South from Sounion Page 15

  I was sure the second time I met her, Nicholas had said.

  It was not hard to understand why he wanted her. It was for the same reason that, although he had lived to regret it, her father had wanted her stepmother.

  Janet was right, thought Lucia sadly. I should have realized a long time ago that it never does any good to interfere in other people's lives. I should have let her go her own way. If I had, none of this would have happened. I should have known that, if either of us was going to make a hash of life, it would be me, not Cathy.

  Next morning, the sun was shining. But there was still a good deal of cloud about, and a strong wind was making the sea very choppy.

  Yannis came down to the waterfront to see them off. He said to Lucia, "I wish I could come with you, but I am needed here. Goodbye, beautiful Lucia"-and his black eyes danced, and he bent his handsome head to kiss her.

  Cathy turned rather pale in the yacht's tender as it bobbed its way from the quay to Cassandra's moorings. But, once on board, she brightened again.

  Grant was travelling with his parents, his sister and her husband, and another married couple who were friends of Mr. and Mrs. Grant Wallace Senior.

  Mr. Wallace was the president of a large plant hire corporation. He had only recently recovered from an illness, and his doctors had advised him to take a long vacation. As he had two other sons, both vice-presidents, to run the business in his absence, his wife had persuaded him that it was high time they realized their life-long dream of touring Europe. The cruise among the islands of the Aegean was a leisurely preliminary to a programme of intensive sightseeing which would carry them through to the fall.

  All this Lucia learnt from Mrs. Wallace, a small, trim, animated woman who seemed ready to pour out her life story if Lucia was willing to listen.

  Everyone sat in the saloon, drinking and talking, till lunchtime. Lucia talked or, more accurately, was talked to by the three American women. Grant monopolized Cathy. And Nicholas chatted with Mr. Wallace and his son-in-law and the other man.

  During lunch, the yacht began to roll. The sight of heaving grey waves and an apparently slanting horizon was too much for Mrs. Wallace.

  "Oh, dear, you'll have to excuse me. I'm beginning to feel a little... you know. I guess I'll go to my cabin and lie down a while," she apologized, after the soup.

  And, in spite of the tablets they had taken, Cathy and the other women were similarly affected.„

  After the main course Mr. Wallace, looking markedly less florid and cheerful, went to make sure his wife was all right. So did his son-in-law. Before the pudding arrived, both Grant and Mr. Hobart had gone. Only Nicholas and Lucia were left at the long, polished table.

  Nicholas had some fruit tart. Lucia ate chocolate mousse. Then they both had cheese and biscuits, and coffee, and he asked her permission to smoke.

  She watched him light a cigar. She had hoped for an opportunity to speak to him alone, and had prepared what she wanted to say. But now that the chance had come, it was difficult to begin.

  "Let's go back to the main saloon, shall we?" Nicholas suggested. "Unless you would rather retire? It's going to get worse before it gets better, I fancy."

  "Oh, I hope not - for the others' sakes," she said anxiously. "I don't mind it myself."

  They removed to the larger saloon where a steward was putting away various objects which might be damaged if the roll became heavier.

  Lucia waited until he had finished this task, and left them alone. Then she said briskly, "Nicholas, if you don't mind, I should like to go home tonight. Cathy can stay till Sunday, of course. But I should like to go at once."

  For the first time since she had known him, she saw that she had startled him. He gave her a long, searching look which she met with studied composure.

  "May I ask why?" he said, at last.

  She was ready for this. "As you know, I only came to Greece for Cathy's benefit," she began. "But it really isn't very convenient for me to go home on Sunday. School starts on Monday, you see, and there are various preparations to make. I could do with a couple of days to get back to normal."

  "And you are prepared to leave Cathy here, alone with me?"

  "Yes - now I am," she said calmly. "If she is staying at your cousin's house, instead of at a hotel, it will be perfectly in order."

  "My cousin is expecting both of you."

  "Well, I'm sure she won't mind my absence, if you explain the circumstances."

