Free A Dead Man in Athens by Michael Pearce

in the general conversation. Around each cab a small group, usually of men, was gathered. In the middle of the square, with total disregard for any cart or carriage that might be passing, people walked to and fro: chatting.
    Old Tsakatellis, back in London, had said something about this, too.
    ‘The Greeks,’ he said, ‘love to talk. Everyone has an opinion and wants to express it. That is the basis of democracy.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Dr Metaxas, when Seymour put this view to him, ‘but the trouble is, it’s just talk. They never do anything.’
    They found him sitting at a table with some friends.
    ‘My God!’ he said, looking up. ‘What is this: a posse? The police as well? That, surely, Aphrodite, is unnecessary: I’ll come quietly!’
    Aphrodite was shaking hands with the other people around the table. Evidently she knew them all.
    ‘It’s all right, Aphrodite!’ one of them said. ‘We were just throwing him out!’
    ‘A likely story!’ said Aphrodite.
    ‘It’s true, though. We’re supposed to be meeting some friends.’
    One of them glanced at his watch.
    ‘Supposed to have met some friends,’ he amended. ‘A quarter of an hour ago!’
    They hurried away.
    Dr Metaxas stayed put.
    ‘I don’t suppose I can persuade you . . .’ he said.
    Aphrodite relented.
    ‘This once,’ she said. ‘Since you have a friend from England.’
    ‘I regard myself as in custody,’ said Dr Metaxas.
    He asked how Seymour had been getting on. Seymour told him about the harem.
    Aphrodite frowned.
    ‘I don’t like these Eastern practices,’ she said.
    ‘Well, they’re not exactly catching on,’ said Dr Metaxas.
    ‘No, but I don’t like them,’ said Aphrodite. ‘It’s the disregard for women that I can’t stand. One thing I will say for you, Father, is that you brought me up to be equal with men.’
    ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Dr Metaxas. ‘You forced it on me. You and your mother.’ He sighed. ‘Why did the Greeks have to become independent? Why didn’t we stick to the good old Ottoman ways? When man was king, there was no dispute in the house, and everything ran perfectly.’
    ‘For men,’ said Aphrodite.
    ‘True. And now nothing runs perfectly for anybody. Well, that, too, is democracy.’
    ‘You will be pleased to know,’ said Seymour, ‘that, in one respect at least, Aphrodite has been listening to your words. She spent the afternoon at the lab.’
    ‘Did she?’
    Dr Metaxas turned to her with some surprise. He asked her what she had been doing and the two had a little, informed discussion of that part of the syllabus. Seymour’s attention drifted away.
    But suddenly came back again.
    ‘Those are shots!’
    ‘Yes,’ said Dr Metaxas.
    ‘But they’re over there! In the square!’
    ‘Yes,’ said Dr Metaxas again.
    ‘They’re just like silly children,’ said Aphrodite indulgently.
    ‘Yes, but –’
    ‘Everyone in Athens carries a gun,’ said Dr Metaxas. ‘At least, quite a lot of people do.’
    And, now that Seymour looked, he saw that it was true. Many of the men wore short loose jackets which concealed their belts. And in the belt, very often, was stuck a revolver. It was like some kind of Wild West town.
    ‘It harks back,’ said Dr Metaxas, ‘as everything in Athens does, to the days when they lived in the countryside. Everyone had a gun then. You needed it against the brigands. Of course, that was forty years ago. But when they moved into the towns, they brought the guns with them.’
    ‘But doesn’t it lead to . . .?’
    All you would need in the East End, thought Seymour, on top of everything else, would be guns.
    ‘Mayhem?’
    ‘Sometimes. But not as often as you might think. They fire them, these days, mostly into the air.’
    ‘They’ve got a law about it,’ said Aphrodite casually. ‘Against carrying guns, that is. But no one pays much attention.’
    The people at the tables had barely looked up.
    ‘It’s not that the Greeks are against having laws,’ said Dr