In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree (9 page)

‘
Oh, absolutely not,’ Theo assures her.

‘
And it’s fine for friends to stay, if you know what I mean.’ She gives him a side-on look. Her tongue darts across her fleshy lips as she pulls her jacket straight over her ample bust. ‘But if you have a woman move in, I want to know about it. This is my mother we are talking about.’ She stops walking and pushes open a gate. A short path bisects a handkerchief lawn, leading to a two-storey building. The lower floor has a window on either side of the front door. The second floor has a balcony the full width of the building. The front garden is dominated by a tall straight tree that towers the height of the house and casts dappled shade, the sunlight filtering through its spiky branches. It’s a monkey puzzle tree and Theo has seen one before, a small one in a pot in a garden in the village, but nothing as majestic as this.

‘
Mother’s there.’ She jabs her fingers at the main door as she leads the way up the enclosed steps up the right side of the building.

‘
This is you,’ she says and opens the door to a large living room with a fireplace at the far end and, at right angles to it, a small sofa that has seen better days. But Theo’s eyes are drawn to the window, which takes up the whole of the front wall and looks out onto a balcony and the treetops in the garden. A monkey puzzle tree takes centre stage, creating a canopy over the lawn. Down either side of the garden is magnificent greenery. There are no trees this big in the village or in Saros; there is just not enough water that far south. Theo stares, admiring the view ‘… kitchen there.’ Margarita finishes something she was saying. ‘You like it?’

‘
Oh yes,’ Theo says and pulls his attention to her. He must make her understand he has no deposit. She is standing quite close, so that he can see the fine hairs on her cheeks have a dusting of skin-coloured powder.

‘
So rent at the end of the month,’ she says quietly, ‘I’ll be round to get it and we can have a cup of coffee and a chat.’ Her eyes linger on him just too long for comfort.

‘
How much?’ Theo asks. She leans towards him. Theo checks himself; his instincts govern him to back away, but he is sure this would be unwise if he wants the place. ‘For you…’ She leans closer. Theo smells acrid perfume. She whispers a sum. Theo wonders if flecks of spit remain in his hair as she backs away. But as the sum she has said registers, he turns and looks at her face on. Is there a catch? Maybe, but she has not asked for any rent in advance, so what can he lose?

Margarita smiles.
‘I knew you would be pleased.’ She laughs shrilly and points to the key as she leaves, which is still in the door.

Theo looks around the enormous room. He snorts, amused that he went for a job and ended up with a flat. And this time, he even knows his landlady’s name—and the name of her friends. He has shared their table and drunk their wine—he has
parea
, companionship, if he wants it. He snorts again, and it expands into a chuckle. Maybe this is more like Athens really is. Maybe his encounters with the other landlady and the man in the dressing gown, the illegal postcard sellers, the leaflet distributors were just beginner’s bad luck, eccentrics, one-offs. He hopes so because life at the moment is suddenly looking pretty good.

He is torn between going onto the balcony and going through the arched door to explore the rest of the flat. The balcony wins. His footsteps echo as he passes through the big room. Looking down at the lawn, he takes his time to notice the roses bordering the path, yellow and pink, like the woman in the bakery
’s housecoat. To the left is a low wall and beyond that, the windowless side of another house. To the right is a high, old stone wall which forms the side of the building next door—a single storey house with a concrete slab for its roof. The concrete, which has cracks in it as wide as a coin, is on a level with his balcony. If he climbed over the railings, he could jump onto it. Perhaps that’s one reason why the rent is cheap: it’s an easy target for burglars. He wonders how much of that sort of crime there is in Athens. Of course, he has heard the stories but in reality, is this a safe area?

It would be better if the owner of the derelict building next door either re-
built or just got it levelled. Theo presumes that the owner has not the money to do anything with it. Or perhaps it has been inherited by brothers and sisters who cannot decide its fate. He sighs. It will be left, forgotten, to fall down in the course of time. At least in the village, such a place would be used for animals until the roof collapsed.

