Page 38 of The Greek Villa

‘It’s fine, we cannot really hear it too much at the end of the street. Besides, I am awake early.’ She nods to her toddler in the pushchair.

‘Well, you are very welcome to come over for drinks when the villa is finished. At least almost finished, which is maybe all I can hope for at this time of year.’

‘Thank you, I will look forward to that. Oh, and we did a renovation too,’ she tells me in a low voice as I walk towards the pram to say hi to her little boy. ‘And they complained also. Now? We are all good friends,’ she says, which I find very reassuring.

Back at the build, work has started, including the work on the roof. Yiannis begins the plastering and skimming of the outside walls and the noise of a concrete cement mixer drones and whirls as the sun begins to creep higher in the sky. The men work so quickly, I have faith that the main work will be complete by the time I head home.

It feels particularly warm today, and after a couple of hours, I notice the young labourers wiping their brows and flagging a little and figure maybe it’s time to bring out the ouzo. I nip to a shop and return with a bottle and some shot glasses, much to the delight of the workers.

‘Yamas,’ I say, raising a shot glass and grimacing slightly as I take a shot, encouraged by Dimitri. I also hand some slices of watermelon around and a short time later work is resumed, the builders refreshed. I remember Phoebe advising to give no more than one shot, just as a little pick-me-up.

‘I think maybe you did the right thing at the right time,’ Dimitri tells me. ‘What do you call it, hair of the dog?’

‘Hair of the dog, yes. Wait, are you telling me the boys are hungover? No wonder they were flagging after two hours, and I don’t mean literally,’ I say, glancing at the broken flagstones on the floor.

‘It is a little warm today, although I did notice them in the bar last night watching football, when I went to buy some beers. They are young! Maybe I should not tell you that.’ He pulls a face, seemingly regretting dobbing them in. But I guess he’s right, they are young men after all.

‘And you didn’t feel like joining them?’ I ask, wondering why he was heading home to drink alone, at least until he ran into me.

‘They are nineteen years old. I cannot keep up.’ He smiles.

It’s hard to gauge his age as he looks young, but he has a maturity that belongs to an older man. As I am pondering this, he inadvertently tells me he is twenty-nine years old when he mentions doing the same thing himself ten years ago when he was their age. So, Dimitri is five years younger than me, although I’m not exactly sure why that has even crossed my mind.

‘I remember one occasion when I stayed awake for almost two days,’ he says as he checks on the cement. ‘There were two parties I didn’t want to miss. I was working three jobs at the time in the summer, until all hours of the day and night. It would kill me now approaching thirty.’

‘Nonsense. You’re still a young, fit man and thirty is no age. I bet you could still go all night,’ I say, before wondering why on earth I said that.

‘Do you think so?’ he asks, a smile playing around his mouth.

‘Dancing, partying, you know what I mean. I’m sure you could keep up.’

I lower my gaze and concentrate on scrubbing a low wall at the front of the property in preparation to paint it, wondering why I manage to always say the wrong thing and get myself into a spin, when I hear an almighty crash followed by shouts inside the house.

At first, I think they are making the usual building noise, throwing old things into the skip, before Dimitri downs tools and races inside with me in hot pursuit. Please don’t say I am about to face some sort of building disaster; I’m not sure I could cope with it.

My worst fears are confirmed, as the sight in front of us has me covering my mouth in shock. Yiannis is suspended through the ceiling covered in dust, his leg seemingly trapped. I have a flashback to my dad and his mishap in the lounge. I scream then loudly, as the whole ceiling suddenly gives away and the room is covered in a cloud of dust.

Thankfully, Yiannis lands square on a mattress that had been brought downstairs from a bedroom ready to go in the skip.

‘Oh my goodness! Yiannis, are you okay?’ I rush to him in a panic, my heart racing.

‘I think so. Maybe God is watching. He saved me,’ he says, glancing upwards with his hands joined together.

Dimitri helps him slowly to his feet, and he visibly winces in pain.

‘It is my back,’ he says, rubbing at it with a look of pain on his face. ‘I think maybe I work no more today.’

‘I will take him to the hospital.’ Dimitri springs into action.

‘You don’t think he needs an ambulance?’ I ask, worried about any damage to his spine.

‘No ambulance.’ Yiannis dismisses the idea as he allows Dimitri to gently guide him to his van. ‘I have a soft landing.’ He raises his hands heavenward once more.

I selfishly think of the ceiling and try my best not to burst into tears.

Dimitri gives instructions to the labourers to carry on in his absence, shaking his head when they reply in Greek.

‘I think they were hoping for an early finish. I told them not a chance. Especially as we are now one man down.’

---