There was no respite from the heat outside. It was early July and the air smouldered. Alekos put his
arm around my waist and I held on to him all the way to the car. I couldn’t stop looking at him or
smiling. His skin was darker in the sunshine and mine was like white chocolate against him. Despina led
the way with Takis manoeuvring a trolley with my bags on it through the car park. He turned round
and smiled at us at least five times between arrivals and the car, while Despina talked constantly at us.
I didn’t understand a word.
I stood with Despina as Takis and Alekos argued, I assumed good-naturedly, over how best to put
my luggage in the boot. Despina kept clicking her tongue disapprovingly and commenting. She looked
at me and flashed a red-lipstick smile. She reached forward, touched my hair and nodded. ‘
Parre poli
oreo
,’ she said.
I continued to smile.
‘Very lovely.
Kokkino
,’ she said, pointing to my hair, and then after realising I still didn’t
understand, pointed towards her lips.
‘Red!’ I said, nodding.
‘Bravo, Sophie!’
The boot slammed shut and Alekos turned to us. ‘Let’s go.’
…
Expensive clothes shops lined Thessaloniki’s pavements and amongst them I glimpsed familiar names of
Accessorize
,
Virgin
and to my disbelief good old
Marks and Spencer’s
as we beeped and swerved
through packed streets. Sweat pooled into the small of my back and I felt a trickle slide down the
side of my face. The car’s air conditioning was working flat out but that did nothing to
combat the summer sun penetrating the rear windscreen. Alekos held my hand, his thumb
rhythmically rubbing up and down mine. The streets were a patchwork of shade with strips of
sunlight fighting their way between the tall apartment blocks that made up the heart of the
city.
Alekos leaned towards me as I gazed out of the window. He pointed to cream buildings overlooking
a square filled with people with a glimpse of sea beyond. ‘The docks are over there,’ he gestured
somewhere in front of us. He wrinkled his nose. ‘We’re not going that way.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘You
okay?’
My other hand clutched the back of Takis’ seat. Every time we turned a corner, Alekos and I,
belt-less in the back, fell against each other. I nodded.
‘You can shower at home, sleep if you want,’ he said. ‘Before everyone comes over.’
‘Everyone?’
‘To eat. You’ll love it, we have a feast prepared.’
The apartments thinned out the further we got away from the centre. The traffic didn’t though and
I gripped Takis’ seat tighter as cars, including ours, veered erratically between lanes on the dual
carriageway.
‘
Thes nero
, Sophie?’ Despina turned to me and asked. ‘Want water?’
‘Do you want a drink?’ Alekos said. ‘We can stop here.’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
We screeched to a halt at the side of the road, double-parking alongside another car. Takis switched
off the engine and the air conditioning stilled. The car rapidly became as effective as a night storage
heater.
‘
Psomi, kapoozi, nero ke Coca Cola
!’ Despina shouted after Takis. He disappeared inside what
looked like a grocer’s and reappeared seconds later beckoning to Alekos. I took my phrase book from
my bag as Alekos got out and used it to fan myself.
‘
Ehi zeste
,’ Despina said, imitating me flapping the pages of my book with her hand.
I felt sweat snaking down the centre of my back. I sat upright away from the seat and stayed very
still. Takis appeared from the shadows of the shop with a blue carrier bag, while Alekos carried a
watermelon in both arms.
‘Like
kapoozi
?’ Despina asked.
I took
kapoozi
to mean watermelon and nodded. ‘Yes.
Ne
,’ I answered, correcting myself.
She beamed at me as Takis started the engine and Alekos struggled on to the back
seat.
For the rest of the journey I sat with my head resting on Alekos’ shoulder, my hand on top of the
kapoozi
between us and let their rapid words wash over me. Maybe I would soak up the language like a
sponge. I wanted to do more than just nod and smile but I was content for the time being to simply
head to my new home.
…
Alekos nudged me awake from where I dozed, rocking against his shoulder, my arm still encircling the cool,
green skin of the
kapoozi
.
‘Home,’ he whispered. His breath tickled my ear.
‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ I said, rubbing my eyes. The glare from the sun distorted my view.
