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

the right price, eh my friend?'
    Turning back to the immovable back door, Sakis braces himself to give it one more really hard shove.
    'I am going to have to stop you there, my friend.' The watering can is put down, the sleeves are pushed up. Jules grinds out his cigarette and exhales the last of the smoke, straightens himself, and looks ready to deal with any trouble.
    'Perhaps it is no business of yours.' Sakis does not say it with any venom. It is just a flat statement.
    'Now, now, friend. We do not come to Athens and try to break into your houses. You would consider that unreasonable.'
    'To be honest, I would consider my neighbour’s business none of my own.' Again, no venom, pleasantly said, no antagonism. His eyes feel like they want to close; his throat is feeling sore again. He should stop talking.
    'And that is the difference between city life and village life, perhaps. Here I keep an eye on it for the owner. Now lock the door and put the key back.'
    It is not a request, it is a statement.
    'He is the owner,' Jules says, stepping towards them.
    Why did Jules have to say that? Sakis sees the rest of how he planned his days instantly evaporate, the chance of returning to the hotel and taking a nap gone. At least for the next few hours, the need to rest his voice will be given very little consideration. He blinks slowly as he seeks some inner strength for what is to come.
    The old man looks him over again and his shoulders drop in recognition. A smile splits his face and sets his eyes dancing. Sakis knows he will not be able to maintain his distance, he will be pulled in by the old man’s animation, by his happiness, and Sakis will respond by doing whatever it takes to keep the smiles from fading. He is always driven to please others, it seems. He tries to be selfish, think of his own needs, but once he has pleased someone else, it is like an internal urge to keep them pleased. It is his nature, and what he is good at. He is so good at it that it has, bizarrely, become his career. After all, was he not chosen over others to perform in the competition because he ingratiated himself to the committee? He flirted slightly with the ladies who responded quickly to his looks, and he took on the role of the alpha male, as they call it, with the men. His desire to please and be accepted is at the very core of his music. He sings of days gone by when the world was smaller and people took care of each other. He writes the jolly melodies that people love to sing along to. But once in a while, like now for instance, it would be really good to know how to be selfish. He needs to put the recovery of his voice first so he can fulfil his New York obligations at the end of the summer.
    'Sakis? I thought you seemed familiar!' The old man steps up to the low wall that separates the two gardens and offers his hand. 'Ah, look at you all grown! I still think of you as this high, singing to the tortoises. Do you remember?' The pitch of his voice has risen. A white-haired lady in a housecoat appears behind him, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
    'Who's this? Sakis?' the woman asks.
    He nods. The smell of smoke tells him that Jules has lit up another cigarette and that he is now standing closer behind him.
    'Ah my boy.' The old woman grabs Sakis over the wall and clinches him in a bear hug that has more strength than he expects.
    'Lovely to meet you, but I’m afraid we really need to go,' Sakis says, but not very loudly, over the woman’s shoulder. The hug has not finished and now the old man is patting him on the back at the same time. A second, younger man, about his own age, comes out of the house.
    'No! Sakis!' this newcomer shouts, and as his mama, or is it his yiayia , releases her grip, he pulls Sakis in for his own hug.
    ‘Anna!' the old woman calls across the street. 'Anna!' she calls again and in the house opposite, a front shutter opens, a flash of the sun’s rays reflecting off the window, orange and startling. 'It’s Sakis,