15
At five the next evening Ben turned up for work and stood in front of the stove, closed his eyes, held his breath and leaped into the abyss of cooking for tourists while promising to emulate Theo's own seemingly effortless style for at least the next fourteen nights, and hopefully longer. During those two weeks, he hardly saw Kevin, except at night when he got back but by then he was far too zonked to do anything other than sit and chat for a while before they both nodded off.
And it went well for them both. Ben abandoned his own path and followed the Theo way of cooking under pressure. No drinking, no late nights or being late for work. Theo had encouraged lots of fresh air, walking on the beach and moderation in everything, 'You are going to become a thinker in my kitchen. Either the customer wins or you do. It's for you to decide!'
Theo encouraged Ben to trust his sense of smell and helped him develop a discriminating array of taste buds. He installed the necessity of blending colour and texture, and as far as the blade and the block were concerned Ben became finesse with a razor's edge.
'You have just eight fingers and two thumbs, my friend, let's not waste any of them.' Every day there were words of wisdom, 'Never use a clock. Let your sixth sense alert you when cooking time is over, do you understand?'
With permission from his diners, Theo would wander round his dining room and film his diners eating, talking, singing, when they were paying their bills, and later translate their body language. He pointed out Mr. Cool, the guy who scratches the back of his neck when asking if there is a table available - not cool at all, in fact edgy; and those who make wavy lines in the air with an imaginary pen when they want to pay, 'Why don't they just ask for the bill? They look like they want to conduct an orchestra.' It was fascinating. No wonder they said he'd been on this planet before.
Looking back, it was either a calculated risk or his own reckless sense of humour pushing him to take Ben on as cover chef but secretly Theo simply enjoyed teaching life lessons and taking risks. He rarely lost his temper but step out of line and you sensed his disappointment. Calmly, he would take control, appeal to your intellect and leave you to work it where you put your foot in it. For instance, on one occasion towards the end of Ben's six days' training he became suspicious of his bar manager diverting the takings.
Right away he promoted the man to Cash Controller and made him responsible for all the takings. Miraculously, the money stopped disappearing, the manager took the credit and the staff were relieved.
And Theo's humour was sharp. You never knew when he was pulling your leg. He would swan through the kitchen on the way to the bar, clapping his hands and showering advice on his assistants right and left, 'Attention everyone! Listen to me! Never slice anything so thick you can't see through! If anyone complains either say you can't lift anything heavy or say you have a bad back!' or, giggling like a schoolboy and clapping his hands like a flamenco dancer, 'Hurry! Clear Table 2 - we're running out of lettuce! Come on! Wake up!' and, 'Mother of Zeus! My fingernails are filthy. I'd better make some pastry!'
Ben believed Theo placed great faith in his instinct, 'A contented boss and the establishment runs itself.' He let them drink as much as they dared. The penalty for being tired and emotional was instant dismissal but since everybody loved Theophilus, no one ever let him down, except once when he actually offered to pay an inebriated barperson to go home early rather than wait until she passed out.
There were times when he came close to disaster. One of his kitchen rules was for any home-made soup left over from the day before to be placed in the bottom of the fridge to be thrown away by the kitchen assistant. He never took chances with food. One evening at the height of his performance, Tsaly told him a rather pompous gentleman diner wanted to see him in person with regard to the soup. He glared, 'But there is no soup tonight!' He raised his eyes to the gods when he realised what had happened. But believing attack is the strongest form of defence, he presented himself at table with a huge smile, 'Good evening sir, everything to your liking, yes?'
'Well, this soup has an alcoholic bite and I was wondering if it might be past its best.' The man's hungry family, each with a bowl of the suspect soup before them, stared with admiration at their father then, like a chorus line, slowly they turned to Theo and waited on his words.
Theo fell silent for a moment then smiled warmly and spoke confidentially, 'Many of my customers make the same mistake, sir. You see, we use an ancient Cretan recipe and just before we serve the soup, I throw in a glass of traditional Cretan raki for good luck. This may have confused you.'
'Raki. Of course. Well, well. It really is most unusual. Thank you.'
Theophilus swept back into the kitchen and took a sword down from the wall.
'Bring that Englishman! Now! Immediately!'