All I could see of my new home was a silhouette. The car slowed between open gates and
crunched over gravel. Takis parked neatly in the shadow of the restaurant next to two other
cars.
‘What do you think?’ Alekos asked. I scrambled out of the car after him. I shaded my eyes with my
hand and savoured the elegance of the building with its arched windows, red-tiled roof and pale,
caramel-stained walls.
‘I had no idea it was this beautiful,’ I said.
Alekos grinned and hooked his arm around my waist, pulling me towards him until I was pressed
against his chest. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Happy doesn’t even come close,’ I said. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. I kissed him. ‘I’m so
happy I met you.’
He’d changed me. He’d made me question what I wanted, what life meant. He had dragged me out
of the 9 to 5 rut. There was no normality about this place.
Estiatorio O Kipos
the sign above the
restaurant entrance read. Alekos said it meant
The Garden Restaurant
. To me it meant a new
life.
Takis dragged my luggage from the boot. Despina had disappeared inside and I heard her calling to
someone. Alekos smiled and beckoned me towards the garden and sunshine.
Beyond the terrace there was a bar with the same red roof and warm-coloured walls as the
restaurant. Olive trees lined the far edge of the garden, their intricately woven branches shading the
seating below. I imagined couples getting cosy beneath the trees once darkness descended. The garden’s
centrepiece was a fountain encircled by a wooden bench. The place was so quiet I could hear the trickle
of water.
I’d swapped housemates for Alekos and his family, a flat above an off-licence for a bedroom above a
first-class restaurant, a kitchen windowsill of ailing spider plants for a garden the size of a football
pitch, and noise and traffic for fields that merged with the sky.
‘
Aleko, pes tin Sophie gia tin dulia
,’ Despina called from the restaurant steps.
‘
Ochi tora, Mama
.’
I looked at him. ‘What is it?’
‘
Tipota
. Nothing.’
‘Go on, tell me.’
He shrugged and pointed. ‘See the bar?’
I nodded.
‘That’s where you are going to work.’
‘I’m going to what?’
‘It’s decided. You won’t have to find a job. Mama thought it’d be easy for you.’
‘I don’t know enough Greek – any Greek yet.’
‘Don’t worry, you won’t be alone.’
He caught my hand in his. I stared across the garden, trying to imagine myself behind the wooden
bar, taking orders, pouring drinks, talking Greek and looking out on a patio of strange
faces.
‘Here is very different to England. We have waiter service and there won’t be anyone at the bar,’
he said softly. He turned my face towards his. ‘I’ve said too much. I don’t want to worry
you.’
‘I’m not. It’s a lot to take in.’ I pulled away from him. I could feel the nerves I’d been
battling against building in my stomach. I took a deep breath. ‘I was going to sort myself
out.’
‘I know. I told Mama…’
‘Sophie!’ Despina’s voice pierced the air.
A shorter, darker and younger version of Despina appeared next to her on the steps with a baby
clamped to her hip. She clattered towards us, her free hand held open. She planted kisses on my
cheeks.
‘I’m Lena, Alekos’ sister,’ she said. ‘This is Yannis, my…’ She turned to Alekos. ‘
Pos lene
yios
?’
‘Son.’
‘My son.’
‘He’s gorgeous,’ I said.
‘Christo? Eleni?’ Despina shouted into the shadowy restaurant. ‘
Ela edho
!’
I held on to Alekos tighter. ‘My aunt and uncle,’ he said. ‘They came early to finish making food.
Everyone wants to meet you.’
Takis’ rough hand squeezed my shoulder. ‘
Endaksi, Sophia
?’ he asked.
I nodded and realised I understood something. I was okay.
I lost count of how many times I was kissed before we got inside, and even then I was
bombarded with questions, which were interpreted by Alekos, and made to try all sorts of
food before Despina ushered me upstairs for a well-needed shower and a moment’s quiet to
adjust.
