Dear Stranger

by Anne Hampson

  Shara fell into a thoughtful mood, seeing logic in Gilbert’s conclusions, and yet at the same time finding a flaw in them.

  'What about Rian? — coming after four years of marriage?’

  ‘It could have been that, after a while, one or both of them wanted a child.’

  ‘In effect,’ Shara said after a rather awkward pause, ‘you’re saying the child was - was conceived without love? ’ She looked down at her hands, sensing the rise of colour in her cheeks.

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m sure that an appreciable number of children are conceived without love...’ A strange hesitation and then, ‘Especially among people of the East. And Carl is of the East, Shara, in spite

  of his parents becoming naturalized Britons, and his being brought up in our country.’

  She thought of Carl, seeing those granite-like features, etched in classical lines, the dark clear skin and low brow with its widow’s peak cutting into it. Yes, he was of the East, a Cypriot of Greek extraction, and possessing all the characteristics of his pagan ancestors.

  The journey continued, with both Shara and her employer deep in their own musings. The morning sun was still low in the sky, for they had made a very early start, intending to stop at several places of interest on the way to Paphos, the most important and attractive being Vouni Palace. At present they were still in the region of orange groves, a lush region made fertile by the alluvium dropped by the Serakhis River, much of whose water sank into the porous deposit, and this was the reason for the fertility of the plain in a land where, for most of the year, conditions were arid. Several wealthy Cypriots owned orange groves in this area, Carl among them, although he also owned extensive orange groves in the Famagusta District. Carl had done well, thought Shara, his lovely home intruding into her vision. How hard he must have worked - and to think, all that money in the bank, lying idle. His money by rights, but left to her. Bitterness caught at Shara’s emotions, mingling with the compassion that lingered still - compassion for Carl who, at thirty, was still affected by what happened in his childhood. And Shara felt for the child too, frustrated that there was nothing she could do to rectify the mistakes Carl was so unwittingly making. Unconsciously she sighed and Gilbert flashed her a sideways glance.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ He used a little smile to entice her from her dejection. ‘Try not to let this business worry

  you; there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  ‘No, I realize that,’ Shara agreed regretfully. And then she said, ‘You mentioned that Carl’s own release was the only answer - to the problem of Rian, I mean. What form could that release take?’

  ‘Marriage to a woman who can give him all the love he’s lost - and more; a woman who can convince him at the outset that he’s wanted and, perhaps equally important, that he is needed.’ Gilbert paused a moment, using the smile again, but this time it held an element of tender emotion and Shara knew instinctively that he was thinking of his wife, who died two years before Shara entered his employ, and with whom he had been ideally happy. ‘A man likes to know that he’s needed, Shara, remember that when the time comes for you to marry, and I believe the time will come, no matter how you so often assert it never will. Yes, it is essential to a man’s ego that he is all the while aware that his wife needs him. He likes to think she can’t get along without him, wants her to lean on him and rely on him. If she wisely does these things he becomes confident that he’s necessary to her - and that really means that he’s wanted. Carl might one day find such a woman, and I sincerely hope he does, because I like him enormously. But if he doesn’t find such a woman then he’s going to be affected all his life by what happened to him as a child.’

  Gilbert stopped speaking, and glanced around, seeming to have forgotten the subject which had occupied practically the whole of the journey up till now. Knowing him so well, Shara produced a notebook from her handbag and made ready for his dictation, which continued non-stop until they reached Vouni Palace, where Gilbert parked the car close to the custodian’s hut. On paying the entrance fee Gilbert thanked the custodian for his offer of assistance and they all three went round the site together.

  But then Gilbert asked the custodian to leave them, explaining that he was writing a book and now he wished to be left alone with his secretary.

  ‘What a superb situation!’ Shara stood on the high plateau and gazed out over the smooth dark sea to the mountains of Asia Minor, their peaks gleaming in the sun. To the south of the plateau lay the whole magnificent panorama of the Troodos Range with their fretted volcanic peaks cutting into the sky, and the pillow lavas forming a secondary range of low broken hills. Pines towered on the mountainsides and here and there a stream tumbled into a gorge cut by its incessant attack over countless eons of time. ‘It takes your breath away! ’

  Gilbert was taking photographs and said nothing for a moment, and Shara sat down on a piece of fallen masonry in what had once been the Temple of Athena. She began making notes of her own impressions; invariably her employer used these observations of hers, saying they brought variety into his books by incorporating a different viewpoint. At first Shara had made these notes for herself alone, feeling too shy to submit them for Gilbert’s criticism. But one day he insisted on seeing them and ever since then he had come to expect this help from her.

  He smiled when eventually he put his camera away.

  ‘You’re a treasure,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘I stated just now that you’ll marry one day - but although I’d like to see you happy and settled I know I shall never find another secretary with whom I can form this particular kind of relationship. You understand me so

  well, Shara; you don’t work for me but with me.’

  She smiled happily.

  ‘I expect it’s because I love my job so much. I feel as you do - that I work with you, I mean.’ She stopped, then added with a mixture of humour and apology, ‘I’m afraid I never regard you as a boss, Gilbert, but only as a friend. I should be quite staggered if one day you gave me an order, just to put me in my place.’

  Gilbert’s smile deepened; he shook his grey head from side to side.

  ‘There’s no fear of that, my dear. I’m too conscious of my good fortune in having you. As for my being your friend - I want you always to remember that, Shara. I’m here if ever you want me, so don’t ever bear a burden alone - not that I can foresee your ever having one,’ he added quickly. ‘And I’m sure I hope you never will have one.’

