'Like something to drink?' he asked.
'Just some orange juice, thanks,' she said.
He handed her a tall glass, beaded with moisture.
'Cheers!' he murmured, clinking his own glass against hers. 'Now come on, smile. You're not going to let the vultures defeat you at the first encounter, are you?'
Kate gave a tremulous grin.
'Oh, Philip, that man was so horrible!' she exclaimed. 'He said such dreadful things about me and none of it was true. You don't really think all that stuff will appear in the media, do you?'
'Well, if it does, we won't be taking any notice of it,' said Philip firmly. 'I'll tell Giorgos that he's only to use the radio for weather forecasts. And, apart from that,we're going to stay strictly incommunicado for five or six days.
We'll just go to one of the islands and forget that the rest of the world exists.
How does that sound?'
'It sounds utterly blissful,' agreed Kate wistfully.
It was blissful. The weather was perfect, and the yacht's powerful engines sent it skimming over the water like a bird. Philip told Giorgos to set a
course for the island of Thasos, and when they reached it they anchored in a quiet cove to the east of Mount Ypsari. They spent the days sunbathing, or snorkelling in the vivid blue waters, and at night they sat out on the deck, gazing at the stars. There were meals at the little tavernas in the port of Potamia Skala and invigorating runs along the beach at Khrysoammoudio.
And on one memorable occasion they simply stayed in bed all day, emerging at nightfall only for a bathe in the jacuzzi, followed by a lavish dinner.
Kate used roll after roll of film, trying to capture the sparkle of the royal blue water, the dazzling white houses, the play of the light on the landscape. And of course there were photos of her and Philip too. Philip in fins and bathing-suit, sitting on the gunwale of the yacht, with his mask and snorkel pushed up over his wet curly hair and his white teeth gleaming. Photos of her, lying on a towel in a jade-green bikini with her nose bright with zinc cream and a lurid paperback open in her hands. There was even one daring photo of the two of them in the jacuzzi, both topless, and sensually embracing each other among the swirling bubbles.
'What on earth are you going to do with all these photos?' asked Philip as she set the automatic timer mechanism on her camera and slipped into the water beside him.
'Well, we could use them for advertising,' she suggested teasingly, winding her arms around his neck and smiling brilliantly as the camera flashed.
'Not this one!' retorted Philip, caressing her bare nipples with his fingertips.
'This one is strictly for private viewing only.'
'Mmm. Oh, Philip, that feels wonderful. I wish this holiday would never end!'
But it did end, of course. On the fifth day in Thasos they woke to find rain pattering dismally on the deck and grey scarves of cloud trailing in the sky overhead.
'What do you think?' asked Philip, turning up the collar of his yellow rain-slicker. 'Home?'
'Home,' confirmed Kate gloomily. 'Back to the paparazzi and Irene out after my blood.'
'Don't worry,' said Philip, dropping a lingering kiss on her damp curls.
'Things are sure to have improved by the time we get back.'
But they hadn't. When they finally came ashore at Ayios Dimitrios there was somebody waiting for them in the shelter of a large umbrella on the jetty. Kate's heart skipped a beat as she recognised Dorothea Zografou. But what on earth could be so urgent that it would make the deputy manager stand out in the pouring rain to meet them? Philip must have been thinking the same thing, for he was out of the speedboat before Giorgos had even finished making it fast to the jetty. Kate scrambled up the steps after him and saw that Dorothea had handed him a folded newspaper with large black headlines on the front page.
Stepping hesitantly between them, Kate looked down at the paper which was clutched in Philip's tense brown hands. The name Andronikos leapt out at her, but her Greek was not good enough to make out the rest.
'What does it say?' she demanded.
Philip's face was like a stone mask. He stared at the newspaper in disbelief, then tore it violently into halves and then quarters. Finally he walked across the jetty and flung it into a rubbish bin. Kate clutched his arm and shook him.