I washed away the grime of travel. Wrapped in a towel, I stuck my head out of the bathroom door
before nipping across the empty hallway. The air conditioning was on in our bedroom. Our bedroom. It
sounded so strange, yet the thought made me smile. I bounced across the room, my smile
breaking into laughter I couldn’t contain. My wet hair slapped against my shoulders and water
trickled down my back. I dropped the towel on the floor where I stood and let the cool
air caress my bare skin. The balcony windows were wide, the curtains open, but I didn’t
care. The sky was hazy and the bright white paintwork of the balcony shimmered. The
bedroom door scraped open and then closed with a click. Alekos whistled under his breath.
His warm hands on my skin replaced cool air, one hand on my stomach, the other sliding
between my breasts. He nuzzled my neck, his stubble rubbing, scratching, his lips tickling,
kissing.
‘I like you living here very much,’ he said. His hands smoothed across my skin. He pressed into me.
His belt buckle dug into the small of my back.
‘There are no neighbours,’ I said.
‘No. But they fruit pick. They see you.’
We made love on our bed, in our room. It was like the first time on Cephalonia again, discovering
each other; the weight of his body on top, the tautness of his muscles and the warmth of him inside me
as we moved slowly and silently together. He was my second skin and I wanted to know every
part of him. He left me sleeping and I woke up alone. I heard him downstairs, confidently
talking in Greek, an Alekos I would grow to know. I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept for,
but I felt refreshed, lying naked on top of the sheets. The sun had moved across the sky,
stretching a block of sunshine further across the wall. Slowly, I pulled myself on to my elbows.
The early haziness had dispersed and for the first time I saw Mount Olympus, clear and
magnificent.
Most couples celebrate the anniversary of when they actually got together. We don’t have that. We
could, I suppose, celebrate the day we first saw each other or the day we first said hello or the first time
we kissed, even the first time we had sex. But for me, arriving in Greece was the start; a bigger decision
than ‘will you go out with me?’
It’s early July and it’s been over a hundred degrees in the shade all week. I’ve never felt heat like
it. The cats lie spread-eagled beneath the vines, clinging to what shade they can. They
look miserable, not even venturing towards the fields in search of mice, lizards or snakes.
Even Takis, the calmest person I’ve ever met, curses the weather as much as Despina does.
No one steps outside between midday and three. In the nearby village, roads are deserted
and blinds and shutters are closed as if a hurricane is on its way rather than a heatwave.
Only in the evening, after their siesta, do people reappear, to sit on their porches and fan
themselves. Despina makes
frappes
and Takis drinks them outside the kitchen door as fast as they
appear.
At least our room is bearable with the curtains drawn and the air conditioning on.
‘It’s freezing in here,’ Alekos moans, but for me it’s a respite from the unrelenting heat. I’m
thankful for a day off. The kitchen is a sauna and Despina’s temper is as hot as the weather.
Customers cram into the air-conditioned restaurant to drink their
chipero
and eat, making more
work for Despina. I’m glad to be spending the evening away from the claustrophobia of the
kitchen, to be a customer and be waited on in someone else’s restaurant. I tip my head
upside down and rub my wet hair. Days like these are for sleeping or swimming in the
sea, not working. Wherever we go tonight I’m going to wear as little as possible. I have
a cream dress laid out on the bed. It is strapless, short and made of a delicate material
that floats against my body. I know Alekos will like it. I throw my head back and feel the
blood rush from my face. I think I hear something. I open the bedroom door and stick
my head out. The hallway is stuffy and empty, and then Alekos calls, ‘Sophie, come see
this!’
‘I’m drying my hair,’ I shout back in Greek.
He pokes his head round the top of the stairs. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.’
I wind a towel round my head and pull on shorts, a vest top and slip my flip-flops on. I slap along
the tiled hallway and down the stone steps. Alekos meets me in the kitchen wearing only shorts and
sandals. His skin has deepened to the colour of coffee. My tan is like caffé latte against
his but at least I’m not red any more. He grabs my hand and pulls me outside. The heat
smacks us and is unforgiving, smothering us as we round the corner of the building. We
skirt the patio with the comatose cats and Takis asleep holding a newspaper. We duck
beneath the shrivelled vines trailing from the archway and out on to the scorched grass
beyond.
Olympus is shadowed by grey. Rain clouds move towards us, extinguishing the sun and blue sky and
throwing the distant landscape into premature darkness. Thunder growls, but it is miles
away.