The Gypsy's Dream (10 page)

‘
She is very funny lady,’ Stella agrees, laughing herself.

‘
Anyway, what shall I do?’ Abby looks around.

‘
Potatoes, in the sink.’ Stella crashes the meat cleaver through the bones of another chicken.

‘
Ok, but can I ask, why don’t you buy ready-cut chips? It would save you so much time.’

‘
Yes, but not money, potatoes are cheap.’

‘
Yes, but your time is valuable. Imagine how much you would have to pay someone to make chips and see if ready-made aren’t cheaper. I bet they are.’

Stella looks at her, brow lifted.
‘I had never thought it that way around.’ She brings the cleaver down again with a loud crack.

The insecurity of her position urges Stella to continue with her routine
as if nothing has happened. She knows things must change, that they will change but while she is unsure of what action to take her normal routine is very comforting. As usual there are no customers before eleven. Abby and Stella talk about costing up someone’s time to see which day-to-day tasks are viable. Chip-making clearly is not. Stella is amazed at how much she doesn’t know about running her own business and asks Abby where she has learnt so much. It keeps her from brooding over Stavros

‘
School. I did business studies at GCSE. I wasn’t really interested then as it was all theory. This is much better, sort of on-the-spot training.’

‘
Yes, but who is training who?’ Stella laughs.

Stavros barks Greek at them from the chair outside.

Stella jumps at the suddenness and the loudness. She looks at Abby.

‘
What did he say?’ Abby whispers.

‘
Why you whisper, he no understand.’ Stella glares at the back of Stavros’ head. ‘He says we not to talk English, you need to learn Greek, but really he does not like that he doesn’t understand. How you say in English “Fork him!”?’

‘
It’s not pronounced exactly like that.’ Abby giggles, but Stella is not listening. She stabs a sausage on a long two-pronged fork and jerks it upwards in a rude fashion in Stavros’ direction. He is facing the road, watching the world, unaware, calmly smoking. What is the point, Stella asks herself? She looks at the sausage on the fork, why continue as if nothing has happened, it cannot stay the same, everything must change, is there any point carrying on these day to day chores when tomorrow who knows where they will be. She returns the sausage to the grill muttering Greek swear words under her breath until she grows calm.

Abby is working well today.

‘Hey Abby, what would you do with the
ouzeri
so it makes more money?’ she asks. Abby’s eyes shine and she becomes quite animated.

‘
First thing I would do is I would wrap fairy lights around the tree outside, show something is happening.’ She goes on to say that she would open the door to the restaurant part and put more tables and chairs outside. Stella laughs at this and says that she has been saying it for years to Stavros but he doesn’t want to unstick the door.

‘
Why don’t you just do it?’ Abby asks

‘
It is not like that, I can’t just do things. I watch my Mama make my Baba happy but she had to ask for everything. Then I watch her make the ‘uncles’ happy and the only way she got anything was to ask. Then I watch Stavros’ Mama make Stavros and Stavros’ Baba happy but she no ask for things, but then she didn’t have anything either. It feels wrong just to do something without asking.’

‘
Yeah, but we are not children!’ Abby seems to find it rather amusing that Stella, and the Greek women Stella knows, need permission to do things.

‘
Maybe I am just not strong enough to unstick the door,’ Stella says, but she doesn’t open her mouth very widely as she says it and the words are muffled.

‘
Have you tried?’ Abby looks at the door.

Stella is brushing the floor around the tables and Abby is cleaning the glass of the picture
of the donkey with the hat on. Stella chooses not to answer. There is a commotion in the takeaway and they both look round to see the two boys from yesterday, along with four more.

‘
Yia,’ Stella greets. ‘Go on, you serve them,’ she whispers loudly in English to Abby. Abby blushes and puts down the window cleaner and goes to wash her hands. The one who spoke the day before asks for six
giros
in Greek, but Abby doesn’t move. Her eyes wide, she appears rooted to the spot.

