murmur of voices. ‘This is Miltos.’

  Miltos puts a hand up, in a gesture that is almost a wave, to those assembled in the tent. Some nod in response. Most just look up at him blankly. The girls continue to giggle, but to themselves, rather than in response to him.

  ‘Right, Miltos is our new instructor,’ Josh tells them, and then he stands to address Miltos directly. ‘You’ll be taking these newbies in the pool this afternoon.’ He indicates the girls, who have stopped giggling now and look up at him – a little scared, or nervous at least, of what they have signed up for.

  Miltos is relieved when the American girl takes the initiative and introduces herself as Virginia. ‘And this is Paula, Jess, Rosy and Polly,’ she drawls, pointing to her companions in turn.

  ‘Ladies,’ says Miltos with a wink, and they smile now, and the awkwardness that was there is dissolved.

  ‘After the girls’ initial lesson,’ says Josh, consulting his clipboard, ‘you’ll be taking Bryce, James, Skinner and Grace for air sharing and weight belt removal. They’ve done some before but they need to be reminded of all they know in the pool, and maybe later in the week we’ll go into open water.’

  Three of the boys look up from their phones with a ‘Yo’, ‘Wotcher’ and ‘Hi’ and then resume their private worlds. Grace sits apart, reading a book. There is grey at her temples, and smile lines around her eyes and her clothes are an odd assortment of tie-dye and batik. She is probably in her mid-forties, or older perhaps, but still younger than Miltos. Nevertheless, she looks old to him and he responds to her warm smile with a curt nod.

  ‘But until then there is still the night.’ Joshua leaps
to his feet and heads to the bar. ‘Shots all round, I think.’

  The girls giggle and the boys look up once again from their electronic devices.

  It is not long before Rosie, Paula, Polly, Jess and Virginia are deep in slurred conversation with Josh and the other boys. Grace, on the other hand, is still sipping her first shot as if it is an aperitif, intent on her book. Miltos is keeping up with Josh drink for drink but, although he too is now laid amongst the cushions, he doesn’t quite feel part of the group. Maybe this is because for him this is not a particularly novel event. Certainly it is not the first time he has been tipsy in a group like this one, not by a long way. For these young people, though, this could be an adventure of great significance – maybe the first time they have had such experiences. Their conversation is about diving, and travelling, and although it is not particularly stimulating he reconciles himself to it by thinking that he is here now, and may as well make an effort to join in, become a part of the group.

  ‘There was a time once,’ he begins, noting with some satisfaction that he has their attention, ‘when I was diving out in Thailand, at Koh Dok Mai, when from nowhere–’

  ‘Fake,’ one of the boys says. Miltos stops mid-sentence and blinks.

  ‘The whole of Thailand, so fake.’ It is Skinner who is talking.

  ‘Really?’ Rosie says. ‘I loved it.’

  ‘Me too,’ Polly agrees. ‘Did anyone go to Ayutthaya?’

  ‘So peaceful.’ Virginia says, nodding.

  ‘Did you see the Buddha head in the tree roots?’ says James in a crisp English accent. He has broad shoulders and a muscular physique and, judging by the way he twitches his muscles, he is well aware of it. His blond hair is cut short and shaved up the back of his neck and his clothes all look new and of good quality.

  ‘But Bangkok is so fake,’ Skinner insists. His loose clothes do not hide his thin frame and his white skin has already reddened on his shoulders. He moves in jerks and every motion seems to scream his discontent with the world.

  ‘Nah’ – ‘No’ – ‘Get out of here!’ the others chorus.

  ‘Way too Western, anyhow,’ Skinner concedes. Miltos does not recognise the name Ayutthaya, or know what this Buddha head is they are talking about, and he is somewhat relieved when the conversation flows on, leaving the rest of his tale untold. The others seem just as well travelled as he is, if not better, and they begin to compare notes on Cambodia and Burma, and the places they name are unfamiliar to him, as if new places have been discovered or the old ones renamed. Grace looks over and smiles, her eyes rolling, as if to say ‘The young today!’ He smiles briefly in return but looks away again.

  Josh jumps up to make more drinks and the conversation becomes both more animated and less coherent, and there is much laughter. Grace, who has been sitting apart from the main group and not really joining in, picks up her book and wishes them all a good night. Shortly after this, Miltos finds that he too is tired and he stands to go. Unfortunately for him he does this just as the portable CD player Skinner is fiddling with starts to blare out music. In a single bound the others get to their feet to dance. Rosie and Paula make eye contact and nod their heads to let him know that ‘his idea’ to dance is a good one, and now it feels too awkward to explain that he was in fact getting up to go to bed. James says he will make a cocktail he has invented. The rest of them whoop, arms in the air, and Miltos stifles a yawn as he shuffles his feet in time to the music.

  ‘Where’s the toilet?’ he asks Josh in a quieter moment.

  ‘The dunny’s down there,’ says Josh. ‘’Fraid your room’s right next to them till we clear out the bigger one, but that one’s even nearer the kitchen.’ Josh is slurring and speaking loudly.

  Miltos heads for the toilets. In the dark he cannot step between the fallen dates and his feet squish them repeatedly. At one point they cause him to slip, his arms reaching out to regain his balance. Righting himself, he finds he has lost his sense of direction. The buildings all look the same in the half-light, and he is not sure he can remember where Josh said the toilets were anyway. He steps into a room and switches on the light. It is bare, with no adornment at all. A thin foam mattress on a concrete plinth takes up half the space. He backs out and finds the toilets, just opposite. The water pressure is high and as he washes his hands his trousers are splashed. He tries to wipe them dry but his hands are wet too and the dark stain spreads. He will need to wait before he goes back to join the party, let the warm air dry him off.