It was all theatre, and the show went on and on. The staff worked hard and late, had fun and usually all went well. But pride often comes before a fall and it was Ben's rump that collided with the ground with a mighty crash.
Two days to go before the end of his fortnight at the Neon and Theo, having come back a day early, swept into the kitchen, shook Ben's hand and simply said, 'Ben, I'm impressed. Have a night off.' A night off? Unheard of in the season and why that night, with only one more to go? 'A gesture of faith and you never know, I might want you to help me again one day.'
Using one of Theo's recipes, Ben made he and Kevin a Psarosoupa, a popular fish soup and with the help of a couple of bottles of fine white Cretan wine they set it up on a table outside the Villa overlooking a summer evening landscape. Kevin told Ben about his job on the beach and how he'd pretend to be deaf mute or Albanian when serving anyone from Britain. Their separation drew them together. And they loved every spoonful of their dinner. For the first time in a week Ben let out a long sigh and relaxed.
Luxuriating, absorbed in self-admiration, he was shaken back to reality when a loud voice shattered the golden silence.
Coming towards the Zorbus across the Camping and at considerable pace was a furious and muttering Theophilus. He came right up to the van, stopped and stood, feet apart, hands flaying the air and eyes wide with anger, 'Dear Sirrr, as you know, we sell lamb, chicken, veal, biftekia, brisoles, lamb chops, souvlakia, moussaka and we open in just half an hour. Now, since you forgot to take any of these from the freezer for tonight's menu, dear boy, it means we've got no goddam meat dishes to sell at all! Nothing!'
With that he marched off into the dusk he called over his shoulder, 'Understand? Nothing!'
Theo's condemnation hung like the sword of Damocles as he stormed away leaving Ben to make a panic-stricken circuit of the other restaurants in the hope of finding replacements. Ben looked at Kevin in sheer panic and distress.
All Kevin could say was, 'Oh shit!' He had a way with words.
Time was running out but Ben was in luck and managed to gather not just an ample selection of unfrozen vital main course ingredients but some very flattering praise from Cleo too. This was most rare since her restaurant was Theo's biggest rival in the town and it was highly prestigious for any restaurateur in the islands to employ an English person; a cause for envy amongst all rivals. By the time Ben returned to the restaurant kitchen he was bursting at the seams with pride and self-esteem, declaring to all and sundry as he pushed open the door, 'The 7th Cavalry's arrived!' Silence. You could cut the air with a carving knife.
'And guess what, Theo? Cleo herself asked me to return to her kitchen!'
Theo was expressionless. He looked Ben in the eyes, and in a single whisper deflated Ben's triumph in an instant, 'What as, Stock Controller?'
The incident was never mentioned again but for a variety of reasons the Neon became a home from home for Kevin and Ben and not just for those two weeks but for the rest of their stay.
The days had flown. With reasonable pay, a little free food and no drinking, and by pooling all wages and tips, it was not long before they were financially stable again.
Which was just as well because Thanos returned to cook for Theo with perfect timing and a few days later Andonis stopped his fishing expeditions because the owner of the boat he'd appropriated returned much earlier than expected from a business trip to Athens and kicked Andonis off his prized traditional rig which meant Kevin lost his position too.
Back to square one but at least they'd learned how to work while having fun without too much stress.
Monday came with the humming of a wasp and the bubbling of the kettle gently serenading them awake. Actually, it was Kevin doing all the humming even though usually he never hummed. He was making tea and putting the cups on the table. Sliding out of bed, Ben stooped to pick up his friendly sandals, when his lower spine gave a slight click and without warning no longer could he move without wincing. He'd put his back out and it felt like it was broken. Sod! Just when he was starting to believe all the swimming and outdoor living was at last making him fit and supple instead of unhealthy and flabby as usual. This was serious crucial discomfort. Kevin stopped humming for a second and said he reckoned it was a result of all the jarring of the spine from bounding down the mountain in heavy boots and lifting heavy water-filled pans in the kitchens.
From beneath Ben's wincing eyelids he could just about manage a nod.
He tried hanging from a tree branch for a minute and gentle back massage with the knuckles of both hands but it was obviously getting worse. Yoga eased it a little but the moment he started walking it returned, and even standing upright gave such a jabbing pain he did not know which way to move. Perhaps careful exercise would provide much needed relief.
