Forth into Light (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) by Gordon Merrick Read Free Book Online Page A

was bathed in sweat when he reached Lambraiki’s. He pushed his way into the dark narrow store past a knot of shopping women and went on around to the back of the counter, a privilege only he could dare assume. Stavro caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye, but went on weighing out a block of white cheese.
    “Good morning, my Yorgo,” Stavro crooned, not making the effort to move his lips. The lethargy communicated by the ample figure in a soiled smock was deeply soporific and the vague fumbling of his hands suggested that he would go on ladling out cheese forever. George sighed as he adapted to the island rhythm. He felt foolish for having practically run all this way. At least, the end of his mission was in sight.
    “Listen,” he said, pleading. “Did you find any money last night?”
    Stavro wrapped the cheese and pushed it across the counter. “What else?” he crooned to the customer and in the same tone, without turning, he said, “Money? What money, my Yorgo?”
    “A lot of it. A bundle of thousand-drachma notes. Almost sixty thousand. I must’ve dropped it at the table last night.”
    Without giving any sign that he had heard, Stavro counted out change for his customer. There was a monumental deliberation about everything he did that was almost soothing. George half-expected him to withdraw the bundle of bills from his cash drawer with the same expressionless deliberation and hand it over. Instead, he turned from the counter, put his hand on George’s shoulder and, gently easing him around, guided him past groceries into the back room which, in addition to tables and chairs, contained a confusion of tin tubs, coils of rope, kerosene lamps and great barrels of wine and brandy and ouzo. He gave George a little hug.
    “You were outside. Then at the end, you were sitting here,” he said, stating a fact which Goerge was obliged to accept on faith. “I swept up myself. There was much broken glass. There was no money, my Yorgo.”
    George’s heart had been beating rapidly in anticipation of the conjuror’s trick, the rabbit pulled out of the hat, the money suddenly materializing in his hand, and now it seemed to stop entirely as the words soaked with black finality into his mind. “Why were we in here?” Did it matter that he had perhaps caught Stavro in an error? “It was hot last night.”
    “You were outside. Then you and Sarah came in here. Others followed, the way they do.”
    “There’s no chance you swept it up without noticing it?” he asked, not aware of the incongruity of finding hope in such a suggestion. All the sweepings would have been dumped into the sea hours ago.
    “I always notice, Yorgo,” Stavro said with tender regret. “People are always losing things here.”
    “Oh, Christ.” Leighton swore helplessly in English. “I tell you, it was a lot of money. I was planning to pay my bill.”
    “Never mind.” Stavro immediately brightened at having found a silver lining. He rocked George in a bear hug and patted him reassuringly on the back. “The bill doesn’t matter. You can pay any time.”
    With what? George wondered. It was impossible for the locals to believe that the foreigners might have financial problems like ordinary mortals. They were here, far from home, with no jobs and unlimited leisure. They were obviously rich. He would be violating Stavro’s trust if he continued to run up a bill under these circumstances. He extricated himself from the big man’s embrace with a shrug.
    “Well, if it isn’t here, it isn’t here,” he said because he could think of nothing else to say, because the catastrophe had gone beyond the bounds of relevant comment.
    “That’s it,” Stavro agreed, happy to have the unpleasantness disposed of. “Have a drink. I will pay. What will you have?”
    “Thanks, Stavro. A beer might help.”
    “Stamatis, a beer for Mr. Yorgo,” Lambraiki called to one of his invisible children as they drifted back together toward the front of