Читать книгу ELVIS SAILS AGAIN - DAVID J CHRISTOPHER - Страница 13

"I could have walked there by now."

"Elvis don't be so ungrateful. Georgios is going out of his way to take us to Nidri, we couldn't ask him to put aside his important business to accommodate us."

"Taking two hours to choose some bloody bells for these goats does not amount to important business in my book," replied Elvis grumpily, "it flippin' stinks back here."

"Be quiet and stick your positive affirmations in your ears, we'll be there soon."

"How about you take a turn with Billy and his mate?"

Naomi shut the window between the back of the truck and the flatbed.

"Sorry, I can't hear you," she mouthed.

When she had come out of the gloomy shop into the blazing sunlight of a beautiful Ionian morning, she knew that she had been much longer than intended. The shop had been fascinating. It sold everything from cooking pans to Wellington boots, and cushions to battery operated doorbells, despite being tiny and disorganised. It amazed her that the owner, Dimitri, could lay his hands on anything he wanted in moments amidst the clutter. He told her that the shop had been in the family for three generations. She could easily believe that there was still stock bought by Dimitri's grandfather lying around.

The shop owner was a proud and friendly man. He had receding dark hair on his head, but an impressive moustache on his top lip. He spoke little English but did not let that get in the way of his animated conversations with her. Naomi took to him straight away, warmed by his ready smile and unassuming manner. She thought him wonderfully eccentric. His clothes were a strange mixture of formal and informal, shirt and tie on the top, scruffy yellow shorts on the bottom. She also noticed that he had a sticker on his filthy glasses, presumably the original price tag that he had never removed. It would have been impossible to hurry the process of buying the new goat bells even if she had wanted to, and she didn't. On entering the shop Georgios had been greeted like the old friend he was. Dimitri offered them both a cup of Greek coffee. She knew that refusing hospitality in these parts was frowned upon, and besides she was getting a taste for the hot sweet beverage. After the coffees had been drunk, and the time of day passed generally, attention turned to the intended business. Dimitri led them to the back of the shop, and then through a door. He switched on a light which cast a dim glow over a small room, maybe eight feet by eight feet, which was shelved from floor to ceiling. On each of the these, immaculately presented, stood the most amazing range of bells Naomi could imagine. There were hundreds of them in all different shapes and designs.

"Wow," she said. "I can choose from all of these. This is going to be tough. But what an honour, thank you."

Dimitri carefully chose an initial selection of about thirty bells, perhaps based on price. Naomi was relieved that the process had been made easier for her as she was reeling a little from the responsibility. This was definitely not something that she was going to rush, and it took her half an hour of picking up and examining each in turn before she finally settling on the two bells that appealed to her the most. Georgios and Dimitri praised her selection enthusiastically, smiling broadly as they congratulated her on her excellent taste.

"These bells will be perfect. Now more coffee, yes?" said Dimitri as he led them back to the shop.

The offer of more coffee was again impossible to refuse and once more an unhurried process accompanied by a further forty five minutes of amiable chatter. At one point, Naomi did give half a thought to Elvis, but Georgios assured her that he would be fine. In any case, she didn't know how to push things along, even if she had wanted to, which she didn't.

At Sailaway's office in Nidri, Jock was anxiously looking at his watch. It was now nearly eleven and there was still no sign of Elvis and Naomi. He had tried every delay tactic he could think of, but the moment was fast arriving when the unthinkable might be the only option; he would have to lead these pesky clients around himself. The thought filled him with dread. Absolutely the best thing about his job was that he waved goodbye to the needy crowd on the Saturday and didn't see them again for a week, or even better a fortnight, and then only for a brief natter before packing them on to Stavros' coach for their departure. Jock was most definitely not a people person in any sense.

"So, Jock, should we get the meeting started?" asked Barry sensing the impatience amongst his fellow flotilla members, "Time waits for no man, as they say, I'm happy to help as this is my tenth year with Sailaway as you know, but others might not."

"Thank you Barry, yes I think so, yes. Let's get this ball rolling," he said with a marked lack of enthusiasm. "Right everyone may I please have your attention?"

The gathered throng were more than ready to start their holiday and sensed that things were being strung out. A disgruntled murmur grew in their midst, orchestrated by Cynthia at its core.

"Guys, guys" announced Jock, "I just need to run through a few itinerary details with you, do you all have your packs?"

"I have mine here," replied Barry, "shall I run through it for the benefit of the unacquainted, Jock?

Jock was just about to politely decline Barry's latest attempt at a takeover, when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Some of the others were distracted too by the arrival of a battered truck drawing up close by.

"Looks like the meat for the week has arrived," quipped Tony, spotting the goats on the back of the truck.

The passenger door opened and a woman wearing a quintessentially British Laura Ashley frock and hat, jumped down. Jock realised that it was his boss, and his surprise at her mode of transport turned to concern as he recalled the email from Moira asking him to arrange a taxi.

"Thank you so much Georgios, we are so grateful," Naomi told the driver pecking him on the cheek.

"Naomi, welcome to sunny Nidri," said Jock, hoping his bonhomie might distract Naomi. "But where's Elvis?"

She pointed to the back of the truck as her portly husband emerged from between the two grumpy goats, covered from head to toe in stinking urine-soaked straw.

"Elvis had to travel economy," Naomi said, "in this case goat class rather than cattle."

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present all the way from the UK your flotilla leaders. Elvis and Naomi Platter. Owners of Sailaway."

"Bloody hell," said Tony. "We've got Worzel Gummidge and Joanna Lumley leading us round."