The Unquiet Mind (The Greek Village Collection Book 8) (10 page)

‘Babis?’ he asked and the small boy sprung upon him, his head buried in his neck, crying in great sobs as if he would never stop. ‘Are you upset about the rabbit? It is okay now. He is at peace,’ Yanni tried to console the boy. But Babis just kept crying until slowly he quietened and the feeling that passed through Yanni when Babis looked him in the eye, he never wanted to feel again. He said prayers in his head to stop what was coming next but somehow he knew, he wasn’t sure what he knew, but he knew it was bad and he knew he was not going to be spared from hearing it.

‘My baba, he did not leave.’ Babis begun. Words that should have filled Yanni with glee sent shivers down his spine. ‘I came home from school. There was a sandwich on the table. Mama always left me a sandwich on the table; she changed sheets in a hotel and always got back after me.’ Yanni resisted the urge to cover his ears with his hands. ‘I sat and ate my sandwich, but there was something wrong with the house.’ Babis’ voice was flat, the words coming out staccato. Yanni was transfixed, looking into his cousin’s eyes, the black lashes silver with tears. ‘I washed my plate and put it away, and by the sink was a note asking me to tidy my room, “love, Mama”, it said.’ A single tear trickled down his face. His arm lifted and wiped his nose, the tear smudged across his cheek. ‘I took a step to my bedroom. There was this feeling, like someone was watching, and then I smelt this smell and I looked and I saw his boots. Mid-air. Through the open crack of their bedroom door. The smell so strong and under the boots, on the floor, brown, and I wondered why my mama had not cleaned it up and I wondered how boots could be suspended, and even though I was retching, I pushed the door open to see.’ It came out in one breath, his face drained of all colour. ‘They were half-closed but one eye looked at me and one didn’t and his head was not on his shoulders properly. His mouth was black inside.’ Yanni knew what he was hearing was not good, but nor did it make sense. He just wanted Babis to stop talking, go back to where he had come from, leave him alone. But he did and said nothing. ‘The silence began to roar, my legs had no bones, I fell forward, my hands in the brown, my head hit his boots, and he began to swing.’

‘Stop.’ Yanni said the word so quietly. His arms wrapped around Babis’ head and he pulled him gently into his own small chest and rocked him until the light faded and they returned to the cottage. There was no more conversation. They shared his bed—there was no other that Babis could be in—and then Yanni hugged him as he imagined he would like to be hugged and waited for Babis to cry himself to sleep before he allowed his own dreams to take him as well.

After that, Yanni kept Babis by his side every day he was with them. When Babis’ mama eventually sent for him, the boys made a silent farewell. There was no way to keep in touch, and besides, there was nothing to say. Yanni never spoke of it until a couple of years later when he spent time with Sophia. It was a brief conversation, but she understood, and it was his turn to be held and rocked.

Hard enough for a boy to lose his baba at any age, but when he was so young and in such a way?

‘We go just to face Gerasimos?’ Yanni asks.

Babis nods, his hair falling over his forehead into his eyes.

Chapter 13

Yanni rolls onto his side. His legs feel heavy and a twitch of his feet lets him know he still has his boots on.

‘Oh no.’ He groans and rolls onto his back. His hands clenching, expecting to grasp Babis’ guest-room bed linen, but there are no sheets. His fingers fold around looseness, like earth, but softer, drier. He lifts his hand to see what he has hold of, but his eyes will not open yet. He waits until he surfaces more. There is a very familiar smell. The muscles around his eyes relax, softened daylight chases away sleep.

He is not at Babis’ house. Above him are beams and crossing laths. The sunlight slides between the lines of concave red roof tiles, lighting up many plumes of cobwebs that have caught dust and dirt. The webs hang in festoons and sway in the breeze that blows under the eaves, hissing and hushing. The walls are stone, windowless, and at either end of the barn is a closed wooden door, a gash of daylight at the bottom. He releases his grip and the crumbled goat droppings fall to the compacted mud floor. The barn is empty and the dryness of the floor suggests it has not been used for animals in some time. Yanni struggles to sit up.

‘Where the …’ he whispers, unwilling to disturb the stillness of the place. The light between the tiles takes on an orange glow but where some are broken or missing, shafts of brilliant sunshine spotlight the floor. Yanni draws in his leg that rests in one such shaft of light, because the sun is fierce; it must be around midday. Did he drink—again? Is he waking in the afternoon—again?

He rolls onto his knees and stands. He does not feel particularly hungover, nothing a drink of water wouldn’t wash away. He brushes off the earth and dried dust of the crumbled goat droppings. No wonder it was a familiar smell.

Two paces take him to one end of the barn to push open the door. It does not give. He must have come in by the other door. With three strides, he reaches out with his fingertips to push open that door, bracing himself for the brightness of the day, the sudden heat. It does not give. He applies more pressure; still, it does not move. His shoulder has no effect either and so he grips the wall on either side of the door and gives it a strong kick. It does not even rattle.

