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Authors: Sara Alexi
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next year.
The envelope catches his eye. He had forgotten all about the letter; maybe he meant to forget. This could fulfil his dream for Marina. It might also make things worse. He could insult her, embarrass her. He could inadvertently ridicule her.
Interaction with other people is confusing. His good intentions seem to have a habit of turning out bad.
He picks up the envelope, which feels thinner than he remembers. Perhaps it is bad news. He looks again at the post mark. His German is non-existent and his English was never as good as Manolis’, but he can read the word ‘Berlin’. He feels a shiver of excitement through his chest; his stomach turns over and flutters. He swallows hard, and blinks rapidly for a moment, stifling his feelings. Nothing is certain until it is certain.
He takes a knife from the drawer and slips the envelope half into the drawer to trap it. He eases the knife point under the edge of the letter ’s flap. The cut along the edge is neat. Mitsos puts the knife on the draining board. He looks out of the window over the sink, aware that the next time he sees this view his whole position might have changed – or might not. He can see only one cat in the shade of the almonds. The compacted earth yard is unswept and there are weeds growing here and there. The remaining plants in the pots look as if they have died, and the pots need repainting.
There is a single sheet of paper in the envelope. He draws it out carefully, using his teeth to hold the envelope. He smooths the letter open on the table. It is all in English.
Mitsos sits heavily. He chastises himself. Of course it is not in Greek … Why would it be in Greek? English – the universal language. His energy fizzles away. He recalls his teacher chastising him for looking out at the herding goats during English lessons back in school. Then he could not imagine a reason in the world why he needed to listen. His shoulders slump and he feels for his cigarettes, and then remembers he has none.
Who can he ask to read the letter to him? Stella knows some English – she is getting lessons from the foreign woman. But he is not sure he wants Stella, or more accurately Stavros, to know his business.
He sits and thinks. He wonders whether Stella will continue her English lessons if Stavros gets foreign 'help' in. Probably, if it gets her out of the house and the take-away. But meanwhile, who can read the letter?
The English woman herself – of course.
He can ’t remember her name. Stella had said. Everyone had said her name when she first moved into the village. Juliet, that was it!
He will go to see Juliet. She is an outsider, she has no one to gossip with. Although he has heard she is friendly with Marina. Well, he will swear her to secrecy.
He puts the piece of paper back in the envelope. He carefully replaces it on the mantelpiece, in the centre, and lies down on the day-bed in the kitchen.
Chapter 7
Mitsos taps tentatively on the metal gate at the top end of the lane. It has taken him the best part of a week to gain the courage to make the visit. Today he feels able to walk without his crook.
The gate has a metal arch over it, covered with bougainvillea, which creates a frame for the view of the front of the house. A strip of land down the side of the house leads to a back garden. There are flowers in all the borders and the place looks very cared for.
He has been to the house before, but that was forty years ago. It belonged to a friend of his parents then, a nice old lady. She died and her grandson inherited it. His parents said he let it go to rack and ruin, renting it out to Albanians back when they were illegal immigrants.
Now they live side by side with Greeks. Now Albanians run businesses.
Well, this Juliet is making a nice job of restoring the garden.
An Asian immigrant appears from the back of the house. Mitsos takes a step back and wonders if he can just walk away. He takes out his hanky and wipes his face as he turns to
The envelope catches his eye. He had forgotten all about the letter; maybe he meant to forget. This could fulfil his dream for Marina. It might also make things worse. He could insult her, embarrass her. He could inadvertently ridicule her.
Interaction with other people is confusing. His good intentions seem to have a habit of turning out bad.
He picks up the envelope, which feels thinner than he remembers. Perhaps it is bad news. He looks again at the post mark. His German is non-existent and his English was never as good as Manolis’, but he can read the word ‘Berlin’. He feels a shiver of excitement through his chest; his stomach turns over and flutters. He swallows hard, and blinks rapidly for a moment, stifling his feelings. Nothing is certain until it is certain.
He takes a knife from the drawer and slips the envelope half into the drawer to trap it. He eases the knife point under the edge of the letter ’s flap. The cut along the edge is neat. Mitsos puts the knife on the draining board. He looks out of the window over the sink, aware that the next time he sees this view his whole position might have changed – or might not. He can see only one cat in the shade of the almonds. The compacted earth yard is unswept and there are weeds growing here and there. The remaining plants in the pots look as if they have died, and the pots need repainting.
There is a single sheet of paper in the envelope. He draws it out carefully, using his teeth to hold the envelope. He smooths the letter open on the table. It is all in English.
Mitsos sits heavily. He chastises himself. Of course it is not in Greek … Why would it be in Greek? English – the universal language. His energy fizzles away. He recalls his teacher chastising him for looking out at the herding goats during English lessons back in school. Then he could not imagine a reason in the world why he needed to listen. His shoulders slump and he feels for his cigarettes, and then remembers he has none.
Who can he ask to read the letter to him? Stella knows some English – she is getting lessons from the foreign woman. But he is not sure he wants Stella, or more accurately Stavros, to know his business.
He sits and thinks. He wonders whether Stella will continue her English lessons if Stavros gets foreign 'help' in. Probably, if it gets her out of the house and the take-away. But meanwhile, who can read the letter?
The English woman herself – of course.
He can ’t remember her name. Stella had said. Everyone had said her name when she first moved into the village. Juliet, that was it!
He will go to see Juliet. She is an outsider, she has no one to gossip with. Although he has heard she is friendly with Marina. Well, he will swear her to secrecy.
He puts the piece of paper back in the envelope. He carefully replaces it on the mantelpiece, in the centre, and lies down on the day-bed in the kitchen.
Chapter 7
Mitsos taps tentatively on the metal gate at the top end of the lane. It has taken him the best part of a week to gain the courage to make the visit. Today he feels able to walk without his crook.
The gate has a metal arch over it, covered with bougainvillea, which creates a frame for the view of the front of the house. A strip of land down the side of the house leads to a back garden. There are flowers in all the borders and the place looks very cared for.
He has been to the house before, but that was forty years ago. It belonged to a friend of his parents then, a nice old lady. She died and her grandson inherited it. His parents said he let it go to rack and ruin, renting it out to Albanians back when they were illegal immigrants.
Now they live side by side with Greeks. Now Albanians run businesses.
Well, this Juliet is making a nice job of restoring the garden.
An Asian immigrant appears from the back of the house. Mitsos takes a step back and wonders if he can just walk away. He takes out his hanky and wipes his face as he turns to
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