Over the road, hidden by more trees, is a modern house with shiny railings around its wide balcony, the lines sleek, the garden paved over.

Theo wanders back inside to discover the rest of his own flat. Through the arch, the ceiling remains the same height but the floor lowers by five steps; off to the right is a bedroom and, beyond that, a kitchen. Straight ahead is the bathroom. The rooms appear bigger than they really are because of the high ceilings. From the back door off the kitchen, a metal staircase leads down to a small, grubby courtyard. Weeds grow around the edges, the flagstones are discoloured, and leaves are piled in a corner. It is not inviting.

He closes the back door and locks it. The kitchen is also uninviting, with the doors to the cabinets hanging off at odd angles. But there is a stove, a sink, and cupboards. It will do once it has had a good clean. At least the vinyl on the floor is flat and solid.

With a smile Theo rechecks the bathroom, tests the bed, and trots up the steps back into the large main room. It is the balcony he likes best. He feels like a king, looking down through the tangle of branches of the monkey puzzle tree. He hopes the people in this area of Athens leave things out for the bin men to take, a chair so he can sit on the balcony, a table for his coffee. He will need to buy a
briki
and a cup.

Theo sighs his contentment. He will go for the job early this evening. But for now, he turns the small sofa around so he can look out the window rather than at the fireplace.

Time passes in the most delightful way. The birds sing in the trees, the sun shines into the room, a cockerel crows intermittently, betraying a pocket of rural activity nearby. Theo likes how everywhere he has been in suburban Athens, there are places that have not kept up with the times. Houses with gardens in between six-storey apartment blocks. A dozen olive trees on a corner where two main roads meet. And here, next door, or behind somewhere, someone is keeping chickens. Greek people, even in the city, do not forget their roots. He closes his eyes.

The sun dips behind the tree. Theo opens his eyes, scrabbles to his feet. Time has slipped by too fast and he must get the job. The door is still open as Margarita left it. He slams it behind him and locks it, taking the key. Curling his fingers around it, he hopes this key will become more familiar than the last one. He will go to see Tasia at weekends. She can visit.

The road with the bars lined up one next to the other is not far, but it is far enough now that he worries that he will be too late to start work today. He needs the money now that he has given another week
’s rent.

Theo runs and walks. The sun is hidden behind buildings, but it is still warm and it would not be good to arrive sweating. He slows and catches his breath when the end of the road comes in sight. The Diamond Rock Cafe only looks slightly more inviting than it did earlier. The bar has its wooden shutters lifted and an orangey glow comes from within.

The place is empty. A damp, tacked-on extension with a disused bar leads to the original front door up two steps. Acrid air gives testimony to a recently smoke-filled atmosphere. A dim, solitary light glows behind a small bar to the left. Directly ahead is a DJ console surrounded by lifeless coloured bulbs. The main lighting, although here it is also dim, is down the right-hand wall above the long main bar, bottles lining shelves behind the counter, dirty glasses stacked on the bar, empty bowls unevenly distributed between full ashtrays. Theo’s heels peel off the floor as he walks. A man with straight, shoulder-length hair and his back turned is arranging bottles on the shelves. Even with his back to Theo, it’s clear the man is younger than him.

‘
Hi.’ Theo slows his pace and cruises to the bar with a little swagger he has seen the young do these days.

‘
Hi, what’s happening,’ the man replies, but it is not a question. ‘What can I get you?’ He turns fully. He is not so much younger, maybe five years.

Theo thinks to reply
‘a job,’ but he is not sure if this man is the boss.

‘
You the boss?’ Theo asks.

‘
Nah, the boss comes and goes, always around by ten to see who is serving, who he has to pay, always around when we close, at two, three, sometimes four in the morning, to take the cash. He owe you money?’

There is a stale smell coming from somewhere, and the longer Theo stands there, the more grubby everything looks. His hand, which was reaching out to lean on the bar, goes back in his pocket instead.

‘No. I want a job.’ The top of the bar is smeared as if someone has run a quick cloth over it without any intention of actually making it clean.

