“Yous sort out a bottle for the piglet Voula, an’ I’ll go an’ see what this box is all about.”
Tall Thomas strode into the living room. He would have struggled to believe Voula had never encountered a television before if he hadn’t had the misfortune to visit the drab damp farmhouse she’d been brought up in, deprived of even the most basic of entertainment and hideously decorated with religious icons. Turning the television on Thomas muttered “the smutty old devil,” when he discovered the channel was tuned in to play Lecherous Lukas’ porn collection. He was incensed that the innocent Voula should have been unwittingly exposed to such depraved filth.
Composing himself Thomas returned to the kitchen. His heart melted at the sight of Voula cuddling the piglet to her breast and lovingly feeding it goat’s milk from a baby’s bottle. He was delighted to realise Voula was a good head taller than her shorter sister. They would not look out of place walking out together, if Voula was amenable to the idea of walking out with him.
“Yous mustn’t turn that box on again Voula; it is set up to cater to Lukas’ sordid viewing habits. If yous will allow me I will bring yous my spare smut free television for yous to watch in yous room. I think yous might enjoy it. Mail order Masha presents the local weather and ‘Seven Deadly Mothers-in-Law’ is a very popular soap opera yous can watch,” Thomas suggested.
“Ooh, Soula mentioned that and told me all about the glamorous Masha. I can’t believe you’d do that for me Thoma,” Voula said.
“Tipota,” Thomas replied, assuring her it was nothing. He intended to have strong words with Lukas. He wasn’t above telling the whole village about Lukas’ viewing habits if he didn’t agree to move his obscene channels into the privacy of his bedroom to spare Voula’s blushes.
“Yous ‘ave a real way with animals, yous was amazing with the donkey,” Tall Thomas praised.
“I always had a silly dream about being a veterinarian,” Voula said, confessing her most cherished ambition.
“It’s not a silly dream when yous ‘ave a natural affinity with animals,” Thomas told her. “If yous studies an’ gets some qualifications yous dream could come true. There’s no need to be stuck doing something that doesn’t make yous ‘appy.”
“Are you happy doing what you do, Thoma?”
“I am now, but that’s because I made changes. I was a fisherman but hated it ‘cos every time I took the boat out it made me seasick. Does yous know Voula, yous is the only person I ‘ave ever told that to. The very idea of a seasick fisherman would make me a laughin’ stock in the village.”
“I’m honoured you feel able to share your secret with me Thoma,” Voula said.
“I’m ‘oping we can share lots together moving forward,” Thomas sighed as each of them recognised they had just discovered their soul mate.
Chapter 35
Drilling for a Dowry
“Shift yous feet Stavroula, I ‘ave to drill an ‘ole in the road for this protective barrier,” Bald Yannis barked.
“Yous can’t be doin’ that now, we are having a private conversation,” Stavroula objected. Intent on ingratiating herself with Lecherous Lukas she was shovelling the charm on in the hope of extricating a generous dowry from the rich skinflint and didn’t want Bald Yannis hovering around their ankles
“Well I ‘ave to do it Stavroula. Some miserable busybody ‘as been making endless complaints to the police about the dangers of eating outdoors at unprotected tables,” Bald Yannis bluntly stated, knowing full well the interfering busybody was none other than Stavroula. “’Ere Luka, yous will ‘ave to sidle round and budge up next to Socrates ‘cos I ‘ave to put this barrier where yous chair is.”
The layout of the barriers was most inconvenient as the tables were lined up against the wall, with the chairs spaced out on the other three sides. The barrier would replace the chair facing the wall, leaving room for only two very skinny diners squashed up together on each remaining side. Stavroula was far too fat to allow room for Lukas to squeeze in beside her.
Stavroula continued her charm offensive, trying her best to ignore the ear-shattering drilling and Bald Yannis’ running commentary about interfering busybodies with nothing better to do than harass the police with their petty gripes against local businesses. Stavroula turned puce when Bald Yannis commented, “Po po, yous standards is dropping,” having clapped eyes on the scummy looking chicken soup infested with anaemic skin that Yiota served up.
“What does yous know about cordon bleu chicken soup when yous is a vegetarian malaka,” Stavroula fired back.
“That slop is out of Stavroula’s kitchen, not mine,” Yiota defended.
