Read Online In the Shade of the Monkey Puzzle Tree by Sara Alexi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sara Alexi
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the coffee slowly improves, or perhaps he is just getting used to it. Theo shaves every day and tips her well.
At home, the cat sleeps on his bed. He has discovered that the spiral staircase at the end of the passage between his house and the next leads to the roof, which is flat and from which, looking down the street and over the distant buildings, he can even see a sliver of sea down at Pireaus port. He climbs the stairs each morning to wake up, his elevation convincing him that he will conquer the city.
Thankfully, there is no sign of the old lady, who, on reflection, bears little resemblance to his yiayia and is old enough to have better manners whatever her situation.
He remains confident in himself. There is no one to complain about his methods, no negative comments, no one telling him what to do. His liberation brings elation that is much more magnificent than he expected. It gives him courage, and he flirts a little with Tasia when her baba is out. They talk of their dreams, his to be his own man, make his mark and hers, she tells him, is to have an olive grove and a press to make oil.
During this time of job hunting, to his surprise and delight, he discovers that Athenians put the things they no longer want outside in the streets in the early hours of the morning, before it is even light. Tasia says it is done under the cover of darkness because it is not strictly legal, but once something is on the road, the dustbin men are obliged to remove it. Things which in the village would be considered serviceable for many years to come are thrown out like used serviettes, on a whim, it seems.
From necessity, and in keeping with his frugal nature, Theo finds a comfy chair with a biro line trailed round and round on one of its padded material arms, a wooden table with a matching chair, both very old fashioned, and a lamp which looks like it once sat on a plinth. He also lugs back to his rooms a trunk, made of brown painted metal over a wooden shell that is lined with old-fashioned wallpaper, just because he likes it. When he discovers how well it shuts, he begins to keep his food in it to stop the cat from stealing it when he is sleeping.
He is soon on first name terms with Andreas, the kiosk man, and he begins to feel he is creating a new world for himself.
‘Morning. Don’t you ever get an hour off?’ Theo smiles.
‘ Ha! If only I could, but my father is too old,’ Andreas says.
‘ Humm.’ Theo’s thoughts turn to his own baba, his sleeves catching the stove, his clumsiness that has come with age. He looks at his own hand, out of bandages now and crusty.
Andreas leans forward and looks furtively left and right before confiding, ‘Besides, do you know how many tourist girls come to ask for directions? I am learning English.’ He lifts a book off his knees: First lessons in English Grammar.
One half-day, Theo spends handing out flyers, as a trial, to see if he is quick enough, only to realise that when the half-day is done, so is their need for him. He applies for a sales job, selling postcards to the tourists up on the Acropolis, but the business does not feel legitimate, so he slips away unseen. Mostly, the jobs have already gone by the time he calls, to someone else who rang earlier or went in sooner because they were closer. After five days with no success, he wonders if there is a better way.
Counting out coins on his way home, he is concerned to see how little is left. All those coffees soon add up. He still has enough money to eat, at least for a few more days, if he is frugal, but the situation is becoming more pressing.
Side-stepping a tree and walking in the road for ease, he turns up his street. He lifts his shirt from his shoulders; it is still warm, even though it is evening. The gate outside his front door hangs open. Vaguely surprised, he wonders if the old lady is on the roof drying her washing. No, she would never manage the stairs. Very odd. He cannot wait to sit down, kick his
At home, the cat sleeps on his bed. He has discovered that the spiral staircase at the end of the passage between his house and the next leads to the roof, which is flat and from which, looking down the street and over the distant buildings, he can even see a sliver of sea down at Pireaus port. He climbs the stairs each morning to wake up, his elevation convincing him that he will conquer the city.
Thankfully, there is no sign of the old lady, who, on reflection, bears little resemblance to his yiayia and is old enough to have better manners whatever her situation.
He remains confident in himself. There is no one to complain about his methods, no negative comments, no one telling him what to do. His liberation brings elation that is much more magnificent than he expected. It gives him courage, and he flirts a little with Tasia when her baba is out. They talk of their dreams, his to be his own man, make his mark and hers, she tells him, is to have an olive grove and a press to make oil.
During this time of job hunting, to his surprise and delight, he discovers that Athenians put the things they no longer want outside in the streets in the early hours of the morning, before it is even light. Tasia says it is done under the cover of darkness because it is not strictly legal, but once something is on the road, the dustbin men are obliged to remove it. Things which in the village would be considered serviceable for many years to come are thrown out like used serviettes, on a whim, it seems.
From necessity, and in keeping with his frugal nature, Theo finds a comfy chair with a biro line trailed round and round on one of its padded material arms, a wooden table with a matching chair, both very old fashioned, and a lamp which looks like it once sat on a plinth. He also lugs back to his rooms a trunk, made of brown painted metal over a wooden shell that is lined with old-fashioned wallpaper, just because he likes it. When he discovers how well it shuts, he begins to keep his food in it to stop the cat from stealing it when he is sleeping.
He is soon on first name terms with Andreas, the kiosk man, and he begins to feel he is creating a new world for himself.
‘Morning. Don’t you ever get an hour off?’ Theo smiles.
‘ Ha! If only I could, but my father is too old,’ Andreas says.
‘ Humm.’ Theo’s thoughts turn to his own baba, his sleeves catching the stove, his clumsiness that has come with age. He looks at his own hand, out of bandages now and crusty.
Andreas leans forward and looks furtively left and right before confiding, ‘Besides, do you know how many tourist girls come to ask for directions? I am learning English.’ He lifts a book off his knees: First lessons in English Grammar.
One half-day, Theo spends handing out flyers, as a trial, to see if he is quick enough, only to realise that when the half-day is done, so is their need for him. He applies for a sales job, selling postcards to the tourists up on the Acropolis, but the business does not feel legitimate, so he slips away unseen. Mostly, the jobs have already gone by the time he calls, to someone else who rang earlier or went in sooner because they were closer. After five days with no success, he wonders if there is a better way.
Counting out coins on his way home, he is concerned to see how little is left. All those coffees soon add up. He still has enough money to eat, at least for a few more days, if he is frugal, but the situation is becoming more pressing.
Side-stepping a tree and walking in the road for ease, he turns up his street. He lifts his shirt from his shoulders; it is still warm, even though it is evening. The gate outside his front door hangs open. Vaguely surprised, he wonders if the old lady is on the roof drying her washing. No, she would never manage the stairs. Very odd. He cannot wait to sit down, kick his
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