‘
What’s wrong with her?’ Stavros barks. He has raised his weight from the chair outside and stands leaning against the door frame. The boys turn around and stare at him.

‘
She does not understand and it is making her scared. You understand being scared, Stavros,’ Stella snaps. Two of the boys snigger and Stavros’ face tenses, his eyes popping out and his face going extremely red. ‘Abby, they want a
giro
each, one
horis kremidi
– er, without onions,’ Stella tells Abby.

Abby jumps into action and makes a great job of the
giros
. She hands them out to the boys who randomly take them. As she passes over the last one she says, ‘Horace cream midi.’ The boy who had looked at her the longest yesterday makes a point of touching her fingers as he takes this one and thanks her in English, prolonging the eye contact.

‘
Dodeka evro
. Twelve euros,’ Stella calls, and each boy hands over two euros to Abby. But when she counts it all together there is an extra two euros. The boys leave smiling and Stella tells her it is a tip. Stavros steps in and takes the twelve euros before it even makes it into the till. It is the first time he has done this openly. Stella feels a strange relief that at least there is no more pretence. He walks off towards the kafenio. Stella hopes he will pay off some of his debts rather than just drink it away.

‘
Shall I write a note to say what he has taken and put it in the till for when you cash up?’ Abby asks.

‘
What is this “cash up”?’ Stella flops onto a chair, and exhales. It all seems such a waste of effort.

‘
You know, at the end of the day, see how much you have made, so you can calculate your profit.’ Stella loves what Abby is teaching her but just at the moment it feels too much. The change in her position with Stavros lurks in her mind. His actions convincing her that he has debts. It weighs heavily. How big are the debts?

An hour later two more boys come in for
giros
and then towards lunchtime a mix of regulars and new faces sit down for chicken and chips and salad. They each leave a tip and Stella watches as Abby smiles, her stack of euro coins growing in the dish Stella has put out for her.

‘
It won’t be many days before you can go to Saros with these tips,’ Stella says kindly, but with a sad edge. She is enjoying Abby’s company and she loves that she is speaking and improving her English every day.

‘
Yeah,’ Abby says. She looks at the clock. ‘And I have been in Greece just over thirty hours.’ She gives a brief laugh before her smile fades. She looks at Stella, her eyebrows rising slightly. ‘It will be strange starting again somewhere new, getting to know people and things, again.’

‘
And exciting,’ Stella announces. The girl needs her freedom. What Stella wants is just from selfishness, replacing what she lacks with Stavros for good companionship. It would be easy to pull Abby into her life for her own needs, but it wouldn’t be right.

Abby takes a bowl, the potato sack and a knife to a table, the light shining through the window making the drops of water on the bowl
’s edge glisten. She runs her finger around the edge before beginning to peel and watches the remaining traces of water evaporate in the heat. Stella crouches behind the counter. The thin bottom shelf is only used for one thing. She blows the dust off as she gets out the accounts books again. If she does a little every day she might get up to date. Taking them to the table next to Abby, she looks through. So much is missing, days and days of takings not written down. Now they have to give receipts by law, the roll on the till will have to be added up for each day and the amounts entered in the book. It is a mammoth task. Stavros has never even opened the book. He probably doesn’t even know of its existence.

Stella looks at the pages again and the job seems almost too big to even begin. She looks over at Abby; her potato-peeling
is getting quicker. One column: Stella will do one column and then the job has begun. She is a little amazed at her decision and, application.

The day is getting hotter; the sound of motorbikes and tractors passing decreases. Dogs stop barking, the cicadas
increase their decibels. Stavros rolls down the awnings outside using a long metal pole with a hand-turned crank at the bottom. It squeaks as it turns. He has a cigarette in his mouth and Stella can see the ash getting longer and longer with each turn of the winching handle until it finally falls onto the crease of his T-shirt above his stomach. Half the profits are right there in that round belly of his, the other half spent on his debts. Stella has not had a new dress since the one Vasso gave her last year, and that was a cast-off from one of Vasso’s nieces. She turns back to the books.

