‘Darling! How did you go, did you enjoy being in charge?’ Gran sashays in, the sun behind her giving her a halo like the angel she is not. God, I love her.
‘Absolutely not.’ I explain about the dishevelled elderly guy with a fat cigar stuck to his lip, breathing toxic fumes all over the books.
‘Ooh, that’s Zorba. Owns a pig farm. Don’t let him worry you, darling. He’s bored and likes to visit and mix up the colours of the books now that his son has taken over the day-to-day running of the farm.’
Gran leads me outside, where I’m surprised to see a bunch of scruffy dogs, slumbering in the heat of the day. She really did go and see a man about a dog(s)?
‘Sixdogs, Gran? Why?’
Hands on hips, she says, ‘A chum of mine told me about them. These are the lost and broken mangy mutts that nobody wants. This old fella Zeus here.’ She points to a huge grey-faced dog who opens a rheumy eye and then promptly shuts it again. ‘Has been at the kennel for three years.Three years!I couldn’t have that. I went to adopt him, and then one thing led to another and they all came home with me. No animal deserves to be starved of love and here they will have an abundance of it.’
While Gran can be shrewd in all her dealings, she’s a softie at heart.
A tan fluffball runs over to me and sinks his weight into my legs as if he weighs nothing, nearly bowling me over with his excitement despite his small size. ‘Who is this gorgeous pooch?’
‘That loveable ball of fuzz is Sir Spud.’
‘He’s a cutie pie. What are the rest of their names?’ I give Sir Spud’s head a pat and my hand comes away dirty but I can’t resist picking him up for cuddles. He has the cutest little face and is eager to be held.
‘The little tyke is Pee Wee. And Lily is the shy skittish white one. Houdini is the slinky dog who can escape the inescapable, and Pork Chop …’ She points to a brindle-coloured pooch who lets off a backfire so loud I briefly lose the ability to hear.
‘Was that …?’ My words taper off as a noxious smell removes all my other senses.
What seems like minutes later I recover, coughing and spluttering.
‘Golly,’ Gran says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘That was downright atomic. They did warn me that Pork Chop here is a bit of a deviant getting into bins and eating all manner of unsavoury things. I guess it’s having an effect on his … gastrointestinal tract.’
‘You guess? Wow. OK. We need to change his diet, stat.’
Gran throws her head back and laughs. ‘We’ll get them shipshape; don’t you worry. And they’ll need a good rub-a-dub, darling. Would you mind?’
I go to protest until I think of all the ways Gran might be injured bathing six mangy mutts of various sizes. If she indeed broke her hip under my watch, I’d be in all kinds of trouble with my mom and Posy would never let me hear the end of it. ‘You’re pushing it.’
‘I know.’ She giggles. ‘But first let’s have that drink and I’ll tell you my plan.’
I’m sent off to make ouzotini cocktails – an entire jug of – with a warning not to skimp on the ouzo, vodka or peach schnapps. ‘And don’t forget to swizzle with a cinnamon stick and finish with a squeeze of fresh lime.’ When I return Gran is reclining in a sun lounger, stroking Zeus who gazes at her adoringly. Gran takes the proffered drink and smacks her lips. ‘Not enough ouzo but you’re getting there.’
I take a sip and cough. ‘There’s enough ouzo in there to knock down an elephant!’ Houdini dashes under my chair. I go to pat him as he comes out the other side to find he’s vanished. Where did he go? I bend to make sure I’m not mistaken but there’s no sign of him. Either he’s fast or he really can make himself disappear.
‘Pish-posh. Is this going on the literary cocktail list, and if so, what do we name it?’
‘Hmm.’ I consider it. Gran’s been ‘researching’ AKA imbibing all sorts of concoctions for Epeolatry’s cocktail menu but wants only the most delicious to make the cut. ‘Let’s name this one the Nora Roberts. An author who can write any genre and succeed, just like this cocktail with its varying flavours.’
‘Scribble that down then, darling. Otherwise, I’m likely to forget.’ There’s no chance she’ll forget, she’s got a mind like a steel trap, but I play along and type the note into my phone. It’s more likely that I’ll forget, so I’ve been compiling notes of all of Gran’s plans for the place in the hopes I can help her get some sort of system together in case I have to up sticks and go when a bright shiny new book scout job comes along. It will be a wrench to leave her, no matter how much I yearn to develop romance novels into film.
‘So let’s hear this plan that you’re certain will keep Yannis and Georgios off your back. Mom and Posy have already been on the phone asking all sorts of questions.’
‘Let me guess, they think Konstantine isn’t real?’
I double blink. ‘Erm.’
‘As transparent as always those two.’
‘So how bad is it, Gran? These money troubles? I take it it’s not just your rent that you’re behind with?’
‘It’s not super great, but conversely it’s also not the worst predicament I’ve ever been in either. I owe some of the tradespeople for the renovation work. But it was a stroke of genius, the way I handled Yannis and the whole restraining order thing, so he cannot visit and harangue me.’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘You got yourself arrested on purpose?’ Houdini reappears, licking the back of my leg, and is gone again, but I’m too shocked by Gran’s explanation to ponder his magical abilities.
