Читать книгу The Meaning of Friday - Vanessa Gordon - Страница 12

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Rania Iraklidis, Aristos’s wife, had laid the table for Sunday lunch under the vine-covered pergola behind the Iraklidis’s house in the rural suburb of Agkidia. The busy port of Chora, the main town and harbour of Naxos, was only a few kilometres away, but could have been on the other side of the island. The Iraklidis’s house was quiet and idyllic.

Day had the same thought that always struck him when he saw Rania, that having a historian for a husband clearly suited her. Their life seemed peaceful, their conversation was of history, food and the Aegean. The food was homemade and the wine local. They had no children of their own, but many friends, and in their early sixties they seemed to have arranged their lives exactly how they wanted them. This was Day’s idea of married bliss. As a confirmed bachelor of nearly forty, he felt he was an expert judge of these things.

He was really looking forward to Sunday lunch with his old friends. He politely declined an ouzo and allowed Aristos Iraklidis to press him to try a rather good white wine. The Curator, as he was commonly called on the island, was in the best of moods.

“We should begin with a toast to our good friend, Martin,” he announced, his eyes twinkling above his straight, Greek nose. “To ‘Professor’ Day, TV celebrity and most private man. And now owner of a Naxian house, which makes him also a discerning man. To your good health, Martin!”

“And to yours! It’s wonderful to be with you both again, in this haven of peace in your garden. Lunch smells delicious, too.”

“We’re looking forward to seeing a lot of you over the summer, Martin. Aristos has ordered more wine from his favourite vineyard especially.”

Day soon felt decidedly light-headed. The wine was delicious, cool and scented as with an aroma of mountain herbs, and Aristos was generous with it. He and Aristos shared a love of wine, just as they shared a love of Greece, of archaeology, of beauty, and of peacefulness.

They ate Rania’s delicately seasoned stew of lamb and potatoes with satisfaction. The lamb fell off the bone, the sauce was subtly flavoured with local oregano, and the chunks of local potatoes were rich with the flavour of the meat. Day thought Rania’s cooking exemplified the best of Greek cuisine and never turned down an invitation to eat her food. There were the usual extras too: an olive-rich Greek salad boasting large chunks of tasty tomato and juicy onion, and extra homemade fried potatoes especially for Day, who had a rather soft spot for chips.

There was fresh fruit to follow. Day politely declined the fruit, as usual. Dessert wasn’t his thing, he would say. Oddly, this applied to fruit, which he didn’t object to but rarely ate. He helped himself to seconds of chips when he thought nobody would notice.

“Unbelievable!” he said, finally finishing. “That meal was truly something else. You two must visit me soon in my new house in Filoti and let me cook for you. As soon as I get more settled. Of course, I couldn’t match this standard, Rania!”

“We’d love to, Martin, and I’m sure you cook beautifully. Tell us all about your house.”

“It’s just outside Filoti, walking distance from a particularly good taverna where I shall eat whenever I can’t be bothered to cook. The house is a recent conversion, quite well done and very spacious. It doesn’t need any more doing to it, and it has a spectacular view over the valley. It’s so quiet there … I can work either on the balcony or indoors, and there’s decent internet connection. Lots of bookcases, a cooker, a fridge, and a currently empty wine rack the size of half a wall. I’m expecting you to help me with that, Aristo.”

“Sounds like it might have been quite expensive?” grinned Aristos.

“It wasn’t cheap, but as you know I sold my father’s house in London last year. He would have approved of what I’ve done with my inheritance, I think.”

“He certainly would. It sounds ideal for you. And when does your friend arrive? Her name is Helen, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Helen. Tuesday, on the boat from Rafina. She can stay for weeks and weeks, it’ll be brilliant. The house is easy to divide between us. As I said, it’s quite big. She’ll have her own room and balcony. We’ll get lots of work done, and meet for coffee, lunch and dinner. And aperitifs, naturally. She’ll be doing a project of her own. I think she’s about to start a new novel. She sketches and paints too. She’s never looked back since she took early retirement from the College. Thank God she earns enough to afford trips to Greece to see me. Her novels bring in good money now.”

“You must bring her to visit us soon - mustn’t he, Aristo mou?” said Rania, and Aristos shrugged as if to say it went without saying.

“With pleasure, of course I will. I love to introduce my best friends to each other.”

“I’ve heard of her novels,” said Rania, rather to Day’s surprise. “Maybe you’ll be in one of them soon, Martin! Or perhaps you live too quiet a life.”