Yanis moved in, that had gone.
‘No – thank you…’ I smiled. ‘We are using up meat out of the refrigerators at the moment – trying to make room in there for wedding food we are going to make early and freeze.’
Mrs Manos wrung her hands, producing a squeaky noise as she wore plastic gloves. ‘I no blame you – with your wedding and…this Christmas fair, it will be a busy time of year for the Sotiropoulos family. You need to prepare ahead.’ Her gaze met mine. ‘Look, sorry, Pippa. Please forgive me for not being very supportive yesterday. In fact, I was rude. It is just with money the way it is…and then poor Mrs Vesteros’ dog…my emotions just burst out.’
‘No need to explain,’ I said softly. ‘These are stressful times for all of us and I know how fond you are of dogs.’ I handed over the basket. ‘I do hope these cheer you up, just a bit.’
For a moment the deep lines in her forehead disappeared and she lifted the tea-towel. Her chin showed the slightest tremble.
‘You a kind girl. Why don’t I shut up shop for twenty minutes? We have one of these with a coffee?’
‘Really? Yes, of course – if you are sure.’
Mrs Manos shrugged. ‘Mondays always slow – trade picks up towards the end of the week, when families decide they deserve a good meal at the weekend.’ She walked to the door and flipped the open sign around, so that it said closed. Then we made our way around the counter. I followed her into the back, through a white-tiled room with massive refrigerators and a big blood-stained knife on one of the units. We arrived in the house at the back. Eventually we ended up in a cosy, ramshackle kitchen, the sink full of plates and empty dog food cans on the units.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Mrs Manos and fetched two clean plates. ‘My daughter-in-law, Maria… She has been feeling a bit low and Yanis and I have to look after my grandson and the dogs as well as the shop and—’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ I said and put down the basket on the small pine kitchen table. ‘Family life and mess go hand in hand.’ I walked up to a photo on the wall by the back door. ‘What a beautiful wedding dress. You and Mr Manos look so happy.’
‘And young.’ She laughed.
I hadn’t heard Mrs Manos laugh before and turned around. It took twenty years off her face. I glanced at the sink, took off my coat and rolled up my jumper’s sleeves. Around the kitchen stood pottery loggerhead turtles of all sizes, plus one on a fridge magnet.
‘I never knew you were such a fan,’ I said and nodded at a large turtle plant pot on the windowsill.
Mrs Manos smiled. ‘Yanis has always loved animals but especially those turtles. He used to tour the island with his father, trying to get a glimpse. For a few years it became something of an obsession. Any souvenir in the shape of the caretta, Yanis had to have it. He did some very good sketches.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Then he discovered girls.’
I smiled back and turned on the tap. ‘I hope you don’t mind but please, let me wash up. Dipping my hands in hot suds will warm me up after that December stroll.’
‘No! It not so cold, Pippa! And you are my guest.’
‘Why don’t you make the coffee? I’ll be finished in a few minutes.’
She glanced out of the window, which faced onto the garden with a big shed at the bottom of it – presumably where the stray dogs slept. One was sniffing around the garden, near a big green caravan where Yanis and his family no doubt slept. He crouched down and talked to another, tickling its head.
I emptied the sink and ran it full of steaming water. Mrs Manos and I chatted about her grandson who had recently come top in science at school.
‘He has big dreams,’ she said, crooked teeth showing through a wide smile. ‘Like our learned forefathers of astronomy and mathematics, he wishes to discover something life-changing. But then we all have big hopes at school.’ She stared wistfully at
‘No – thank you…’ I smiled. ‘We are using up meat out of the refrigerators at the moment – trying to make room in there for wedding food we are going to make early and freeze.’
Mrs Manos wrung her hands, producing a squeaky noise as she wore plastic gloves. ‘I no blame you – with your wedding and…this Christmas fair, it will be a busy time of year for the Sotiropoulos family. You need to prepare ahead.’ Her gaze met mine. ‘Look, sorry, Pippa. Please forgive me for not being very supportive yesterday. In fact, I was rude. It is just with money the way it is…and then poor Mrs Vesteros’ dog…my emotions just burst out.’
‘No need to explain,’ I said softly. ‘These are stressful times for all of us and I know how fond you are of dogs.’ I handed over the basket. ‘I do hope these cheer you up, just a bit.’
For a moment the deep lines in her forehead disappeared and she lifted the tea-towel. Her chin showed the slightest tremble.
‘You a kind girl. Why don’t I shut up shop for twenty minutes? We have one of these with a coffee?’
‘Really? Yes, of course – if you are sure.’
Mrs Manos shrugged. ‘Mondays always slow – trade picks up towards the end of the week, when families decide they deserve a good meal at the weekend.’ She walked to the door and flipped the open sign around, so that it said closed. Then we made our way around the counter. I followed her into the back, through a white-tiled room with massive refrigerators and a big blood-stained knife on one of the units. We arrived in the house at the back. Eventually we ended up in a cosy, ramshackle kitchen, the sink full of plates and empty dog food cans on the units.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ said Mrs Manos and fetched two clean plates. ‘My daughter-in-law, Maria… She has been feeling a bit low and Yanis and I have to look after my grandson and the dogs as well as the shop and—’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ I said and put down the basket on the small pine kitchen table. ‘Family life and mess go hand in hand.’ I walked up to a photo on the wall by the back door. ‘What a beautiful wedding dress. You and Mr Manos look so happy.’
‘And young.’ She laughed.
I hadn’t heard Mrs Manos laugh before and turned around. It took twenty years off her face. I glanced at the sink, took off my coat and rolled up my jumper’s sleeves. Around the kitchen stood pottery loggerhead turtles of all sizes, plus one on a fridge magnet.
‘I never knew you were such a fan,’ I said and nodded at a large turtle plant pot on the windowsill.
Mrs Manos smiled. ‘Yanis has always loved animals but especially those turtles. He used to tour the island with his father, trying to get a glimpse. For a few years it became something of an obsession. Any souvenir in the shape of the caretta, Yanis had to have it. He did some very good sketches.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Then he discovered girls.’
I smiled back and turned on the tap. ‘I hope you don’t mind but please, let me wash up. Dipping my hands in hot suds will warm me up after that December stroll.’
‘No! It not so cold, Pippa! And you are my guest.’
‘Why don’t you make the coffee? I’ll be finished in a few minutes.’
She glanced out of the window, which faced onto the garden with a big shed at the bottom of it – presumably where the stray dogs slept. One was sniffing around the garden, near a big green caravan where Yanis and his family no doubt slept. He crouched down and talked to another, tickling its head.
I emptied the sink and ran it full of steaming water. Mrs Manos and I chatted about her grandson who had recently come top in science at school.
‘He has big dreams,’ she said, crooked teeth showing through a wide smile. ‘Like our learned forefathers of astronomy and mathematics, he wishes to discover something life-changing. But then we all have big hopes at school.’ She stared wistfully at
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