  Nicholas smoked in silence for several minutes, his eyes on the spray-spattered ports. She wondered what he was thinking. She had expected him to accept her proposal, if not with enthusiasm, at least with only token objections.

  He said, "This has nothing to do with term starting. It's because of what happened yesterday, isn't it?"

  She made a mistake then. She pretended not to understand. "Yesterday?" she queried, looking blank.

  He flicked the ash from his cigar, his mouth oddly grim. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already?"

  She lifted her chin. "I would prefer to forget," she said, with a snap.

  "You won't do so by making a drama out of it - by rushing back to England in a flurry of outraged virtue."

  Her face flamed, but she managed to check her anger. "I am not in a flurry of any kind. I have been kissed before, you know. What happened yesterday was something which I should have thought you would want to forget as much as I do." She made her second mistake. "I think I understand why you did it, but that doesn't make it any less . . . discreditable."

  "Oh, really? Why did I do it?" he asked, with one eyebrow arched.

  "Need we discuss it?" she said stiffly. "It's over and done. I would rather pretend it never happened."

  "Possibly - but it did happen, and I'm curious to know what motive you have ascribed to me. In fact, I insist," he said firmly.

  Lucia wished she had not let her tongue run away with her.

  Reluctantly, she said, "I - I can only suppose that you did it for the same reason that you've baited me all along." She paused. "You aren't used to girls being indifferent to you. It was ... a kind of challenge. You set out to prove that I was like all the others - that, sooner or later, I'd fall into your arms just like the rest of them."

  His reaction to this was unexpected. "Good lord! Do you really take me for such a coxcomb?"

  "I think you are very ... sure of yourself."

  "I certainly don't suffer from an inferiority complex," he agreed, looking rather amused now. "But I don't count myself irresistible."

  Lucia said nothing to this, and after a moment, he went on, "I wonder why you assume that I'm such an inveterate Don Juan. That is your impression, I gather?"

  "Well, aren't you?" she said, with a cold look.

  "I wouldn't say so - not by most people's standards. Your low regard for my morals seems to be based on the fact that the first time we met I was kissing your sister. I agree I hadn't known her very long, but was it really such a blackguardly act? Even the sterling Bernard must have committed some indiscretions in his time. The only difference is that you don't know about them."

  "I do know Bernard would never behave as you did yesterday," she said hotly. "But by your standards that was just a trifling indiscretion, I suppose?"

  His expression changed to a look she could not interpret.

  "No, that was a mistake," he said, in a flat tone. "But the only thing I regret is that I hurt you." He indicated her wrists which, today, were hidden by the sleeves of her lambswool sweater. "As for the rest-well, the blame wasn't all mine, was it? You did give me some encouragement."

  "Oh!" Lucia sprang to her feet, all pretence of composure shattered.

  Even if it was true - and to her shame, it was - she would not have believed he would taunt her with it. That was sheer cruelty.

  Nicholas too was on his feet now, and perhaps-her stricken look caused him a fleeting compunction.

  He said, "Don't fly off the handle - listen to me. I'm sorry if—"

  But bef
ore he could say any more, the steward came in to ask if they wished for more coffee. And while Nicholas was irritably informing him that if they wished for anything, they would ring, Lucia walked out, and hurried away to find Cathy.

  Her sister was lying on the bed in a small, single cabin. She looked rather wan, but not nearly as green and ghastly as she had on the outward voyage.

  "No, I haven't been sick," she said, in answer to Lucia's enquiry. "The tablets have stopped that, thank goodness. But I do feel peculiar when I stand up, and I daren't look out of the window. Where is Grant? Is he in the saloon with you?"

  "He disappeared too," Lucia told her. "Everyone did - except Nicholas." She parted the curtains which Cathy had drawn across the porthole. "But I think the weather is improving. It's not as rough as it was when we were having lunch."

  Half an hour later, the sea had become so much calmer that Cathy ventured to sit up, and attend to her face and hair. While she was doing this, Airs. Wallace looked in.

  "My! That was a rough passage, wasn't it? I guess we've been lucky to have such good weather this far. I had no idea a yacht this size would roll that way. For a while there I was just flat out. How did you girls get along?"

