PAGAN ADVERSARY (11 page)

were whisked through with just the briefest formalities. Retrieving

their luggage took only a little longer.

Harriet was glad Manda had persuaded her to blow her savings on

some new lightweight cases, and some new clothes with which to fill

them. At least she wasn't arriving like the poor relation. But she had

been scrupulous about spending the incredible sum of money which

Alex had advanced her through Mr Philippides on Nicky alone, and

she had managed to equip him fully without spending even a quarter

of it.

Maflda had gone shopping with her for her own things, and Harriet

knew wryly that she would not have bought half the things folded in

layers of tissue in her case without her prompting.

'Beach things,' Manda had decreed. 'And not those ghastly regulation

things,' she had added in horror as Harriet had begun to look through

a rack of one-pieces.

'You're going to Corfu, for God's sake, not entering for the school

swimming gala! You need bikinis—and some of those lovely skirts

and shirts to match.'

Harriet's protests that she wasn't going to Corfu for a holiday were

brushed aside as irrelevant.

'Even if you're shut up in some nursery with Nicky all day long,

there'll be these trips that were mentioned. You can't cruise round the

isles of Greece in your office gear. You'll need shorts and tops—and

some of those white cotton jeans,' Manda decreed inexorably.

However much she had demurred at the time, and whatever limits her

bank balance had sunk to, Harriet was glad she had taken Manda's

advice, and was not facing the prospect of confronting the formidable

Marcos clan in last year's summer dresses. The outfit she had worn to

travel was one of her favourites—a smoothly flared skirt in a

cream-coloured silky fabric, with a matching sleeveless top with the

low neckline and armholes bound in a contrasting blue. The same

blue edged cuffs and collarless neck of the long-sleeved jacket which

she had already discarded and was carrying over her arm. She hoped

she looked cooler and more composed than she felt.

She heard Mr Philippides greet someone and turned slowly, her heart

thumping, to find she was confronting the man who had driven Alex's

car in London. He was grinning broadly and scooping their cases up

as if they were stuffed with thistledown, as he led the way to the exit.

Nicky ran ahead with Mr Philippides, but Harriet hung back, panic

chilling her, closing her throat. She tried to tell herself that it was

natural that a car should haye been sent for them, it was only common

courtesy. It did not—would not mean that anyone else was waiting

too.

But he was there. The area in front of the airport was a hive of

activity, but she saw him at once through the moving, talking hordes

of people. Her eyes sought him as if they were magnetised. He was

wearing dark glasses so she couldn't be sure whether or not he was

aware of her presence or not, but he couldn't be unaware of Nicky.

People turned smiling indulgently as the child squealed and ran full

tilt towards the tall man waiting by the car. Alex bent, lifting him,

swinging him off his feet while Nicky squealed again with delight.

Harriet's feet felt like -lead. She watched Mr Philippides reach them,

observed them shake hands. Her own hand felt damp and clammy and

she wiped it unobtrusively down the side of her skirt as she walked up

to the little group.

'Welcome to Corfu, Harriet.' His voice was formal, and so was the

smile which accompanied the words. Any expression in his eyes was

hidden by his glasses. 'Did you have a good journey?'

She said faintly, 'Yes, thank you.'

'I hope the remainder of it will be as pleasant. We have to cross the

island to reach my home.'

Harriet silently took her place in the back of the car, where Alex

joined her with Nicky, and Mr Philippides sat in front with the driver.

It wasn't the sort of limousine he had used in London, but a low-slung

sports-type saloon. As they threaded their way through the traffic

away from the airport, Harriet wondered if it ever got a chance to

demonstrate its full power on the crowded island roads. Glancing

around her as they drove, she thought she'd never seen as many

mopeds and scooters in her life, most of them carrying two laughing

if not very stable passengers. They were all so brown and apparently

carefree, she thought rather wistfully, considering the pallor of her

own skin, and she wished she was one of them, just another

anonymous "tourist with a hotel room and a budget.

She leaned back with a little sigh, stretching her legs out gratefully in

front of her. The plane had been comfortable but confining, she

thought, lifting a hand and rubbing the cramped muscles in her neck.

Aware of a movement beside her, she turned her head slightly and

realised Alex was looking at her, at the thrust of her breasts against

the silky top which her own action had revealed. Embarrassed, she

straightened almost violently tugging, as she did so, at her skirt which

had ridden up slightly over her knees. Alex made no comment, but

the lines beside his mouth deepened sardonically before he turned

away, giving his attention once more to Nicky, who was bombarding

him with not always intelligible questions and comments.

Harriet gazed determinedly out of her own window, struggling for

control of her hurried breathing. Then gradually the sights and scents

and sounds outside the car began to invade her consciousness like a

healing balm, and she started to relax. She could understand now why

some of the girls she worked with scrimped and saved all year for

their few weeks in the sun. It was all so incredibly, exotically

different. Heat, she had expected, and dust and rocks, but she hadn't

bargained for the frantic beauty of the flowering shrubs, pouring over

every garden wall and terrace.

Everywhere she looked there was colour, and even the sheltering

greenery had a more vibrant glow. The car turned a corner, and she

saw watermelons like great green globes, piled high at the side of the

road. For a moment she imagined she could smell them, their clean

fragrance invading the overriding smells of exhaust fumes and suntan

oil which the faint breeze brought dizzyingly through the open

window.

