The Taverna Virgenia was used by the noisier visitors while Taverna Antonis was respected as the locals' meeting place and throughout my stay I'd wander between the two depending on my mood. If it was texture and flavour and passionate music I wanted, I'd be a local with Zacharias, but if it was yelling conversation, jokes and silliness on order, I'd be in Virgenia's. There, you could count on at least some new arrivals hanging round, whatever time you chose to turn up. You'd find them settled at the staff table like a bunch of new kids in school watching the faces and everything going on. There'd be drinks and food and music. I began to love the music, any kind, and sometimes when Apollo grabbed me, I'd imitate the impassioned dancers I'd seen on TV and Nikos would pretend to be impressed, 'Hey, Godfrey. You sure you're not Greek?'
We were breezy and buoyant; not a care in the world. We'd meet in Virgenia's and the games would begin. We'd mix our versions of life's experiences, not without some personal politics and maybe disagreement, but it was never heavy - it was light. Well, sometimes. We might get a little miffed and a little upset if our music was ridiculed but a little weariness will change a lot of things. It didn't last. There'd be the usual stories of hopeless love and happiness, of favourite times in childhood, missed chances and new chapters. There'd be swearing, some singing and other foolishness but crucially, there was warmth. I earned a round of applause one time when dancing to the music from Zorba. I leapt onto the freezer, and whirled around until I lost my balance and bashed my head on a speaker. As chance would have it, Felix was on his way to the loo and caught me just in time. Everybody clapped and cheered. I had no idea how much I loved to dance.
And always in the background there would be the absolute horizon and the still, idiotic, dusky twilight above a sky of orange blue, and just like kids sometimes we'd all fall quiet and dream. Once or twice I'd break the spell and call out, 'Yammas', and it was always followed by 'Yassou' shouted from our gang.
But on the afternoon of the get-together Virgenia's drew people from all over the village and they sat and chatted and played with the children and the children thought it was just like a holiday. Some people had been there in years gone by, like Jools and Robbie.
'Hi! I'm Jools. Always nice to hear the English accent way up here in the mountains.' She scraped a chair across the tiles and sat near me in the shade. 'Been here before? We come every year.' She was decidedly thin. 'We used to run a pub called the Ragged Fox in London but now I make tiaras and headgear and I'm doing not half bad. I was born in Sheffield. Robbie's a hairdresser. We used to work on Samos. I've been to Russia, twice. Robbie likes Morocco. While I was in Russia I got this real interest in those religious icons. You've seen them on Antiques Road Show. They're everywhere over there. Anyway, I brought a load of 'em back with me and sold the lot in one morning down Brick Lane so now, whenever we get the opportunity, we buy a load more and do a nice line for as long as they last.'
She needed someone to chatter at. I was unable to get a word in edgeways at first until I learned to interrupt at will. Whenever I did, she'd say, 'Right, right, right', until I stopped then she'd continue from where she'd left off without comment or curiosity in anything I'd said. Her cigarette smelled familiar. I asked her if it was foreign and she laughed so much the whites of her eyes turned pink, 'You could say that.'
And then one lunchtime into Virgenia's strode the bus driver with the stammer. I recognised his bulk right away. He sat at our table, uninvited, respecting no one, pitching his opinions and drinking his beer. He was a serious drinker. The more he drank, the less he stammered. One after another bottles were emptied with gusto and banged down loudly on the table. Once his passengers were offloaded, he had around two hours to kill before he took them back. The afternoon was turning sour with his sweating and swearing and swaying. His suggestive comments and the grating, dirty laugh got on everyone's nerves. And yet he seemed to know Robbie and Jools. Jools called him Mercouri. I began to wonder if all the tourist bus drivers spent the empty hours drinking in the bars. Then Mercouri disappeared through the side exit and we all reached for our drinks in silent relief.
But after quite a while, to everyone's dismay, the big man reappeared looking as though he'd been dousing himself under the hose Nikos used to wash his car, maybe to sober up. In fact he'd also been collecting berries from the bushes outside the carport. He spread them in front of me and whispered something unintelligible and winked, giving another leery, dirty laugh. There was something in his manner that made me suspect he was hunting sex. He passed something small to Jools and muttered. She pretended to be annoyed and I asked her what he'd said but by then he was drowning our conversation and already out of control. No one looked at him. We studied our glasses of lemonade or beer while he was trying to draw attention and impress. Abruptly, he gave the table such a thump the bottles rattled and one clattered and rolled onto the floor. It was time to go. We dug into our pockets for contributions to the bill whilst Mercouri heaved himself upright and made a loud announcement,
'OK my friends. I go take passengers back to Dorini,' he roared an ugly, mocking laugh, 'and you know, if my passengers knew how much I've been drinking, they'd start walking.' He looked from face to face, laughing and sniggering, 'Tomorrow there is no bus so I will come back tonight at 8 o'clock for drinky-drinky and maybe we have a little party. I bring a friend.'
'A girl friend?' Oh, why didn't I keep my big mouth shut?
Mercouri looked me over, shrugged and mumbled, 'Yeah, maybe.' His eyes were closed. Sweat trickled on his brow.
The lightness had gone. We dispersed promising to get together again in the evening.
I went outside to get some fresh air and sat with my aunt watching people gathering in the little square. Extra tables, benches and chairs had been set out and they were gradually filling up. Several ladies came to her and sympathised with my poor aunt. More people began to arrive and one by one they too came over to wish us well and confirm allegiance. I had no idea Pantelis was so revered and I was mystified as to what it all meant.
