Read Online The English Lesson (The Greek Village Collection Book 11) by Sara Alexi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sara Alexi
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she heads in the direction of her car. It is time to go and see Michelle, whom she left chewing on the end of her pen, trying to compose a letter to Dino, lounging by the pool that was installed to attract paying guests to the holiday-let cottage.
The night before, the wine had flowed. Initially, Michelle might as well have had her wig and gown on as she explained why she and Dino could never be together, so carefully and clinically she had outlined her argument. But as the moon rose higher, the bats began their evening swoop over the surface of the swimming pool for insects. Drained glasses were refilled and logic and caution were progressively abandoned until Michelle cried to the stars over her everlasting love for the young Dino. She declared she was only going to live once, so she might as well live to the fullest.
Juliet did her best to make all her comments ambiguous so as not to lead Michelle in either direction. But in the end, she slurred the cliched phrase, 'better to have loved and lost,' and then promptly fell asleep on her sun lounger. She woke hours later when the early morning chill took hold, only to crawl next door to her bed. Michelle had pulled a deflated lilo on top of her and was snoring.
Perhaps she will get some fresh bread on the way home and some Greek yoghurt. They can lunch together and if Michelle has not finished her letter, maybe she can help.
Toula
The next morning, Toula does not trust the lift so she drags her case down the stairs. It thumps on each step, leaving scratch marks on the two-hundred-year-old polished planks. Leaving the awkward mass just inside the main door, she returns upstairs for her handbag.
'Yianni will be here soon,' she says. Apostolis is standing by one of the long case clocks, looking at his watch.
'I thought you asked him to be here at ten.'
'I did.' Toula looks at the clock, which says five to. Another one says it is one minute to, and yet another says it is eight minutes to the hour. Apostolis grunts and re-pockets his watch. Toula looks around the room again, double checking the cat is not still in the house. She has heard too many stories of cats locked in storage places, the poor things dying of the heat or lack of water. Well, if it rains again like it did last night, there is no need to worry about that, as there will be more puddles in the utility room and in the lift shaft. But the rain at this time of year is spasmodic and two weeks is a long time. With one last look round and satisfied that the cat is not there, she hurries to leave.
'Oh do come on, Apostolis. I would rather be standing in the street for a moment than miss the train.' Toula scoops up her handbag.
'I thought you said the train was at ten past.' Apostolis zips up his overnight bag, which is lying on the desk with a sheaf of papers on top of his clothes. He is not taking much: a change of shirt, clean socks, his toothbrush. 'It will only take the taxi two minutes to drive from here to the train station,' he adds.
Toula can feel her jaw tense and her head shakes slightly, wobbles from side to side. Why does he always need to be so argumentative, pedantic? Everything has to work to his command, his timing. She checks the kitchen one last time. The kettle is unplugged, the shutters are closed, there is no cat.
'I am going to wait downstairs. I suggest you don't use the lift. The electricians came yesterday evening when you were out buying Katerina a present and they said there is a definite fault, maybe from the rain leaking into the shaft. As if I haven't been telling them that for months.'
'It works fine for me.' Apostolis lifts a large brass key from a drawer in the desk and starts to wind the clock on the mantelpiece.
‘You’re not winding clocks now, are you? We need to go,' Toula shouts up the stairs behind her. She is halfway down now. 'I can hear the taxi beeping.' She continues her descent. 'Come on. And double-check your study.’ She didn't check there for the cat,
The night before, the wine had flowed. Initially, Michelle might as well have had her wig and gown on as she explained why she and Dino could never be together, so carefully and clinically she had outlined her argument. But as the moon rose higher, the bats began their evening swoop over the surface of the swimming pool for insects. Drained glasses were refilled and logic and caution were progressively abandoned until Michelle cried to the stars over her everlasting love for the young Dino. She declared she was only going to live once, so she might as well live to the fullest.
Juliet did her best to make all her comments ambiguous so as not to lead Michelle in either direction. But in the end, she slurred the cliched phrase, 'better to have loved and lost,' and then promptly fell asleep on her sun lounger. She woke hours later when the early morning chill took hold, only to crawl next door to her bed. Michelle had pulled a deflated lilo on top of her and was snoring.
Perhaps she will get some fresh bread on the way home and some Greek yoghurt. They can lunch together and if Michelle has not finished her letter, maybe she can help.
Toula
The next morning, Toula does not trust the lift so she drags her case down the stairs. It thumps on each step, leaving scratch marks on the two-hundred-year-old polished planks. Leaving the awkward mass just inside the main door, she returns upstairs for her handbag.
'Yianni will be here soon,' she says. Apostolis is standing by one of the long case clocks, looking at his watch.
'I thought you asked him to be here at ten.'
'I did.' Toula looks at the clock, which says five to. Another one says it is one minute to, and yet another says it is eight minutes to the hour. Apostolis grunts and re-pockets his watch. Toula looks around the room again, double checking the cat is not still in the house. She has heard too many stories of cats locked in storage places, the poor things dying of the heat or lack of water. Well, if it rains again like it did last night, there is no need to worry about that, as there will be more puddles in the utility room and in the lift shaft. But the rain at this time of year is spasmodic and two weeks is a long time. With one last look round and satisfied that the cat is not there, she hurries to leave.
'Oh do come on, Apostolis. I would rather be standing in the street for a moment than miss the train.' Toula scoops up her handbag.
'I thought you said the train was at ten past.' Apostolis zips up his overnight bag, which is lying on the desk with a sheaf of papers on top of his clothes. He is not taking much: a change of shirt, clean socks, his toothbrush. 'It will only take the taxi two minutes to drive from here to the train station,' he adds.
Toula can feel her jaw tense and her head shakes slightly, wobbles from side to side. Why does he always need to be so argumentative, pedantic? Everything has to work to his command, his timing. She checks the kitchen one last time. The kettle is unplugged, the shutters are closed, there is no cat.
'I am going to wait downstairs. I suggest you don't use the lift. The electricians came yesterday evening when you were out buying Katerina a present and they said there is a definite fault, maybe from the rain leaking into the shaft. As if I haven't been telling them that for months.'
'It works fine for me.' Apostolis lifts a large brass key from a drawer in the desk and starts to wind the clock on the mantelpiece.
‘You’re not winding clocks now, are you? We need to go,' Toula shouts up the stairs behind her. She is halfway down now. 'I can hear the taxi beeping.' She continues her descent. 'Come on. And double-check your study.’ She didn't check there for the cat,
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