In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree (17 page)

The old lady bangs on the door again.
‘Do you hear me? Shut up your self-pitying racket.’

What does this woman know about suffering, living in her own house and playing queen over these people, the rent money rolling in each week to live on? The gas under his anger ignites.

‘Shut up, else you are out.’ she screams.

Theo stands tall and leans out of his window, his mouth open to give this woman a piece of his mind. But Marinos has opened the door.

‘We have news. Her mother is unwell.’ He says it politely but firmly, drawing a line.

‘
Is that my problem?’ The old lady huffs.

‘
She would like to go to her.’

‘
Well, whatever it is she wants, tell her to do it quietly.’ The old lady starts her shuffle through the puddles to her own home. ‘If I hear any more, you are out,’ she calls as she turns the corner, but there is no great power in the threat; she is playing the role of a bully.

An energy rises in Theo
’s chest. He struggles to contain his emotion, which is powerful, beyond his control, compelling him to act. He slams the window closed, muttering ‘witch’ several times under his breath as he gathers himself together, yanking on clothes, forcing on shoes.

Before he knows it, he is down the steps, two at a time.
‘Nasty old hag.’ His rage energises him, lifts him.

But he does not turn right to bang on the old nag
’s door. He turns left, splashes around the corner.

Marinos
’ door is shut.

He bangs on it as loudly as the old lady did.

‘Now you’ve done it,’ Marinos says from behind the door, but in a resigned voice, without malice. ‘I am really sorry …’ he starts, but stops abruptly when he sees Theo. ‘Oh, Mr Theo. I am so sorry. I hope we have not disturbed you. Ah, you have cut your eye. Can I help?’

‘
Disturbed is the right word,’ Theo snaps, his rage seeping into his words.

‘
You are getting wet. Come in, come in. Aikaterina will see to your eye.’

Theo ducks down the corridor to the one room. Marinos
’ wife is sitting with her feet tucked up on the bed, wiping away tears with her skirt. She mutters, ‘Sorry,’ as he enters.

Marinos squeezes past Theo and takes the bedding off the chair and bundles it on the bed.

‘Please sit,’ Marinos encourages. ‘We are so very sorry if you have been disturbed. But my wife …’

‘
Yes, I heard. Your Mama is unwell.’ It starts fresh tears but they fall silently. She does not look at him.

‘
As you can imagine, she wants to go to her; so does Markos. If we could afford to go, we would have gone already, but I get a day’s labour, maybe two, and the old woman demands me back the day after. She makes it impossible to hold a steady job, make a living.’ He colours, bites on his top lip, and looks at the boards on the bed. Crockery on one. A nearly empty tin of Greek coffee, a packet of sugar, and an onion on the other. Three toy cars lined up in between the two, one with a wheel missing.

‘
Can I offer you a coffee?’ Marinos reaches down between Theo’s legs. He shifts them to the side quickly. Marinos takes the pan from under his seat.

‘
No. No coffee, thank you.’

There is a pause which no one knows how to fill.

‘Here.’ Theo stands and takes a paper bag out of his pocket. It is one of the bags the bakery uses, that his bread came in yesterday, and he tosses it on the bed. ‘I must go.’ He stands to push past Marinos.

‘
Mr Theo, it is very kind of you, but we cannot take your food.’

Marinos
’ goodness, his decency, makes Theo feel even worse about himself.

‘
Let me by, please.’ He waits for Marinos to move. Marinos picks up the paper bag from the bed.

‘
Mr Theo,’ he begins, but as his fingers explore the packet, a frown crosses his forehead. ‘Mr Theo?’ But Theo hurries down the corridor, out into the open air. He runs to his steps and climbs them faster than he descended them, slamming his door behind him.

Sitting on the top step in his hall, he does not feel as he imagined he would. If anything, he feels worse. Below, he can hear excited whispers and then Marinos says something and Aikaterina laughs. Her laugh is the sound of pure relief, a laugh that is much younger than she looks.

Theo nods. He did the right thing. He pushes the remainder of his money—the majority—back into its place and closes the wooden front. His tears fall silently. The laughter below continues and then a door bangs, quick feet down the path and silence.

Half an hour later, Theo carves some bread and slices some tomatoes. With his rough meal in his hands, ready to eat, he is interrupted by an insistent tapping at the front door. He reluctantly puts down his food, brushes his hands together, and then down his shirt. The clock on the kitchen wall tells him it is not long before
mesimeri
, siesta time, when people sleep in the heat of the afternoon, and an unusual time to be knocking on anyone’s door.

Age 41 Years, 1 Month, 22 Days

Markos flings himself enthusiastically at Theo’s legs and grips him in a bear hug, and it is all that Theo can do to remain standing. The boy looks up at him with such light in his eyes, Theo cannot help but smile.

‘
Mr Theo, you are a very good man,’ he says in a voice with none of the regional bias of his parents.

‘
No, I am not.’