Along the coastal path past the cemetery and the space they once called home they could see Marian sunbathing on the rocks down below. Their first reaction was to attract her attention but they just stood and leched in silence. She may have had inkling because even though she was wearing a headset, the moment Ben began to whistle, she looked up. She signalled she would meet them in the square.
When she arrived she was glowing and greeted them with a wide grin. She noticed Ben wince and immediately recognised the symptom, 'OK. Now I know what it's like so here's a tip, stand with your feet apart, rest both hands on the backrest of the chair, and very, very slowly push the backside away and thereby stretch the spine a little at a time.'
It brought almost instant relief and he was at a loss for words. Next time he pain returned as a result of the usual negligence at least he'd know of a way to ease the problem and in time, it would improve.
Marian told them she was leaving Galini in a couple of days to finish her holiday with a visit to Agia Kavala because she'd met a small group who lived there and they lived an alternative, non-touristy, lifestyle. It had been described as a small community group of buildings, a vegetarian restaurant run by an English guy, and a yoga institution. Her mentioning of Kavala drew Ben's attention because already he knew of a kitchen post there and a healthy lifestyle was definitely an added attraction. Naturally, Kevin was more sceptical but his interests lay in other spheres.
'Why don't you come with me and see if you like it? We could all spend the day on a different beach?'
'Er, no thanks. Not for me. You two go.'
Ben arranged to meet Marian, take the ferry and have a look round Agia Kavala. Perhaps a day away would do everyone good.
And although Ben's back was a hindrance it was comforting to swim in the warm, calm waters off the furthest beach again and with Leon's old beach mat spread over the stones, his cares floated away. Little by little the Marian exercises were providing relief and he began to notice an improvement.
In the evening it seemed the most natural thing in the world would be to have one or two drinks to help soften the discomfort, but at bedtime a thoughtless remark to Kevin brought on one of his uncontrollable outbursts of anger. The outburst erupted when Ben asked, 'Well my bird, when did the humming start? You never used to hum when we were in Naxos.'
Kevin plunged into a broody silence and went off to sleep.
Ben thought no more about it and quickly dropped off himself but next morning Kevin was still incommunicado which was fine except it made Ben want to jolly up the situation with whistling and singing bits of tunes until Kevin yelled at him to, 'Stop the bluddy humming!'
'I'm not humming. I'm whistling and singing.'
'Well it sounds like humming to me!' he yelled.
'I don't have to ask your permission to sing,' and on and on they went until the sky filled with soot and magma and just as Ben was about to climb into the van, Kevin yanked the heavy sliding door shut on his wrist and held it there. They glared at each other. Kevin's face had drained of colour and he was shaking. Ben thought Kevin was cracking up, actually in the throes of a nervous breakdown before his eyes. In all the huffing and puffing Ben dragged the door back and released his wrist and got himself away from there. For anyone with back pain, an agonizing wrist is quite a relief.
It was too early to meet Marian so Ben went along to the little fountain near their parking place opposite the Markos pension in the side street and just sat quietly for half an hour. He was looking forward to a day on a different beach and the ferry ride would make a change too. After about half an hour he made his way down towards the little harbour. Way ahead, amongst the palm trees and bougainvilleas lining the narrow street, he spotted the handsome shape of Marian cruising along in her trusty denim cut-offs, her backpack and wide-brimmed straw hat making her way to the quayside. He called and she turned to wave and waited. Ben tried to tell her his version of what had happened but as they approached the ferry, he could see Kevin looking for him.
Kevin was still trembling, 'Where's my money?'
Ben snapped, 'OK. Wait here and I'll get it for you.'
With only half an hour to go before cast-off, he limped and winced back along the little beach like one of the oldsters, stooping and hobbling, careful of treacherous pebbles and stones, barely greeting the tall South African guy sitting in the shade selling his hand- woven jewellery. Then further along the Kastelli Beach before cutting up through the undergrowth to the side entrance of the camp site and the Villa. Ben grew anxious.
He collected the money and Kevin's passport to exchange at the shop for his own and by the time he'd walked back up the hill near the cemetery and down all the narrow little streets into the travel agent in Taverna Street, it was already ten minutes or less to sailing.
