Three
Kalami, Corfu, Greece
The sun was just coming up. Faint fingers of golden light beginning to appear on the horizon, that part between azure sea and the promise of cornflower-blue sky dappled pink, peach and violet.
Andras Georgiou hung from the beamed ceiling of his restaurant, hands, forearms, shoulders, core, all bearing his weight as he gazed out at the view that never failed to steal his breath. The pebbled shoreline of the bay of Kalami, the towering cypress trees either side of the beach scene and the village houses, scattered among the greenery.
He raised his body upwards slowly, focusing on the view and not the strain of the morning exercise – abs crunching, biceps tightening – and as he lowered his bare abdomen down he paused, his vision once more drawn to the beach.
‘Straight lines! I need straight lines! Paulo! Do you even know what a straight line is?! One foot, in front of the other, not wishy-washy and all together! One, two, three, four.’
Andras listened to his mother Isadora’s voice giving orders as he pulled his body up again, watching the group of people making their way across the pebbles in something resembling a conga line.
‘Spiro! If you do not know what a straight line is I fear for your marriage!’ There was a loaded pause that sounded close to menacing even from this far away. ‘Remember what happened to Uncle Dimitri.’
Andras shook his dark head of hair and let go of the beam, dropping to the floor. He picked up his abandoned T-shirt, wiping the sweat from his body and moving through the restaurant. This wedding preparation was getting out of hand. Yesterday, his mother had moved a group of six diners from their table so she could stick her tape measure across it. When he had protested, suggesting that the tables for six were all of uniform size, she had glared at him like only she, or maybe she and Al Pacino, could.
‘What is this?’ It was his mother again, shrieking at the very top end of her vocal range. ‘It is a monster! Where is my stick?’
‘Mama, it is a tortoise, that is all.’
‘It is the size of a small car!’
Andras baulked then, knowing exactly what they had stumbled upon. He dropped his T-shirt on to the counter and hurried down the steps, heading for the wooden boardwalk and the beach.
By the time he had jumped from platform to stones, his Nikes crunching as he jogged, his mother, his brother, Spiros and all the members of the family who had already arrived for the wedding, were bent over the ‘monster’.
‘It is dead!’ his mother answered.
‘No, it is still breathing,’ Spiros replied.
‘Where is my stick?’
‘Mama, please, leave him.’ Andras bustled into the group and put both arms around the bulky animal, lifting it off the stones and away from the harmful intentions of his family.
‘It is prehistoric! A dinosaur! What is it doing here? Is it bad luck?’ Isadora sucked in a breath. ‘Antonia, look this up in wedding customs. What does a monster on the beach before a wedding mean?’
‘The tortoise being here has nothing to do with bad luck, good luck, or any sign from the gods,’ Andras informed her.
‘And you know this, do you?’ Isadora questioned, her eyes like glistening black olives.
‘I know that he has been here a week already so …’ Andras started.
‘He,’ Isadora stated. ‘I do not want to know how you know it is a he. It is hideous and it cannot be here for the wedding.’ She paused, observing the giant tortoise as it retracted its head. ‘Unless it can be cooked.’
Andras shielded the animal, taking a step back from the party of people. ‘I will make sure it is nowhere near the restaurant for the wedding.’
‘Nowhere near the restaurant?’ Isadora queried. ‘I don’t want this monster anywhere near the village.’
That having been said, Andras was starting to wish he was a giant tortoise who could just retreat into his shell until the whole big, fat, clichéd Greek wedding of his brother and his bride-to-be Kira was over.
The tortoise seemed to agree, sticking out its tongue. The weight of the reptile challenged the core muscles he had just been working out as his mother’s eyes zeroed in on him like a drone set to destroy.
‘And what are you doing here anyway?’ Isadora exclaimed. ‘You said you were too busy for the procession this morning. You said you had a delivery.’
‘And now I have a tortoise,’ he quipped.
‘Put down that horror and get in line,’ Isadora ordered.
‘Mama,’ Andras protested.
