Romanians

"Nothing. I told you, no money."

"What you pay workers?"

"There's plenty for him to do," I reminded him. Grandfather was thinking about it.

"I've no money to pay workers. I told you." Grandfather stuck his barrel chest out for emphasis. The Romanian didn't seem put off.

"I will work for you. What you pay?"

"I pay workers two or three euros an hour. But I'm not hiring anybody."

The man said: "I will work for five euros an hour."

"But I have no work. No work, no money." He was almost shouting. The Romanian man took no notice.

"Yes. I work for you very hard. I have three childrens, wife and dog to feed. Five euros."

Three little boys tumbled out of the truck, followed by a dog. A woman called to the children sharply and they stood still, waiting.

"Family?" asked my grandfather.

"Da. Ne." The Romanian introduced each child in turn. "Ioan, Radu. Sandu." They bowed slightly and looked my grandfather in the eye. Sandu's hair was falling over his eyes. He looked mischievous. They were handsome, scrappy kids with bright eyes and strong teeth. Unlike their father.

I could see my grandfather was impressed by their manners.

"Your name?" asked my grandfather.

"Alin. My wife" – he gestured to the headscarfed woman in the truck – "Cosima."

Cosima smiled through the truck window. A gold tooth flashed.

"Where would they stay? I don't want them in the house."

Alin looked concerned: "Before, staying in truck. And tent." He sounded apologetic.

"Third World," said my grandfather. "Told you."

"That's terrible," I said, ignoring him. Alin was still standing there, smiling, his hands clasped. Grandfather was not convinced.

"I'd have to teach him how to prune the trees. And I don't suppose he knows about pomegranates or building walls."

"You could teach him." Alin was looking at the delelict barn.

"Stay here," he said. 

"He means they can sleep in there," I told my grandfather.

"Hang on a moment, I haven't said yes to anything yet. He doesn't even speak decent Greek. Or English." The dog sat down at his feet and raised one leg and scratched its ear. "I'll get complaints from the neighbours about the dog."

Alin whistled, and the dog sat up and begged. Alin gave another signal and the dog rolled over. He whistled again and the dog stood and put its paw in Alin's hand.

"Well-trained dog," I commented. The boys were investigating the barn. They reappeared holding two small dead black snakes. I knew they were poisonous because of the markings on them. My grandfather kept a supply of antivenom in the fridge in case of scorpian or snake bite. He looked at the snakes.

The boys watched him anxiously.

"You kill these?" The boys nodded. They started wrestling with one another playfully. Sandhu took the snakes and made digging movements with his other arm.

"He wants to know if you think he should bury them." Grandfather nodded to a patch of ground and threw a spade over to them. They started digging.

He went over to the barn and beckoned Alin to follow him. It was easy to see the roof needed fixing and the floor was a mess of dried dung, beetles, fallen wood and old cement bags.

"Think you could mend this?" Alin surveyed it slowly and nodded. My grandfather was thinking it over. He wanted to put matters straight:

"Me, no money. No money in Greece. You no money. Romania no money. I have this" – he pointed to the land around us – "but no money. You, Alin, help me. We pick olives, apricots, pomegranates, everything. We sell, we get money. You get money, I get money. Fifty-fifty, capisch?" Alin was nodding, though in Greece that can mean a negative.

"Capisch. Fifty-fifty."

"Wait," I said. "What do you live off in the meantime? These children have got to be fed. There's nothing ready to harvest until the autumn." The dog slunk over and put his muzzle in grandfather's hand. Cosima came shyly across to join us. She mimed herself cooking.

"She says she can cook," I told him. "Can you live on your pension money, Grandfather? I know it's probably not much...

"It's another five mouths to feed. Can't be done." I could see his point.

"Do Romanians get any State help? No? You'll have to tell them you can't help them either."

"But where will they go? How will they manage?" Grandfather was worrying about them now. He was tidying up the yard, sweeping up dirt that had blown in. Alin was unpacking the truck. There seemed to be a lot of pots and pans. The boys helped.

"Oh they always manage one way or another."

"Look," said my grandfather. "I like these people. Alin's strong. He can mend the shed. The kids are polite. The dog's okay. He can catch rats. Fifty-fifty Alin? Alin grinned and held his hand out. They shook on it. Cosima was pleased. It turned out that the truck had a puncture and a bent wheel, so it would have been difficult for them to move on anyhow.

I had gone from thinking it was a good idea that this family should help my grandfather with his farm, to thinking it was a pretty risky idea altogether. But they'd shaken hands on the deal, so that was that.

The Romanians slept in the back of the truck and the dog in a the corner of the barn they'd managed to clear that night.

"I don't like to think of them sleeping there," grumbled my grandfather. "We treat strangers well in Greece. These people are guests in our country." The Romanians appeared unconcerned. The dog would deal with snakes or scorpians, they assured him. They washed under the tap and Cosima made a lentil soup which they all shared. I didn't fancy it but grandfather insisted:

"Try it!" Alin handed me a bowl. It wasn't very clean. I sipped the soup. Cosima was beaming at me.

The next day I went outside in the cool morning air, half-expecting that the family would be gone, maybe with some of our things. But there was Alin, up on the terrace, surveying the broken wall. The big caper plants were holding it together in places; elsewhere holme oak and thorn grew amid the stones. Alin was studying the gaps, filling in the missing boulders in his head.

I made coffee, and Grandfather and I sat outside at the table under the fig tree by the door. The kids crept up shyly and smiled at us. The air was soft and sweet.

"Am I being a complete fool?" Grandfather asked me.

"I don't know. Really. I don't."

"Lexi, they have nothing, these Romanians. But they have skills. They can work horses, they can work metal, leather. I've seen it. They build things from wood. They could be thieves. They could be murderers. But I'm giving them a chance. We can help each other. What am I? An old man. What do I have to lose? The world is a difficult place, Lexi, when you can't find work in your own country. I could teach those boys of his in the evenings. They could go to school, if the government can sort out the book situation. Their mother seems to keep them in order. I think they'll be good pupils."

I didn't know what to say. I had to leave at the end of the week, and at the end of the week the barn was looking shipshape, the terrace wall was mended and Cosima had sorted out the ancient wood burning oven in the wall at the back of the garden. She made bread, and it smelled delicious

Alin and my grandfather were getting along well. Alin was learning to speak proper Greek. He was teaching my grandfather how to make a roof thatch from the tall reeds that grew in the valley. The boys were learning to play tric-trac.

I felt slightly jealous.

When I left, the pomegranates were in flower and it looked as though there'd be a good crop. The olives too were showing tiny flowers. It could be a good year.