Living at the lake. Diaries continued (part 10)

None of the family spoke any English, so I was delegated to serve the tourists. I enjoyed the work. Although it was hard, it was varied and we all worked together as a family, pulling our weight together and working the same long hours. I soon slipped into a routine and didn’t have time to dwell on anything else. I would sometimes watch television in the evenings with George after the girls had gone to bed.  George was very shy and we rarely spoke but it seemed to be a friendly silence between us and as my Greek improved we gradually conversed more.

The family was very kind to me. On one occasion when I had gone to do some shopping with Michalis, on returning I found chocolates and biscuits in my bag that I hadn’t bought and looking up saw a big grin on his face. I had experienced the famous Cretan hospitality many times before and I was happy to find it applied to the workers too, though I believe I was very lucky working with this particular family.

In the mornings as I was tidying the outside seating area and wiping the tables down, I would see George going off on his tractor to feed the animals and later returning, only to vanish into a small shed from where I could hear strange sounds. I wondered what he was doing until one day I realized it contained a machine for peeling potatoes.

I woke one morning to the soft pitter- patter of rain. On going down to the kitchen I could find no sign of life so I helped myself to coffee, bread and cheese, my regular breakfast, and then began to make what preparations I could for the coming day. Obviously in this weather we were not going to be busy but we might get a few locals and a smattering of hardy tourists.

After a while Chrysoula and George appeared both soaking wet and carrying large pails. They had been out collecting snails.

“When it rains,” explained Chrysoula “the snails come out of hibernation and we collect them to eat. First we put then in a box or container for a few days and feed them on flour or dry macaroni. This cleans their system and so, afterwards, we can cook and eat them. Mother will show you how another day, if you are interested.” I wasn’t sure that I really wanted to know.

At lunchtime we had a party of workmen in on their lunch break. They were working on some building near by and called in quite often, one of their favourite meals was liver, tossed in flour, and fried with oregano and red wine. One of them, a young man of about twenty five began to chat too me, asking me out. This boosted my morale no end, even when he told me his name. I couldn’t help thinking of Chris and how, when next we spoke on the phone we would giggle together. Imagine being asked out for a date by someone named Spartacus!

The weeks passed

Sundays were always very busy. It was inevitably an early start and a late finish, racing to and fro between the tables, making up bills, cleaning, wiping, and doing all the usual jobs at twice the usual speed.

One Sunday morning in June it suddenly began to rain. Chrysoula and I were hurriedly bringing in chairs from outside into the covered area. There was no sign of Eugenia or Athena. Still asleep we assumed. Still asleep we assumed. Suddenly we heard a yell and a loud crash.
“What was that?” cried Chrysoula as we rushed in the direction of the noise. “Oh my god, no!” Chrysoula began to weep as we saw her father spread-eagled on the floor and a large hole in the roof. He had been doing some work on the roof and had fallen through, hitting tables and chairs on the way down. Near where he had fallen I could see the long metal souvlaki skewers used for roasting whole lambs. They were pointing upwards. I shuddered to think what the outcome would have been if he had fallen just a few feet over to the left.

“Father, FATHER!” by this time the rest of the family were arriving on the scene. The girls immediately went into hysterics and I must admit that I felt like doing the same. George raced over to his father and spoke.

“He’s alive.” Relief washed over us. “We must get him to the hospital quickly, I’ll get the van.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.“Surely you shouldn’t try to move him?” I said. George looked up from where he and Yianni were lifting Michalis.

“There are no ambulances near here” he told me, his eyes full of tears “we have no choice.” Chrysoula had calmed down by this time and was now trying to comfort her mother.

“What happened?” she asked “What was he doing on the roof anyway?”

Poppy was still sobbing. “There was a leak, water was coming in.” She dabbed at her eyes. “He went to try to fix it. Oh! What are we going to do?” Athena fetched her mothers coat and bundled her into the van to accompany her husband to the hospital. “Nothing we can do now, except wait” said Chrysoula, mopping her eyes as we watched the van bump away along the rough lane.

Being Sunday we had to try to work as if nothing had happened, with three people short, we were kept busy with no time to think. The next thing we knew it was evening and the phone was ringing. It was Poppy calling from the hospital.

“They think he’s going to be alright” she told us with evident relief. “But he will not be able to move around for sometime, he has damaged his spine and must lie flat.”

Poppy had to stay in the hospital with him, to feed him and do all the things I had taken for granted the nurses would do. Not so, the system here in Greece is quite different and they would only give medication and carry out routine medical practices, no nursing as I knew it. A member of the family had to stay and do that. Fortunately Michalis had a slow but uneventful recovery. When he was allowed out of hospital he had a bed put up in the taverna from where he could hold court and supervise the proceedings until he was back on his feet….