PAGAN ADVERSARY (21 page)

forward impetuously, but Harriet intervened, appalled.

'Oh—please!' She clutched at Spiro's arm. 'Please don't spoil my day.'

He paused, then shrugged almost sulkily, muttering something about

putting the car away. He walked round, slamming into the driver's

seat, and shot off with a screech of tyres that lifted a cloud of dust

from the drive.

Leaving Harriet alone with Alex.

It was a wide doorway. Three people could probably have passed in it

quite comfortably, yet his lean body seemed to be a sudden

impassable barrier.

She passed her tongue round dry lips and said, 'Would you—excuse

me, please.'

He said with ominous quiet, 'I wish to talk to you.'

'About Nicky.?' She stared at the ground. 'Oh, he's fine. We—we took

him to Paleocastritsa for the day. You were quite right—it is beautiful

there.' Aware that she was babbling, she allowed her voice to fade

into silence.

'Does Nicos invariably accompany you on your sightseeing tours

with my cousin?'

She was about to point out that this had been the one and only trip she

had made in Spiro's company, when a sudden gust of anger shook her.

After all, she was supposed to be a guest in this house, not a servant or

a prisoner. And no one was going to put Alex through a similar

inquisition about his activities in Athens, she told herself furiously.

She lifted her chin. 'Not always,' she said coolly. 'For instance, he

won't be going with us this evening when Spiro- takes me to dinner at

Nissaki. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should be getting ready.'

She expected him to move out of the way, but shewas wrong. The

dark head was flung back slightly, and his eyes glinted arrogantly at

her.

He said, 'But I do not excuse you anything, Harriet mou. And as it

seems you have become so prodigal with your kisses in my absence,

then the least you can do is welcome me as I would wish.'

His hands descended on her shoulders, pulling her inexorably

towards him, and his mouth ravaged hers with slow sensual expertise.

She clung to him, her fingers clenched round the soft folds of his

shirt. He needed a shave. His chin rasped against her skin and she

shivered, feeling her body dissolve in longing against his. When he

lifted his head, and that fiercely pagan sting of his fingers on her flesh

relaxed, a whimper of yearning—of protest that she could not control,

was torn from her tight throat.

He said softly, 'Now go to Spiro.'

She could not move. It was he who turned and went, leaving her alone

on the threshold.

It seemed very quiet suddenly, the air hushed and heavy with the

advent of evening, even the cicadas silent. All she could hear was the

splash of the fountain behind her, and she turned and looked at the

nymph, remote and smiling on her pedestal, and realised that she too

knew what it was to be turned to stone. But instead of the nymph's

distant, unearthly smile, on her face there would have been tears,

frozen there for all eternity. ...

THE heat was almost stifling, Harriet thought, lifting her hair away

from the .nape of her neck with a little sigh. The slight languid breeze

from the sea only stirred the air without cooling it, and each day

seemed more oppressive than the last.

But this, she supposed, was why most people came to Corfu for their

holidays—for the promise of this kind of brilliant, cloudless weather.

And if she herself were merely a holidaymaker, she would probably

be loving it too, she thought.

She had no right and little reason to feel so miserable, she told herself

over and over again. By anyone's standards, she could be said to be

having a wonderful time. Spiro had seen to that. She had explored the

island in his company, visited the town, seen the shrine of Saint

Spiridion in his own church where his mummified body reposed in a

silver coffin, driven round the streets in an open-air carriage trimmed

with bells behind a horse in a straw hat, watched cricket being played

on the dusty square on the Esplanade, and shopped for souvenirs in

the narrow crowded streets to the strains of the ever-present
syrtaki

music.

They had picnicked in coves, accessible only by boat, and Harriet had

had her first tentative lessons in water- skiing in the bay below the

villa, a smiling Andonis manoeuvring the boat while Spiro shouted

instructions from the stern.

Each night she went to her room healthily tired with sun, sea and

exercise, and each night she tossed and turned, unable to sleep,

because it was only when she was alone that she was able to think,

and the thoughts which came were as dark and oppressive as the

nights themselves.

Alex obsessed her. Since the evening of his return, she had gone to

great lengths to avoid being alone with him, but she couldn't ban him

from her waking dreams, and he was the reason she found sleep so

disturbingly elusive.

Not that he was so difficult to avoid during the day, she thought

bitterly. That sudden, wild blaze of passion might only have existed

in her imagination. Sometimes when she responded to one of his

coolly civil greetings, or met the indifferent arrogance in his dark

eyes, she thought perhaps she had invented the whole thing out of her

own hidden longings. And yet the bruises on her mouth which she

had had to disguise with cosmetics had been no mental fabrication.

They had been real enough, and she had been afraid Spiro would

notice and ask embarrassing questions. But if he was aware of the

swollen contours of her mouth, he neither commented nor teased, and

she was able to relax and enjoy her dinner.

The taverna he had taken her to was built on a concrete platform

which jutted out over the water, and coloured lights clustered in the

sheltering olive trees around its perimeter. They had eaten anchovies,

and tiny fritters of green pepper and aubergine, and chunks of lamb,

roasted with herbs. Later, lingering over coffee and liqueurs, they had

watched a string of lighted fishing boats making their way over the

tranquil waters.

