A Song Amongst the Orange Trees (The Greek Village Collection Book 13) by Sara Alexi Read Free Book Online

either needs to go to the toilet or she needs feeding. Slipping into his jeans, he definitely feels a little better today. Which is just as well, as he has to find somewhere to stay. There is a note under the door.
    'Maybe this is useful.'
    Out in the corridor is a cat litter tray and a tin of cat food and another note in Greek.
    'Ask at reception if you need anything else. Stella.'
    Well, that's a kind start to the day at least.
    He takes everything inside and after shutting the door and checking the patio window, he lets the cats out. Jules is in his narrow bed by the small bathroom and is snoring gently. Harris is very happy to be free and she sniffs around the cat litter tray before making very aromatic use of it. Eleftheria goes straight to the cup of water he has put down.
    'God almighty, what is that smell?' Jules murmurs as he turns over. He opens his eyes long enough to make out the cats and the tray and then closes them again and pulls the thin cover over his head and turns to face the wall.
    'Man, that’s bad!' he groans.
    After the cats have both eaten and drunk and used the tray, Sakis, sadly, puts them back in the tiny carrier. He has to open a window, the smell is so bad.
    'Put it down the toilet, Sakis.' Jules turns back to face him again, throwing his covers off and stretching noisily.
    Sakis lifts the tray. He cannot pour all the litter down the toilet; it will block. Perhaps if he fishes bits out with a wad of tissue.
    'Oh man, that smells disgusting.'
    'You know what, Jules? I don't need to hear this.'
    Jules stops stretching and seems genuinely shocked. Then his high eyebrows relax and his face takes on a look of compassion.
    'Ah, you spoke to Andreas last night.'
    'How much did he say to you yesterday when I was sleeping?'
    'Well, it was not what he said, really. More his tone of voice.'
    'We need to find somewhere else to stay.' Sakis flushes the toilet and puts the tray by the window.
    'You’re joking?'
    'I wish. He suggested that we go and stay in my yiayia's house.'
    'Okay.' Jules pulls on his t-shirt. His jeans are scrunched from being slept in.
    'How much money do you have? We will still need to eat.'
    'Nothing, my friend. You?'
    Sakis checks a compartment in his bouzouki case. 'Eighty euros.' He stuffs his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. 'And some change. So we can either stay here another night, or we can eat for maybe three or four days.'
    'What about America?' Jules sits on his bed and pushes a finger through the cat carrier’s mesh to stroke Harris' nose.
    'He says he will know in a day or two. I’m sorry, Jules. I know you were counting on Andrea and me to open doors for you. Right now, I would not be surprised if Andreas doesn't blow all our rides, as the Americans say.' His choice of cliché is meant to make them both smile, but neither of them does.
    'Okay.' Jules wraps his finger around the cat’s ear and pulls gently, and she turns her head to one side in bliss. 'Right.' He stands with energy. 'Let’s go. We do not have to check out till eleven is it, or twelve, so leave the cats here and we can see if your grandmother’s house is still standing, right?'
    The net curtains at the windows cannot hold back the sun and the day’s heat is already building in the room.
    'Best put the cats in the bathroom. It will be coolest in there.' Jules picks up the basket.

The Village
     
    The fluorescent pink shock of bougainvillea almost completely obscures the windows. In contrast, the tightly closed shutters sing out in blue peeling paint. In the surrounding walls of greying whitewash, brave plants struggle for footholds in the cracked surface, dried out in the full glare of the sun’s heat. Pushing aside vine leaves, Sakis curls his fingers around the heat-warped edge of one of the shutters, but it is soon clear that no amount of pulling is going to open them. The front door has boards nailed across, so he tries round the back. The old wood looks as if it had moulded into the