  She stayed talking for five or ten minutes, and then went off to see how her friend, Maisy Hobart, had fared.

  "She's nice, isn't she?" said Cathy. "She must be fifty, I should think, but she's still very smart and with it. American women are less dull than Englishwomen of that age. I've noticed it at the Maybury. They don't give in to being old. They have better taste - more style."

  "The Americans who stay at the Maybury can afford to have style," said Lucia. "Rich women are smarter than poor ones in any country."

  "Don't you like Mrs. Wallace?" Cathy asked.

  "Oh, yes, she seems very nice - though she does rather talk one's head off."

  "That's better than saying nothing," Cathy retorted. "It's another thing I like about Americans. They're so enthusiastic about everything. They even shake hands with people differently - as if they really wanted to meet them, and wouldn't forget their names five minutes later."

  If Lucia had been paying more attention to this conversation, instead of being preoccupied with other matters, it might have struck her that Cathy herself was being uncommonly enthusiastic about the Wallaces.

  She said, "Cathy, listen - you wouldn't mind if I went back to England before you, would you?"

  "Before me? What do you mean?"

  Lucia explained, giving much the same reasons as those she had put to Nicholas.

  To her astonishment, Cathy seemed horrified. "Oh, you mustn't - you can't!" she exclaimed, most vehemently.

  "Why not? What difference will it make? You'll be staying with Nicholas's cousin. You'll still have a chaperone. As far as I am concerned, you can stay on after Sunday. Stay another week, if you wish - and if Nicholas asks you."

  "But if you go it won't be the same," Cathy objected. "I want you with me - at least till Sunday. Please, Lucia."

  And the more Lucia argued with her, the more obstinately she opposed the idea. In the end, nearly in tears, she said, "If you go home, I shall come with you. I won't stay in Athens without you. You're not being fair. You're spoiling everything!"

  So, mystified by this sudden and unwonted dependence on her, but convinced that Cathy meant what she said, Lucia capitulated.

  When, late in the afternoon, Cassandra put into the yacht harbour at Piraeus, it was hard to believe that the early part of the day had been so squally. Now the sky was a bright, unclouded blue, and already the sun had dried out all signs of the recent downpours.

  The Wallaces were staying in Athens for a further ten days before moving on to "take in" Italy.

  "But Maisy and Donald are flying back to the States this weekend," Mrs. Wallace explained. "So why don't we all get together for a farewell party at the Hilton tomorrow night?" She turned to Nicholas. "You know Athens intimately, Mr. Curzon. Maybe, after we've dined, you could take us around the bouzoukias - do I have that correctly? - the ones off the tourist beat. You know what I mean - the really authentic places."

  Lucia expected Nicholas to make some excuse. Instead he said, at his most charming, "It would be a pleasure, Mrs. Wallace - but only on condition that you will be my guests at the Vlachos. The Hilton is international. The Vlachos" - his mouth twitched slightly - "has a much more authentic atmosphere. If we dine there early, before sunset, you will see something unique to Athens."

  "Is that so? How very interesting." Mrs. Wallace glanced round to gauge the reactions of the others. "Well, in that case, we'd be delighted, wouldn't we, honey?" - this to her husband.

  "We would indeed. It sounds like quite an experience," Mr. Wallace Senior agreed heartily.

  In the taxi, driving into Athens, Nicholas said to Lucia, "Are you still set on going home tonight? Do you want me to ring the airport?"

  She bit her lip, wishing she could have said "yes". But she had to answer, "No, not now. Cathy wants me to stay, so I've changed my mind."

  "Good - it would be a pity not to see the Parthenon while you are here," he commented casually.

  His cousin's house was in a narrow side-street in one of the older parts of the city. The taxi stopped at a gate in a high, whitewashed wall, and Nicholas got out and tugged an old-fashioned iron bell-pull. Almost immediately, the shutters at an upper window were flung open, and a woman leaned out and called down, "Come in - come in. The gate isn't locked."

  Inside the gate was a small courtyard with a fig tree, and pots of geraniums of many colours. The house was built at right angles to the street, and a large black cat was sitting in the sun in the open doorway.

