Wife For A Night

by Devine, Angela

  'Philip did,' said Kate with a catch in her voice.

  'Oh, no!' exclaimed Andrew. 'How could he be such a fool? Look, Katey, you're just about all in. Sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea and you can

  tell me everything. The others have gone to Kavala for a few days, so at least you'll get a bit of peace here.'

  It was comforting to sit at the marble-topped table sipping lemon tea, while Andrew listened and nodded and murmured sympathetically. Bit by bit it all came out. Kate knew she could trust Andrew, and she held nothing back.

  Stavros, Leon, the violent quarrel with Philip—she told him everything.

  'So what do you think you'll do now?' he asked when at last she came to a halt.

  She shrugged and bit her lip.

  'Go back to Australia, I suppose,' she said with a sigh. 'What else can I do?'

  'Come off it, Kate!' said Andrew impatiently. 'It's not like you to give in so easily. You've always been a fighter.'

  'What is there to fight for now?' retorted Kate. 'It's all finished, Andrew!'

  'Do you still love this guy?' asked Andrew thoughtfully.

  'He's the most arrogant, insensitive, self-opinionated swine I've ever met!'

  replied Kate hotly. 'If he crawled over broken glass for two miles to apologise to me I still wouldn't listen to him!'

  Andrew grinned wryly.

  'So you do,' he said. 'Just as I thought! All right, Katey, there's only one thing to be done. As soon as siesta-time finishes, you and I are going down to the OTE office and we're going to telephone Philip Andronikos.'

  'What?' demanded Kate. 'Are you out of your mind, Andrew?'

  Andrew cowered comically with his hands protectively over his head.

  'Look,' he said reasonably, 'if Andronikos is half as aggressive and pig-headed as you are, Kate, he's not going to make the first move, is he?

  But I'll bet my bottom dollar that he's just kicking himself by now for driving you away. He's probably dying for a chance to make up the quarrel.'

  Kate hesitated.

  'Do you really think so?' she asked shyly.

  'Absolutely,' agreed Andrew firmly. 'So will you let me phone him?'

  A smile spread slowly over her face.

  'Anything to keep you happy, Andrew,' she said.

  The afternoon dragged interminably. Desperate for something to do, Kate painted collection tins, scrubbed potsherds and drew spindle whorls until her eyes watered, but her mind was not on her tasks. At last Andrew announced that it was five o'clock, and she shot out of her chair and picked up her camera bag. Although she did not say so, she was secretly hoping that she would soon be on her way back to Ayios

  Dimitrios.

  'Ready?' asked Andrew.

  'Ready!' she agreed with a radiant smile.

  'Maybe you'd better let me put the call through first,' warned Andrew as they entered the telephone company office. 'If we have any trouble getting through the Hotel Ariadne switchboard my Greek is better than yours.

  Besides, I might be able to soften Andronikos up a bit for you.'

  'OK,' agreed Kate.

  Her stomach was churning with nerves as she took her place in the plastic phone booth next to Andrew. The door wouldn't close properly with two of them in the booth, and there were four or five other people in the office chatting to the OTE man or waiting for incoming calls, so that Kate couldn't

  help wishing for more privacy. But she comforted herself with the thought that her conversation with Philip would be in English, so nobody was likely to understand much of it.

  'Parakalo?' said Andrew. 'Is that the Hotel Ariadne switchboard? May I speak to Philip Andronikos, please? No, I'm not a reporter. I'm a friend of Katherine Walsh. Tell him my name is Andrew Cameron.'

  There was a long pause, then Andrew gave Kate an encouraging thumbs-up.

  'Mr Andronikos? I don't know if you remember me. My name is Andrew Cameron and we met briefly when you came to Nyssa to see Kate. Look, I know this is none of my business, but I'm really upset to see Kate in this condition. She's absolutely devastated by this quarrel she's had with you and I don't blame her. I've known Kate for twenty years and, let me tell you, there's no possible way she could have done the things you're accusing her of. I've tried to talk sense to her, but she says she's going back to Australia as soon as she can get a flight out. The thing is I'm sure she still loves you. Will you at least talk to her about it?'

