The Enigmatic Greek (17 page)

E
LEANOR
stood at the window again, watching as Paul Marinos limped to the jetty between two men who helped him into a boat while Alex boarded his own. She watched both crafts roaring away across the sea then went to her room and sat down at the dressing table, to gaze into space for a while before drafting a note which took several attempts before she finally sealed it in an envelope.

She knuckled tears from her eyes, wrote Alex’s name on the envelope, then switched off her phone, collected her bags and carried them along to the lift to take down to the hall. Sofia objected strongly when she heard the
kyria
was leaving alone, but Eleanor explained why, as best as she could, and handed over the letter.

‘Give this to
kyrie
Alexei, please. Can Yannis take me over to Karpyros right away?’ she asked, suddenly so miserably unhappy, Sofia took her in her arms to pat her back soothingly before she went outside to call to her son.

Eleanor’s relief was intense when the plane took off on time from Crete. Normally she was uptight at take-off until the plane reached its altitude. But after a wait at the airport, wound tight as a coiled spring in case a furious Alex appeared at any moment, she leaned back in her seat as the plane began its climb, and finally began to relax. In spite of guilt about stealing away, she was utterly certain it was the right thing to do. She’d meant every word about her magical stay on Kyrkiros but, much as she would have liked to stay another day—and night—it was time to leave. Enchantment on an island in the sun was an experience she was passionately grateful for, but only a romantic fool would expect it to survive a transfer to the reality of daily life on her home ground.

Not that Alex was likely to track her down there. Instead of working in London for one of the major newspapers, as he probably believed, her job was actually on the features section of a provincial paper in a town a long way from the capital. She loved the town, and she enjoyed her job, but a hotshot journalist she was not. At least, not yet. Her aim had always been a post with a major London broadsheet, so as a step towards it her interview with Alexei Drakos would do wonders for her CV. She blinked hard. Lord knew, she’d earned it.

Eleanor’s parents were waiting for her at Birmingham airport to drive her to their retirement cottage near Cirencester. After the high drama of her stay on Kyrkiros, it
was restful to do nothing much at all for the entire time she spent there, other than give descriptions of all the islands she’d visited, eat her mother’s cooking and deal with the laundry she insisted on doing herself. Jane Markham was deeply impressed by Eleanor’s account of Talia Kazan and studied the photographs in wonder.

‘She’s hardly changed at all! Fancy you meeting her by chance. What’s she like?’

Eleanor was able to say, with perfect truth, that Talia Kazan’s personality was as lovely as her face. ‘An absolute charmer. She even managed to persuade her son to give me the interview Ross wanted.’

‘I read the article in the paper,’ said her father in approval. ‘McLean got it in pretty sharpish—I’ve kept it for you to see. This Alexei Drakos is a striking chap, from his photograph.’

‘Is he a charmer too?’ asked Jane, smiling.

‘Not quite the way I’d describe him, no, Mother. Too strong a personality.’

George Markham shot a look at her. ‘You didn’t like him?’

‘Actually, I liked him very much.’ This was such a lukewarm description of her feelings, she changed the subject by asking to see the paper, and found not only Alexei’s photograph above the article but her own face in miniature under the heading.

Eleanor arrived back at her desk at the
Chronicle
to an immediate summons from Ross McLean.

‘Thanks a lot, Markham!’ He brandished a London tabloid in front of her and jabbed a finger at the gossip column. ‘Explain this.’

To her horror Eleanor saw current photographs of Talia Kazan and Milo Drakos topping a piece headed:

‘Well?’ demanded Ross. ‘You were there, so you must have seen Talia Kazan. The article you wrote was dull stuff compared to this. Did you sell the information to this rag?’

‘I most certainly did not.’ Eleanor’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘The only way I could get the “dull stuff” you were so delighted about was to promise Alexei Drakos I would make no mention of his mother.’

‘So who the hell wrote this?’

‘No idea. There was a festival on the island with crowds of people. Anyone could have seen Talia Kazan and Milo Drakos, though they were never together in public.’

‘But you must have seen them!’

