PAGAN ADVERSARY (16 page)

But let me assure you that my—companions of the night have all

been women and not immature children incapable of knowing their

own minds—or their own bodies. Does that satisfy you?'

Harriet felt as if she had been slapped across her face.

In a thickened tone, she said, 'Perfectly. Now, if you would be good

enough to call your housekeeper, I'd rather like to get dressed.'

The dark eyes swept her lightly covered body with casual lack of

interest, then Alex lifted one shoulder in a shrug which told her quite

explicitly, without any further words being needed, that it would

make no difference to him if she were stark naked.

Theft he turned, and she heard the sound of his stride taking him

across the room, and the distant slam of the bedroom door.

Harriet sank back against the cushions, staring unseeingly in front of

her as the glorious view dissolved into a thousand shimmering

fragments. Convulsively she closed her eyes, refusing to let the

painful tears fall.

Only a few moments ago she had thought she was in paradise. Now

she knew to her cost just how bitter paradise could be.

BY an almost superhuman effort, Harriet was still managing .to

control her unhappiness when a frankly sulky-looking Androula

came to fetch her a few minutes later.

Hardly had they left Alex's room when the woman began to chatter in

her own language. Harriet couldn't understand what was being said,

but she could recognise recrimination and self-justification when she

heard it. It was. obvious Androula had received a tongue-lashing

from the master of the house over the standard of the accommodation

assigned to his guest, and Harriet guessed wryly that a rough

translation of Androula's remarks would have amounted to the fact

that she was only obeying orders.

The room she was taken to was only slightly smaller than the one she

had just left, and lacking nothing in' luxury. When Androula had

taken her still-aggrieved departure, Harriet discovered that her

clothes had already been brought and unpacked for her. It was such a

contrast to the treatment she had received the previous day that she

could almost have laughed out loud.

That is if she hadn't been feeling so miserable, she amended inwardly.

But she wouldn't have been natural if she hadn't experienced some lift

of the heart brought about by her new surroundings. She took a long,

warm, scented bath, then dressed in cool, simple clothes—a cotton

wrap- round skirt featuring giant poppies on a navy background, and

a navy cotton tee shirt, short-sleeved and scoop-necked.

She was stroking a brush through her hair when there was a knock at

the door, and a beaming Yannina ushered Nicky into the room.'Oh.'

Harriet dropped the brush and held out her arms to him. 'I was just

coming to find you.'

He scrambled on to her lap, burying his face in her shoulder. 'I find

you,' he said in a muffled voice.

'He slept well,
thespinis
,' Yannina informed her. She shook her head.

'But he would eat no breakfast.'

'Oh, Nicky!' Harriet gently detached his clinging hands. 'You must eat

your meals.'

The small face was mutinous. 'Don't want it,' he muttered. 'Too hot.

Don't like it.'

'Just wait a day or two,' Harriet soothed him. 'It will seem as if you've

been here all your life. We're going to have a wonderful holiday—a

lovely time with Uncle Alex. You'll see.'

She had to resist the impulse to hug him to her fiercely. This was all

part of the letting-go process she was committed to. It had to be. But it

would be so easy to play the traitor—to encourage Nicky in his

quibbles about his new surroundings, to re-establish herself as the

indispensable factor in his life. It would be easy— and balm for the

ache inside her. But in the end, what would she gain?

Yannina was intervening, smiling again. 'Come, little one. Kyrios

Alexandros is waiting to see you. We must not keep him waiting.'

God forbid, Harriet thought savagely, picking up her brush and

attacking her unfortunate hair as if it was a dirty carpet.

She said, 'I'll see you later, Nicky. Perhaps we'll have a swim in the

pool, hm?'

Nicky assented cautiously, and went off hand in hand with, Yannina.

As the door closed behind them, Harriet expelled her breath on a little

sigh as the unnaturally bright smile faded from her lips. Oh God, the

next few weeks were going to be so hard—worse than her most

pessimistic imaginings. The gradual parting from Nicky would have

been bad enough alone, without this foolish, ill-judged passion which

Alex had engendered in her, and the overt hostility from the Marcos

women.

She supposed reluctantly that as the morning was half over, it was

more than time she presented herself downstairs. She rose and looked

at herself critically in the mirror, fiddling with the sash tie of her skirt,

and an errant tress of hair. But she was simply procrastinating, she

knew, and there was no point in trying to present herself as some kind

of fashion plate when, to the women downstairs^ she would never be

anything more than Nicky's poor relation.

She was able to take in more of her surroundings in the warm, golden

light of day, and she found the cool, spacious layout of the villa very

much to her taste, accented as it was towards simplicity, the walls

washed in plain colours, and natural fibres used alongside stone and

wood.

When she arrived in the hall, all the doors opening from it were shut,

and the place seemed deserted apart from one maid sweeping the

floor. When she saw Harriet, the girl propped her broom against the

wall and gestured that Harriet should accompany her, leading the way

towards the room where Madame Marcos had received her the

previous evening. Harriet wiped the suddenly damp palms of her

hands down her skirt, tension filling her at the prospect of another

inimical encounter, but when the door swung open there was only Mr

Philippides, putting down the newspaper he had been glancing

through and rising to meet her with a broad smile.

'Kalimera
, Thespinis Masters,' he greeted her. 'I am so glad to have

this opportunity to say goodbye to you before I return to London.'