Marching back to the first door, brushing the cobwebs from his face, he repeats his effort, but this too shows no signs of opening. The gaps beneath the doors show sunlight, but squatting down and leaning over only allows him to see the grasses growing outside, blocking the view.

If he got in, he must be able to get out. Did he fall through the roof perhaps? But there is no break in the beams, only a few small gaps between the tiles. Then it stands to reason that he has been closed in by someone from the outside. Babis?

With his back against the rough stone wall, he sinks to the ground and pulls his tobacco pouch from his pocket.

‘So we went into Saros, to the office of Gerasimos.’ He sprinkles tobacco onto a cigarette paper, trying to gather his thoughts. ‘Babis talked to him.’ Just a little bit more tobacco. ‘Gerasimos got angry, they screamed and shouted, Gerasimos went red, Babis laughed. We left.’ He pockets the pouch and puts both hands to the cigarette paper. ‘Oh no.’ He groans as he begins to roll the cigarette ‘We did go to a bar.’ He licks the paper edge. ‘Babis was talking. What was he saying about the mayor and Gerasimos? Something about the houses.’ He remembers times when his brain did not want to think in the early days of learning the Greek alphabet with the Sister. Now it feels the same, but he knows if he persists, it will come. ‘Oh yes!’ He finds the recall he seeks. It is almost beyond comprehension that anyone could be so underhand and dirty. Bogus surveyors enlisted to say the houses are unstable! It takes him a moment to believe it is all true. Shaking his head, the reality of it all sinks in. But it doesn’t explain why he is locked in this barn.

‘I had only one drink, one beer.’ He puts the cigarette in his mouth and searches for his lighter. ‘There were those two men, the ones that made Babis feel uncomfortable, the way they were watching him so…’ There is a slight delay as he remembers. ‘We moved to the next bar.’ His words come out muttered, his lips not moving around his cigarette. He takes the cigarette from his mouth and continues his search for his lighter. ‘Babis ordered drinks all round and made friends with that girl and they left through the side door.’ He finds his lighter but continues to use his cigarette to orchestrate his words. ‘I did not touch my drink and I left through the front door and …’ He sparks his lighter. A mouse runs across the dried floor and into a dark hole in the wall. ‘I took the road to walk back to the village.’ He puffs and then puts the lighter away. ‘Back past Gerasimos’ office, past the army barracks, the orange groves on either side and …’

He raises his free hand and curls the ends of his moustache before running his hand from forehead to the back of his neck to smooth his hair. He winces. He touches again, tentatively, just his finger ends exploring. He must have fallen. Maybe that’s why he has no memory of coming into this barn. He leans his head carefully back against the wall and smokes. Maybe he could climb up the inside walls and break through the laths. The tiles will move aside or fall off easily.

He stubs out his cigarette and stands, searching the wall for a foothold.

There’s a noise outside, an engine draws close and stops. Voices. Running to the door, he opens his mouth to call out but something stops him. He knows that voice from somewhere. He pauses to listen, the hairs on his arms raising. He shivers involuntarily.

‘Why is he in there?’ a low voice asks.

‘He just collapsed, so it seemed like the best idea.’ Plaintive, lighter.

‘What do you mean he just collapsed?’

‘You know, I coshed him over the back of the head so he wouldn’t put up too much of a fight...’

‘And he collapsed?’

‘Well, basically, yes.’

‘So you hit him too hard.’

‘I guess.’

‘And what was your thinking carrying him here?’

‘Well, you cannot really teach a guy a lesson if he is unconscious, can you? So I brought him here so we can wait till he wakes up and then we can frighten the life out of him.’

‘Is he awake?’

‘I don’t know. I came down for you. ‘

Yanni creeps away from the door, sits on the ground, and then lies prone. At the sound of a bolt being shot, he tries not to react as the heat of the day and the sunlight streak across him.

‘Who the heck is that?’

‘The guy you told me to beat up, the lawyer.’

‘Does he even look like a lawyer?’ This voice’s pitch is rising, the words spilling out faster.

‘It’s the guy you pointed out and besides, his friend put his arm around his shoulder and called him “lawyer” as they passed our table, you know, when he looked at us.’ This voice, too, now sounds agitated. Yanni keeps his eyes closed as he tries to put an age to them, assess if he can rush them both before they have a chance to shut the door.

The door closes with a bang.

He opens his eyes.

‘The guy that spoke was the lawyer. You idiot.’ The voice only slightly dulled for being outside.

‘But why did he call the other guy “lawyer” and look at us?’

‘Maybe the lawyer was not as stupid as he seemed? Maybe you are the stupid one.’

‘I don’t understand. Did you or did you not point to this guy?’

‘No, I pointed to the guy next to him.’

‘The one that called this man “lawyer”.’