‘I met Ms Kazan, who invited me to sit with her party at the festival. In fact,’ she added fiercely, ‘She was the one who persuaded her son to give me the interview. He agreed on condition I made no mention of her, but if they read this rubbish they’ll think I broke my word.’

Calmer now, Ross eyed her speculatively. ‘Which matters a lot to you.’

More than he could possibly know. ‘Alexei Drakos said he’d sue the paper if his mother’s name appeared, which is quite funny if you think of it!’

‘Hilarious,’ agreed Ross, looking happier. ‘He can sue this tabloid as much as he likes. He gave me precise instructions
before he would give the go-ahead on the article, not least that charming portrait of you to go with it. I’ve sold the piece on, of course so, when you leave me one day for the metropolis, as I know damn well you intend, your face will be familiar to the London big boys.’

She sniffed. ‘You’ve never given me the honour before.’

‘I complied with Drakos’ demands. He expresses himself pretty forcibly, even by email. Good-looking bloke.’ Ross showed his veneers in a sly smile. ‘Did you like him?’

‘Yes, I did,’ said Eleanor briefly. ‘So, now you know I didn’t turn Judas on you, boss, when do you want the first of my travel articles?’

‘Today, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘With the photographs for the entire series.’

‘Right.’

Eleanor was glad to get busy, but felt as though a thick black cloud hung over her desk as she worked. She was only too pleased to get away from it for lunch with fellow female journalists, who praised her for the interview with Alexei Drakos, and commiserated about the tabloid article. Back at her desk, she got the first of her Greek travel articles out on deadline with the accompanying photographs, and worked hard on the rest. Ross had decided to feature them all week, with the Kyrkiros feature in the Saturday magazine as the finale, courtesy of the shots of the bull dance, which even Ross had to admit were fairly good.

‘Fairly good?’ snorted Sandra Morris, the health columnist. ‘They’re brilliant, El. You surpassed yourself.’

‘Good light in the Greek islands.’

‘Oh, come on, the dancers were shot by torchlight, by the look of it. What’s up? You haven’t been yourself since you got back.’

‘I’m a bit tired.’ And the role of Damocles was a strain. She kept waiting for the sword to fall on her neck.

By the end of the day, Eleanor persuaded herself that the tabloid article had probably slipped under the radar where Alex and his family were concerned. Talia was unlikely to buy the a tabloid, and since Alex and Milo were in Greece they probably wouldn’t have seen it either. Lord, she hoped not! When she got home to a warm welcome from Pat Mellor, they ate supper together and regaled each other with news of their respective holidays. Life, Eleanor felt, could now get back to normal, except for thoughts of Alex that kept her awake at night. And not just thoughts. To Eleanor’s utter dismay, her body yearned for the physical bliss of their love-making.

Mike Denny, cricket correspondent, gave her a nudge as he passed her desk next day.

‘Your presence is required, El.’

Eleanor looked up to see Ross beckoning from his office door, a look on his face which boded ill for someone; obviously her. She got up and joined him, smiling in polite enquiry

‘You wanted me?’

‘Shut the door,’ he snapped and sat down behind his desk. ‘Sit down.’

Ross McLean rarely invited reporters to sit unless he was firing them. Eleanor sat, resigned, waiting for the sword to fall.

‘This came from Alexei Drakos just now. Instead of shooting it to your inbox, I printed it.’ He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk.

‘He’s obviously read the tabloid article,’ said Eleanor when she could trust her voice.

‘He doesn’t say so. Imperious blighter, isn’t he? Well?’ added Ross. ‘Do I do as he wants?’

‘Not much choice, I suppose.’ She sighed, depressed. ‘Only make sure it’s my address here in Pennington. I don’t want him descending on my parents like a wolf on the fold.’

‘Right. Whatever you say.’ Ross eyed her with unusual kindness. ‘Better make sure you’re not alone when he calls to see you.’

‘He won’t come to
see
me. He’ll just blister my ears via the phone.’

‘Because he’s contacted the tabloid by now and found you don’t work there?’