'What does it say?' she insisted. Philip started slightly as if he were coming out of a trance. Then he passed one hand over his eyes, wiping away the rain that blurred his vision. 'It says "ANDRONIKOS FACES RUIN",' he replied grimly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'WELL, come on,' said Dorothea practically. 'There's no sense standing around in the rain any longer. I just wanted to make sure I caught you before you disappeared to your own house. But what we need now is some action.'
Philip sighed and nodded.
'Have you got all the information I'll need?' he asked wearily.
'Up at my house,' agreed Dorothea with a flourish of her umbrella. 'Come on.'
Five minutes later they were sitting in Dorothea's living-room. Her house was a new one, built as part of the hotel complex and situated conveniently close to the main reception building. But it had the traditional features common to all the Hotel Ariadne buildings, and Kate found it difficult to believe that she wasn't cosily holed up in some remote mountain village. A fire crackled in the grate, woven rugs in shades of black and burgundy glowed against the whitewashed walls and a dull gold icon of the Virgin Mary hung in pride of place on one wall. But there was nothing cosy about the newspapers which lay scattered across the carved wooden dining table.
Two or three of them were in English, and their headlines leapt out ominously at Kate.
'heiress jilts greek playboy!'
'andronikos on the rocks?'
'love and ruin for greek hotel developer'
'What is this nonsense all about?' demanded Philip irritably, gesturing at the offending pile of papers.
'It sounds as if it's more than just nonsense, unfortunately,' retorted Dorothea. 'But take your wet things off first, Philip, and then I'll tell you what's been happening while you've been gone.'
Dorothea whisked away their wet rain-slickers, only to return a moment later with towels and a tray containing ouzo and three glasses. While they dried their hair she poured out three generous tots of the clear, sticky liquid.
'Yasas!' she said, lifting her glass.
'Ya!' they replied.
Kate choked as the fiery aniseed liqueur ran down her throat, but Dorothea and Philip looked as indifferent as if they were drinking water.
'Well, what's it all about?' demanded Philip.
Dorothea sighed.
'There are two separate stories,' she said succinctly. 'The first one is that Hristos Hionides has died and now his executors are threatening to call in the mortgages.'
Philip said nothing, but his hand tightened convulsively over his glass.
Without knowing why, Kate felt a sudden chill of dismay run through her body.
'What does that mean?' she demanded.
'It means that I'll have to find a new financial backer for the hotel or I may go bankrupt,' replied Philip icily, his gaze still trained on Dorothea's face. 'But never mind that now. What's the other story that the papers are running, Dorothea?'
Dorothea winced.
'Without wanting to sound melodramatic,' she murmured, 'I'd say it's Irene's revenge. I don't know exactly what did happen after you left the village last week, but Irene's story is certainly a vivid one, and she's spread it around every second-rate newspaper and magazine in Europe. According to her, she came to your house unexpectedly, found you in bed with an Australian
actress who stars in pornographic movies and promptly broke off her engagement to you.'
Philip made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
'How could she be so spiteful?' he protested. 'It's ridiculous! Outrageous!'
An icy feeling of shock and dismay ran through Kate, and she f
elt her legs suddenly buckle beneath her. With a low gasp, she sank into a chair.
'Kate!' cried Philip. 'Don't take it so much to heart. Nobody believes the stuff they print in those dreadful rags!'
Her face was ashen pale, and he crouched beside her and chafed her cold fingers.
'Get her some more ouzo, Dorothea!' he ordered with a swift glance over his shoulder.
Dorothea came back immediately with a full glass, but by now Kate's hands were shaking so much that she couldn't keep a grip on it.
'I just can't believe anybody would say such awful things about me!' she said through chattering teeth.
'Ssshh. Now, now,' murmured Philip, holding the glass to her lips. 'It's not the end of the world, you know. And it's only because you're such an innocent that it shocks you so much. You should read some of the things they've written about me in the past! But the only thing to do is ignore it. The journalists will have their claws into somebody else by next week. What really worries me is this stuff about Hionides. Are you sure the report about his death is true, Dorothea?'
