Chapter 6: David feels left out

After a while, David and Emily followed Petros to a cool, dark room at the back of the house. The shutters were partly closed as the old lady couldn't bear bright light any more. Passing through this simply furnished room, its walls covered in old sepia photos of past members of the family, they came to a small balcony shaded with a canopy. It looked down onto a courtyard below where lemon and orange trees were growing, their fruits still ripe on the tree and scenting the air with their sweet fragrance.

Seated in a chair, a thick shawl about her knees despite the heat, sat a shrunken, wizened old lady, dressed in black with a black headscarf wound about her head and heel-less black leather slippers on her stockinged feet. She was patiently crocheting at a little bit of lace, holding it up to her eyes as if she could hardly see, yet disdaining to wear the glasses that lay on the table beside her. She looked up as they approached and fixed them with bright dark eyes that seemed to miss very little. She smiled at Emily as if she was a long lost friend.

'Grandmother knows very little English,' said Petros. 'I'll have to translate for you.'

'Kalosorisate, pethia!' said the old lady in a quavering voice, motioning them to come and sit down on the seats near her.

'Kalo sas vrikame, Kyria Frosso,' responded Emily, in polite reply to the old lady's welcome. 'Ti kanete? Are you well?'

'Mia hara, pethimou, mia hara!' said the old lady turning to Petros in delight. 'Milai kala, pes ton coritsaki, Petro!'

'She says you speak Greek very well.'

'Ohi, ohi ...very little.' Emily motioned with her hands to show the amount was minute.

The old lady drew Emily to sit beside her and looked avidly at the young girl, stroking her hand and touching her face. It gave David the creeps – he found old people difficult to relate to – but Emily didn't seem to mind a bit, just remained silent, looking back at the old lady and admiring her fine bright eyes with the humorous twinkle in them, wondering at those old hands as wrinkled and withered as dry brown leaves, carved out with the stories of her life.

'We don't know much Greek,' said Emily, 'but we will try to learn.'

'Petros will teach you.'

'I'd love to,' said Petros, also gazing at Emily.

'What do they call you?' asked the grandmother.

'Emily Jane Kelso.'

'Jane ...like Jane Eyre? You like the story of Jane Eyre?'

'Of course! It's one of my favourite stories.'

'I listen every day,' said the old lady, laughing. 'You come and listen with me tomorrow.'

'You listen?' repeated Emily, puzzled.

'On the radio,' said the old lady, 'it's a serial on the radio every day. I never miss it.'

'Weird,' said David, when he gathered this. 'Fancy them having Jane Eyre over here on the radio.'

'No odder than having Homer's Iliad read out on the BBC radio, I suppose,' mused Emily.

'Don't you have a telly up here?' David looked around the room in dismay.

Petros shrugged. 'Grandma won't have one; she thinks they're heathen and Ma doesn't bother with it either. There's some people have television in the village. Everyone in Merounda has one, I'm sure. This village is a bit behind the times. But there's sure to be one in the cafeneion.'

'You mean I have to go and sit in some caff with people I don't know to watch a bit of footie or whatever?'

'Well, yes. Are you that bothered about it?'

'Are you kidding?' said David with feeling. 'Football is an Englishman's greatest joy. He loves it more than his kids.'

'That's ridiculous. It's just a game.'

David was astounded. A bloke who wasn't interested in football! Was Petros a human being or what? 'Seriously?' he muttered under his breath and Petros looked worried.

Oh David, you're so rude,' said Emily crossly. 'Not everyone is mad on football. I think it's boring.'

'You think everything normal is boring,' her brother said with feeling.

Emily ignored him and turned to the old lady who was watching her like a little bird, head cocked on one side, eyes so bright, black and merry. 'I want to come and listen to Jane Eyre but I won't understand what they say.'

'I'll come too and explain it for you,' said Petros.

Emily shook her head. 'It will spoil it for her, someone chattering away in the background. Better not.'

'She won't mind ...she likes you, Emily. And Yiayia loves to have company.'

'Yes,' said old Frosso, after Petros had explained the dilemma. She peered at Emily and took her hand in her own again. 'I want Emilia to come. She is a little angel, like a picture I have in an old book.'

'I'm not an angel at all,' said Emily. She was unused to all this attention and it made her uncomfortable. David always loved being the centre of attention, the one who could joke and chatter and make people laugh. But he had made no effort to learn even a few words of Greek and so felt left out of the conversation and seemed quite subdued. She sensed he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. And she didn't want him to feel unhappy.