‘
You’re hired,’ the man replies. ‘I’m Jimmy.’ He holds out his hand for Theo to shake, and he grins as Theo hesitates. ‘People come and go so quickly, we hire every night. Dimitiri has told me to hire who I need. I am the manager.’

‘
Hired, really? That’s great, er, Jimmy.’ Theo’s hair bounces as he nods to confirm the deal, and his tongue struggles over the foreign name.

‘
Yeah, some chick who worked here a week called me Jimmy, and it stuck.’ He pours two shots of
ouzo
and pushes one at Theo before slamming his back. Theo takes a sip to celebrate his new job and grins. A warm glow from the drink precedes relief and excitement at having managed to get a job. After searching fruitlessly for five days and coming desperately close to running out of money, Theo considers how lucky he has been. The weekend seems a long way away to wait to tell Tasia of his luck. He laughs at this thought. Since they both work every day, why wait till the weekend? But somehow it seems like the appropriate time for a social call.

‘
So, you can be a runner. Always starts that way I’m afraid,’ Jimmy says, pushing Theo’s shot glass towards him.

Theo eyes the glass shelves. There is a line where a cloth has been wiped along them and around each of the bottles, the dirt remaining between them towards the back. He looks again at Jimmy and wonders why, as the manager, he has no pride in his work.

‘What’s a runner?’ he asks.

‘
Oh brother, your accent’s a bit of a giveaway, but I didn’t really think people from the villages were so behind the times.’ He leans on the bar as if to confide. Theo stays erect. Just because he does not know something does not make him dumb, and he’d like to see this Jimmy guy help deliver a goat, or distinguish edible
horta
from weeds. When Jimmy beckons him closer, Theo takes a small step.

‘
They say too many bosses got stung by the waiters. Customers come, order a drink, the waiter goes to the bar, gets the drink, and the customer has gone. What happens to the drinks? They have not been paid for. Usually, they are drunk by the bar staff or given away to friends, and loyal customers. But no one pays for them.’ He pours himself another
ouzo
and clinks Theo’s shot glass. ‘Well, it doesn’t happen very often of course, but if the waiter’s friends are at the bar and he wants to treat them for nothing… Well, you understand what I am saying. So the friends drink for free. Waiters make lots of friends and the boss loses money.’

Theo shuts his mouth. He can understand the logic, of course, but why would the waiters do that to their boss, the very hand that feeds them?

He is still no clearer what a runner is.

‘
And a runner?’ Theo clears his throat after another sip of
ouzo
.

‘
Oh, yeah, so they stopped all that by making the waiters use their own money. When the waiter gets an order, he comes to the bar, buys the drinks with his own money, and then sells the drinks to the customers. So if the customer leaves, the waiter loses his own money. That’s why they are called runners, they get the drinks to the customers as fast as they can to avoid losing their money. They run.’ Jimmy looks at Theo’s unfinished shot glass and, judging Theo is not going to drink it, he slams it back and dumps the two glasses in the sink.

Theo takes out his bundle of notes. He not sure how many drinks it represents.

‘How much is a beer and a whiskey?’ he asks.

Jimmy taps a card listing prices at the end of the bar. Theo gasps, one whiskey here would buy
ouzo
s for five in his
kafeneio
.

‘
Do runners get drinks at a discount?’ Theo asks. He has only enough for a modest round.

‘
Nope!’ Jimmy laughs.

‘
Can you pay me tonight’s wage in advance?’ he tries.

‘
Nope!’ Jimmy laughs again. ‘Nice try.’ His smile melts when he sees Theo’s serious face. ‘Oh, you’re serious. Hey man, there have been times when I’ve hit bottom, too.’ He sighs. ‘I can’t give you it officially, as Dimitri pays you, but if you let me have it back.’ He stabs at the till, and the drawer opens with a ching. He pulls out a note. ‘That’s a runner’s starting wage. You get half again if you work behind the bar.’ He hands the note to Theo. It’s not much, and as he takes it he wonders how he will ever save enough to pay back his baba’s money.