‘
Mr Theo, you are a very good man.’ Aikaterina stands in his doorway with her hair combed, wearing clothes that are almost smart and that reveal she has a waist. It was her persistent tapping that roused him and made him open his door against his will, allowing Markos to shoot in like a rabbit and unselfconsciously attach himself to Theo’s legs.

‘
Mr Theo.’ Marinos holds out his hand to shake. Theo cannot refuse and after they have shaken, Theo offers his hand to Aikaterina, who takes it tentatively. Her hand is rough and calloused, and Theo grips it warmly.

‘
We have brought some beer. We will not waste what you have so kindly given us, but we wanted to make a gesture to thank you.’ Marinos’ voice gains strength as he speaks.

‘
And cards,’ Markos adds. He releases his bear hug and takes a pack of dog-eared cars from his pocket. ‘We always celebrate with cards.’

‘
Really, this is not necessary,’ Theo protests.

‘
Is it not? So we are to go home and tell our village of your kindness and then tell them we did nothing to thank you? Mr Theo, you know this is not possible.’ Marinos takes a bottle opener from his pocket and hands Theo a beer. Markos is dealing cards on the table on the balcony.

‘
And of course, we will repay you as soon as we can, every drachma.’

‘
You know what I think? I think Mr Theo is scared you will beat him, Markos.’ Aikaterina laughs, sounding and looking carefree and younger.

Markos
’ head jerks up from his dealing, wide eyed, but relaxes into a grin when he sees his mother is laughing. The humour is gentle, reminiscent of the village.

The tension in Theo
’s face and neck, a response to this early-morning intrusion, begins to relax. He lets his head drop back and with his eyes closed, he gives a little laugh. Twice, he has felt like he belonged in this city. The first time was when he was at Helena and Timotheos’ with their island accents and their good food, and this very moment is the second time with this family’s Northern drawl and easy humour. It’s been a long way to travel to feel that he is back at home.

Aikater
ina knocks her bottle of beer against his.

‘
Yia mas
!’ she cries.

‘
Yia sas
,’ Marinos hastens to knock bottles with Theo, drinking to his health alone.

‘
Yia mas
,’ Theo corrects, drinking to everyone’s health.

Markos pulls on his father
’s baggy pinstriped jacket. Marinos ruffles his hair.

‘
The boy’s keen to play.’

Theo lifts the table inside so they can use the sofa as well as the chair, and Markos perches on the raised hearth of the fireplace. The game begins seriously enough but soon dissolves in a fit of giggles as Aikaterina cheats, but blatantly, so the boy can catch her out.

When the beers have gone, Theo retrieves his bottle of whiskey. Aikaterina goes for glasses and a dish of olives. They drink and they play some more, but no one gets drunk. As Aikaterina and Marinos relax, they confide to Theo that they originally came down from the village because Aikaterina needed a minor operation.

‘
Nothing immediately serious or urgent, but the doctor in the village said we must not ignore it, and he recommended a specialist here, in Athens.’

They gathered together enough money for the journey, but at the first appointment the doctor demanded a
fakelo
before he would do the surgery.

‘
As if they are not paid enough,’ Theo agrees.

Marinos shrugs.
‘Where would we find that kind of money?’

‘
They have no compassion; he said no
fakelo
, no operation. So we used the money for our return journey to look around, thinking we would stay and earn the money we needed,’ Aikaterina explains, as if her pride depends on Theo’s understanding.

‘
When we were offered this place for free, we thought it was a gift from God,’ Marinos adds sadly.

‘
So you see, Mr Theo, you have made it possible not only for us to return home, but also for the operation. You see what a good man you are?’

‘
It shows more what bad men the doctors are.’

After a while, Markos yawns and Aikaterina declares he needs his siesta. Theo sees them out. They all shake hands, but just as he is closing the door, Aikaterina hugs him and whispers in his ear.

‘We will leave for the hospital as soon as we can, and from there, we will go straight back home. We will always be indebted to your goodness. And we will pay you back.’ She kisses him on both cheeks as he protests that the money is a gift and there is no need.

The room feels—for once—full of life, even after they have gone. They have left the cards scattered across the table, a few on the floor and a couple just sticking out from under the sofa cushion where Aikaterina was hiding them. The glasses she brought up from her own house are lined up on the mantelpiece. She will not be needing them now. Beer bottles are lined up on the floor.

Theo feels like his old self.

Evening approaches, but Theo can find no incentive to go to work, he feels like a changed man, his old self. It will spoil his joy, change his mood to go to the bar. But he has not sunk so low that he would leave without giving Dimitri warning, so he finds himself walking the streets to work, looking at the sky and wondering if they have seen the last of the rain for the time being. This evening, he has a bounce in his step. Tomorrow, he decides, he will go to see Tasia, declare that his thoughts are never far from her, officially ask to court her.

As he opens up, one of the shutters falls off; the hinge has rusted. He lays it alongside the building, making a mental note to tell Dimitri. The acrid smell of stale smoke hits him afresh every day. Opening all the windows does not seem to help.