I moved amongst the menfolk unsure of my position. Time and again I was asked about the house and what plans we had, taken to one side and told never to worry because help was always at hand. Some of the kids were becoming twitchy and ran around, starting up their games. The older ones looked as though they were there under pressure. My aunt sat outside with Manolis and Maria, and their friends came with their own special memories.
'Sometimes I wonder what we can do now to keep the village alive. It seems so futile.'
The village kids started to group together and move about as though they had flies in their pants, not quite sure how to look cool.
'But you can't force them to stay, can you?'
'It's true but I worry for the young. Our world is in such a state. We humans have made so many arrogant mistakes.'
My aunt turned to Maria. 'You know the little kitten, Mikri? I swear he understands every word we say, just like Maska. They all do. I think we share a mutual dependency with animals.'
With great care, Manolis placed a sprig of marjoram behind his left ear, 'You know, my friends, when I was touring with Pantelis I took my cat with us everywhere, but when he ran away to settle down, more than anything, I missed his teachings. In life, he couldn't fail. All he had to do was be himself and he was an instant success. No driving ambitions, no slave to whim or fashion, no war making, why he even grew his own clothes then just lay around grooming himself, living in the moment. He bore no grudge. He was content as long as I fed him. All I got in exchange was the occasional purr. But I loved his way of moving through his world, alone and without judgement. He taught me a lot. Cats love being cats. They are happy being cats.' Manolis loved animals, 'Humans are not very happy. We're the one creature stupid enough to design our own destruction,' he said.
Maria frowned. 'And the leaders? They are showing definite signs of madness. Why entrust something as important as our future to people who are so temporary, and so insecure? If the world were a village, we'd be sure to lock them up.'
I nodded. 'Do you think we've already had our turn and now our time is up? Maybe some other creature is already waiting in the wings for their chance to run the world. Maybe the donkey or even the earth itself.'
Auntie Agnes gave a little laugh. 'But not cats?'
Manolis laughed. 'Oh no, not cats. They're happy as back seat drivers now. They wouldn't be interested again.'
'Maria, may I ask you, why do the people make such a fuss of Auntie and me? It's not just out of respect for my father, admirable though that is, is it?'
She looked at my aunt before she spoke. In that instant I knew for certain they had talked of this before. Sitting there in that innocent white sunlight, the importance of my journey became clear, 'Mr. Godfrey, now that Pantelis has left, perhaps the people hope you might step into his shoes and stay here as a guardian.'
My stomach fell out of my body and jumped back in again.
The leader of the musicians sat in the middle of the group cradling uncle's finest bouzouki. He wore an old fashioned, pin-stripe, three-piece suit and a white, collarless shirt. His trilby kept sliding about as he nodded his head in time to the music. And what music! He swaggered through the tunes, stamping his boots on the ground to keep time; from the simple, delicate knees-up beginnings through mad gushing flashes of brilliance before returning to the nursery-rhyme tempo of the start. The musicians were magicians and completely mesmerised the fascinated children at their feet.
It turned into a very special afternoon. We sat at my father's favourite table beneath a pepper tree and all around us the throng squashed onto benches waiting for the tables. Nana brought us lemonade and grapes to keep us going. Manolis nodded in the direction of the musicians, 'You see the two men? They make a special dance. They move very little. Their steps must be precise, they have to flow. You see the skill? Practise, practise, practise. Like everything on this day, it is all for Pani Lambrakis.'
Auntie looked tired but made a brave face for everyone in the tide of people swirling round the square. Over their heads, Nana brought a table, calling to the kitchen for more seats. Then with great ceremony, we were presented with the first plates. Nikos brought us drinks. Auntie took the first spoonful and nodded her approval to a happy Nikos standing in the doorway. And then it began. Mountains of steaming meat and rice in patterned bowls were placed in the centre of every table surrounded by bottles of Retsina and jugs of iced water to wash it all down. A banquet for the people just as Pani would have wished.
The ladies on the wall ate with frightening enthusiasm, enjoying every scrap, and then they ordered more which they slipped into carrier bags standing by their knees. One lady caught me watching and smiled as she shrugged, 'It's for the duck,' but I think she meant, 'For the dog.' I nodded, knowing full well those scruffy old bags were so loaded with delicious stews, their families would be satisfied for months.
After the food Auntie stood and made a short speech of gratitude to the villagers first in English, followed by a few words in Greek which she had been perfecting earlier with Maria. The stillness and the respect for her was clear. When she sat down the women smiled and nodded and some even clapped. The speech and the ceremony were well received and Auntie was pleased. From time to time she'd blink away the tears and smile at kind words but it was clear she'd had enough.
There was a welcome quiet until a voice broke the ice. 'Hey, Niko, some drinks at this table please.' It was Aristethes. With one hand on my shoulder, he waved an arm around him, 'My friend, look at all this. How you can stay away? It is wonderful. You must come home. You'll miss it too much.'
Auntie suggested we steal away and go for a walk along the cliffs to get away from all the fuss and the razzamatazz, as she called it, 'Are you comfortable enough, Godfrey? How are you sleeping at the villa?'
'Like a man in a dream. But it was waking up this morning that was the real treat. Apart from the swifts, not a sound. I thought I'd gone deaf.'
'Just wait till the festival, there's nothing quite like the peal of bells announcing early morning service,' she glanced at me sideways and grinned.