The Daughter of Night (23 page)

Vilma gave him a wry smile. 'But it was a good try, wasn't it? And I was going to be well paid for it if it came off.' Her eyes flicked to Hester. 'I told you I was a compulsive gambler, and when we'd worked out the scheme, all the details, it looked like a winner. Thanks,' as she took the cheque Demetrios had written and examined it. 'I'll give you no more trouble, either of you.'

'No, I don't think you will.' Demetrios' smile wasn't kind. 'I don't forgive or forget this sort of thing easily, not when it means unhappiness for my wife. Remember that, if you're ever tempted again—and also remember that your chance of finding another husband as rich as Sandros grows less every day. I think you should be looking to the future, because with luck, you stand a good chance of being a rich widow in ten to twenty years' time and it would be a pity to spoil that promising future. Uncle Sandros has that villa up on the Halkidiki peninsula, he likes it there, far better than living in London or Athens—he likes to take his boat and do a bit of fishing. I think that's where you should go, and settle down to a peaceful life. He thinks the world of you and he won't care a bit if you get fat or your hair goes white. I shall call on you there in October and I hope I will find you both very happy and contented.'

'You weren't very kind.' Vilma had gone, after finishing her tea, and Hester was once more alone with her husband. 'Vilma told me you could be cruel, something to do with the Turkish blood in you—but to practically banish her and then to suggest she might get fat—that was definitely a blow beneath the belt! Is your uncle retiring?'

'Yes,' Demetrios scowled. 'He's tired of boardroom meetings—of waving the big stick—of, as he says, fronting the company. He says it's time I did my own job instead of leaving it to an old, tired man. He wants to go fishing.'

'Fronting the company?' Hester was mystified.

'Mmm.' Demetrios came to sit on the arm of her chair, lifted the cream boater from her head and skimmed it across to fall on the teapot. 'He's been doing it since my father died; in those days, he looked so much better at the job than I did—a big bull of a man, whereas I was a callow youth. I didn't have the right appearance, I didn't know enough and I was a bit of a playboy. I'm afraid it will mean a bit more travelling, will you mind that?'

'N-no—' Hester hesitated. 'I don't think I'll mind anything now. I wanted you to love me, but I also wanted you to trust me. We started off on the wrong foot, remember, and I thought you didn't—trust me, I mean, but now I know you do. You told me this afternoon without words.'

'You're learning, my darling.' He pulled her closer and one hand stroked her rich hair. 'Words are clumsy things at best except in the hands of a poet, and I'm no poet, I can only quote, and sometimes I don't get that right. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day, Thou art more lovely and more temperate", with the accent on "temper" of course.'

'Ta very much!' she snorted. 'But you do understand, don't you? You said I hadn't to be like that Nemesis woman. We didn't do much Greek mythology in the school I went to, so I looked her up. She was always after vengeance and retribution but I didn't feel that way about Vilma. I wasn't being vengeful when I asked for that money. If it hadn't been for Flo, I'd never have bothered with her at all—she means nothing to me.'

'Flo?'

'Mmm.' She raised her head to look at him. 'My foster-mother. She's very ill, and Mia—that's my foster-sister—she and I were at our wits' end. Mia'd found this doctor with a clinic in Switzerland…' Quietly, Hester went on with the sad little story. 'So you see,' she finished, 'there wasn't any revenge about it, we just needed the money.' Her lips curved in a reminiscent smile. 'I wanted to ask for twenty-five thousand, that would have given Flo fifty weeks, but Mia said I was pushing it, so we settled on twenty thousand. And don't think badly of Mia, she didn't like it much. It was all my idea.'

'Didn't I tell you words aren't necessary.' Demetrios put his arm about her shoulders and tightened it into a hug while he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 'Within twenty minutes of meeting you, I knew you had a good reason for wanting so much money, and I also knew that one day you'd tell me what it was—the day you decided to trust me.'

'The
day you
decided to trust
me
!' she corrected.

'And do you think I'd have handed over the care of my daughter to a woman I didn't trust?' He raised an eyebrow. 'You're exceptionally dim about some things, my sweet. Now, let me see if I get the same answer this time,' and he reached for the calculator and started punching the buttons.