Dorothea nodded. 'I can't vouch for the statements about the mortgages, though,' she said. 'His solicitors refused to speak to me on the phone.'
Philip's lips met in a grim line.
'Then I'd better telephone them myself,' he said.
He paused to caress Kate's cold cheeks and smooth her damp curls back from her face.
'Will you be all right if I go and make a phone call?' he asked.
'Yes,' said Kate through frozen lips.
Dorothea ushered Philip out of the room and Kate was left alone to brood.
She felt as shaken as if somebody she loved had just died. How on earth could she ever go out in public again if people were saying such dreadful things about her? But after a few moments she stopped thinking about herself and thought about the other half of Dorothea's news. What would it mean for Philip if the mortgages really were called in? Hadn't he said something about going bankrupt? She must get control of herself, try to offer him some support. But when the door opened again and she saw his face she could not banish the tremor from her voice.
'Is it true, then?' she asked in dismay.
'Yes!' he snapped. 'The executors to the will have foreclosed on the mortgages.'
His face looked as if it had been carved out of solid granite, with his features set in lines of pure fury and his dark eyes glittering with determination. Kate felt a tremor of fear resonate through her. She was only glad that Philip's rage was not directed against her.
'But why did they do it?' she demanded in bewilderment.
'Goodness knows,' retorted Philip, 'unless Hristos's heirs have decided they'll try and send me bankrupt so that they can buy the Hotel Ariadne for a song. But if that's their game I'll make them wish they'd never tried it!
Dorbthea, tell Yannis I want a car ready in half an hour.'
'W-where are you going?' stammered Kate.
'To Thessalonfki,' replied Philip. 'I need to see my lawyers and accountants.
If I don't find another financial backer within the next two weeks I can kiss the Hotel Ariadne goodbye!'
Kate stared at him, aghast.
'But that means--'
'It means the end of everything I've spent my life working for!' he agreed savagely.
Then to Kate's astonishment he suddenly laughed.
'Except that it won't come to that!' he vowed. 'I've outwitted people who've tried to ruin me in business before, and I dare say I'll do it again. Come on, Katarina! Stop moping around like a pile of wet rags and come and help me pack!'
Half laughing, half crying, Kate found herself dragged out of Dorothea's house and up the path towards Philip's own villa.
'You know, you baffle me, Philip,' she complained as they crunched through the wet gravel to the huge front door.
'Oh, in what way?' demanded Philip, turning the key in the lock.
'Well, look at you!' replied Kate, propelling him across to the enormous gilt mirror that hung on one wall. 'Everything is going wrong all around you and yet you've got a spring in your step, your voice sounds lively and cheerful and you were actually whistling as we came up the driveway. Anyone would think you were enjoying yourself!'
Philip threw back his head and laughed. A rich, resonant sound. Then his hand reached out and touched her cheek. His eyes kindled as he looked at her.
'Do you know, I think I am?' he said softly. 'There's nothing I like better than a good fight, and what could be more worth fighting for than this? The woman I want to marry and the home I want to live in?'
He drew back the hood of her yellow oilskin and touched her tumbled auburn curls. Without warning his lips came down on hers in a long, bruising kiss that left her shaken and speechless. Her heart pounded as he released her, and a flood of emotion swept through her.
Words failed her and she could only gaze at him, mute with longing.
'Well, will you marry me even if I go broke?' he demanded harshly.
She found her voice.
'Philip, I'd marry you if you were a beggar,' she replied earnestly.
'Well, that's settled, then,' said Philip, clapping her briefly on the shoulders.
'Now I must go and pack. There's just one other thing, Katarina.'
'Yes?'
'Why don't you move in here while I'm gone? At least you'll have the fences to keep out reporters, and I'd like to think of you being in my home.'
'All right,' replied Kate. 'I'd like that too.'