‘Andras,’ Spiros began. ‘I think I hear the delivery truck now.’
Andras took two steps back while the going was good, the tortoise still in his grip, and offered his brother a thankful glance. ‘I think you are right, Spiro.’
‘I do not hear a truck,’ Isadora stated. ‘And I have excellent ears.’
‘I should go,’ Andras told her, continuing to back away.
‘Perhaps you need some help, yes?’
Spiros was raising his eyebrows higher than the island’s tallest peak of Mount Pantokrator. Andras had immense sympathy for his brother, but Spiros had known what getting married the full-on traditional Greek way was going to entail. However, Andras also knew the reason their mother had only one traditional wedding to get excited about was on him.
‘Do not even think about moving one step, Spiro,’ Isadora said, threat coating her tone.
‘Auntie Isadora,’ a small voice spoke. ‘I am hot.’
All eyes went to six-year-old Helena who was wearing traditional Corfiot dress complete with a hat covered in white lace, with colourful red, yellow and pink flowers woven into it.
‘You cannot be hot,’ Isadora stated. ‘For the wedding it will be much, much warmer than this.’
Spiros whispered, his voice close to Andras. ‘Help me.’
‘Sorry,’ Andras replied, hugging the tortoise to his bare skin. ‘But I promise, I will keep the beer cold and the coffee hot. Whatever you need,’ Andras stated.
‘You know what I need,’ Spiros said softly. ‘I need you to find a buyer for my half of the restaurant.’
Andras moved his eyes to the tortoise who was now poking its head slowly out of its shell in curiosity. He knew his brother had been patient. He knew he was running out of time. He had asked almost everyone he thought might have the means to invest. His options left were either to try to get a loan himself or face up to the reality of running the restaurant with his mother as his partner.
‘If there were any other way,’ Spiros said, nudging his brother’s arm.
‘I know,’ he answered. ‘It is OK. You have a new life waiting, and a new wife.’
Andras watched Spiros’s eyes go to his fiancée, Kira, just a few metres away down the beach, her bare feet in the edge of the sea, her thick dark hair moving in the breeze, smiling sweetly even while being berated by Isadora. Spiros adored Kira. They were going to live a joyful life together on the mainland where, in a year or maybe sooner, Kira would deliver the first of a couple of gorgeous children.
‘I am a very lucky man,’ Spiros agreed with a contented sigh.
‘You should go,’ Andras said as the tortoise began to kick its legs. ‘Before Mama threatens you with what happened to Uncle Dimitri again.’
Spiros laughed, nodding.
‘See you later,’ Andras said, about to turn away.
‘Andras,’ Spiros called.
He stopped, faced his brother again. ‘What?’
‘She will kill me for telling you this,’ Spiros said, taking a look over his shoulder as if to ensure Isadora wasn’t in range.
‘Telling me what?’
‘Cousin Marietta,’ Spiros said. ‘Mama … she has plans for the two of you.’
Andras looked over to the wedding party, all the women frantically flapping their hands in front of the face of the perspiring, radish-faced Helena. Cousin Marietta seemed to sense his scrutiny and looked up, waving her hand.
‘I’m sorry, Andras,’ Spiros said, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘But, it could be worse, yes?’ He nodded. ‘Uncle Vasilis has a building company and there are cows on her mother’s side of the family.’
He couldn’t bring himself to even try to reply.
‘Windows for your house and meat for the menu, yes?’ Spiros said cheerfully.
The tortoise made a noise – a cross between a cough and a laugh. Andras knew exactly how the animal felt. Suspended in mid-air, flailing and with a heavy weight on its back. The only difference was Andras didn’t have a shell to hide in.
‘I will see you later,’ he said to his brother, hugging the reptile to his side.
Suddenly there was a chorus of screams from the wedding party and Andras looked up just in time to see Helena drop to the beach.
‘Loosen the hat!’ Isadora shouted. ‘But be careful not to crush the flowers. Andras! Get some water!’