Greek Carpet

Elena Stephanopolos smiled to herself as she carefully dressed for her date that evening.

She’d had her eyes on young Steven Faulkner for weeks now, ever since she started work for his mother and father. She was following the usual young-foreigner-in-London tradition by working as an au pair girl while she studied at the London School of Economics. She didn’t mind the work; the two little girls were well behaved, and the parents pretty much gave her a free hand with how she spent her time once they realised her dependability.

The only fly in her comfortable ointment was their son Steven, who unfortunately didn’t seem to notice her existence. At 21, he was 3 years older than she, and he was so good looking that her stomach tied itself in knots every time she looked at him. He was a drama student at the University of Westminster, and his ambition was to become a movie star, and if looks alone were the passport, he was on his way to the top. His curly thick mop of black hair surmounted a pair of eyes that were startlingly blue, and his chiselled features would break into a devil-may-care grin that broke her heart.

Elena smoothed her dress over her hips and stepped back to give herself the once over in the long cheval mirror. Yes, not bad, even if she did say so herself. Long shining hair as black as a raven’s wing, sparkling black eyes, and a slim figure that showed promise of developing into the typical Greek voluptuous shape that her countrymen admired so much. The peacock blue dress that had cost her a fortnight’s wages fitted her to perfection, and she knew that her appearance would not disgrace even the most particular escort. Maybe tonight Steven’s eyes would be opened to her beauty, and it would be the start of a beautiful relationship, and who knew, maybe even marriage. Once they had both graduated of course.

And it was just this morning that she’d planned to spend the evening studying as usual, but everything changed as she helped Mrs Faulkner with breakfast.

Steven answered the phone in the hallway, then came gloomily into the dining room. “That was Jenny,” he said, frowning. “She can’t make it to the dinner tonight. She tripped and fell off the stage last night and knocked herself out.”

“Poor Jenny,” said his mother. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. Just that she’ll be in hospital for a couple of days under observation.”

“You’ll need to find someone else to escort then. You can’t show up alone.”

“That’s the problem. The other girls in the class are all booked up, and Jenny was the only one left by the time I got around to asking.”

Mrs Faulkner glanced at Elena, then at Steven. “Why not take Elena? I’m sure she’d be happy to help out, wouldn’t you dear?”

“Elena? But, but…”

“That’s settled then. She’s a pretty girl, and you’ll make a lovely looking couple.”

“But… well, OK then. Elena,” he asked her ungraciously, “Would you like to go to the University’s annual dinner tonight?”

Elena kept her eyes lowered modestly, and murmured that she would be happy to go with him.

She lived the rest of the day in a fairyland. After she dropped the girls off at pre-school, she went down the King’s Road and browsed until she found just the right dress with matching bag and shoes. It all cost far more than she could afford, but if it made Steven look twice at her, it was worth it. Daydreaming about what could come after the dinner (she and Steven walking in the warm darkness beneath the campus trees, with Steven asking, “Why did I never see you before?”) she missed her bus stop and had to walk halfway through Earl’s Court before finally reaching home.

Now as she twirled before her mirror, bathed, powdered, perfumed, and with make up skilfully applied, she thought he wouldn’t be able to resist her.

***

Nicholas B. Shervington III looked at his friend in horror. “You’re taking your Mother’s au pair to the Uni dinner?”

“Well, I don’t have much choice do I?”

“Does she look terribly Greek?”

“No, she’s quite striking, but that frightful accent!” Steven’s face put on a grimace.

“Just keep stuffing food into her mouth and you won’t even notice it,” suggested Nicholas. “But what if you fall for those striking Mediterranean looks? You might have to send her to your dialogue coach to get rid of the accent.”

“Hell’s bells! I don’t want to get tangled up with anybody. I’m on my way up the ladder. I’ll have my pick of the best grumble and grunt in England, and it won’t be some little Greek nobody.”

“Do you mean that you won’t be ending the evening in the traditional way? It’ll be the first time in the whole of your time at drama school that you haven’t been laid on the first date. About to break your record, are you?”

“Come on, I’m not going that far. I’ll probably have her in the bushes. I’ve seen the way she looks at me, and she’ll be a pushover, but it’s not the start of a beautiful friendship. No, she’s just something to come between me and the hard ground. A bit of Greek carpet, just waiting to be laid.”