PAGAN ADVERSARY (12 page)

could be off to get on with her own life.

But what life? Her prospects seemed frankly bleak.

Mr Philippides had spoken of a job being found for her with the

Marcos Corporation, but this was the last thing she wanted. Her only

hope was to remove herself from Alex's aegis as promptly and

completely as possible. The thought of working for him in some

obscure section of his empire, of looking forward pitifully to some

annual visit where he might or might not remember who she was, was

an abhorrent prospect.

She almost started as his hand clasped her arm, urging her forward

inexorably towards the open front door.

Inside the villa, she was conscious of space and a blessed coolness

which her own rationality told her was air-conditioning. But the decor

added something, she thought, as she trod across cool marble floors

and looked round at vistas in airy pastels.

There were more double doors in front of her, and they were opening

too, and as she hesitated, swallowing nervously, Nicky wriggled free

from Yannina and ran back to her, sliding a confiding hand into hers.

She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze as they walked forward.

It was a large room, but its focus was solely the two dark-clad figures

waiting in the middle of it. Both Madame Marcos and her sister were

wearing black, like so many of the peasant women she had spied from

the car on the journey here, but their black had the sombre shimmer of

silk, and there was a proud glitter of diamonds at throat and wrist.

Their eyes glittered too, Harriet realised, with hostility. Two haughty,

inimical faces turned towards her.

She felt Alex's fingers tighten on her arm. He said coolly and

pleasantly, 'Mama—Thia Zoe, may I present Thespinis Masters, who

has brought Nicos to us from England.'

Madame Marcos' firm lips stretched in a travesty of a smile. But her

sister was not even prepared for that concession. She glared at Harriet

and said something low-voiced and undoubtedly venomous in Greek.

Alex's voice became more pleasant than ever. 'Perhaps we could all

remember that Harriet does not speak our language, and only talk in

English when she is present.'

Madame Marcos said stonily in perfect English, 'Welcome to our

house,
thespinis.
' She made it sound like an insult, but as her eyes

settled on Nicky they softened perceptibly, and Harriet fancied she

saw a sudden glint of tears, fiercely suppressed.

Nicky was hanging back, pressing himself against her leg.

Fierce-looking women dressed in black were something outside his

limited experience, and clearly that was where he preferred them.

Harriet tried to give him a reassuring smile, but his mouth was

already trembling.

Thia Zoe said, 'So this is Kostas' child.' Her accent was more strongly

marked than her sister's, and her voice grated slightly. Nicky began to

wail, and both the older women stared at him in a kind of dignified

amazement.

Yannina pushed forward. 'Pardon,
kyria,
but he is so tired, the little

one.
Po-po-po
—all that long journey in a plane! Why should he not

cry?'

She picked Nicky up and hugged him.

'He had better go to his room,' said Madame Marcos. 'You

also—Thespinis Masters. You have had a tiring journey. Alex, there

have already been telephone calls— one from Athens, one from

Paris. Perhaps you would deal with them.' The turn of her head away

from Harriet was a dismissal in itself.

Yannina said, '
Thespinis,
I will take the little one.' She hesitated. 'I do

not know which room you have been given, but Androula will show

you.' She nodded towards the elderly woman who had just joined

them, also wearing black but with a neat white apron denoting Jjer

inferior station.

Harriet turned almost thankfully back to the door. The room seemed

to have shrunk to a few square inches, hostility closing round her like

a vice.

Yannina's broad form was already disappearing up the stairs with

Nicky clasped firmly in her arms. Androula motioned Harriet to

follow with an expressionless, 'If you please,
thespinis.''

The stairs were also made of marble with a wrought- iron balustrade.

Harriet's heels clicked emptily as she mounted them. She felt empty

too. Her tentative smile at Androula had been met with a total blank,

the black eyes impassive as they met hers. There was no real enmity,

but she wasn't going out of her way to be friendly either. Clearly she

was taking her lead from the mistress of the house, Harriet thought

wryly.

Androula led the way along the gallery which looked down on the

entrance hall, and turned down a wide corridor, its smooth walls

interrupted at intervals by illuminated niches containing exquisite

antique pottery. Harriet would have liked to have lingered and

examined some of them more closely, but she told herself there was

plenty of time for that. Androula led her to a door at the very end of

the corridor and threw it open with less than a flourish.

'This is your room,
thespinis
,' she remarked. 'Your baggage will be

brought to you.' She gave a curt nod and whisked herself away,

leaving Harriet alone to stare round her new accommodation.

For a moment she thought there had been a mistake, or that Androula

had had a brainstorm and shown her into a cupboard, but a second

glance revealed that there was a bed duly made up, and a chest of

drawers and hooks behind the door for those of her clothes which

needed to be hung up. There was also, she realised, her temper rising,

one very small window up towards the ceiling height, and clearly it

had not been felt necessary to extend the air-conditioning towards

this particular room, because it was already like an oven.

If she hadn't felt so angry, she would have burst into tears.

She sat down limply on the edge of the bed. This, she supposed, was

the equivalent of the servants' quarters or possibly even a dressing

room, because she now realised that her bed was standing against a

door leading to the adjoining room. She tried it gingerly, but it was

securely locked, and there was no key to be seen anywhere. She

listened and thought she could hear, through the woodwork, Nicky's

clear high tones, and Yannina's low-pitched cheerful laugh as she

answered him, and guessed that she was next door to what passed for

the nursery.

