The English Lesson (The Greek Village Collection Book 11) Read Online Free PDF Page A

in Greek. Toula’s tears colour her sky-blue silk handkerchief the colour of night, the crinkled and parched material greedily soaking the saline.
    'Yes, yes,' Toula answers in English, obviously determined to keep the English lesson going. 'It is sad that I cannot go.'
    'Why can you not go? What would have happened if you were to go?' Juliet asks. It is another chance to hear Toula's command of the past participle and maybe her future perfect tense.
    'It is Apostolis. He does not want to go.' The hanky dabs away at her eyes.
    'Go alone?' The words come out before Juliet is aware that she has thought them. They are a reaction to years of being told what she could and could not do by her own husband. Ex-husband. Biting her bottom lip, she wishes she could retract what she has said, or soften the words, make them part of the lesson. But the words are out, and there is no taking them back.
    'Alone?' Toula sounds incredulous. Her fingers seek the soft petal of the bougainvillea in the toothpick holder. Her gaze is down the street to her own house, or maybe beyond. Her head begins to shake just a little, side to side as if her neck is loose. Juliet finds she needs to move her chair yet again so she can see Toula's face without being blinded by the sun. From this point of view, it is not the best place for a café.
    'Tell me in future tense what you would like to do if you went alone,' Juliet suggests, trying to redeem herself as a teacher.
    'Alone?' Toula repeats as if the idea is unthinkable.
    Juliet should know better. She has lived in Greece long enough to know that women of Toula's age do nothing alone. They were born into a patriarchal system, raised to be supportive, and encouraged to focus on keeping house and raising children. Travelling abroad is unthinkable. If she goes anywhere without her husband, it will be on a church outing, organised by the papas .
    'I would go the Big Ben,' Toula says suddenly. Her fingers release the petals and her eyes shine as she looks into Juliet’s. 'Westminster! London Bridge, London Tower!'
    Juliet nods in encouragement as Toula winds her tongue around these foreign names.
    'I would go,' a little knot of muscles appears between her pale eyebrows as she concentrates on the grammar before exploding with, 'Speaker’s Corner.' She looks at Juliet for some reaction to these words. 'Speak! Me! Me speak!' The waiter comes out and glances up and down the road, takes a cigarette from behind his ear and, lighting it, ambles to the other side of the narrow road to lean against the building. He stands and smokes, looks up and down the lane. He has an easy grace, as if he is satisfied with his world.
    'What would you say?' Juliet is intrigued by this outburst. But Toula now blushes and looks down at her hands in her lap. For a moment, she was free and it was exciting to witness, but now Toula is back in her reality. England has so much to offer women from that point of view, Juliet reflects. The temptation to encourage Toula to follow this dream is great, but Juliet knows this is not her place.
    'You do this?' Toula's voice is quiet now, her eyes still fixed on her own knees.
    'I do what?' Juliet asks.
    'You come the Greece, alone.'
    'Yes. I have done this.' Juliet corrects Toula’s phrasing as she pushes herself back in her chair, sitting up straighter. She is proud that she came here alone. There was no Michelle here to greet her. She was the first English person in the village. She knew no one. 'Yes I did.'
     
    'Not to be alone? You find a partner easy. A good one. I know, good for you. Clever. How you say. Charms. No, charmings. My nephew mine.'
    Juliet’s mouth has dropped open, and she shuts it abruptly. She cannot pretend to be surprised. Time and time again, the Greek women do not believe that she chooses to be alone. They are always matchmaking, trying to find someone suitable.
    'Er thank you, Toula, but…' She begins but Toula cuts her off.
    'Did you have fear, when you come—alone?'