‘Take this gorgeous couple, for example.’ I turn to address our new customers, speaking in Greek. ‘Hi, welcome to No NameCoffee Shop. I’m Sam and this is Jill and we will be your coffee connoisseurs today.’ The couple stare blankly at me and I survey them, taking in the man’s burnt neck and nose, the camera strapped around his chest, and the backpack the woman carries. I repeat it in English.
To my relief, the couple grin at me. ‘Hi, Sam. I’m Tim. This is my wife, Jemima.’ They’re British, I know that much. Yorkshire, perhaps? ‘Don’t suppose we could have two black coffees, could we, lad?’
‘Greek style,’ Jemima adds.
‘Two black coffees Greek style coming right up,’ I say. I stop at the rack of mugs, my brow knitted. ‘Or maybe I could interest you in a sweet Freddo?’
‘Will you just get on with it?’ Mum laughs.
As I’m making the coffees for Tim and Jemima I sing along to the music, a Beyoncé song. My voice rings out through the shop, out of tune and tone deaf. Mum is used to it by now, but Jemima films me from where she’s sat near the window.
I play up to her camera, using the extendable tap to sing into it. Mum flips the switch and water splashes straight into my mouth.
‘Mum,’ I choke.
She’s hunched over, cackling. Jemima hoots as Tim claps.
These are the customers I like. They’re fun.
I dab at my wet face with blue kitchen roll, as I head back to the coffee machine.
I do like my life in Athens, but there’s an itch, a need to explore the world, to find something more. I have an emptiness that needs filling. A need for excitement, for something different.
As I place the coffees down on Tim and Jemima’s table, smiling, I feel as though I’m overdue a change in this monotonous routine I’ve created for myself.
Chapter Nine
WILL
Day One
I’m going to Athens. Between Ollie asking me, in person, and the receptionist in Greece not giving me a refund, I feel as though my hand is forced.
Intoxicated on superb red wine, I went back to Ollie on that February night and said: ‘So lovely to see you. RSVP-ing. Again!Yamas!’
Yamaswas cool.Yamaswas my way of flexing, pretending Google hadn’t given me the translation.
It made me look cultured.
A changed man.
An interesting man.
Yamas.
Ollie would like a man who happened to know whatYamasmeant.
I liked the way it sounded.
Yamas.
Now, the day has finally come, and trust me, I’ve thought about dropping out and cancelling and taking the non-refundthing on the nose, but it’s happening. I’m on the EasyJet flight, clicking away at Duolingo Greek, clutching a Greek travel guide that I finally bought from the same concerned bookseller who definitely remembered me.
Yes, on my way to my new life in Athens.
Okay, twenty-five days in Athens, but it sure feels like a new life.
Twenty-five days because drunken me couldn’t count, probably meaning to book five days.