  There was another long pause and then Andrew handed over the receiver.

  Kate's insides clenched with nerves and her voice shook as she spoke.

  'Hello, Philip?'

  'Hello, Kate.'

  His voice was no longer angry, but it wasn't friendly either. It was cool, wary, restrained, as if he were discussing a business deal.

  'I hear you're thinking of going back to Australia?' he said.

  'Yes.' Her own voice was so low and husky that she could hardly hear it herself.

  'What about your photography?'

  'I think I'll chuck it in. My father's offered me a job as a secretary. I was never much good at it anyway.'

  'That's not true! You were damned good!'

  That was more like the Philip Andronikos she knew. Arrogant, emphatic, overbearing. A strangled sound escaped her, half-laughter, half-sob.

  'What did you say?' he demanded instantly.

  'Nothing.'

  'You didn't pick up your cheque from the office.'

  'I told you before—I won't take money from you!' she retorted fiercely.

  'Don't be so damned stupid! You earned that money. The photos you took for the brochures were very good. Anyway, what are you going to live on if you don't accept it?'

  'I'm all right,' she said defensively. 'I'm with friends and I'll pay them back if I have to borrow anything. They know they can trust me.'

  There was another long pause. Then Philip's voice came down the line, harsh, almost resentful.

  'Perhaps I was a bit too hasty this morning, Katarina. But you did tell me some pretty unbelievable things.'

  Kate could hear the suspicion, the uncertainty, as clearly as if she were with him. This wasn't the apology she wanted! More like a re-run of the accusations.

  'Does that mean you're telling me you're sorry?' she demanded.

  'No!' snarled Philip. 'Damn it, Kate! You're the one who should be apologising, not me! But I think we ought to get together and talk some time soon.'

  Kate's heart somersaulted wildly.

  'Now?' she asked. 'Will you come to Nyssa?'

  'I can't, Kate. I've got a business meeting in half an hour's time about the hotel finances. But I could send Yannis with the car to bring you over tomorrow.'

  'No, Philip,' said Kate slowly. 'I'm not setting foot in Ayios Dimitrios again until I know that things are already sorted out between us. It would simply be too painful and humiliating. I'm not going back there until I know that you trust me absolutely.'

  'How can I, Kate?' demanded Philip. 'How can I trust you after what you've just done to me?'

  'You still believe all that rubbish, don't you?' cried Kate wildly. 'All right, Philip, that's it! It's a total waste of time for us to try and get back together. I just can't live with that sort of suspicion festering between us. Maybe one of these days you'll find out that I didn't sell you out to the media, but I won't be here to see it. I'm going back to Australia! Addio!'

  With a thunderous crash she slammed down the phone and burst into tears.

  Andrew and the OTE man flinched and exchanged sympathetic glances.

  'Oh, Kate!' said Andrew wearily. 'What on earth did you do that for? He was just starting to come round. Well, it's no use crying. Come on, let's go and think about what we're going to do next.'

  He paid the OTE man and shepherded the weeping Kate out of the door.

  'I hate him!' she cried savagely as they found themselves in the muddy square outside.

  'I know,' said Andrew soothingly. 'But it'll all come right, you'll see.'
r />   'It won't,' wailed Kate.

  Andrew looked around him with a harassed expression.

  'Shall we go back home and have some more tea?'

  'I don't want any tea!' raged Kate.

  'Well, what do you want?' asked Andrew.

  'I want to go home!' she cried. 'Back to Australia where nobody has even heard any of this awful stuff they're writing about me. Where I'll never have to see Philip Andronikos in my life again!'

  Andrew stared at her, aghast.

  'Are you sure?' he demanded. 'What about your photography?'

  Kate leaned her head against the peeling, whitewashed wall of the OTE

  office and gave a deep, hopeless sigh.

  'I just don't care any more, Andy,' she said huskily. 'And that's the truth.'

  Then she fished inside the open neck of her shirt and pulled out a money belt. Opening the zip pocket, she drew out an airline ticket. Tears filled her eyes.

  'Could you do me one more favour?' she asked. 'I've got an open return ticket to Sydney with Qantas. Could you phone their office and book me on the next possible flight out of Athens?'

