‘The units are fully assembled, they just need fixing to the floor and walls.’
‘Really? Well, that is going to save a lot of time.’
I walk to the shop with a spring in my step, knowing the kitchen will be assembled much more quickly than I anticipatedif the units are complete. If the bathroom can be finished too, then maybe the external rendering is not quite so important, as long as it is eventually completed. Along with my dream balcony.
Laden down with cold drinks, and some tubs of Pringles, as I approach the villa I hear the sound of Dimitri shouting. Surely something else can’t have gone wrong? So much for thegourihanging from the beams to bring good luck.
My heart sinks when I see Dimitri standing outside drenched in water, as the labourers frantically try and stem a fountain of water that is spurting from the ground.
‘Oh no, goodness, what’s happened?’ I ask in shock.
The noise has brought Phoebe out of her house. ‘They have hit a water pipe,’ she explains.
I take in the sight of water cascading everywhere and resist the urge to scream loudly at the sky.
Dimitri dashes inside to switch off the water at the mains, and even the sight of his wet T-shirt sticking to his body can’t quell my feeling of rising panic. The newly cemented front path has turned into a grey sludge as the men grapple with a cloth, trying to stem the flow of water, and shouting in Greek.
All the positivity I felt just a few minutes ago has drained away like the water that is running down the path, and I want to cry when suddenly the pipe stops spurting water.
‘I can get the pipe replaced quickly.’ Dimitri takes his phone from his pocket and makes a call.
I place the drinks and Pringles onto a wall with a heavy heart, as Dimitri directs the delivery guys through the sludgy path to deposit the units into the kitchen.
‘Do not worry.’ Phoebe looks completely unruffled. ‘It is normal to have, what you might say, a few problems with a build. Some say it is good luck in a new house.’
‘Good luck? You must be kidding.’
‘You get the brush, I will bring the ouzo. This time it is for you.’ She winks as she heads inside her house.
As I look around my drowned villa, I think she might be right. I do need a drink.
TWENTY-TWO
A short while later, having swept the water away and indulged in a shot of ouzo that I knocked back, I’m sitting with Phoebe feeling a little calmer. I don’t know what I would do without Phoebe next door.
A plumber arrives in no time, and it’s not too long before the punctured water pipe is replaced and there is a steady sound of hammering and drilling coming from the kitchen again. Dimitri assures me the kitchen, which is only a small space, will be completed by this evening.
‘Did you ever think about opening the kitchen out?’ asks Dimitri, glancing around the space. ‘This is not a supporting wall.’ He prods the space behind him.
‘Now you tell me. Although actually, I quite like a separate kitchen. Maybe I could have one of those serving hatches. My gran had one in her house and she used to pass the plates of food through the hatch to the diners at a table on the opposite side.’
I have a picture of Dimitri wearing an apron cooking something up, and passing me a gin and tonic, and the faraway look in my eyes has Phoebe telling me to go off somewhere.
‘Maybe you take a step back and go for a walk,’ Phoebe advises. ‘The more you see, the more you worry. You pay thesepeople the money, remember.’ She rubs her fingers together. ‘If you do not see the problems, you cannot know they exist.’
‘You know you are right, Phoebe. I am paying them, and a good price too. I just thought I could help things along by doing the garden and a bit of cleaning and tidying things away into the skip. But maybe I will leave them to get on with things now.’
Things haven’t exactly gone to plan, but when a picture pops into my head of Yiannis falling through the ceiling and onto the mattress, I can’t help but laugh. Especially as I know that he is now on the mend.
‘Good, good.’ We are standing outside at the front of the house and the lady across the road walks out of her front door. I lift my hand and wave, and she waves back as usual. Phoebe turns her head the other way.
‘What’s the story between you two then?’ I ask, maybe feeling emboldened by the ouzo. I can’t help feeling sad that two widows of a similar age are missing out on a friendship.
‘She is no good.’ Phoebe pulls a face, and dismisses my question with a flick of the hand but I press on.
‘What do you mean no good?’
‘Come inside,’ she says and I follow her into her home.