'But don't under any circumstances let any reporters in,' warned Philip.
'I won't,' shuddered Kate. 'But don't stay away too long.'
'A week at the most,' promised Philip. 'The time will fly.'
But the time didn't fly. It dragged agonisingly. The bad weather, having once set in, seemed determined to stay. Each morning Kate woke to the noise of dripping rain, and the skies outside were grey and cloudy. Chill winds swept down from the mountains and there was no sense in venturing out with her camera. Who would want to read holiday brochures that looked
as if they had been photographed in the Arctic Circle? Nor could she keep herself busy down in the hotel reception centre. Nikos, pale but determined, was back at work, typing with one hand, and Kate's Greek was still too limited to make her much use for anything else. Besides, Dorothea was determined to keep her shut up, out of reach of reporters. Small wonder that after three days Kate was thoroughly bored!
But the fourth day dawned bright and sunny and offered an unexpected diversion. One of the hotel bellboys brought the mail to the house, and Kate cheered up instantly at the sight of the four items spread out on the hall table.
A colour postcard of Thessaloniki from Philip with an almost illegible scrawl that said simply 'No news is good news. Love P.' A letter from her parents, redirected from the archaeological site at Nyssa. A second letter from Tassos Astrinakis offering to buy her 'Windmills of Mykonos' photos for a greetings card series, which made her utter a cry of delight. And a package from Thessaloniki containing the prints of the photos she had taken during her holiday on the Eleftheria.
Carrying this booty into the sitting-room, Kate settled down to enjoy herself.
The holiday snapshots brought back a flood of glorious memories, and for several minutes she was able to forget the anxiety that tormented her.
Reliving those moments of sunbathing and snorkelling, of dinners in little tavernas and walks along white sandy beaches, she felt suddenly convinced that Philip would bulldoze his way through all the problems that now confronted them. And when she came to the photo of the two of them cavorting topless in the jacuzzi she laughed out loud and set it aside.
Definitely one for the private photo album, as Philip had said!
But her parents' letter gave her less joy. Fortunately, in far-off Australia, they had not had the chance to read the scandalous stories about their daughter that were currently entertaining Europe, but it was obvious they were worried about her. Kate smoothed out the a
ero- gramme and stared at her mother's small upright handwriting.
.. .you know we worry about you, Kate. You've been gone for over six months now, and this photography business still hasn't amounted to anything, just as we expected. Don't you think it's time you gave it up and came home? Your father's secretary Mrs Wilcox is retiring in
November, and you could take over her position whenever you like.
Do write and let us know...
Kate winced. Well, she would have to get it over with sooner or later. Ever since Philip's departure she had been trying to compose a letter to her parents, but every attempt had ended up in the waste-paper basket. Now she would definitely have to tackle it before her parents heard some lurid third-hand account of her relationship with Philip, on television or in a newspaper. Rummaging in a desk drawer, Kate found a writing pad and sat down on the couch. Then, chewing her pen thoughtfully, she began to write.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I know this will come as a shock to you, but I have just become engaged. My fiance's name is Philip Andronikos and he works in the hotel industry. We met during an earthquake in the area near Mt Panagia, and had to stay overnight at a little village called Ayia Sofia because the roads were blocked by fallen stones. There was an immediate attraction between us, which has now changed to something deeper. We plan to be married in Philip's home village of Ayios Dimitrios as soon as we can arrange it with the local priest, Father Stargos. Philip and I are both hoping that you will fly over for the wedding, but please don't mention it to anybody else, as we want to keep it simple. If you--
Kate froze as there was a sudden ring at the back door of the house. She wasn't expecting any of the hotel staff at this hour of the day, and her earlier experience with the photographer had made her wary. Padding cautiously into the kitchen, she lifted the edge of the lace curtain and peered out. The man who stood grinning wryly at her was the last person she'd expected to see. 'Stavros!' she breathed, letting the curtain drop.
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