The early afternoon passes quickly. Stavros announces he is going for a sleep. As he walks away four hungry farmers arrive, order chicken and chips and wait,
impatiently, to be served.

After eating, the farmers seem to string out their meal. Every time Abby stops busying herself in the safe recess at the back of the grill, she goes through and asks, with her freshly learned phrase, if they are all right,
‘Ola endaxi?
’ She smiles as she speaks, a tell-tale red flush beginning on her neck. They take it in turn to ask her for a variety of things, gently teasing her lack of Greek, enjoying her smile, her freshness.

Eventually, very full and happy, leaving much of the extra order
ed food on their plates, they say they will return tomorrow and that it has been the best meal they have had in a long time. They meander out, eyes lingering on Abby. Stella has a sinking feeling that Stavros might have been right. Abby is creating more business. It should make her happy but she cannot see this ending well.

The farmers all leave a tip. One leaves two euros.

Abby seems happy and takes the pots to be washed.

‘
Abby,’ Stella calls to her behind the grill. Abby has put the radio on. ‘Usually it is very quiet now for a couple of hours. I go to my English lesson with Juliet. Usually I close if Stavros is not here. Today I leave you in charge?’

‘
Oh! Er, OK. What if it all goes badly wrong?’ Abbey twists the tea towel she is holding.

‘
Don’t worry, I will tell Vasso to come in if she sees anyone coming this way and you can go to her if you have any problem.’ Stella feels no qualms in leaving her. Abby is picking up the basic words quickly. Besides, she needs to believe she is fine to be left. Stella must talk to Juliet alone. Without another word she marches out into the heat of the sun.

She lets Vasso know to keep an eye on Abby as she crosses the square. Vasso tells her that the cardigan she is wearing is hers; she has been wondering since last autum
n where it had gone. Stella smiles, keeps it on and walks off. The sun feels very hot today, the cicadas’ grating hum so constant it becomes unnoticeable. They normally don’t start till later in the year but the heat is bringing the seasons forward.

Mitso
s is just leaving the kafenio to go home. He calls out to let Stella know that his nephew will be baptised soon and the whole village will be invited: will she come? Stella calls back that of course she will, she wouldn’t miss it for the world, and as she walks on she knows Stavros won’t go and this could be an afternoon for just her and kind old Mitsos. It makes her feel quite excited. She turns down Juliet’s lane and relishes the peace and quiet. It is so central and yet feels almost as if no one lives in the lane, it is so private. She couldn’t live there, she would be afraid to be so isolated, but she loves to visit.

The cardigan is very hot and she would like to take it off.

Full of flowers and blossom, the garden is introduced by wild roses trailing on the metal arch over the gate. Juliet’s car stands in the gravel courtyard which is bordered by huge spiky plants in ceramic pots along the wall and across the front of the house. Down the right-hand garden wall are pomegranate trees, twisted and split, laden with last season’s dried and cracked fruit hanging close to the ground. The raised patio in front of the house has a table with chairs around it, to one side a big sofa with a white throw.

‘
Hi. How are you?’ Juliet greets. She gets up from the sofa, putting her books down.

‘
I am fine, how are you?’ Stella responds parrot-fashion, wondering how Juliet can wear jeans in this heat.

‘
Very formal. I think we are past that stage. A little bird told me you have a visitor.’ Juliet smiles.

‘
What is this “a little bird”, like in the trees?’ Stella is amused.

‘
You say that when you want to say you have heard something from someone and don’t want to say who it is or when you can’t really remember who you heard it from.’ Juliet clarifies. She takes her red-blonde hair out of its pony tail and smooths it across her crown before restraining it again.

‘
Ah, I see, so a little bird means someone in the village told you I have a visitor.’ Stella smiles. ‘I like this “little bird” talk. Yes, she is called Abby and she is from England and now I speak English all day and she says that I am improving.’

‘
You have improved. It is flowing more. Well done.’ Juliet seems a little taken aback by Stella’s sentence.