She nodded miserably. ‘I sort of gave the impression that I’m based in London, so he’s going to be pretty furious when he finds I’m not.’

‘What exactly
were
you up to on your trip, Markham?’ he demanded. ‘Anything I should know about if he comes rampaging in here?’

‘I was doing the work I’m paid for,’ she said flatly, and got up. ‘Talking of which, I’d better get on.’

Ross got to his feet, his sharp-featured face deadly serious. ‘Look, if you need back-up of any kind just shout, Eleanor. The
Chronicle
looks after its employees, so refer Drakos to me if he cuts up rough.’

She smiled, touched. ‘Thank you.’

Eleanor got home late that night after hustling to meet her deadline, exhausted by the tension of expecting a phone call from Alex any minute. When Pat called as she was on her way upstairs, she was in no mood to chat.

‘Hold it, El.’

She turned, forcing a smile. ‘What’s up?’

‘I should be asking you that! You had a visitor an hour ago; a forceful gentleman who wanted to punch my lights out when I said lived here—with you.’ Pat grinned. ‘Had you deceived him, old thing? Told him I was a girl?’

‘Sorry to puncture your ego, Mellor, but I didn’t talk about you at all,’ Eleanor snapped, and sat down suddenly on one of the stairs. ‘What happened?’

Pat leapt up to sit beside her. ‘He ordered me to tell you he will be back. Sort of like The Terminator, only
much
better looking.’

Eleanor groaned, and leaned against Pat’s broad shoulder. ‘He wasn’t brandishing a newspaper, by any chance?’

‘No. I recognised him, though. He’s the Greek bloke you interviewed on your odyssey. I read the article. Did you sell your body to get the scoop or something? By the look of him it would have been no sacrifice— Oh God, El, I was joking! Don’t
cry
!’ Pat pulled her close and stroked her hair while she drenched his shirt with the first tears she’d shed since returning home.

After a while Pat pulled her to her feet and took her down to his kitchen. He sat her on a stool at the bar and mopped her face with kitchen towel before filling the kettle.

‘Coffee, tea or whisky?’

‘Better make it hemlock,’ she said thickly and scrubbed at her eyes.

‘No need to go overboard with the Greek thing, pet! You’ll settle for a nice cup of tea while you tell Uncle Pat all about it.’

Eleanor gave the bare bones of her tale as succinctly as possible, and even managed a laugh with Pat when it came to Alexei Drakos in possible litigation with the tabloid.

‘I bet your revered editor liked that bit! Though Drakos couldn’t do that, could he? Was there any libel in the article?’

‘No. Just speculation, really. Someone spotted Talia Kazan and her ex-husband on the island during the festival and sold the information to the highest bidder—which just happened to be the tabloid that’s an infamous purveyor of celebrity gossip. Alex will never believe I’m not the culprit,’ said Eleanor despondently.

‘“Alex”?’ said Pat, eyebrows raised.

She ignored him and took refuge in her tea.

‘Do you want something with that, love?’

‘Painkillers would be good.’ Eleanor gave him a watery smile. ‘Hope I haven’t wrecked your evening. Were you going out?’

He shook his head, grinning. ‘Which is damn lucky—I might have missed all the drama!’

She eyed him apprehensively. ‘When Alex said he’d be back, did he specify when?’

‘No—and I wasn’t brave enough to ask! But, if you want some support when he does, I’m your man.’

Eleanor chuckled and slid off the stool. ‘Thanks, friend, but I’m not afraid of Alexei Drakos.’

‘Good to know.’ Pat was suddenly serious. ‘I meant it, though.’

‘I know you did.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Goodnight.’

For Pat’s benefit, Eleanor marched upstairs like a soldier prepared for battle, but once she closed her bedroom door she leaned back against it, a hand across her eyes for a minute or two before making for the bathroom to swallow painkillers. She thought about making a meal but ran a hot bath instead. If her head hadn’t ached so much, she would have screamed in frustration when her doorbell rang almost immediately and she had to get out of the bath again to answer. She snatched up the intercom receiver, knowing the identity of her visitor without asking.