He pours a whole bottle of bleach under the floor where the keg swills in slops behind the small bar, but it makes little difference. If anything, he has just added to the pungency.

The usual customers arrive in their usual order.

The first couple of hours before Makis arrives to turn on the music are always more pleasant. Phaedon comes in quite early and sits at the main bar, by the till.

‘
How are you doing, Theo?’ he asks.

‘
Good, you?’

‘
I have a problem. Get me a whiskey and one for yourself.’

Theo takes two glasses but puts one back.

‘There you go. I’ll not have one just now.’ Theo takes the money and gives the change.

Phaedon raises one eyebrow and takes a sip, smacking his lips together as it goes down.

‘So what’s your problem?’ Theo picks up a tea towel and starts drying glasses, amused by the situation. The bartenders in films are always pictured drying glasses, listening to tales of woe.

‘
You’re a village boy, right?’ Phaedon asks.

‘
Yes. you?’ Theo thinks of Tasia. Should he go with flowers and state his intention boldly?

‘
Yes, me too. From Evia originally. I have six brothers. Second youngest, knew my place, learnt the hard way.’

Maybe he should ask her baba if he can court her. It sounds old-fashioned, but he seems like an old-fashioned man.

‘Tell me, Theo. What do you think of Dimitri?’

‘
Dimitri? He’s the boss. You want another?’

Phaedon pushes his glass across.
‘Yes, he is the boss, but what sort of man do you think he is?’

Theo pours.
‘I don’t think it’s my place …’

‘
Cut the crap, Theo. What do you think of him?’

Theo tries to assess Phaedon. Dimitri has left clear instructions not to charge him, but he insists on paying. Could he be the police? It doesn
’t quite fit.

‘
Why do you want to know?’ A regular has come in. Theo draws him a beer, exchanges it for money, and it all goes in the till. A decision has been made, to increase the take, day by day, until he no longer has to lie and steal.

‘
I think the best way to judge a man is to see how he treats the people in a lower social position than his own. So for a boss, that is his workers. So how do you find him?’

‘
I don’t feel I know him at all. He deals with business and that’s it.’ It seems safe enough to state facts; no one can argue with those. His opinion, on the other hand, is far more inflammatory. And in his present frame of mind, the last thing he wants to focus on is Dimitri, the bar, or anything to do with it.

‘
And your opinion?’ Phaedon insists.

The simplest way to sum up Dimitri would be to call him a bully. A dishonest bully, conning people with his cheap liquor, and a thug, judging by Jimmy
’s treatment. But then he also seems to be paying Makis after he himself was threatened, so presumably there is a hierarchy in the shady world he occupies. Strictly from a business point of view, he keeps the bar running and turns over a reasonable profit, so perhaps he can be described as a good businessman, although Theo would hesitate to go that far.

The bottom line is he is he has rogue written through him to his core. He is sleazy and untrustworthy.

‘Runs the place all right. We all get paid.’

‘
Theo, you are in a position to put him in a good place for a while, or you can pull the rug out from under his feet.’

They gaze long and hard at each other.

‘Who are you?’ Theo asks.

‘
Sensible question. I own this place. Dimitri is my tenant.’

Theo
’s jaw drops open and he pauses, a glass in one hand, cloth in the other.

‘
You can close your mouth. His tenancy is coming up for renewal, and I have heard a few things that don’t thrill me. You remember poor Jimmy? He was not a bad boy. Anyway, I wanted an honest opinion.’

It has never occurred to Theo that these bars are rented. Dimitri is paying the rent and does not notice he is only getting two-thirds of the takings. When Jimmy was manger, he was, presumably, making a profit on half. One quiet word from Theo and Dimitri could be out, leaving the place open for someone new to come in.

Phaedon remains seated by the till, but the whole of the interior of the bar starts to take on a lighter hue; the walls and ceiling become white. Ribbons are strung from a central glitter ball across to the bars and the music is subtle, playing gently in the background. The mob turn into a cultured crowd, chatting politely, sipping from tall glasses. With the money he would make running this place, he would furnish his flat with real furniture, bought from a shop, have Tasia and her family over to dinner. He could buy a car, drive to the village on the weekends. He would go into work early in the evening to make sure everything was alright and turn up at the end for the takings and to pay everyone. In the new bar, there are no leather jackets in sight, the girls wear shimmering satin flares in bright colours, and Damianos strides in, arm in arm with Mitsos, to drink his health. Suspended in a net up in the ceiling, a thousand balloons ready to fall. All he has to do is tell the truth about Dimitri and the bar could be his.

The balloons above fade into a high ceiling, the white walls take on a cream hue, the floor fills with circular tables, and Phaedon become his own baba, giving him orders. The DJ console has become the stove, and the only music playing is the noise of the village life. The bar is no different to the kafeneio, just a change of location and fewer people he knows. Fewer people who care about him.

‘… if it’s not too much trouble.’ Phaedon pushes his glass at him.

‘
Oh sorry. Yes.’ Theo pours a refill.