You must have a protein. If you eat all this you will be feeling sick.”
Yola looks at their pile of shopping and realises that she is right. Just looking at all this stuff is making her feel a bit unwell.
“What can you recommend?”
The shopkeeper hmms and ruminates.
“Pilchards.” She points down the aisle. “Fishies. Good for you. Cheap. In tin over there.”
Yola thinks the fishes in the picture on the tin look plump and appealing and she is pleasantly surprised by the price. They take two tins.
Between the waist of the shopkeeper’s sari and the bottom of her blouse is a soft bulge of brown flesh. In civilised countries this area of a woman’s body is normally concealed, but Yola notices that the Ukrainian is staring at it fixedly.
“Madam,” he says, very politely, “I wish to ask, from where you learn such wisdom?”
What a flatterer that beetroot-brain is, almost like a Pole. (Of course Polish men are renowned throughout the world for being flirtatious, on account of their habit of hand-kissing, but sadly this does not make them good husband-material, as Yola has discovered to her sorrow.) The shopkeeper laughs modestly and points at a picture above the counter of a smiling wrinkled old woman dressed in bright blue, with a triple string of pearls and a stylish blue hat.
“This lady is my inspiration.”
Everyone gathers round to look. The old woman in the picture looks back with a cheerful smile and a wave of her gloved hand. Yola thinks that to have both a veil and little blue feathers in a hat is unnecessary: one or other would have made a sufficient statement.
“She is a lady of extreme age and wisdom. In her long years, which unfortunately are now over, she gave many cheery indications of the important things in life. To have friends come from afar is a pleasure—this is one of her great sayings.” The shopkeeper folds her arms on the counter with a friendly smile. “You not from round here. I think you all come from afar, innit?”
“You are right, madam.” Tomasz smiles ingratiatingly. “We have come from all the corners of the world—Poland, Ukraine, Africa, China.”
He too is staring at the brown bulge. Really, what can you do with men?
“And Malaysia,” adds Chinese Girl Two.
“Well, have a lovely time, my dears, and bon appetit.” The shopkeeper beams at them over the counter. “That is another of her sayings.”
“This is a great saying,” says Emanuel. “I will commit it to memory.”
But Chinese Girl One whispers to Chinese Girl Two, “I think that saying attributed to the old lady in blue is in fact a saying of Confucius.”
And Chinese Girl Two points at the red spot in the middle of the shopkeeper’s forehead, and whispers, “I think it is a bullet hole.”
They giggle.
I AM DOG I AM GOOD DOG I SIT WITH MY MAN I EAT DOG FOOD MEAT MAN EATS MAN FOOD BREAD FISH WE ALL EAT WE ALL SIT ON SMALL SMOOTH STONES NEAR BIG-WATER SUN SHINES HOT THIS WATER IS NOT GOOD TO DRINK BAD TASTE BIS-WATER RUNS AFTER DOG DOG RUNS AFTER BIS-WATER BIS-WATER HISSES AT DOG SSSS DOG BARKS AT BIS-WATER WOOF DOG SNIFFS BIS-WATER SNIFF SNIFF NO DOG SMELL NO MAN SMELL ONLY BIS-WATER SMELL EVERYWHERE STONES WOOD WEEDS WASTE DOG FINDS MAN-SHOE BESIDE WATER WET SHOE GOOD MAN-SMELL SHOE DOG BRINSS WETSHOE TO SOUR-PISS-STRONS-FEET-SMELL MAN HE IS HAPPY GOOD DOG HE SAYS I AM GOOD DOG I AM DOG
Andriy feels quite queasy by the time he’s finished his lunch. Those pilchards in tomato sauce—they were good, but perhaps he shouldn’t have eaten so many. While the others set out on foot to the ferry terminal, he spreads his towel on the pebble beach and stretches out in the sun, with Dog beside him. The slow pull and surge of waves down at the water’s edge is soothing. Dog falls asleep almost instantly, hissing and snoring as rhythmically as the sea. Andriy is incredibly tired, but each time he is on the point of sleep the fluttery panicky feeling starts up and wakes him. I did not do it
Yola looks at their pile of shopping and realises that she is right. Just looking at all this stuff is making her feel a bit unwell.