“’Ere yous should eat that with a chaser of ‘Granny’s Traditional Greek Cure All’ ‘cos it looks likely to give yous a dodgy tummy,” Melecretes piped up.
“It was yous revolting cooking that got me closed down by the public health inspector,” Stavroula shot back.
Lecherous Lukas tucked into his soup with relish, wishing his niece would stop dropping her heavy-handed hints about a dowry: he hadn’t held onto his wealth by recklessly squandering his fortune on money grubbing relatives. Spotting Socrates feeding the slimy skin to the cats hovering under the table, Lukas snapped at him, “I’m not sure you’re good enough for Stavroula if you don’t respect our cherished family recipe.”
Slick Socrates was sorely tempted to tell the old pervert there was no family connection as Lukas’ step-brother had been cuckolded in an overgrown olive grove by that old fool Vasilis, but he knew Stavroula would likely explode in apoplectic rage if he revealed the truth and put a spoke in any possible inheritance. Socrates knew all too well what his fiancée was capable of when crossed and had no intention of ending up buried under the chicken coop like her second unfortunate husband Kostas.
“Socrates and I are planning a wedding that will make the whole village sit up, as befits our standing,” Stavroula told Lukas pompously.
“But surely you don’t need a lot of fuss, it’s not as though it’s your first marriage, Stavroula,” Lukas argued. “What’s this one, your fifth or sixth wedding? I can’t keep track of all the husbands you get through, niece. ”
“It’s my third,” Stavroula replied haughtily, beginning to wonder if she should simply give up all hopes of extricating a dowry from her rich uncle in favour of speeding along his demise in order to get her greedy hands on her inheritance. Plastering a sickly sweet but totally false saccharine smile on her face she fondly reminisced that a liberal dose of the strongest, deadliest weed killer added to this very same chicken soup recipe had seen off her second husband Kostas in a very speedy fashion. She pondered pinning the poisoning of her pervy uncle on Voula as it was already well-known craziness ran in that strange peasant family who hailed from the mountain.
Their wedding chatter was overheard by Sofia who suddenly realised her bridesmaid role at Friday’s surprise wedding would clash with Iraklis’ departure for his army training. Dissolving in a fresh bout of weeping she pictured Iraklis pitifully climbing aboard the bus whilst she was stuck in the church, depriving her beloved of a tearjerker movie style goodbye she could Instagram. Whispering her concerns to Mrs Kolokotronis she was shocked when the older woman exclaimed, “malaka, I ‘ave to do their meze so I won’t be able to see Iraklis off at the bus stop in a movie style tearjerker goodbye either.”
“’Ave yous ever seen such a miserable lot,” Takis said to his wife, surveying his glum and weeping customers. “They needs somethin’ to shake ‘em out of their morbid self-pity.”
“Don’t say that, it’s tempting fate that somethin’ awful may ‘appen,” Yiota warned him, flashing him the evil eye.
Yiota’s fateful words still hung in the air when a dishevelled Quentin ran up the street, screaming “Help, help. Deirdre has disappeared, she is lost at sea. Come at once, Deirdre is in dreadful danger. Help.”
“What’s that about Did-Rees? ‘Ere Yanni, shut that drill up,” Yiota called out. “Say that again K-Went-In.”
“I need help. Deirdre is missing. I think she must have floated out to sea on a giant pink plastic flamingo,” Quentin screeched hysterically to the captive audience.
Chapter 36
Holy Goats and Amorous Seals
“Are yous ‘aving a laugh K-Went-In? Yous ‘ave misplaced Did-Rees an’ think she might be floating out at sea on a giant pink plastic flamingo?” Takis guffawed.
“If she’s on a flamingo perhaps she can fly back to land,” Vangelis the chemist joked.
“It is no laughing matter Vangeli, my wife is missing and may have been lost at sea for hours. I’m at my wits end. I’ve searched everywhere for her thinking it was too preposterous that she could actually have floated away, but there is simply no other explanation for her disappearance,” Quentin said, quickly losing patience with his apathetic audience of supposed friends and exhausted from his extensive search.
“Take this brandy K-Went-In and try not to panic,” Yiota urged, passing him a glass of Metaxa.
“We must call the American Embassy at once; they may be able to locate her by helicopter or drone,” Quentin cried hysterically.