Under Spiro's guidance, Harriet had learned to appreciate fully the

simplicities of Greek taverna food, and to enjoy being invited into the

kitchens to see what was being prepared rather than merely consult a

written menu.

'It's very different to the food at the villa,' she had commented once,

and Spiro had laughed.

'Alex's chef was imported from France,' he had pointed out, and she

had smiled back, reflecting ruefully that of course she should have

known.

The villa always ran efficiently, but when Alex was there, there was

an extra spark in the air, and standards generally peaked past their

already high level. He stalked through his domain, never missing a

detail, his every wish obeyed instantly, although Harriet had never

heard him raise his voice. In every area of life, he expected

compliance, and probably got it, she thought with a trace of

bitterness. Even Androula scuttled around with vinegary smiles when

he was around.

She had braced herself for the pain of seeing him with Maria—of

perhaps watching him wooing her, but at •least she had been spared

that. He was no more attentive to her than any host might have been

expected to be with a guest, and although Maria smiled and pouted

and beguiled whenever he was near, Harriet had once or twice

surprised a faintly chagrined expression on the other girl's face.

Perhaps she had expected pretty speeches, but if a marriage was being

arranged between them it would be on his terms and not hers, Harriet

told herself with unwonted cynicism.

Meanwhile all Alex's smiles, and any pretty speeches that were

going, were being devoted to Nicky. Since his arrival at the-villa, he

had hardly allowed the child out of his sight, playing with him,

spoiling him, carrying him off on his shoulders while" Nicky shouted

with excitement.

He was deliberately setting out to win him over, Harriet thought with

a pang, and that meant her days on Corfu were numbered.

There were no more formal playtimes with Madame Marcos. Alex

was there too, and the whole atmosphere was happier, more relaxed.

Without ceremony Alex picked Nicky up, putting him on to his

mother's lap, into her arms, and Harriet turned away, blaming herself

for being over-emotional as she saw the older woman's face soften

tremulously into pleasure.

Even Maria had the good sense to keep her real thoughts to herself,

and cooed and gushed whenever Nicky was in the vicinity.

Yet something told Harriet that Madame Constantis still had not

accepted that Nicky was now part of the household. Her attitude left

Harriet feeling both worried and bewildered in a way she could

hardly define. On the surface all seemed well. She even treated

Harriet herself with courtesy, if not actual enthusiasm, and raised no

overt objections to her going out with Spiro.

Yet even this was wrong, Harriet felt intuitively. Madame Constantis

was ambitious for her son, and Harriet was sure she hadn't totally

abandoned her plans to match him with Maria Xandreou. So why

didn't she exert her considerable authority to prevent him making

dates with Harriet, and encourage him to flatter Maria with his

attentions in the face of Alex's continued indifference? Why did she

pretend she didn't mind, because Harriet was ready to swear that she

minded like blazes, and she would have given a great deal to know

what was going on behind the acid smiles and the blank shuttered

eyes.

Particularly where Nicky was concerned. Harriet had never seen

Madame Constantis address him directly, or even look at him unless

she was obliged to, and her sister's softening towards the little boy

had made no difference in her attitude. If anything Harriet sensed a

hardening, and additional tension—but it was only a feeling, and

when she herself was so much on edge, it was fatally easy to read too

much into atmosphere.

Spiro had told her that his mother possessed an apartment in Athens

and a large house in the Pelopponese, to which she could return

whenever she wished, and Harriet could only hope for Nicky's sake

that it would be soon.

She could understand that Madame Marcos and her sister should wish

to cling to each other's companionship in their widowhood, but surely

the advent of her only grandchild had altered the need for such a

dependency? Perhaps Madame Constantis sensed this, and resented

it, because there was resentment, and Harriet knew it, although she

couldn't prove it.

Harriet sighed and changed her position slightly on her lounger, but

not too much because she had cautiously undone the top of her bikini

to allow her back to tan evenly. Alex and Spiro had gone fishing and

Nicky had gone with his grandmother to visit some friends so she had

the beach to herself.

She rested her cheek on her folded arms, feeling the drops of sweat

trickling down her forehead, and in the cleft between her breasts. The

sky seemed to be clamped over everything like a great brazen lid, and

she wondered incuriously whether there was going to be a storm. The

air seemed to have that brooding quality about it which a storm might

clear. At least she hoped so.

Only hopes, she thought. No certainties—about anything.

She wondered what would happen when she got back to London.

That was where she would go, of course. Alex probably wouldn't

remember he had guaranteed her employment after she left Corfu,

and she had no intention of reminding him. In fact it would be much

better if he forgot all about her existence, and she tried to forget about

his.

She sighed silently, thinking how much better even than that it would

have been if she had never seen him. She was in for a period of great

unhappiness, and there seemed no way she could avoid it. How many

nights would it take before she could fall asleep without remembering

that last merciless pressure of his mouth against hers, and without

hungering for his arms to hold her again even if it was anger rather

than passion which prompted him.

She pressed her fist against her mouth. It was never likely to be

passion. 'Go to Spiro', he had said, and his attitude since had merely

underlined his total indifference to her.

She could hear the sound of the boat's engine. They were coming

back, and she didn't want to face anyone at the moment. She

considered beating a hasty retreat up the path, then opted for