The Priest's Well (The Greek Village Collection Book 12) Read Online Free PDF

cottage?
    ‘I used to play in the olive grove behind and around the well until I fell…’
    ‘Ah yes, I heard you banged your head.’
    ‘Down the well.’
    Savvas stops buttering his toast and looks up at her.
    ‘Sorry.’ But he thinks he has understood. ‘You fell down the well?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good grief. Was it deep?’ He is trying to make out how badly her forehead is scarred, but too much of her dirty golden hair falls over her face. Her chin nods down and to one side and she consciously blinks. A very Greek unspoken yes.
    ‘Mother of God, you must have seen stars.’ He bestows a smile on her but it is not returned.
    The glance she casts him is hard and cold as if he has just accused her of something. She is certainly not an easy person to talk to.
    ‘Well, I am glad you are alright.’ Where was he? What was he saying to her? Oh yes, trying to find out if she liked the cottage. Well, if she fell and bumped her head, maybe this is not the best tactic. He will try another.
    ‘Do you find the house you are in now a little big to maintain on your own?’
    Her accusing looks softens and her fingers relax in her lap. Such long fingers. Like her limbs, long and graceful.
    ‘I am very grateful. It assures Mama a home whilst she is alive.’
    The words fall like music to his ears. If she is right, the house is only theirs until her mama’s death. That could give him possibilities. God is smiling on him.
    ‘Yes, I am sure you are.’ Now, he mustn’t rush this. Play it carefully, first make her realise that he is looking out for her, build some trust. Then, when he has a plan, she will go along with his wishes. After all, it will be for her own good as well as for the good of the church.
    ‘By the way, I meant to ask, is it possible for you to do my laundry?’ Diplomatic tactics. The laundry is part of her job description but he read in some magazine, years ago, that people trust other people not through flattery and gifts but by finding that they offer to do things for them. The article said that the logic is they would not have offered to do something for someone they didn’t trust, so, therefore, they conclude they must trust the person.
    ‘Fridays,’ she replies without feeling. It seems the trust thing will take time to sink in. Perhaps now he should back it up by offering her something in return.
    ‘And do you take days off?’ He tries to make it sound like a light enquiry.
    This question seems to baffle her. ‘No.’ The word is cautious, as if the question is some trick.
    ‘Then I suggest you take a day off a month. How would that be?’ She is bound to be grateful.
    ‘And who will look after Mama on that day?’
    ‘Oh, I see. No, I meant a day off from your housekeeping duties.’ But she does not seem pleased, not even grateful, just another nod, lead with her chin, agreed with by a blink of her eyes.
    ‘Is that all?’ She stands.
    ‘Yes.’ Savvas thinks about asking for more coffee. Something about the awkwardness between them repels him but as she stands, the way she moves suddenly inflames him. It is nothing she does intentionally. Rather, it is the way one of her knees rounds the other as she stands, the way her hips settle, ready to move. She is like an animal, a fragile animal with callused palms from hard work. She leaves.
    Once she is gone, he stares towards the light. The back windows look out over an olive grove, no blank church wall there. With the shutters closed, he had not realised how rural the cottage is at the rear, opening onto trees and more trees. He can imagine Nefeli as a small child running between them, her hair flowing behind her, her long limbs speeding her flight. Then to fall down a well… How scared she must have been. How long was she down there? That sort of experience is enough to make anyone feel the world is an unsafe place.
    A flick of a memory demands his attention. The hours he spent lying in the crucifix position on the cold church floor in penance