“’Appen the local Coastguard would be more useful,” Bald Yannis suggested, hoping the dodgy and flimsy inflatable wasn’t past its ‘best before’ perishable date.
Prosperous Pedros alone seemed to grasp the urgency of the situation. If Quentin was right the currents could have carried Deirdre far out to sea, potentially spelling disaster if the ditzy American woman panicked. Leaping into action Pedros immediately started barking orders at them all.
“Yiota get onto the Coastguard an’ then rouse any fishermen who haven’t already heard Did-Rees is missing at sea. The rest of us will start searching for Did-Rees from our boats. We must double up so each boat ‘as a lookout with a search light, it’s as dark as Hades out there tonight with no moonlight.”
Prosperous Pedros’ urgent commands inspired the others to quick action. Most of them had grown quite fond of Deirdre and wouldn’t leave her abandoned to a watery fate. Every able bodied man made a quick dash to the harbour and Yiota phoned round to rouse the other villagers who soon gathered around the harbour as the first fishing boats were launched. Before putting out to sea Prosperous Pedros adamantly insisted Quentin’s presence in the boats would be more of a hindrance than a help and instructed him to help Yiota coordinate the rescue from dry land.
“Try not to worry K-Went-In, Did-Rees is made of stern stuff,” mail order Masha reassured him, reminding him, “even that crazy stalker who broke in to do yous housework didn’t scare ‘er.”
“But I feel so useless stuck here when all the other men are out at sea,” Quentin despaired.
“Not all the men ‘ave gone, Vasilis is still ‘ere,” Masha pointed out, making Quentin wonder why he’d been lumbered in with the feeble octogenarian when even old timers like Fotis Moustakos were doing their bit.
“Yous just ‘aven’t got the sea legs for it, K-Went-In,” Yiota explained. “They is experienced in sea rescues. Remember ‘ow Prosperous Pedros saved Tall Thomas when he was chucked out at sea by them malakas down in Gavros.”
“And Prosperous Pedros saved me from a watery grave,” the Pappas puffed, having just run from the church to offer fake comfort. The Pappas considered it would be must inconsiderate of Deirdre if she actually drowned as her watery death would mean no one would be in the mood for Toothless Tasos’ wedding to Thea and it would likely be cancelled. He couldn’t even count on a good funeral in place of the wedding as he wouldn’t put it past Quentin to demand Deirdre’s body be flown back to Idaho.
Unbeknown to the Pappas his words really did offer some comfort to Quentin who realised Prosperous Pedros was indeed experienced in conducting rescues at sea and that the other village men who had not hesitated to help were strong and brave in their rough and ready way. Bald Yannis had paired up with Pedros in the fishing boat and Quentin remembered how the hardware shop man had heroically rescued the goat from the upper storey of the burning harbour-side house, gallantly saving it from death by roasting. Quentin put his faith in the concerted efforts of his trusty Greek friends: Prosperous Pedros, Bald Yannis, Takis, Tall Thomas, Gorgeous Yiorgos, Fat Christos, Toothless Tasos, Moronic Mitsos, Vangelis the chemist, Slick Socrates, Fotis Moustakos and even young Iraklis; confident in their nautical abilities.
Prosperous Pedros steered the boat with a steady hand whilst Bald Yannis scanned the water with the searchlight. Co-ordinating details via mobile phone, Pedros ordered all the other boats to shut off their engines so he could monitor the drift of the currents. The message was soon relayed to “Spread out towards Gavros,” once the path of the current had been determined as southerly.
“’Opefully Did-Rees is drifting down the shore line rather than out across the Mediterranean,” Prosperous Pedros calculated, staring dolefully at the water through pierced eyes. “A Coastguard boat ‘as set out from Gavros and there’s another on its way from Paraliakos.”
“I can’t think what she was playin’ at thinking one of my inflatables was fit for an ocean journey,” Bald Yannis said.
“’Appen she just got carried out unawares. K-Went-In says ‘er swimming skills are limited to a bit of pathetic dog paddling. She might not ‘ave wanted to risk swimming back to shore once she realised she’d gone out too far,” Pedros reasoned.