  Andrew winced.

  'Whatever you say,' he agreed reluctantly.

  It was not quite seven o'clock when Kate and Andrew made their way into the village square the following morning. Andrew cast a worried glance at his companion. She was deathly pale, and ever since the telephone call the day before she had been acting like a sleepwalker. She had thanked him listlessly for handling her travel arrangements and had agreed to everything

  he'd suggested. Yes, it was a good idea to leave her pack overnight at the cafe next to the bus-stop instead of lugging it back to the house for the night.

  No, she didn't want him to make another call to Philip. Yes, she would write as soon as she reached Sydney. Sensing her despair, Andrew could do nothing but give her a clumsy squeeze on the arm and pray for the bus to arrive.

  When it finally lurched up the rutted road and came to a halt under the large fig tree at the edge of the square, Kate showed her first sign of animation in hours. Flinging her arms around Andrew, she gave him a fierce hug.

  'Thanks for everything, Andy!' she said urgently. 'It's good to know that there's somebody who doesn't believe the worst of me. Look, if you ever see Philip Andronikos again, tell him...tell him... No, never mind!'

  Her voice broke off on a sob. Swallowing hard, she darted across the square towards the cafe.

  'I must get my pack!' she said in a muffled voice. 'The bus will be leaving in a couple of minutes.'

  Her backpack was still on the front terrace of the cafe, where she had left it the previous day. Bending down, Kate seized it by one of the shoulder straps. But as she did so a hand closed around her wrist. Startled, she looked up and saw the local policeman gazing suspiciously down at her. He said something to her in Greek, which she did not understand.

  'What did he say, Andrew?'

  'He wants to know if you're the owner of this pack.'

  Kate's face cleared. She smiled. 'Yes, I am,' she said distinctly. 'I'm not stealing it. Ine thikimou. It's mine!'

  But the policeman was speaking again, saying something she could not grasp. And Andrew's face was changing to a mask of frozen horror.

  'No!' cried Andrew. 'No! That's ridiculous.'

  'What is it?' demanded Kate, her voice sharp with alarm. 'What did he say, Andrew?'

  There was a moment's silence, then Andrew's reply came back full of disbelief.

  'He said he's placing you under arrest for the possession of heroin.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  'HEROIN?' echoed Kate in horror. 'But that's ridiculous.. . I've never in my life... What on earth does he mean?'

  The policeman was speaking rapidly now, delving into her backpack and holding up a tin of talcum powder. Andrew's mouth hung slack as he tried to follow the fluent Greek from Kate's accuser.

  'He says that last night he had an anonymous telephone tip-off that the owner of this backpack was smuggling heroin hidden inside a talcum-powder tin. He says he'll have to hold you in custody until the contents of the tin have been analysed in Thessalomki.'

  'But that's ridiculous!' protested Kate. 'Anyway, that talcum powder isn't even mine. I never use the stuff. ..I'm allergic to most of it.'

  She looked down at the red and black tin, blazoned with the brand name Fresco. She knew she had seen it somewhere before... Of course! It was the complimentary brand supplied at the Hotel Ariadne.

  'Somebody must have set me up, Andrew!' she cried, her voice sharp with panic. 'Somebody from the Hotel Ariadne. Tell him, explain to him!'

  But it was obvious that the policeman was not going to be easily convinced.

  He simply shrugged his shoulders, Filled in a label, which he stuck to the talcum-powder tin before placing it in a bag, and then produced a pair of handcuffs.

  'No!' cried Kate.

  She whirled around, ready for a panic-stricken attempt to flee. But Andrew caught her by the arm.

  'Don't, Kate,' he urged. 'You'll only make matters worse. They'll think you're guilty if you do that, and you wouldn't get far. You'll just have to go with him while I try and get help.'

  'Is he arresting you too?' demanded Kate.

  Andrew made a quick enquiry in Greek and then shook his head. The policeman, bored with the whole affair, picked up the handcuffs again and took a step towards Kate.

  'No!' she protested. 'Look, Andrew, tell him I'll come with him, but I don't want to wear those things. And please get help quickly! Fetch Philip—he'll know what to do.'

