One Cretan Evening and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

was a widespread cut. When they braved the lashing rain and went out into the road they could see that every house in the village was in darkness. A recorded message from the regional electricity board was not encouraging. Power would be resumed ‘in due course’. A forty minute wait on the line to speak to an operator only revealed worse news. There was little chance of the fault being corrected until after the Christmas break.
    For Jennifer, news that the end of the world was nighcould not have been more devastating. At least for that her mother-in-law would probably stay away. Philip’s efforts to calm her down did not go down well.
    ‘You just don’t understand,’ she shrieked at him. ‘This is not like any other day! It’s not just any other meal!’
    ‘Mum, Dad does realise that,’ interceded George, anxious that his long-suffering father shouldn’t take the blame.
    ‘We’ll find some way round this,’ bumbled Philip.
    The two boys and their father stood, while Jennifer sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.
    Philip had opened the back door and now stood on the terrace looking down the garden. The sun had broken through the clouds. He glanced back at Jennifer.
    ‘I’ve had an idea,’ he said. ‘Come out and help me, boys.’
    Barefoot, still in their pyjamas, they dutifully followed him across the soggy lawn. Jennifer stood at the window and watched them. It was a sweet sight. The three of them looked like sleep walkers.
    For ten minutes they disappeared and while they were gone she went upstairs to get dressed, not in the new dress she had bought for the day. It seemed pointless now. When she came downstairs again, she saw that the barbecue had been wheeled on to the terrace and further down the garden a bonfire was being built with dry wood from the log store. Philip returned to the kitchen, smiling, his hands black, pyjama trousers soaked to the knee. He went to the fridge, took out a bottle of champagne, popped the cork and clumsily filled two glasses allowing their froth to spume on to the work surface. ‘Let’s have a look at that bird,’ he said, taking a slurp.
    ‘Birds . . .’ said Jennifer.
    ‘Oh yes, birds,’ replied Philip.
    Jennifer went to the fridge and removed the magnificent creation, placing it lovingly on the granite work top.
    ‘This is what I propose,’ he said. ‘That we slice into this thing, marinade it in something or other and barbecue it in strips.’
    ‘Strips?’
    This was a man who had no idea how to switch on the oven but could do wonders with charcoal.
    Jennifer took a long gulp of her champagne and felt it spread through her veins. She could feel her control of the situation slipping away. For the first time she could remember, she felt herself letting go of the reins. The sun shone on her back. It was like spring and she felt a sudden and unexpected surge of warmth for her husband. She watched as Philip clumsily hacked the precious meat into chunks and dropped them into a spicy marinade of his own recipe. The boys came in from the garden, marking the pristine floor with trails of mud. They set about wrapping two dozen potatoes individually in foil and buried them in the bonfire. By now Philip had rigged up an old metal ladder over the bonfire and the Christmas pudding began its long steaming process.
    The family arrived on the dot of eleven. The mother-in-law, usually so nervous around Jennifer, seemed visibly to relax when she saw that her daughter-in-law was less tense than usual. The others were perfectly at home with the chaos and Philip’s sister enjoyed the change to the formality of the usual routine.
    ‘What can I do to help?’ she asked, rolling up her sleeves, an offer she would never have dared to make in the past.
    The champagne bottle sat on the table in front of Jennifer and her sons went to and fro. It was warm enough to sit in the garden and drinks were carried outside. The dog chased the girls round and round. Though he did not