She tried to tell herself that this was the room they assumed she

would have chosen, if she had been given a choice—the nearest one

to Nicky's, but it didn't sound convincing. If this particular room had

been at the opposite end of the villa entirely, it would still have been

allocated to her because it was intended as a snub, to show her quite

plainly how little she was wanted in this house, how little regarded.

The bed she was sitting on was hard and narrow, although she

supposed if it had been much wider, she would have had difficulty

opening any of the drawers in the chest, and the pillow, as she

touched it tentatively, felt as if it was stuffed with sawdust instead of

down.

She wondered drily whether she was supposed to protest, to rush

downstairs thoroughly miffed and demand to be returned to Britain

on the next available flight. She shook her head. She was here for

Nicky's sake, not for her own, so she would accept whatever

treatment was handed out without a murmur because at least she

knew it wasn't for ever. This rejection, this insult of a room would

make it all the easier to leave when the time came, she told herself

resolutely.

She decided to go next door and see Nicky, and as she opened her

door, she nearly fell headlong over her cases, which had been dumped

there without a word. Harriet set her jaw and lugged them into the

room. There was just enough room for the things she had brought,

and she was glad she had remembered her own dress hangers. It

would have been a minor defeat to have had to ask Androula for

some.

She had a smile firmly pinned on when she went into the next room.

Nicky, already in his pyjamas, was sitting at a special low table by the

window eating his way through fruit and yoghurt, fondly observed by

Yannina.

' Yasoo
, Nicos:' Harriet knelt beside him, accepting the piece of fruit

he judiciously held out to her.

'Ah!' Yannina sounded delighted. 'You learn our language,

thespinis?'

Harriet grimaced. 'A few phrases only,' she returned guardedly.

'Some words, Yannina, from a book I bought in London.'

'You will soon learn,' the other woman prophesied.

I shan't be around long enough for that, Harriet thought.

At least Nicky's room was a proper size, and beautifully cool. The

walls were washed in a clear blue, and painted with a frieze of toy

animals, and safety gates had been placed firmly across the french

windows leading to the balcony. There seemed to be numerous

brand-new toys about, and Harriet was relieved to see Nicky's rather

battered Paddington Bear leaning against the pillow in his cot. Stick

around, she addressed it silently, you could take lessons in hard stares

from the ladies I've just met!

While Nicky went on with his food, Yannina led her round, proudly

showing her where all his clothes had been put away. There were

more toys in a cupboard too, Harriet noticed. There was also a

bathroom, tiled in blue and white, which Harriet presumed she was to

share. She smiled brightly at Yannina and approved of everything

with a heavy heart.

However tired he might be, Nicky was determined not to go down

without a struggle. He turned sulkily away from Yannina, stretching

demanding arms towards Harriet, saying tearfully that he wanted a

story. It was half a dozen nursery rhymes and one and a half versions

of the Three Bears later when he finally consented to fall asleep.

As she turned away from the cot, Yannina shook her head at her.

'Ah,
thespinis,
you are so good with him. Good as his own mother,

may God rest her soul,' she added, crossing herself.

Harriet was suddenly close to tears again. It was the first time, she

thought, that she'd heard Becca referred to with kindness by anyone

even remotely connected with the Marcos family.

She said, 'Shall I stay with him for a while.'

'No,
kyria
.' Yannina showed her with pride the wall- mounted

microphone which would transmit Nicky's slightest cry to her own

quarters. 'It is the time of the evening meal. You will be awaited

downstairs.'

Harriet doubted that, but as she emerged from the nursery, it was to

see Alex striding down the corridor towards her.

She noticed that he was wearing a dinner jacket, and that he was

frowning heavily.

'What have you been doing?' he demanded. 'Dinner is being held back

for you. Did Androula not inform you?'

His eyes went over her impatiently, critically, assimilating her

crumpled, travel worn appearance, and Harriet smothered a sigh.

'I must have misunderstood,' she hedged. 'Was I supposed to change?

I—I've been settling Nicky for the night.'

The frown still lingered. 'Yannina was supposed to do that. It is, after

all, your first evening among us. You must not make the child so

dependent on you.'

'I'm sorry.' Harriet lifted her head defiantly. 'I thought I was merely

doing what was expected of me. If I'm to leave Nicky solely to

Yannina then there's very little point in my being here. Would you

like me to leave?'

His scowl deepened. 'Believe it or not, Harriet
mou,
I was thinking of

you. Perhaps I expressed myself badly. I only arrived back early this

morning, and I am still suffering a little from jet lag. Is Nicos asleep

now?'

She said, 'Yes.' Then, with an effort, 'His—his room is lovely. I

suppose your mother.

'No,' he said with a faint smile. 'I was responsible for it. Does that

surprise you?'

'A little,' she admitted.

'You thought perhaps that all I wanted was to win. That once I had

control of Nicos, I would lose interest in him.' He shook his head

slowly. 'How little you know of me!'

Perhapsk she thought, but even that little is too much for my peace of

mind.

She tried to smile. 'Well, I'm sure he'll be happy here. I'd better wash

my hands before dinner.'

Alex nodded abruptly. 'Come down as soon as you are ready,' he

directed.

She watched him walk away, wondering for the first time if he had