Free A Handful of Pebbles by Sara Alexi Page A

with a watering can, her back turned to the lane, black skirt and jumper, a blue misshapen hat for shade, and pink slippers. Sarah walks past quietly, not wishing to disturb her, her footsteps more sure as she reaches the abandoned house at the corner. It looks forlorn even in the sun, and she wonders if it is for sale. There’s no sign.
    The dog is there again. It runs past her towards the main road, and she follows, turning the corner.
    A voice startles her.
    ‘Hi.’ Sarah jumps.
    ‘Oh Stella, hello. You surprised me.’ Today, Stella wears a belted floral, sleeveless dress. Sarah instinctively likes Stella. Her countenance is open. She moves as if she is capable of hard work, but there is a softness about her.
    ‘ Are you settled in now? Everything good?’ Stella asks as they fall into step, heading towards the village centre.
    ‘ Oh it’s lovely.’ Sarah replies.
    ‘ It is a beautiful house. Michelle, she came for a holiday and now she lives here,’ Stella says. Her skin is darker than most Greeks Sarah has seen, her eyes almost black, and there is a childlike quality about her that is not just to do with her size, but somehow conveyed by her energy.
    ‘ Michelle, oh yes, the owner. Did she know Juliet before she came?’
    ‘ Oh yes, they are old friends. That is why she came here on holiday. Yia sou Stavro .’ She waves and calls to a boy who passes them on a slow moped, a partly filled crate of oranges gripped in his fist, which is disconcertingly balanced on the foot of one extended leg.
    ‘ So if she lives here, does she have more than one house?’ Sarah wonders where Stella has learnt such fluent English but then reflects that many foreigners speak two languages. It is the English who only speak one.
    ‘ She has a guest house on Orino Island. Have you been there?’ Stella shields her eyes with her hand to watch the moped negotiate the turning past the square ahead.
    ‘ To the island? No.’ Sarah cannot help but wonder if there are any age limits on driving mopeds and motorcycles, as it certainly doesn’t seem so.
    ‘ It is very beautiful,’ Stella continues. ‘No cars, no bikes, just donkeys. Yia sou Maria pos paei ?’ Stella greets a woman brushing her front steps.
    The thought of no cars or bikes sounds like a slow and ponderous life. ‘I suppose there is a lot of tourism on such an island?’ she states.
    ‘ Many tourists, many tavernas and hotels. Also, many houses belong to foreigners,’ Stella chirps. ‘But you are here. You like our village?’ She gesticulates to everything around them with an open hand.
    A man in overalls is on his knees with a bag of tools by the fountain. The men from the kafenio have now spilled out onto the square in the relative cool of the evening, drinking coffee and watching a big screen television propped in the open window of the caf é. In the dusk, the lights are on inside, creating an inviting glow. The shepherd is not there.
    ‘ This is my husband, Mitsos.’ Stella points to the one-armed man as they draw near to one of the tables which is crammed with glasses, cigarette packets, and ashtrays.
    ‘ Hello, very pleased to meet you.’ Sarah offers her hand to shake. Mitsos gently takes it but instead of shaking it, brushes it lightly against his lips. It is the action of a content man.
    ‘ He does not speak a word of English,’ Stella laughs. ‘Afti einai i gynaka apo tis Michelle .’
    Sarah wonders what Stella has said, recognises the word Michelle and figures she is explaining who she is.
    ‘Where are you going?’ Stella asks. Sarah is still making eye contact with Mitsos and his companions but breaks her gaze to answer.
    ‘ Oh, just to the shop.’
    ‘ Come, I go there too. It is new,’ she says proudly, and for a moment, Sarah is not sure what Stella is talking about. ‘Well, not new. The old shop, it was hit by a tree, so they built it again. It looks the same but it is new.’
    ‘ Ah.’ Sarah’s understanding comes as a sigh, her