‘Yes! Look, this is not so difficult to understand, you got the wrong guy.’

‘So what shall we do, open the door, let him wake up and just wander away?’

‘No. Maybe we can use him. If he is a friend of the lawyer’s, we might be able to get out of this okay. It depends what Gerasimos says. Can you get a signal up here?’

‘Not usually. Better from over the hill there.’

‘Okay, wait here.’

Yanni can hear the sound of footsteps growing distant and someone on the outside of the door settling down, sitting on the floor maybe.

There’s only one of them now. Maybe this is the best advantage he will get. Stretching and yawning loudly, Yanni stands and walks to the door.

‘
Yeia
, anyone there?’ he asks, tapping at the boards.

There is silence. The wind blows under the roof, lifting tiles gently as it sighs and grows still again. Far away, a sheep bleats and further still, a dog barks.

‘Please, I need some water.’ Yanni leans against the door, his voice sounding even more imploring than he meant it to. That’s a good thing.

Silence.

‘Please my friend, my head hurts where you hit me and I am dehydrating.’

Silence.

A small sound.

A bottle of water is rolled under the door.

‘Thank you.’ It could be fear he is feeling, but it does not hold him still. His chest expands, he has a strange sensation of power, maybe it is excitement. A challenge.

He takes a drink, not taking his eyes from the door.

‘It’s hot in here.’ Yanni leans his head against the door.

‘It’s hot out here,’ a voice replies.

‘I’m Yanni.’

Silence.

‘You planning in letting me out sometime soon?’

Silence. There is a whisper of tiny running feet beside him, a movement in the bit of straw in the corner. Even the smallest of animals take shelter from the day’s heat.

‘I imagined not, so I’m Yanni.’ With his fingers, he combs a web, whitened with dust, from his hair.

‘Spiros.’ The voice on the other side of the door relents.

‘You like the smell of goats, Spiro?’ Yanni asks. His baba would often start a game of
tavli
with a tactical opening, the move itself needing the following move to make it make sense. It always caught him off guard.

‘What?’

‘Well. Do you?’

‘Not really. Bit strong, gets in my throat.’

‘Mine too. It’s very strong in here.’ Yanni coughs. ‘A little air would help.’

There is no reply.

The last of the cool water runs down his throat and he rolls the empty bottle back under the door. His hands are wet from the condensation on the outside of the bottle. He wipes them dry on his trousers.

‘The day before yesterday, I had never been off Orino Island. Never seen such cunning.’ Yanni speaks slowly, almost as if talking to himself.

‘I think it is best if we don’t talk. Takis will be back soon.’ Spiro’s words come out in spasms, as if the effort is too much in the heat.

‘You scared of him?’ Yanni asks, but he does not expect a reply. He remembers his fear of Hectoras, but he would never have admitted it at the time. Sophia standing up for him, offering to be by his side diluted that fear. It showed him that he was not the weak animal Hectoras suggested. It gave him his pride back. Maybe offering to stand by the side of Spiros will give him the incentive he needs to open the door. Yanni continues, ‘I’ve been bullied, too, when I was at school.’

‘He doesn’t bully me. He helps me.’

‘What, like getting you this job? Is this a job of choice for you then, beating people up, holding them against their will?’

There’s a cough, a clearing of the throat.

‘So of all the jobs you could do, this is the one, is it?’

‘Well ...’

‘Oh.’ Yanni relaxes his throat, tries to make the conversation sound casual, friendly. ‘So what would your first choice be?’

‘Sheep. I like to take the sheep to feed.’

‘You got a herd, then?’

‘No.’

‘Shame. If it is what you like to do, you should be doing it. I have a goat herd.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Take them to the far pasture morning and night if I can.’

‘You are making this up so I will let you out.’ A hard edge to the voice now.

‘I could, that would be smart, but I am not. So this Takis, he looks after you, does he?’

The light in the barn is gentle, the stone of the walls show chisel marks here and there from when they were split, which are heighted by the shadows. The mortar is mud. Some insect has made one patch its home, turning the mud into cells where young have long ago hatched. They are now empty and, in one, a spider has made its home spinning a tunnel of web along the wall.

‘So now Takis has me in his web, what will he do? He will expect you to beat me up because I am not a lawyer, I guess. He won’t do it himself, will he?’ Yanni picks up a twig and tickles the web. The spider comes out to investigate before sinking back into its hideaway. ‘Or will Gerasimos come along with his big stick and beat you up for getting the wrong man?’ He leaves the spider in peace and explores the bump on the back of his head again. It makes him wince. He draws his hand away and puts it in his front pocket around his roll of money.

‘You know about Gerasimos?’ Spiro’s voice is tight.

‘You might be surprised what I know. You know why Gerasimos wants to scare the new lawyer?’

‘It is not my business.’ But his words raise in tone at the end of his sentence. It is almost a question.