The other fishing boats fanned out to one side of Prosperous Pedros’ boat as they puttered slowly along in unison towards Gavros, the beams of the searchlights casting eerie glows across the ominously dark water. The silence was only broken by the odd cry when one of the men confused a shadow for a possible sighting. It was well after midnight when the beam of Bald Yannis’ searchlight illuminated the unmistakable shape of the floating flamingo. The air was thick with the raucous cheer that erupted and the fishing boats zoned in on the pink inflatable.
“That’s it then,” Prosperous Pedros said solemnly when his boat pulled up next to the empty flamingo. The only evidence of Deirdre was her discarded sarong.
“Should I phone in the news?” Bald Yannis asked.
“No leave it. I’d rather tell K-Went-In in person, it’s the right thing to do,” Prosperous Pedros said gloomily, reluctant to turn the boat around and give up on the American woman, but resigned to her unfortunate drowning. Across the boats each man made the sign of the cross, utterly despondent at the tragic turn of events.
The flotilla of fishing boats prepared to turn back to Astakos, only delayed by Bald Yannis insisting on throwing a rope around the neck of the floating pink flamingo to tow it back home.
“Holy goats, the cold hands of death are upon us,” Bald Yannis yelled fearfully, jumping back in horror to avoid the gleaming white hands being propelled towards him across the water. Losing his footing he tripped over Pedros’ bait bucket, somersaulting backwards into the sea and almost dislodging Deirdre from the back of the fast-moving seal she was desperately clinging to. Rising slowly to the surface of the water Bald Yannis came face to face with the whiskered snout of the seal and a bedraggled Deirdre who he realised wasn’t a watery apparition.
“Did-Rees, yous isn’t dead,” Prosperous Pedros screamed elatedly, leaning over the boat to haul her in. “Yanni, give ‘er a push from behind, she must be exhausted.”
Between them Yannis and Pedros managed to push and pull Deirdre into the boat where she collapsed in a sodden heap. “We’ve got ‘er, she’s not dead after all,” Pedros bellowed to the others, prompting another resounding cheer.
“Did yous see that Yanni? She was saved from drownin’ by that seal, it’s a miracle,” Prosperous Pedros said, pulling the hardware shop man back into the boat.
“Holy goats,” Bald Yannis repeated, not quite believing what he had seen.
Pulling herself up Deirdre was surprisingly perky as she explained, “That seal is the reason I ended up in the sea, and the reason I am saved. It developed an unnatural attraction to the pink flamingo, so overtaken by lust it wouldn’t t
ake no for an answer. It started off by nosing the flamingo, pushing it at high speed through the water and terrifying me. Then it got more amorous and its brutish attempts to have its wicked way with the flamingo were so boisterous I ended up being lobbed into the water. Luckily I was able to get a grip of its flippers and pull myself onto its back: it’s been the longest half-hour of my life trying to keep hold of the seal. I do think it was trying to save me in its own way, once it lost interest in having its wicked way with the inflatable.”
“Holy goats,” exclaimed Bald Yannis again.
“Seals are intelligent creatures Did-Rees an’ can ‘ave an affinity with ‘umans if they don’t feel threatened. Yous was lucky it didn’t turn on yous,” Pedros told her.
“It sounds like Did-Rees is lucky the seal didn’t take a fancy to ‘er,” Bald Yannis opined, wondering if he could market the rest of his inflatables as irresistibly desirable specimens.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am you all came out to search for me,” Deirdre said. “I knew Quentin would raise help, but wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on.”
“Yous ‘ave ‘held up like a real trooper Did-Rees,” Prosperous Pedros praised her. “Even skilled naval men would ‘ave lost their nerve in the circumstances.”
“I have to confess I was scared silly, but the hunger was worse,” Deirdre admitted.
“’Ere ‘ave a prawn,” Prosperous Pedros offered, waving the bait bucket under her nose.
Chapter 37
A Lucky Escape
“Deirdre, you should be recuperating in bed, my darling,” Quentin gently chided his wife as she entered the kitchen. Smothering her in a suffocating embrace he thanked his lucky stars, the local fisherman and the flamingo obsessed seal, that Deirdre had been saved from a watery grave. When he’d heard the message that she had been found alive and suffering from nothing more than hunger, he had fallen to his knees on the harbour, thinking himself the luckiest man alive.
Float the Goat Page 16
