The Telling Time : A Historical Family Saga by P. J. McKAY

Author:P. J. McKAY [McKAY, P. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780473520120
Publisher: Polako Press
Published: 2021-06-23T22:00:00+00:00

The streetlamps cast a warm glow over Bitola, and the sharp grey lines of the buildings seem softer, less austere. The damp air clings to Luisa’s face. It isn’t raining but fine droplets of mist dance in the suspended pockets under the streetlamps. She tails behind the others, crossing the pot-holed road to the cafe, a plain square building with huge windows stretching close to the pavement streaming with condensation.

Kosta pulls open the heavy door. Here we go, thinks Luisa as a blast of hot air slaps her in the face. She’s wedged behind Kosta but can just see over his shoulder through the layers of smoke clutching the air like clouds, suspended over the Formica tables. The room heaves with men, drinking, laughing and shouting. A sole middle-aged woman wearing a bored expression seems to be responsible for the bar. An old-fashioned tape-deck blares beside her, competing with the cacophony. Kosta signals he’s going for some drinks.

‘This way,’ Nikola says, pointing towards a spare table at the rear of the room.

They weave their way across with Nikola stopping to exchange greetings at nearly every table. Most of the men just stare, but one, an older man, his chin covered with a thatch of white stubble, leaps to his feet.

‘’Ello, ’ello,’ he says, bowing deeply and waving his black woollen cheese-cutter cap like a toreador. He clasps Luisa’s hand, pumping it up and down.

‘Please. My uncle Boris,’ says Nikola, slapping him on the back. Uncle Boris’ grin broadcasts a gaping hole where his front teeth should be.

‘Bootiful! Bootiful!’ he calls as Nikola herds them off.

Luisa’s face is red-hot when they reach the table. She’s relieved to wriggle out of her sweatshirt but pulls back in disgust when her elbows stick to the tacky table-top. The built-up layers of grime are a vivid reminder of the student pubs at Otago University. Revolting. Kosta leans over to place a jug of beer and glasses down, the overflow adding to the grunge. He shoves the person seated behind him who moves, allowing him the room to sit. Nikola pours the beer and Kosta raises his glass.

‘U Zdravje!’ Kosta says, gulping down the contents and slamming the glass down. He pours himself another then reclines in his seat, lighting a cigarette. Luisa takes small sips. The beer’s too bitter for her liking: she much prefers a lighter style. Bex doesn’t seem to mind; she’s already knocked back most of her first glass. Nikola and Kosta lean their heads together, whispering.

‘Kiwi girls, they like the good time, no?’ Kosta raises his glass. ‘U Zdravje!’ He slugs back his drink again.

‘Cheers!’ says Bex, draining her glass. Nikola refills their glasses. Luisa just needs a top-up.

‘So you party on your travels?’ Nikola asks. ‘Here, we love to make fun.’

‘Why do you think we’re party girls?’ Bex rubs her fingers and thumb together in the universal money symbol. ‘Not enough of this to go wild but we’ve had some fun nights, eh Luisa?’

‘Plenty,’ Luisa replies, with a warning look.

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