Aftershock by Bernard Ashley Read Free Book Online Page B

table.
    Like a girl in school, Sofia opened the Red Spot reader at the first page, and even as Makis was pulling up a chair she read from the beginning with hardly any prompting from him. It was only her accent that was different from a London schoolgirl’s. So now there was no pretence. She wasn’t helping him – he was teaching her.
    They came to the next new page.
    â€œI can jump, John.”
    â€œSo can I. I can jump, Sally.”
    â€œSee me jump, Mum.”
    â€œSee me jump, Dad.”
    See you jump off Mount Énos! Stupid kids! Makis thought. But after helping his mother with a phonic sounding-out of
j-u-m-p
, he was delighted with the way she raced down the page. In his chest he felt a teacher’s pleasure, thinking how she was going to enjoy
The Man Who Ran to Sparta
when they got to it. He’d enjoyed it best of all the books when he’d read it himself. It was a proper Greek story.
    Sofia finished the Red Spot book, and with a flourish Makis pulled the Green Spot book from behind his back.
    â€˜Red,’ Makis said in English, tapping the first book. ‘Green.’ He pointed to the colour of the second. ‘Like the traffic lights. Red and Green.’
    His mother nodded patiently. Yes, she understood.
    The green book started with Sally in a sunny garden, standing in a small paddling pool:
“See me in my pool, John.”
    Sofia looked at the picture and put the back of her hand to her mouth, the way she used to laugh at her husband’s jokes. ‘See me get eaten by a giant squid!’ she said in Greek. ‘Silly girl!’ It was the first time Makis had heard her chuckle since sunnier times.
    He laughed, too. ‘No, squid, wait till John gets in the water. Get two together!’ Sofia gave a little squeal – and on an impulsive surge, Makis went to the kitchen and brought back a green bottle of cleaning fluid. There wouldn’t be much sensible reading done for a bit. He unhooked the Gibson from the wall and, with his fingers finding the right chord, he put a foot up on his chair.
    â€˜Bottle,’ he said in Greek, pointing to it. ‘Bottle,’ he repeated in English. ‘Green bottle.’ He showed her how it was the same colour as the big spot on the cover of book. Now with his free hand flashing five fingers twice, he told her, ‘Ten.’ He showed where nine imaginary bottles were standing beside the real one. ‘Ten green bottles.’ And he started on his song:
    â€˜Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,
    Ten green bottles hanging on the wall,
    And if one green bottle should accidentally fall – ‘
    he made the bottle drop over, just a little way –
    â€˜There’ll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall.’
    â€˜Nine,’ he said. ‘Nine.’
    Sofia looked a bit puzzled, so he started singing again, ‘
Nine green bottles hanging on the wall
…’
    And on he went with the song, knocking the bottle over at the end of every verse. Nine, eight, seven, six… She probably didn’t understand ‘hanging on the wall’, but he would come to that later. Meanwhile, he was strumming the mandolin strings and Sofia was picking up the tune and joining in with the words. Her mood was definitely up, and with the sound of the mandolin still in their ears, Makis suggested they leave rescuing Sally from the giant squid until the next day. She smiled as she put the bottle away; and riding the moment, Makis told her about the game coming up at Chase Fields. His mother nodded OK – not overjoyed, but not pulling a face, either.
    Wasn’t it peculiar, Makis thought, how something good could come from nowhere and pull you out of a hole?

    Denny Clarke reminded Makis of something – and on the day of the match, when he saw Clarke staring at the altered team sheet in the corridor, he realised what it was. He had seen fish looking like Clarke in his father’s nets: big