'You're going back?' Harriet was dismayed. Mr Philippides was the

closest she had to an ally in the house, apart from Yannina, and she

had hope he would be there to help her through the first awkward

days.

'I must,
thespinis
.' Perhaps Mr Philippides sensed her disquiet,

because he looked at her sympathetically. 'Ihave meetings

planned—business to transact which has already had to be delayed.'

'I didn't realise you'd made a special journey to escort us here,' Harriet

said slowly. 'I—I'm sorry to have put you to so much trouble.'

'No trouble, but my pleasure, Thespinis Masters. You and the little

Nicky will be safe and happy here in the care of Kyrios Marcos. It is a

beautiful house,
ne?'

'Very beautiful,' Harriet acknowledged woodenly. 'But at the same

time I think it was a mistake for me to come here. Would—would

there be room on your flight for me, do you suppose?'

Mr Philippides gave her a shocked glance. 'You distress me,

thespinis.
It would be an insult to Kyrios Marcos to leave so soon.' He

paused, and gave an almost furtive look round to ensure that they

were not being overheard. 'If you are disturbed by the coolness of

your reception by Madame Marcos and Madame Constantis—this I

can understand. It is very difficult, but I am sure that if you

are—patient, then the situation will improve.'

'Thanks for the reassurance,' Harriet said caustically. 'I'm glad you

understand what's going on, because I certainly don't. And if his

mother and his aunt have these sort of feelings, then perhaps Mr

Marcos should think again about bringing Nicky up here.'

Mr Philippides sighed. 'You—and the child, Thespinis Masters—are

a reminder of an unhappy time in their lives. It will take time, but the

ladies' attitude will mellow, I am sure. Or at least towards the little

Nicos,' he added with a slightly apologetic note in his voice.

And, jf it ever mellows towards me, it isn't too important, because my

stay here is only temporary anyway, Harriet supplied wryly and

silently.

Aloud she said, 'But why do they fee 1 like this, Mr Philippides, do

you know?'

He looked instantly embarrassed, moving his shoulders defensively,

and murmuring something about a private family matter, but Harriet

was unconvinced.

Their dealings in London had shown her that Mr Philippides enjoyed

a high degree of Alex Marcos' confidence, and there wouldn't be

many family secrets kept from him. But such trust implied an equal

amount of discretion, Harriet realised with a little inward sigh.

Whatever secret had poisoned Kostas' relationship with his family,

and still shadowed his memory, it was a mystery from which she was

excluded.

And yet for Becca's sake, and perhaps more importantly for Nicky's,

she felt it was something which should be solved. Yet not, she

thought regretfully, through the agency of Mr Philippides.

She thanked him colourlessly for all his help in escorting her to

Corfu, and for his kindness to them both, and said a quick goodbye,

escaping out through the patio doors because she could hear female

voices approaching through the hall.

Coward, she apostrophised herself when she was safely out of sight

of the villa. You should have stayed and faced them, and demanded

an explanation. She smiled then ruefully, trying to imagine anyone

demanding anything of the stately Madame Marcos. Oddly enough,

she thought, it was the vindictive-seeming Madame Constantis who

seemed the less formidable of the pair, perhaps because her hostility

was so open. Under Madame Marcos' cool civility, Harriet had

detected something implacable and chilling. Perhaps Alex hadn't

inherited all his ruthlessness from his father.

She stopped and looked round her almost curiously, as if it had

suddenly occurred to her just how alien this environment was from

any experience she had ever had. She liked flowers. She had always

kept plants in her room at home, but there wasn't one brilliant shrub

thrusting its way out of the raw-coloured earth that she could have put

a name to. It was all new and strange, and she was alone in the midst

of it.

She felt the strength of the sun beating down on her, and suddenly

shivered as if a cold wind had blown on her, or an unknown hand

touched her shoulder. Harriet reached for the bottle of oil and began

to smooth another coating over her legs. Her tan was coming along

nicely—even and golden brown, but that, she thought drily, was

hardly surprising as she had little to do but work on it over the past

two weeks.

For the first few days of their stay, Nicky had been querulous, shy of

the new faces and unaccustomed attention, and fractious because of

the heat and change of diet. Harriet had been able to feel that her

presence at the villa was at least justified, but now she was not so

sure. Nicky had begun to turn more and more to the devoted Yannina

for his needs, and Harriet had realised ruefully that much of the time

he was hardly aware if she herself was there or not. But she couldn't

blame him if that was so, she kept reminding herself. That, after all,

was the whole purpose of the exercise, and it seemed that Nicky's

settling down process was going to be more painless than they could

ever have hoped or anticipated.

But when she had suggested quite diffidently to Alex that this might

be a good time to take her departure, she had received a brisk rebuff.

Nicky, his uncle thought, was merely charmed by the novelty of his

surroundings and Yannina's uncritical solicitude. Sooner or later the

novelty would wear off, and Harriet's presence would be necessary to

him again.

Harriet had attempted to argue the point, spurred on by her own

private reasons for not wishing to remain on Corfu a day longer than

she had to, but Alex had only grown coldly angry.

'I thought that you were devoted to Nicos' well- being, or so you

would have me believe when we met in London,' he said with icy

sarcasm. 'Why are you now so ready to shirk your responsibilities?'

Harriet gasped. 'I'm not shirking anything,' she responded warmly. 'I

simply don't feel I'm fulfilling any real purpose by remaining.'

'You will kindly allow me to be the judge of that.'