YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (16 page)

Cautiously Yannis flexed his arms and legs. ‘It’s just my head. Can I get up now?’

Vassilis removed his stained shirt from the side of Yannis head and was relieved to see the blood was reduced to a trickle. ‘Sit up on the stairs and I’ll make you a bandage. You’ll have to go to the doctor and have a stitch.’

Obediently Yannis sat whilst Vassilis proceeded to rip the arms out of his shirt. Folding one to make a pad he pressed it firmly against the wound and wound the other around Yannis’s head, tying it in a knot above his ear.

Mr Angelakis looked on uncomfortably. ‘I suggest you escort Yannis to the nearest doctor, Vassilis; then go home for a new shirt. You are excused lessons this morning. The rest of you into the classroom.’ He picked up the books and papers that were scattered around Yannis and strode after his pupils.

‘I’m sorry, Vassilis.’

‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. Thank goodness you’ve no more than a few cuts and bruises. Do you think you can walk?’

Yannis nodded and decided not to do that again in a hurry. His head felt as if it would split in two and stars flashed before his eyes making him feel sick. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. With one hand on the banister rail and the other on Vassilis’s shoulder he stood, trying not to sway, and became aware of the pains in his legs.

‘I’ll have to take it slowly.’

‘There’s no rush. I have the morning off, remember.’ Vassilis looked at the makeshift bandage. Already the blood was beginning to seep through and he longed to get Yannis to a doctor as quickly as possible.

Their progress was slow, Yannis was badly bruised and he could tell by the pain that his ankle and knee were damaged. Every step made his head hurt more and Vassilis refused to let him rest. It seemed an age to him before they stopped before a shabby door with a red cross painted above to denote a doctor’s residence. Vassilis pushed Yannis into an empty seat and called loudly, making Yannis wince with pain.

Annoyed, the doctor emerged from his inner room. ‘What’s all the noise about? I have patients who are sick.’

‘This is an emergency. My friend has had a bad fall down a flight of stone steps. He hit his head and it needs stitching.’

The doctor looked from the young man who wore only his trousers to the other who was fully dressed but covered in blood. ‘You’d better bring him in.’

The doctor removed the makeshift bandage and peered at the gash on Yannis’s head. ‘A few stitches needed there.’ He swabbed at the wound and the blood began to flow again. Deftly he threaded a needle and rubbed Yannis’s face with alcohol before inserting six large stitches from the hairline to just above the ear. He surveyed his handiwork and nodded.

‘Now, young man, having dealt with that, where else are you hurt?’

‘I’m not sure. My head feels terrible and my knee and ankle hurt.’

With experienced hands the doctor felt Yannis’s knees and ankles, his spine and his ribs. Sometimes Yannis gave a gasp of pain and the doctor would feel again. Finally he straightened up, satisfied.

‘You’re very badly bruised. As far as I can tell there’s nothing broken. Where were you going when you had your fall?’

‘I was at school. I fell down the steps from the library.’

‘I’m sure they’ll understand if you don’t return for a day or two. I want you to go home and take it very quietly. Keep moving around or you’ll stiffen up. An hours rest for every ten minutes of exercise is the prescription, then a good night’s sleep. You’ll probably feel worse tomorrow, the bruising will come out fully. If you have any acute pain come back to me. I’ll check you over again next week when you come back to have those stitches out.’

‘Thank you.’ Yannis rose to his feet unsteadily and the doctor cleared his throat.

‘My bill,’ he reminded them.

‘I’ll see to that,’ Vassilis said swiftly. ‘You can sort it out with me later, Yannis.’

Half carrying his friend along the road they made slow progress to the taverna. As they entered Louisa looked up with a smile, which turned to a frown of annoyance. ‘What’s happened to you?’

‘Yannis fell down the stairs at school. He’s cut his head,’ explained Vassilis. ‘I went to the doctor with him and he’s had some stitches put in. The doctor says he must rest for a couple of days.’

‘I’m not a nurse,’ she declared.

‘He doesn’t need nursing,’ Vassilis assured her. ‘I’ll help him up to his room and come back for some water for him to have a wash. I could do with one myself.’ He looked down at his blood stained hands and trousers.

Once upstairs Yannis began to cry. ‘I’m sorry Vassilis, so sorry. Your shirt and trousers are ruined.’

