Chapter One

Aliki Says

Irini Savvides

Fly With Me

To: alikieconomides@bigpond.com
Subject: Get me out of here!

Wish you were here. Ha! Right! The plane is crammed and I didn’t even get a window seat. Remember those squalling, smelly babies at the airport in outfits matching their mums’? They’re all on the plane – my plane! They’re still in matching outfits – slightly different shades, though. The kids are more red than pretty in pink now – squealing at take-off because the pressure must be driving their ears nuts. The mums are a new shade too – it’s called pink and puke. With a few variations – pink and pee, pink and puce and pink with baby shit. 

Anyway, at least there are – wait for it – Sky Nannies on Gulf Air! These flight attendants have got starched white shirts, navy skirts and hats with cool mauve see-through veils – stylish enough to be sexy and not offend Westerners (well, maybe the French) but sort of religious too. I’m not sure how I feel about women wearing veils. Has to be their choice, I suppose. But I am sure about women wearing aprons! That’s what these Sky Nannies have got on – over their uniforms. Little Bob the Builder blue bib numbers with a skirt attached. Guess it’s meant to catch the pink and mustard! Hi, my name is Slava and I am your Sky Nanny for the flight to Singapore. Now, I know you’re into the post-feminist bit, Aliki, but what do you think are the chances of seeing a male Sky Nanny? What is the masculine of Nanny anyway? Nannos? Nada! None!

Okay, okay. I’ll get over it. I just can’t believe Mum and I are flying halfway across the world to pick up Yiayia and then straight back again! Two weeks? We’ve got to be crazy. It takes ten days just to get over the jet lag! Mum keeps telling me it isn’t a holiday – it’s our duty. Thanks for the newsflash! 

Not even a shopping trip to Athens! Just straight to the village, pack up the house and pick up Yiayia. Then straight back with excess baggage. And it won’t be handbags, let me tell you.

I keep asking Mum precisely what Yiayia will do in Five Dock. She says she can hang with the other grandmothers. I tell her that, firstly, they’re all Italian, not Greek and, secondly, with the new land tax the Premier’s talking about it’ll only be the yuppies who can still afford to live in Little Italy. She says don’t you worry, those grannies have so much money stashed under their beds they’ll be able to pay it in cash. Right!

Besides, how come Dad gets to go to Dubai to work for six months and we get to go back to the village? Again! Is that supposed to be fair? Even if he did ask me for a list of what I wanted when he comes back through Asia on his way home. He’s just buying me off. Mum says it’s his job and he can’t help it. I say there’ve got to be plenty of jobs in Australia – and his timing’s excellent. Absent and accounted for!

I’m over it. Why can’t we go to Queensland like everyone else for two weeks? That way I could at least get a suntan. It’ll be freezing in Greece and double freezing in the village. I think they’ve got electricity now, but central heating? Not!
 
Enough, I know. What’s happening at home? Do I have one yet?

Lucky, Liza

To: lizastylianou@hotmail.com
Subject: Re: Get a life!

Liza, stop whining! Not everyone’s going to Queensland for a fortnight of sun, sex and shopping. At least you’re on a plane somewhere! So it’s to the village in Greece – better than the bus to Norton Street. Besides, you like old things – and Yiayia qualifies. The other added bonus is that there’ll be lots more old things in the village. I promise you.

At least you’ll eventually be able to escape the kids on the plane. Option 1 – they’ll get off at Singapore. Option 2 – they’ll get off at Bahrain. Option 3 – they’ll fly all the way to Greece with you. 

This is the worst-case scenario – but as it’s only 24 hours in your otherwise sheltered life – suffer!

In case you become attached in the next 12 – 16 – 24 hours (depending on the scenario) to the tears and tantrums, I’m offering you the twins free of charge when you get back. Stathi and Stavros Summer Sale – going cheap. 100% off. Never to be repeated. No refunds. No exchange. No warranty. Rea has taken them to swimming lessons at the Aquatic Centre with her mothers’ group. Now that’s pink puke! I’m not a post-feminist at all. I’m post-post. I think reproduction should be governed by the state – Huxley had it all wrong. Oh, Brave New World – with no babysitting in it! And no decorating according to ‘Home Beautiful’. Honestly, I hate the way Rea tries to merge Mum’s taste with hers. Why didn’t Dad and Rea just buy a new house? Ah, to be an unattached Alpha!

I tell you, I would have loved it. Imagine. Top of the pile, pick of the men, legal drugs and no hang-ups about sex. No unhappiness. Yeah!

As for your home. Yep. It’s there all right – to say the least. It’s huge and you’ll have it all to yourself, you lucky thing. Going up and up and up! And since you’ve got a new laptop that you conned your parents into buying you because you’ll miss a whole two weeks study time (are you a suck or are they the suckers?), how about giving me your old computer? It might save my sanity. It was bad enough sharing my bedroom with you the past six weeks while the mansion was being built. Now Rea reckons that once Stathi’s a bit older she can share with me so that Stavros can have his own room. Yeah, right. Throwing up here, too!

I thought the wicked stepmother was only in fairytales. Pick some apples for me from the village, okay?

Do something useful in the next 24 hours. Plan your preferred form of birth control. Plan your walk-in-wardrobe, you cow. Plan your Extension 2 proposal so I don’t whop your ass in that too.

Off to exotic Market Town – my turn to cook. Again! Do you reckon 2-minute noodles is a family meal?

Alpha Aliki off in search of some soma.