Free The Reluctant Baker (The Greek Village Collection Book 10) by Sara Alexi Page B

him day after day after day.’ He stops to take another sip of coffee, raises his cup in greeting to a neighbour sitting a few tables away and calls ‘ Yeia mas .’ Another sip and he continues.
    ‘So he asked the Albanian to be his son’s godfather. He had grown so trusting and fond of the man. The following winter, he allowed the man to sleep in the house when it was too cold and the Albanian thanked him for this. But one day, suddenly the Albanian said he was leaving. He had made the money he needed and must return to Albania to be with his own wife and children. The farmer was sad to see him go but drove him on his tractor to the station. They stood side by side at the station and it is then that the Albanian said, "Costa", he said, or whatever his name was. Let’s say it was Costa. "Costa", he said, "you have been a good and kind man to me. You have given me work and entrusted me to be the godfather of your child. But you are a fool." "Why so?" said the farmer. "Because”, replied the Albanian, “for the all the nights I slept in your house, if I thought you had so much as a hundred drachmas on you, I would have slit your throat as you lay sleeping and been away before it was light".’
    The old man pauses for breath and effect. He does not seem to be satisfied with Loukas’ response so he explains, ‘A hundred drachmas back then was probably about ten euros now. So for ten euros, this man would have slit his friend’s and his friend’s wife and baby’s throats for that mere trifle. And this is from the mouth of the Albanian, mind you. The farmer was not saying it himself.’ The old man leans over his coffee and takes another sip.
    For a moment, Loukas stares, struggling to form what he wants to express. ‘But as you were so keen to point out before you started this story, they are all liars! The foreigners. So why choose to believe this?’ Loukas finally explodes.
    ‘Why would the Albanian tell such a lie?’
    ‘It is a story, old man! It is not from the mouth of the Albanian; it is from the storyteller’s mouth. Propaganda!’
    ‘No, no, son. These stories were tales of what was happening around us back then, from one person to another.’
    ‘Twisted by the teller for a better response, time after time. It is nonsense.’ Loukas looks out of the windows, shaking his head, slowly wondering why he is even in the village anymore. Natasha is dead. Why has he not gone back to his family in Athens?
    But he knows the reason: things are worse now in Athens. There is no work to be had. That, and the guilt is still there.

Chapter 9
     
    Ellie has no idea where she is going. Mentally, she has not been released from his grasp, his hands still on her shoulders, her eyes locked on his. Her legs move automatically, one foot in front of the other. Bearing neither left nor right, she walks straight across the square and then up a narrow lane flanked either side with stone walls. Those lips!
    And how magical it feels. Thousands of miles from home, the sun’s heat that permeates her bones, the dry earth, the sparkling sea, all of which turn common events, like bumping into someone, into a dream. A wonderful dream.
    But she should pull herself out of this fantasy. Marcus is, after all, at home waiting for her. Marcus! A shiver runs down her spine, which causes her eyebrows to raise. She has never had that reaction to the thought of him before. A touch of sadness maybe for what they once had, and, if she can bear to be honest with herself, it really was only the once, and so quickly lost, but never a shiver. The tremor seems to have something to do with his age. It’s ironic, as his age was part of the attraction originally. It certainly attracted Penny Craig and Rebecca Slater before her. The thrill of him being their teacher.
    Loukas’ skin was so smooth, tanned. His sleeveless t-shirt and wrap-around apron crisping his outline. When he held her, his shoulder muscles showed strata and there was a dip between his