Vassilis sat beside him on the bed and placed an arm around his shoulders. ‘Come on, now. You’re in shock. Have a good cry, then I’ll go and get that water and we’ll both have a wash. You’ll feel better then. You don’t need to worry about my clothes, they were old ones.’

‘My head hurts so much.’

‘I’m sure it does. Let’s get that dirty shirt off you and I’ll go and get some water.’

There was no sign of Louisa when Vassilis returned to the kitchen. He drew a jug of water and helped himself to a glass from the shelf. As he returned to Yannis he heard movement from behind one of the doors.

‘I’m just going to help Yannis have a wash, then I’ll be going,’ he called. There was no reply from behind the closed door and Vassilis shrugged. Louisa could have answered him, she must have heard.

Vassilis cleaned Yannis’s hands and face; then removed his boots, swinging his legs up onto the bed. ‘I’ve left you a glass of water, and there’s some more in the jug. If you decide to go downstairs, make sure you don’t fall. You don’t want to add to your bruises! Do as the doctor told you and I’ll call in after school to see how you’re feeling.’

‘Thanks for everything, Vassilis.’ Yannis was already half asleep as his friend left the room.

Yannis awoke some two hours later, his mouth dry and his body racked with pain. He sat up and waited for the room to stop spinning before he dared place his feet on the ground. He sipped at the water, and then decided he would experiment with walking. He winced with pain each time he placed any weight on his left foot and he could feel that his knee was swollen through his trousers. He looked at his torso as best he could in the small square of mirror he used for shaving and was horrified at the purple wheals on his back. He remembered the doctor’s advice and walked across the room twice more before lying back on his bed.

He heard Louisa laughing, a deep, throaty laugh and someone laughed back before a door closed quietly. Idly he wondered who it was; then drifted back to sleep. The next time he woke his head felt a little better and he decided a trip to the yard was necessary. He bent to pull on his boots, but changed his mind as the pain in his head increased. Very carefully he made his way down the stairs and out to the yard, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. Despite the doctor’s advice of ten minutes exercise every hour he stood by the wall, letting the sun fall on his back, warming his damaged muscles, for a full five minutes before attempting to return to his room.

He took the stairs slowly, and half way up the door of Louisa’s room opened and a young man emerged. He looked surprised to see Yannis, and nodded briefly to him as he passed him on his way down to the taverna. Louisa slammed her door furiously as Yannis came into view, the noise making him groan in pain.

By late afternoon Yannis decided he was well enough to go down to the taverna. It was true; his body was beginning to stiffen up. He would go for a walk along the road and back and see how he felt then. Louisa sat in the taverna stitching a blouse. She scowled as Yannis entered.

‘I’m just going for a walk, Louisa. The doctor said I should exercise to stop myself stiffening. I won’t be long.’

Louisa nodded and bent her head back to her embroidery. She hoped Yannis was not going to become a problem.

When Yiorgo arrived back at the taverna he was shocked by Yannis’s appearance and insisted on being reassured time and again that the boy was not badly hurt. ‘You could have broken your neck!’ he exclaimed.

‘I could have done, but I haven’t. The worst thing was the blood from the cut on my head. I’m just bruised. It will soon wear off. Vassilis was so capable. He said he would call in tonight to see how I am.’

Vassilis was not the only caller. To his surprise Mr Angelakis accompanied his friend and was as relieved as Yiorgo to find that Yannis was not seriously hurt. He placed Yannis’s books on the table and handed his essay to him.

‘I’d completely forgotten about my books,’ admitted Yannis. ‘Thank you for retrieving them. I hope they’re not damaged.’

‘I’ve had a word with the librarian and in this instance he’s prepared to overlook any minor damage. There’s only one you’ll need to pay for. The spine is broken and some of the pages are blood-stained.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll see the librarian tomorrow.’

‘You will not!’ Mr Angelakis spoke vehemently. ‘You must stay away from school until the doctor says you’re fit enough to return.’

Yannis was about to protest, but both Yiorgo and Vassilis agreed with Mr Angelakis, insisting Yannis stayed home for at least another day. Yiorgo called for a bottle of wine and was soon deep in conversation with Mr Angelakis. Vassilis winked at Yannis.

‘I suggest we leave them to it. I’ll have a quick drink with you, and then I shall be off. I’m sure you shouldn’t be over-tired.’