'Men and their toys!' Hester scoffed. 'There's nothing that thing can do that I can't, given a pencil, a piece of paper and time.'

'You think not?' Demetrios' eyes gleamed at her while his mouth curved in an aggravating smile. 'How long have we been married? Ten weeks, isn't it? My calculator says you're pregnant.'

'Bosh!' she retorted. 'There must be something wrong with it, perhaps its little silicon chip's been chipped, or you could have been pressing the wrong buttons. If I was, I'd know, although I admit I'm not genned up on that sort of thing.' She looked up at him pertly. 'I suppose you are?

'That's a blow beneath the belt,' he reproved her. 'I admit only to knowing far more now than when I was a young man in Cyprus, but
not
from any personal experience.'

Hester ignored him; her mind had gone off on to another tack. 'Vilma said you were a besotted husband,' she made the remark in a dreamy voice. 'I rather like that idea.'

'But I don't like the word.' He put his arm about her waist and heaved her to her feet. She retrieved her hat from the teapot and together they went out to the lift where, once inside and the door closed on them, he imprisoned her with a hand on either shoulder.

'Besotted isn't a nice word when applied to me. It makes a man sound like mush.' His mouth found hers and reduced her to a willing pulp. 'Now it's all right for you to be mushy about me,' he told her when he raised his head. 'That's just as it should be. For instance…'

'Give me a "for instance",' she murmured softly.

The lift stopped with a bump, the door slid open and he shook his head ruefully. 'Not now, there may be somebody watching, we'll wait till we get home.'

Because Katy wasn't at home, there was no need for such an early breakfast, and Hester turned over lazily at half past eight to find Demetrios placing a cup of tea on the bedside table. Her eyes slid over him with pleasure—good to look at, and all hers—she closed her eyes again tightly with joy.

'Don't pretend.' He leaned over and kissed her. 'I know you're awake. Drink your tea while I deal with the post. Hmm,' he riffled through the small sheaf of envelopes. 'Mostly circulars—there's one for you, though.'

'One for me?' She sat up in bed instantly and held out her hand. Only one person would be writing to her here—Mia, and for Mia to have sent her a letter meant news of Flo. The letter felt cold and ominous when he put it in her hand and she raised apprehensive eyes to him.

'Open it for me and read it, please,' she muttered over the sick feeling in her stomach. 'It'll be from Mia, about Flo. Oh, I
knew
I shouldn't have gone out yesterday, she must have been phoning all afternoon…'

'Stop getting hysterical!' His sharp tone cut through her babblings and she waited silently while he slit the envelope, read the letter and the enclosure which was typed on thick white paper. Finally he pushed both into her hands. 'See for yourself,' he advised. 'To me it sounds promising.'

The phrases sprang out at her from the typed sheet. 'No further deterioration'—'Cautious hope'—'optimism'—and the room swam around her as she sighed with relief and started reading Mia's covering note while Demetrios dealt with the remainder of the mail, among which was a small, thickly padded envelope. He opened it and put a cottonwool wrapped package in her lap. She raised her eyes from Mia's hasty scrawl.

'What's this?' she enquired.

Quietly he took the letters from her and putting a finger under her chin, tilted her face up. 'Ten weeks ago, outside your bedsitter, we both of us behaved badly. Me, because I was jealous and you because you were hurt. I want to wipe out that memory and this is the only way I could do it. Will you be equally generous, Hester?'

She unwrapped the cotton wool and looked down at her leaves, repaired and re-plated—as good as new, and this time the tears rose to her eyes and she let them fall, to roll down her cheeks.

'Who's being generous?' she growled. 'I was a perfect pig.' She lifted a hand and wiped her wet face with the back of it. 'Please keep loving me, darling,' she whispered, 'don't ever stop.'

'I couldn't if I wanted to.' There was no laughter in his eyes, they were dark and serious. 'It's a life sentence, my love. I'll do it until the day I die.'

Hester's reply was never uttered; with a convulsive gasp, she sprang out of bed and grabbed for her gown. 'I think your damn calculator could be right after all!' she gasped as she fled to the bathroom and shut the door firmly on Demetrios' whoop of triumphant laughter.