Strangely, he felt no urgency or disappointment at the thought of missing out on the trip now and even hoped Kevin would take the money, take his bike which he never used but kept like an ornament strapped to the back of the camper, and ride off into the mountains or wherever it was he wanted to take himself. But what was Kevin thinking? Spite and hate? What about their friendship?
Ben arrived down at the ferry with minutes to spare, handing over Kevin's dosh plus money he'd lent Ben the day before. He owed Kevin the cash for his fare from Thessaloniki but really he should have known it would be safe with Ben. Once again Marian invited him along but he declined, saying, 'I've got a little hard thinking to do.' So perhaps Kevin really would be gone when we got back because there was definite unbearable strain and their friendship was at breaking point.
Bitter feelings between such old friends do not arise all at once, they are cumulative and gradually become overwhelming.
Marian and Ben climb aboard the little ferry and make themselves comfortable at the bow and before long it is heading out of the harbour and racing to starboard and the west. Ben can see Marian was thrilled. The ferry shudders as it thrusts against the waves, rolling, swaying, rolling swaying. White crests , more than before, and they are not yet in the open sea. A seagull overtakes, chuckling to itself. It is taking only a short break and wings off in a wide arc toward the port side and disappears. Laughing and flashing her eyes as their bodies bumped and press against each other every time the boat is buffeted by the rolling waves. It forges ahead, dipping and cutting through the sea like a charging horse and drenching them in spray every few minutes. They laugh and scream like children at the fairground.
'This is fantastic. I'm so wet!' She was like a little girl, scared but laughing at the same time. She screwed up her face and hid it against his back from the spray. He felt protective and proud. But the moment was broken with a hand on his shoulder and the voice of the captain directing them below into the seated area for safety.
Becalmed below, they wiped away the splashes with her towel. There's also a family of thin people, little, wiry-haired, walking-sticked mother and tall, gaunt brother and sister, hollow-eyed and shivering. They huddle together at the front.
'This trip has come at just the right time,' said Ben. 'It feels so good to be away from old Galini. Away in a boat and chugging through ancient waters. Past old rock formations that have been here unchanged since first they surged from the ocean bed.'
'Quite artistic really,' laughed Marian. 'I like the pink and white streaks and that strata rising up and up and out of sight. Try and see the top and you'd probably fall over backwards.'
'You can imagine the old Minoan boatmen staring in wonder, up and down into the waters unable to fathom the depths. I bet there was a lot of speculation and mythology and tales of phantoms and monsters dreamed up by the sailors.' He thought of Eivald suggesting we are all part of everything on this spinning speck in infinite space from the most insignificant to the most vital. And everything really is all right. Really, there is nothing to worry about at all. It's only rock and roll but it is well liked.
They cruised along in happy chatter, occasionally sad, watching the rockiness churning past until the boat rounded the last bend after about an hour and slipped into a small, calm bay. In one corner of the shore near the jetty, under the domes of countless matching taverna brollies, a large group of glistening tawny worshippers were gathered without the slightest intention of getting wet even though it was as hot as hell and as far as they could tell, there was no natural shade. Marian pointed out two more tavernas higher up the cliff close to an glass condominium cube overlooking all the others on the extreme right.
She gasped, 'Oh, my Goodness! This place is awful. It's plastic. No shops, homes or wildlife, no noise at all - unreal!' She shook her head, 'Such a disappointment and definitely not for me. I'll be coming back to Galini with you.'
Agia Kavala was a man-made, synthetic, designer tourist trap. A money sponge, but after the heat on the boat it was quite a relief to step from the little jetty into the sharpness of the water and to wade a few paces to the shore. Along the beach toward the steps they trudged like refugees until they came to the first taverna and bought much- needed bottled water.
Marian disappeared inside to freshen up, totally dehydrated after dancing the night away again. At the condo, they chatted to a bronzed, double-glazed ancillary hosing down bushes and the shrubbery. When they asked him anything about the place his replies were like pamphlet quotations such as, 'The condominium is a yoga haven offering restored energy and inner serenity as well as developing the more advanced stages of the practise.' Apart from this statement, the only other thing he seemed sure of was, 'Guy will answer all your questions.'