No one actually seemed to be doing any actual construction work, but

there were half-built houses everywhere, sometimes only a single

storey high, the exposed girders and rods giving them a vulnerable

almost skeletal look.

Feeling pressure against her, she looked down and saw that Nicky

was drooping wearily, struggling to keep his eyes open, and gently

she adjusted her position so that he could slide down putting his head

on her lap. She hoped he would sleep, if the car journey was going to

be a long one as she suspected it might be. She didn't want his arrival

at the Marcos' home to be marred by the kind of tantrum that tiredness

and over-excitement often inspired at his age.

Alex and Philippides were conversing softly in Greek, and half her

mind registered the unfamiliarity of the liquid cadences as she

watched the passing landscape.

The car was climbing now, the tavernas and the souvenir shops left

behind, and Harriet was looking at dark pools of olive groves in the

sharp decline of the valley beside the road. The air was clearer as they

got higher and the breeze held a hint of citrus. The road twisted and

almost turned back on itself as it fought the bleak terrain of the

hillside, and Harriet found herself trying not to care that the driver

hadn't slackened his pace at all, and very much trying not to notice

how stark the drop was becoming only a few inches from their

wheels.

Alex said, 'Relax—Stavros knows this road well.'

She jumped slightly, because she hadn't realised her tension was so

obvious.

She said stiffly, 'Well, let's hope anyone coming in the other direction

is equally well acquainted,' and heard him laugh softly.

'Concentrate on the view,' he advised mockingly.

His advice was worth taking. The hills ahead were grey and purple

against the unbroken blue of the sky, and deep shadows mottled the

valleys. Among the groves, she saw scattered houses with patches of

cultivations like wounds in the thrusting vegetation. Donkeys waited

in the shade, and tethered goats nibbled voraciously, lifting restless

inquisitive heads to stare as the car went by. The blare and bustle of

Corfu town behind them seemed a million miles away.

'And not a tourist in sight,' Harriet said, half to herself.

'Oh, they come here,' he said. 'But generally they're just passing

through to reach Paleo. This is one of the routes.' He saw her puzzled

look and explained, 'Paleocastritsa—it's a holiday resort now, but it is

still very beautiful. There is a monastery there too, which people like

to visit, with some famous icons.'

"Is it near your house?'

He shook his head. 'I live further along the coast—in a comparatively

secluded area,' he added, slanting her an ironic smile.

'Naturally,' she returned with equal irony. 'Do you have your own

beach as well?'

'Of a kind—not very large and rather rocky.' He paused. 'The descent

to it through the gardens is very steep—a mixture of a path and steps.

Nicos must not go down there alone, and I have already given orders

that a gate must be fixed at the top and kept bolted all the time.'

'Does that mean he can never go down to the beach?' Harriet asked in

slight dismay.

'Of course he may, if properly supervised, and the same rule must also

apply to the swimming pool.' He shot her a lightning glance. 'Can you

swim?'

'Of course.'

'Well enough to teach Nicos?'

'I think so,' she said. 'I had planned to take him to the local baths at

home, anyway. They run mother and child classes... .' she paused,

flushing abruptly as she met his sardonic look.

'At least you have been spared that,' he murmured.

The car was slowing and turning off on to a side road which seemed

to Harriet barely wide enough to accommodate it. Citrus orchards

pressed on both sides, and the silver glint of olive trees reached across

the road in places. And ahead of her, suddenly, she could see the

turquoise opalescent gleam of the sea, and she caught her breath. No

matter what problems might confront her when she arrived at the

house, nothing could detract from the lush appeal of the island's

beauty.

The landscape was beginning to change too, cultivation giving way to

rioting shrubs, blazing in pinks and crimsons and purples, and as the

car wove its way down a steep and winding hill, Harriet saw the sun

glinting off a wide expanse of green-tiled roof.It was like an English

garden, only in vivid Technicolor, she thought, • looking at the

enormous brilliantly green lawns, all with their sprinklers working

energetically. The air was heavy suddenly with the scent of roses, and

there were beds of them stretching as far as the eye could see, each

bush and tree almost bowed down with blossom, the vibrant colours

jostling for attention.

The villa itself was something of a surprise—not as palatial as Harriet

had vaguely imagined, but lower- built and more rambling, its

gleaming white walls hung with vines and creepers which wound

their way also round the elaborate wrought-iron of the first floor

balconies. In front of the big double doors, a fountain was playing—a

stone nymph smiling in remote mystery as she allowed the water to

cascade endlessly from the shell she held in her cupped hands.

Apart from the splash of the water, and the constant whirring of the

unseen cicadas, it was very still, and the warmth of the sun seemed

like a benison as it fell on Harriet's unprotected head.

She thought, 'How beautiful,' and tried to ignore the feeling of

apprehension that assailed her at the thought of what might await her

behind the cool privacy of those white walls.

She turned to get Nicky, but found Alex had forestalled her. He

already had the sleepy child in his arms, and was smiling down at him

as Nicky opened uncomprehending eyes and looked around.

The doors swung open, and Yannina appeared, beaming. 'Ah,
pedhi

mou!
' Alex swung Nicky to the ground, and he ran towards Yannina

with a chuckle of recognition.

Harriet tried to suppress the ignoble pang of jealousy deep within her.

She tried to tell herself robustly that it was all for the good, and that

the sooner Nicky settled in his new surroundings, the sooner she