“What can you recommend?”
The shopkeeper hmms and ruminates.
“Pilchards.” She points down the aisle. “Fishies. Good for you. Cheap. In tin over there.”
Yola thinks the fishes in the picture on the tin look plump and appealing and she is pleasantly surprised by the price. They take two tins.
Between the waist of the shopkeeper’s sari and the bottom of her blouse is a soft bulge of brown flesh. In civilised countries this area of a woman’s body is normally concealed, but Yola notices that the Ukrainian is staring at it fixedly.
“Madam,” he says, very politely, “I wish to ask, from where you learn such wisdom?”
What a flatterer that beetroot-brain is, almost like a Pole. (Of course Polish men are renowned throughout the world for being flirtatious, on account of their habit of hand-kissing, but sadly this does not make them good husband-material, as Yola has discovered to her sorrow.) The shopkeeper laughs modestly and points at a picture above the counter of a smiling wrinkled old woman dressed in bright blue, with a triple string of pearls and a stylish blue hat.
“This lady is my inspiration.”
Everyone gathers round to look. The old woman in the picture looks back with a cheerful smile and a wave of her gloved hand. Yola thinks that to have both a veil and little blue feathers in a hat is unnecessary: one or other would have made a sufficient statement.
“She is a lady of extreme age and wisdom. In her long years, which unfortunately are now over, she gave many cheery indications of the important things in life. To have friends come from afar is a pleasure—this is one of her great sayings.” The shopkeeper folds her arms on the counter with a friendly smile. “You not from round here. I think you all come from afar, innit?”
“You are right, madam.” Tomasz smiles ingratiatingly. “We have come from all the corners of the world—Poland, Ukraine, Africa, China.”
He too is staring at the brown bulge. Really, what can you do with men?
“And Malaysia,” adds Chinese Girl Two.
“Well, have a lovely time, my dears, and bon appetit.” The shopkeeper beams at them over the counter. “That is another of her sayings.”
“This is a great saying,” says Emanuel. “I will commit it to memory.”
But Chinese Girl One whispers to Chinese Girl Two, “I think that saying attributed to the old lady in blue is in fact a saying of Confucius.”
And Chinese Girl Two points at the red spot in the middle of the shopkeeper’s forehead, and whispers, “I think it is a bullet hole.”
They giggle.
I AM DOG I AM GOOD DOG I SIT WITH MY MAN I EAT DOG FOOD MEAT MAN EATS MAN FOOD BREAD FISH WE ALL EAT WE ALL SIT ON SMALL SMOOTH STONES NEAR BIG-WATER SUN SHINES HOT THIS WATER IS NOT GOOD TO DRINK BAD TASTE BIS-WATER RUNS AFTER DOG DOG RUNS AFTER BIS-WATER BIS-WATER HISSES AT DOG SSSS DOG BARKS AT BIS-WATER WOOF DOG SNIFFS BIS-WATER SNIFF SNIFF NO DOG SMELL NO MAN SMELL ONLY BIS-WATER SMELL EVERYWHERE STONES WOOD WEEDS WASTE DOG FINDS MAN-SHOE BESIDE WATER WET SHOE GOOD MAN-SMELL SHOE DOG BRINSS WETSHOE TO SOUR-PISS-STRONS-FEET-SMELL MAN HE IS HAPPY GOOD DOG HE SAYS I AM GOOD DOG I AM DOG
Andriy feels quite queasy by the time he’s finished his lunch. Those pilchards in tomato sauce—they were good, but perhaps he shouldn’t have eaten so many. While the others set out on foot to the ferry terminal, he spreads his towel on the pebble beach and stretches out in the sun, with Dog beside him. The slow pull and surge of waves down at the water’s edge is soothing. Dog falls asleep almost instantly, hissing and snoring as rhythmically as the sea. Andriy is incredibly tired, but each time he is on the point of sleep the fluttery panicky feeling starts up and wakes him. I did not do it