Guy was the bronzed Englishman who had given Kevin and Ben a lift two days earlier. At that moment they could see him having his photograph taken by a young lady and pretending not to pose, sitting on the bonnet of his 4x4, symbolically hosing down an incongruously colourful flower bed framed by dust and sand in pure visual poetry.
Armed with their bottled water, they scuttled off back to the taverna in pursuit of a little lunch. Fried fish, salad and the inevitable Amstel did the trick.
They ate without a word and Ben could tell Marian was upset. She put down her glass with a thud, 'I am so very sorry I've wasted your time. And mine! Really, I am very disappointed in this place. It's another tourist package, nothing more! It was supposed to be real. But it's not. Yes, you can do Yoga. Yes, you can sit quietly. But where is the genuine method, the natural spirituality? The veneer of phoney authenticity of this supposedly spiritual spa set-up is obvious. It is pure theatre with all the subtle trims and frills and muted ego-driven atmosphere of a stage show. And believe me, I can tell when I've been conned!'
Once she'd cleared the air, they abandoned any further serious consideration of the place and completely cheered up. They were happy to be there and before leaving at least they'd have some memories, that was certain.
It was already almost an hour after mid-day and with the sea being cool and the sun being serious, the obvious risk of there being no shade or any other distractions, they were ready to pull the plug and head back to crazy Galini, putting it all down to experience. Until it hit them! According to the Ferry Boat Schedule it would not be leaving until five o'clock.
'Four Greek hours to while away! And do what? I think I'll just do nothing.' Marian pointed around the bay to a brolly alone amongst some rocks without any sign of humans, 'What do you think?'
'Ideal.'
They were delighted to discover not just the brolly but with it a couple of abandoned sun beds upon which they could be exclusive for the duration.
So there was Ben, stranded on a Cretan beach in early summer, within the mesmeric lapping of clear blue seas, beneath a faultless, blue dome, within crawling distance of a taverna and laying beside him, a beautiful woman. His teenage fantasy had come along at last.
'Have you noticed how everyone is gathered at the same end of the beach? They're in a pack, like sheep.'
'Probably because it's near the bar,' he sipped some water. 'This is delicious, Marian. You know, there's nothing like a sip of cold water when you're hot and dry.'
'A litre comes pretty close.'
Marian wasn't exactly otherworldly, but she could be a little dippy; a free spirit and restless, just like Ben. And there they lay, side by side in the shade of their brolly, listening to the drone of a thousand invisible insects and slowly falling asleep.
'Yianni! Yianni!' Shouting down on the jetty brought them to their senses. A pretty young girl was calling out for the skipper of their boat. Heads stirred, torsos were raised on elbows, others strained to see. Most presumed he was down below catching up on sleep, until he rose upon the deck all bleary and tanned, flashing a smile from within his long black locks and rippling his six-pack which made the pretty girl grin widely.
'Oh, there you are', she said. Most knew exactly what to expect next. The skipper and the mermaid disappeared below for a chat and when they reappeared about thirty minutes later she pecked him goodbye before diving a perfect arc into the water from the stern. Marian and Ben broke into spontaneous applause joined by a few others but the humour was lost to the wonder of the prima donna who sliced through the water back to the pier.
The cloudless evening sky was blue and pink by the time Yiannis parked his boat. Agia Galini felt like home again and what a truly reassuring sight it was through sunburned tender eyelids. Ben had almost forgotten the bad back by the time he leapt ashore, that is until it bit with shark's teeth.
'Ben, why don't you sit at Myro's and have a beer while I go and see if my room's still available? I won't be long. Back before you know it,' said my nurse.
In no time she floated across the square, shining brightly and ready for fun. She came over and kissed his cheek, and sat down. Ben was sorry she was leaving in the morning and knew he wouldn't see her that evening. She'd become a friend, not quite a sister, but someone he was fond of. He stared into his drink, a little frightened to speak. She stood to go and asked quietly, 'Please come and wave me off at the bus tomorrow.'
'Of course. We'll be at the Pent Pooms with a tissue to dab away the tears.'
'All our tears,' she said looking up at the sky.
They drained their glasses and she whispered, 'Well, see you tomorrow. And thank you for the day. Bye bye, Ben.' Dear Marian was buzzing and could hardly wait to be off to play with her last knight in Galini.
'Bye Marian. Have fun tonight and take care.'
But when he looked up, she had already disappeared.