one day and I’ll show you,’ she said with a smile. The smile was still acerbic, but with a bit more lip.
Once outside I handed over the keys to the Mirafiori, which was parked at the corner of Aroni and Protesilaou Streets.
‘You drive,’ I said to her, ‘Adriani has exercised her veto on me.’
She chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, I passed my driving test with distinction.’
The car doors opened okay, but there the Mirafiori’s willingness came to an end. When Koula tried to start it up, it rumbled slightly and then stopped. At the fourth attempt, it lurched so violently that it almost catapulted us through the windscreen, before starting up with a wheezing sound.
The offices of Domitis Construction were in Timoleontos Street, close to the First Cemetary. I was glad it wasn’t far from my home so we wouldn’t have to overwork the Mirafiori after it had been stationary for two months. Turning into Vassileos Konstantinou Avenue, we hit a wall of traffic. Because of the Olympics, Athens had turned into a ploughed-up field and the drivers who hadn’t got themselves a tractor in time were now seeking safety on roads that had still not been dug up, with the result that the traffic had come to a standstill. A policeman at the junction between Vassileos Konstantinou Avenue and Rizari Street gestured at us abusively, not because we would move any quicker like that, but because his eyes had tired of seeing us. Then just as I was breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that the Mirafiori was managing bravely with all the stopping and starting, it gave up the ghost at the red light in Diakou Street. The engine gave out and, when the lights turned to green, it wouldn’t start up no matter what. Those behind honked their horns like people possessed , Koula was getting more and more exasperated because with each new attempt, she drowned the engine even more, while those cars that managed to slip out and pass us stuck their fingers up at us just to boost our morale.
‘Let me get it started,’ I said
While I was trying various tricks to get the thing moving, a convertible pulled up beside us. Sitting behind the wheel was a youngster with a crocodile on his T-shirt and spiked hair. In the past we used to starch our collars, now it seems we starch our hair.
‘Eh, you old fogey. What are you doing with the chick in that pile of scrap?’ he shouted angrily. ‘Get yourself a convertible like us, birdbrain. Look at the face on the old fogey!’ And stepping on the accelerator, he smothered us in exhaust fumes to get his own back. In my consternation, I had forgotten that the Mirafiori was stuck at the lights. I cast a sideways glance at Koula, who was trying to remain composed, but failed, and broke into loud peals of laughter.
‘At times like these, the bad copper comes out in me and I want to arrest whoever I see in front of me,’ I told her.
‘Come on, show a little understanding.’
‘Understanding?’
‘Don’t you get it? His girl has dumped him and he’s taking it out on you.’
That’s one explanation that hadn’t occurred to me at all and it filled me with such delight that I turned the key as though caressing it and the Mirafiori started up at the first attempt.
12
I was expecting to find myself before a modern office block of dark concrete and one-way windows, but what I found was a three-storey neoclassical building, recently renovated. The modern office block was behind it. At first, I thought they were two separate buildings, but when I looked from the side, I discovered that there was a small bridge, rather like a glass tube, connecting the two buildings. The same social disguise employed by Favieros could be seen even in his business. At first sight, he didn’t want to live in the same neighbourhood with the moneybags in Ekali; his house in Porto Rafti, however, was the house of a moneybag. At first sight, he preferred neoclassical buildings to the modern office blocks; behind the
Once outside I handed over the keys to the Mirafiori, which was parked at the corner of Aroni and Protesilaou Streets.
‘You drive,’ I said to her, ‘Adriani has exercised her veto on me.’
She chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, I passed my driving test with distinction.’
The car doors opened okay, but there the Mirafiori’s willingness came to an end. When Koula tried to start it up, it rumbled slightly and then stopped. At the fourth attempt, it lurched so violently that it almost catapulted us through the windscreen, before starting up with a wheezing sound.
The offices of Domitis Construction were in Timoleontos Street, close to the First Cemetary. I was glad it wasn’t far from my home so we wouldn’t have to overwork the Mirafiori after it had been stationary for two months. Turning into Vassileos Konstantinou Avenue, we hit a wall of traffic. Because of the Olympics, Athens had turned into a ploughed-up field and the drivers who hadn’t got themselves a tractor in time were now seeking safety on roads that had still not been dug up, with the result that the traffic had come to a standstill. A policeman at the junction between Vassileos Konstantinou Avenue and Rizari Street gestured at us abusively, not because we would move any quicker like that, but because his eyes had tired of seeing us. Then just as I was breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that the Mirafiori was managing bravely with all the stopping and starting, it gave up the ghost at the red light in Diakou Street. The engine gave out and, when the lights turned to green, it wouldn’t start up no matter what. Those behind honked their horns like people possessed , Koula was getting more and more exasperated because with each new attempt, she drowned the engine even more, while those cars that managed to slip out and pass us stuck their fingers up at us just to boost our morale.
‘Let me get it started,’ I said
While I was trying various tricks to get the thing moving, a convertible pulled up beside us. Sitting behind the wheel was a youngster with a crocodile on his T-shirt and spiked hair. In the past we used to starch our collars, now it seems we starch our hair.
‘Eh, you old fogey. What are you doing with the chick in that pile of scrap?’ he shouted angrily. ‘Get yourself a convertible like us, birdbrain. Look at the face on the old fogey!’ And stepping on the accelerator, he smothered us in exhaust fumes to get his own back. In my consternation, I had forgotten that the Mirafiori was stuck at the lights. I cast a sideways glance at Koula, who was trying to remain composed, but failed, and broke into loud peals of laughter.
‘At times like these, the bad copper comes out in me and I want to arrest whoever I see in front of me,’ I told her.
‘Come on, show a little understanding.’
‘Understanding?’
‘Don’t you get it? His girl has dumped him and he’s taking it out on you.’
That’s one explanation that hadn’t occurred to me at all and it filled me with such delight that I turned the key as though caressing it and the Mirafiori started up at the first attempt.
12
I was expecting to find myself before a modern office block of dark concrete and one-way windows, but what I found was a three-storey neoclassical building, recently renovated. The modern office block was behind it. At first, I thought they were two separate buildings, but when I looked from the side, I discovered that there was a small bridge, rather like a glass tube, connecting the two buildings. The same social disguise employed by Favieros could be seen even in his business. At first sight, he didn’t want to live in the same neighbourhood with the moneybags in Ekali; his house in Porto Rafti, however, was the house of a moneybag. At first sight, he preferred neoclassical buildings to the modern office blocks; behind the
Similar Books