‘I’m not an invalid,’ grumbled Yannis. ‘I’d like to ask you another favour, though. I usually meet friends from some other classes at lunchtime and they’ll wonder what has happened to me. Could you give them a message, please?’

‘If they were in school today they know what’s happened to you. The whole school does! The library was put out of bounds whilst the stairs were cleaned and the Principal went round to every class reminding us that we shouldn’t run up and down them.’

Yannis smiled sheepishly. ‘I do feel stupid. Fancy falling down the stairs!’

He spent a further half an hour down in the taverna; then decided to return to his room and write to Annita. He found it hard to concentrate on the letter and it was with relief that he heard a tap at his door and Costas walked in, a bottle and glass in his hand.

‘Do you mind?’ He settled himself on the end of Yannis’s bed. ‘We missed you at lunchtime.’

‘My scintillating wit and brilliant conversation I dare say.’

‘Not exactly, more your serious thoughts and studious attitude. When are you coming back?’

‘Mr Angelakis has told me to take tomorrow off. I’m sure I’ll be fine by then, so I thought I might go into the museum for a while. To make up for missing today.’

Costas threw back his head and laughed. ‘Are you sure you didn’t fake your fall just so you could have some time off?’

Yannis smiled ruefully. ‘I can assure you that after the way my head hurt I certainly wouldn’t throw myself down a flight of stairs.’

‘There was an awful lot of blood. You caused a terrible panic.’

‘Did I? I was too concerned with trying to walk to notice. It was lucky for me that Vassilis was there. He knew just what to do. He took me to the doctor and then brought me back here.’

‘He certainly deserves a drink.’

‘He’s already had one. He called tonight to see how I was and brought Mr Angelakis with him.’

‘I wondered how he came to be here. He’s downstairs talking to Yiorgo.’ Costas poured another glass of wine, but Yannis shook his head.

‘I’ve had two already. I don’t want to wake up with a worse headache.’

‘Now tell me,’ Costas leaned towards Yannis and lowered his voice. ‘How much does Louisa charge you? Do you have an inclusive rate?’

Yannis shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Yiorgo sorted all that out with my father.’

Costas slapped his leg. ‘What a father! Have you got unlimited credit?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. My food’s included, but if I want a bottle of wine I pay for it.’

Costas choked on his wine. ‘I don’t believe you!’

‘I’m telling the truth,’ protested Yannis.

‘You don’t understand what I’m asking. The girl I have is nowhere near as good looking and she charges three drachmas an hour. I thought if Louisa charged the same I’d ask her when she’s free.’

Yannis’s face flamed. ‘What are you suggesting, Costas?’

Costas looked at him, his turn now to be embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t realise you didn’t know.’

‘You’re going to have to tell me now.’

Costas dropped his voice lower. ‘I thought as you lived here you would have been told what else she did besides run the taverna and probably taken advantage, having her to hand, so to speak.’

‘That can’t be true. Yiorgo wants to marry her.’

Costas whistled. ‘More fool him.’

Yannis shook his head. ‘I’ve not noticed anything amiss.’ As he said the words he recalled the blond stranger, the bundle of notes Louisa had pushed into the till, the laughter he had heard that morning and the man he had met on the stairs.

‘I expect she does her business whilst you’re at school.’

‘You must be wrong, Costas.’ Yannis spoke without conviction.

Costas drained his glass. ‘I’ll ask her on the way out. If you see me with a black eye tomorrow you’ll know I was wrong. You’ll be well enough for lunch, won’t you?’

Yannis grinned at him. ‘Sure to be – and I’ll expect to see you with two black eyes.’

Costas grinned back. ‘Don’t bank on it, my friend.’

Yannis did not sleep well and laid the blame on the amount of sleep he’d had during the day. He lay in his bed long after he would normally have risen, luxuriating in the unaccustomed novelty. He heard Yiorgo and Pavlos leave, and Louisa moving around down in the taverna. He recalled his conversation with Costas the previous evening and thought about Louisa. His thoughts produced a most disconcerting effect and he realised the wisdom of his father’s words. Maybe Costas would give him the name of the girl he visited.

He was about to rise from his bed when the twinges in his muscles reminded him of his fall. He was not as stiff as he thought he would be and his headache had completely disappeared. He looked at the dark growth on his chin, but decided against shaving as he might wet the bandage. The last thing he wanted was to make his head bleed again. Maybe he could grow a beard.