  'I will,' promised Andrew. 'Don't worry, Kate. We'll have you out of there in a few hours.'

  As the policeman led her away Kate twisted her head for a last, desperate view of her friend. She saw Andrew hammering on the door of the one taxi driver in the village, then a van blocked her view. Oh, Philip, she thought despairingly, come soon!

  The police station was above the cake shop next to the tavern where Kate had often eaten dinner with the archaeological team. She could not rid herself of a weird sense of disbelief as she was shepherded past families sitting at tables under the grape arbour and up a flight of stairs. Once inside, the policeman confiscated her money belt, passport, airline ticket and photographic equipment, but allowed her to keep a paperback book that she had with her. Her lack of Greek and his lack of English made it impossible for him to question her very thoroughly, but he wrote some notes in a large leather-bound book, then unlocked a cell and ushered her inside.

  Kate had never been inside a prison cell before and she wasn't impressed.

  The walls and ceilings were painted an ugly shade of chocolate-brown and the window was high up and barred. A single naked light bulb hung fro- the ceiling, and the lavatory was no more than a hole in the floor in one corner of the room. There was an iron bedstead, covered in a torn brown blanket, and a lumpy pillow. Otherwise the room was empty. Miserably Kate

  dropped the book on the bed and sat down beside it, but the blanket reeked so strongly of cigarette smoke that it made her feel nauseated. Rising to her feet again, she paced restlessly round the cell. If only Andrew and Philip would hurry! She could not possibly endure more than a few hours in this awful place.

  But eleven o'clock came, and then midnight, and there was still no sign of rescue. Exhausted, Kate finally sank down on the bed and dozed fitfully.

  She woke with a start and blinked sleepily at her watch. Three-seventeen a.m. Her heart sank. What could possibly have gone wrong? Where could Andrew be? Lying back, she stared miserably at the ceiling, while her brain raced with fevered images of drug pushers ambushing Andrew on his way to Ayios Dimitrios. Or, even worse, police shoot- outs in the foyer of the Hotel Ariadne in which Philip fell to the floor with an ominous red stain spreading across his chest. Suddenly Kate froze. Never mind the drug pushers or the gunshot wounds! She had suddenly seen an enormous cockroach stalking across the ceiling of her cell. The most gigantic cockroach she had ever seen in her life,
and it was marching directly above her head!

  With a strangled cry Kate leapt off the bed. She was convinced the hideous creature was going to drop down on her at any moment, and she backed into the corner furthest away from it. For the next hour neither of them got any sleep as the cockroach marched overhead and Kate countermarched below, trying to stay out of its way. Then suddenly Kate's nightmare was realised.

  The creature leapt on her. There was an instant of frenzy as she brushed it off her leg and felt its shiny carapace against her fingers, then it fell to the floor. Kate leapt up, snatched at her shoe and crushed it frantically.

  Trembling slightly, she stood up and realised that the battle was over.

  Somehow this ridiculous victory gave her new heart. The dingy cell with its smoky blanket and bare walls no longer seemed so horrifying. All she had to do was keep her spirits up and wait. Philip would come for her. With that comforting thought, she lay down on the bed and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Kate's determination to keep up her spirits was severely tested over the next two days. Now and then she heard footsteps on the stairs, but it was never Philip. The police officer was kind enough in a restrained way, but the

  language barrier made any real conversation impossible. Most of the time Kate was simply left alone to struggle with her fears and hopes as best she could. And inevitably her thoughts centred on Philip.

  Memories surged back of their first meeting the night of the earthquake.

  How calm and competent he had been, and yet how arrogant, infuriating and overbearing! Some frenzied electrical current had leapt into life between them from the very first moment. She remembered the haunting bouzouki music he had played at Ayi'a Sofia, the way he had kissed her and the way her body had thrilled beneath his touch. And then there was the dinner at Porto Carras, when he had talked of his hopes and dreams for the village of his childhood. And she had responded by laying all her plans and ambitions before him. It was as if we knew right from the beginning that we were meant for each other, thought Kate despairingly. As if nothing could ever destroy the bond between us.