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

frame. Grass grows out of the decomposing wooden doorstep, still green in the shade it has found.
    Sakis wipes his handkerchief across his sweating brow. His embroidered initials pucker the silk and break up the smoothing feel, and somewhere deep within him, an edge of annoyance stirs. The affluent display of his monogram dilutes the practically of the article. For the price of this hanky, which Andreas bought him as a gift just before the competition, he could have stayed another night in the hotel. How quickly things change.
    'Someone must have a key.' Jules has not moved from the gate.
    'Hang on. There is a shutter that is only held closed by the stone on the windowsill here.' He does not want to ask around to see who has the key. How soon would that result in him being recognised as The Son of Costas the Crocodile Killer? Too soon, that’s for sure. No, if he can get in on his own terms, that would be best.
    'The window will be shut, though.' Jules takes a cigarette from behind his ear and strikes a match on the gatepost.
    Sakis lifts the stone off the sill and is not entirely surprised to find a key.
    'There's a key,' he calls out but wishes he hadn't. It feels as if he has swallowed razor blades. His throat seems to have got worse again since talking to Andreas.
    Jules folds his long arms across his stomach. Sakis thought he would have been enthusiastic about this sort of work. When he lived on the streets, he must have found his way into many a building for a good night’s sleep. If he helped, they would probably get inside within minutes. But he does not seem interested. He is looking down the street at something. Sakis follows his gaze and watches a black cat slowly crossing the deserted road to another single-storey whitewashed cottage. The houses vary: some are squat cottages that give the appearance that they have been settling into the soil forever, and others are two-storey concrete buildings with wide balconies festooned with colourful plants and arched with bougainvillaea. Then there are the occasional old stone houses, bereft of their plaster and whitewash finish, windows and doors hanging at odd angles or gone completely. Hollow, lifeless eyes and gaping mouths sing of past, simpler times. They sit in untended grounds where chickens scratch in the dust. In the shade of a dark doorway, a donkey shuffles gently, its neck bowed and eyes closed in the heat.
    Jules leans against the gatepost, the elbow of one arm resting on the wrist of the other, and feeds himself nicotine. Sakis wonders why he doesn’t quit. He seems so practical and down to earth in so many ways, it is at odds with his character that he is conned by something so destructive
    The key fits in the back door and turns easily. The door is stiff and resists Sakis’ shoving it. He will have to really put his shoulder to it. It moves only slightly, with a sound of splintering wood, and now his shoulder throbs.
    'Yes? Can I help you?'
    The voice comes from behind him. At first, he sees no one but then from around the back of the neighbouring house, hitching his trousers over narrow hips with one hand, saunters a man holding a watering can.
    'I just wanted to go in and look.' Sakis brushes dust from his shoulder.
    'Ah, the curiosity of youth,' the man replies. 'But it's not for sale.' Sakis can feel the old man’s pale watery eyes take him in at a glance and then, with a quick sideways glance, he absorbs the portrait Jules cuts by the gate. Even through his own eyes, they look like city people rather than villagers. A smile teases at the crinkled corners of the old man’s mouth. 'Now if you want to buy something…' The old man steps to one side and raises his watering can to indicate the house he stands beside. There is no for sale sign and the place looks rather uncared for.
    'Are you selling?' Sakis asks. It is more polite conversation than a real question.
    The old man names an unreasonable figure and then chuckles. 'Everything is for sale at