  The mattress in the bare room is as good a place to wait as any. He lies down, just to test it.

  Miltos does not stir until a clattering of pans wakes him. As there is no door to the room, with one eye open he can see a man in a jelabiya pouring the remains of something into a toilet to be flushed away. The sun is already high in the sky and, bleary-eyed, he wanders to the tent on the beach. The glare off the sea stabs his retinas and he puts up a hand to shield them. Across the water, Saudi Arabia looks like it would be close enough to swim to, if he had any strength at all, which he doesn’t.

  Josh has set up a blackboard in one corner of the tent, and half a dozen or so of the youths staying at the compound are seated in front of it, lounging on the cushions. Josh is explaining about air pressure, and he looks up as Miltos approaches.

  ‘Ah, here you are,’ Joshua greets him. He is standing by a whiteboard with 200 bar/3000 PSI (there are 15 PSI per bar) written across the top. Then there is a smiley face, and underneath are the words At what depth will you read 2ATM of pressure? Miltos’s head may be fuzzy and he may feel queasy but the answer jumps into his mind automatically.

  ‘So, tell them the answer, mate?’ Josh taps the board with his lidded felt pen, encouraging Miltos to become part of the teaching team with him.

  ‘Ten,’ Miltos grunts. ‘Is there any coffee?’ Josh and the others are fresh-faced and show no trace of last night’s partying.

  ‘And as your prize …’ Joshua turns his back on the class, goes to the bar and returns offering Miltos a plastic cup. He smells the coffee and does not care if it has sugar and milk or not. It burns his tongue, scours off the furry coating, and within a minute or two the caffeine hits and his brain begins to wake.

  ‘So, hit them with a question, Miltos, any one you like.’ Joshua appears to be enjoying standing at the front, being in charge. The girls are wide-eyed, the boys looked impressed. Grace has her pen paused over a notebook. Hands in pockets, Miltos broadens his stance next to the Australian.

  ‘Okay, so who can tell me the most common reason for the cylinders slipping in the nylon tank bands?’ he asks, hoping to lure a little of the awe in his direction.

  ‘Oh yeah, good one,’ Joshua says, and he takes Miltos’s coffee cup. ‘You want a refill?’

  ‘Can you put sugar in that?’ Miltos asks as the students scribble their answers on their clipboards. The second hit of caffeine helps him to stand straighter. He is taller then Josh, broader too. But when everyone has scribbled their answers it is to the younger of the two that they all look.

  ‘You’ve missed breakfast, mate,’ Joshua says. ‘This lot are ready for the first practical.’ The students seem excited at the prospect of their first venture into the sea, and a buzz of conversation starts up.

  ‘Skinner, James, Bryce and Grace – you are with me. Open water for you guys today.’ Rosie and Paula look disappointed at this announcement. Paula sucks her tongue loudly; Jess nudges her with her elbow. Neither of them takes her eyes off the tanned Josh.

  ‘I think I would like more practice in the pool before going into open water,’ Grace says quietly but distinctly.

  ‘Okay, you are with Miltos then.’ Josh is already moving away, keen to get going.

  Miltos heads towards the pool and the girls awkwardly find their feet amongst the cushions and follow him like ducks.

  Grace catches him up. ‘How long have you been diving then?’

  Chapter 24

  The pool is perfect for teaching: shallow en
ough so everyone can stand on the bottom with their heads above water. They scull their hands in the cooling water for no purpose; they seem confident that they are not going to drown or even have any reason to panic. None of them had any difficulty in checking their equipment or putting it on so the morning promises to be an easy one.

  Miltos invites them all to dip beneath the surface, and the sudden silence and calm takes him once again. If he could find this feeling somewhere on land, or maybe – and this would be a longer-term solution – find a person who could create that feeling within him, how happy he would be. Then he would settle down without even being conscious of doing so. But this is such a futile thought. His need for this feeling makes him restless and this keeps him moving. As long as he is moving he believes he will find this feeling. But permanently globetrotting means he never stays anywhere long enough to find a person who could create this long-term solution – but then staying somewhere for any length of time makes the feeling unbearable, so he has to move. It is circular, relentless. So, best keep moving. At least then he is in control.

  The group are sitting on the bottom waiting for him to begin. With a clear hand movement he invites the first to come close to him. It is Grace. She is trim for her age and looks no different from the other girls in her diving gear. He signs for her to release and retrieve the regulator, which she does with ease, and he gives her the ‘okay’ sign. He can tell that she would not be the sort to panic easily and he wonders why she did not go for her first open-water dive today.

  Next he calls up Polly – only, as she draws closer, he sees it is Virginia. They are of similar build and in their masks it is difficult to tell them apart. Her movements are jerky and hesitant, and she is clearly not comfortable in this watery environment. She’ll need more practice time in the pool.

  Once they have all released and retrieved the regulator and have surfaced for a quick debrief they submerge again, this time to shed and replace the weight belts. Virginia’s tendency to panic shows again. Polly is remarkably calm, and Paula very agile. The morning proceeds well, and when they have practised a few other important skills they take a break, at which point Miltos finds a light meal all prepared and waiting in the tent. There is no sign of Joshua and the others, who are presumably eating on board the boat.