  "Nico - my darling boy! What a pleasure to see you. It's much too long since your last visit. You know I never laugh as much as with you." The woman who stepped over the cat, and greeted Nicholas so warmly, was different from Lucia's expectations.

  She had imagined his cousin being someone like Kyria Katina, or the women of Yannis's house. But Maria Sioris not only spoke fluent English, and dressed as elegantly as his sister. She also had one of the most beautiful faces Lucia had ever seen.

  Nicholas kissed her hands, and murmured something in Greek which made her laugh and tap his cheek. Then he introduced her to her guests.

  At first sight, she had seemed a young woman. But as they shook hands, Lucia saw that she was considerably older than Nicholas. There were lines round her great dark eyes, and threads of grey in her hair. Her throat and hands bore the tell-tale marks of maturity. But the beauty of her features was ageless. In ten, even twenty years' time, she would still have that marvellous profile, those wonderful eyes.

  She led them inside to a large, cool room, and tinkled a handbell. Moments later, a plump maid came in and handed round the traditional offering to travellers of preserved fruit, water - ice-cold in engraved crystal glasses - and tiny cups of syrupy coffee. But while she chose to observe this particular custom of her country, their hostess was obviously a woman of cosmopolitan tastes. The room was furnished with lovely things from all parts of the world.

  "Maria is a designer," Nicholas told them. "She has a dress shop in Boukourestiou Street. Tomorrow, you might like to go shopping for souvenirs. But not to Maria's place. Her prices are astronomical."

  His cousin laughed. "Nico is so careful with his money. With him to guide you, you will be sure to find a bargain." She gave him a mischievous glance, and held out her arm so that the girls could admire an exquisite bracelet on her wrist. "This, for example, cost only a few drachs in the Flea Market. I wonder why I can never find such remarkable bargains."

  Presently, she took the girls upstairs to their rooms, saying that they would be glad to bath, and rest for an hour, after spending most of the day on a crowded steamer.

  Nicholas, following behind with the cases, told her about the Wallaces, and how he had arranged to take them to the Vlachos the following night. "You must come too, Maria."

  "With pleasure - I am a
lways happy to meet rich Americans. Perhaps I can sell them some clothes."

  She had given the girls separate bedrooms, and apologized for not being able to put them up at the beginning of their holiday. At that time, she herself had been having a few days' break at Corfu before the high season gathered momentum.

  "Holidays pass so quickly, don't they?" she said regretfully. "However, yours is not over yet, and we must see that your last few days are very gay."

  When she was alone, Lucia sat down on the bed, and let her shoulders sag. Their last days in Greece would not pass quickly for her. They would seem interminable. As for being gay - if Maria only knew!

  At that moment, it seemed that there was little hope of her ever being gay again, she thought, in despair.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The following morning, at stalls in Pandrossou Street in the Plaka - the old city - Lucia bought presents for the Sanders. For Peter, she chose a pair of Tsarouchia leather slippers decorated with large pom-poms and, for Janet, a gaily coloured, hand-woven tagharia bag. It was difficult to find anything typically Greek which would please three- year-old Mark, so she had to settle for a picture book for him. But for the new baby she found a beautifully" embroidered infant's dress which would have cost four times as much in London, and for her class at the Alderman Evans Primary she bought two dolls - one a replica of an Evzone guardsman in his stiff white kilt and tasselled scarlet cap, and the other a girl doll in the national dress worn by the women of Rhodes on feast days.

  The prices of all these purchases were settled by haggling between Maria and the stall-holders. As Maria explained, except in the very grandest shops, the customer was expected to bargain.

  "Where are the best shops?" asked Cathy, who had no interest in souvenirs, and was impatient to discover the Athenian equivalent of Bond Street.

  "They are in the Kolonaki quarter," Maria told her. "That's the expensive part of Athens. But first you must see Syntagma Square, which is the heart of the City."

  In the sloping Square, dominated by Parliament House, once the royal palace, they had coffee and ices at one of the pavement cafes.