  She glanced away, her eyes finding the sea again and wandering pensively to the mountains of Turkey beyond. A burden. ... Wasn’t her love for Carl a burden? This she had carried for a long while, but it had been a light burden, scarcely noticeable for most of the time, and certainly never oppressive. Now, however, she felt its weight, still not too heavy as to be uncomfortable, but there all the same. She dared not think ahead to what she would feel like when she left the island, after having become close to Carl for the first time in her life. Already she was welcome at his house whenever she chose to call, and likewise Carl had free access to the villa. Several times he had brought Rian along and they had taken tea with Gilbert and Shara, the two men having found they had a great deal in common, for as Carl had previously told Shara, he loved travelling.

  Already it was taken for granted among the party-throwing ‘set’ that if Carl accepted an invitation then his sister would also do so. They met at these parties, and danced and drank together. On a couple of occasions Gilbert had declined an invitation, and Shara had been brought home in Carl’s car, and even in the short time which had elapsed since their dramatic meeting all strain between them had disappeared. They were friends -brother and sister reunited, and determined never to become estranged again. The relationship appeared to give Carl pleasure, and for this Shara was profoundly grateful, and now, as she thought of that relationship, she also thought of her employer’s words, spoken so gravely, a short while ago. ‘Carl has never really been wanted by anyone in the whole
of his life.’ Shara’s lovely mouth curved, reflecting the bitterness of her thoughts as she recalled how she herself had tried so desperately to convince him of her sincerity, to impart to him the fact that she wanted him ... as a sister at that time, but now....

  Gilbert had risen and was strolling about among the ruins of the palace and, picking up her notebook from the fragment of a marble column where she had placed it, she went over and joined him. But even though she spent the next half hour taking down in shorthand his dictation her mind was partly absorbed by the conversation just past. Carl’s release from the bondage of introversion would come only when - and if - he ever found that he was really wanted by someone.

  Could she, Shara, by gentle persevering efforts, manage to convey to him her yearning, and her great need of him ...?

  Two weeks passed before she saw him again, as that

  was the length of her stay in and around Paphos. Carl dropped in one afternoon, having been into Nicosia on business. Rian was away, he said, staying with a friend of his in the capital.

  ‘Will she be away long?’ Shara knew a keen disappointment on learning that her niece was not at home, for although she had not managed to get close to the child she thoroughly enjoyed being with her. And the more she was with her, Shara reasoned, the greater her chances of winning Rian’s love. Once that stage was reached Shara could broach the subject of the money, asking Carl to agree to its transference to his daughter.

  ‘A week,’ Carl answered, taking possession of a chair and at the same time shaking his head as Gilbert held out a cigarette box to him. ‘The school’s closed for that length of time as they’re decorating. I don’t know why they choose this particular time, for they’ll be closing for the long summer holiday in a couple of months and it could be done then.’ Carl finished with a smile and glanced up as Gilbert hovered close, ready to inquire what he was drinking. Shara watched as the drink was poured, wondering about this friend of his to whom he entrusted his daughter. It must be a woman, of course, and Shara found herself reaching a point of enquiry about her when suddenly she drew back, withholding the words poised on her lips; she was not yet close enough to Carl, had not quite reached that state of familiarity where questions of so intimate a nature could be asked.

  Carl and Gilbert fell into conversation, Carl asking about their visit to Paphos and Gilbert telling him how much they had enjoyed it.

  ‘We worked hard, though,’ Gilbert added with a smiling glance at his secretary. ‘And now we remain here for about three weeks while we sort the material and get it written down. We visited Vouni Palace on the way out; it’s a fantastic site, right up on the hill and with views of both mountain and sea.’

  Carl nodded, saying the palace was not as ancient as it had at one time been believed.

  ‘It dates from about the sixth century B.C., built when the island was suffering from the dissention between those favouring Greece and those favouring Persia, the former country trying for a considerable time to liberate the island from the dorm nation of Persia.’ Carl shrugged and went on to say that he supposed Gilbert already knew all this.

  ‘I’ve read the history, yes,’ he returned. ‘But I’m always ready to listen again, especially to a native of Cyprus.’

  A faint smile and then,

  ‘I’m a Cypriot now, Gilbert, but I haven’t always been

  one. I wouldn’t say I knew much about the island, not

  really.’

  ‘You know all about the customs, though, and the traditional village folk-lore and festivals?’

  Carl nodded, his face unsmiling now as he put his glass to his lips. He seemed far away all at once, as if he were no longer interested in the conversation, and Shara frowned inwardly as she guessed that he was entering one of those moods of introspection which came upon him from time to time, and for no apparent reason. Familiar to her was the brooding expression which now shadowed those dull-green eyes. What was he thinking? It seemed imperative that she draw him out before he drifted too far away from her and Gilbert, and she said quickly, yet for some quite indefinable reason not daring to smile,

  ‘Gilbert’s all set to use you, Carl; he always draws on first-hand information wherever possible.’ To her relief Carl’s eyes cleared, then flickered with the merest hint of amusement.

  ‘That’s all right, Shara. I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I shall be only too pleased to help.’

  Her suspended smile broke through, hovering on her lips, and her grey eyes were soft and bright as she looked into his. He did not smile often, but he responded on this occasion, although the smile did not obliterate the sternness of his features, which was there all the time a permanent part of him.

  ‘Thank you for saying that, Carl. I hoped you’d assist. Gilbert went on to ask him if he would stay to tea and after the merest hesitation Carl accepted the invitation. Shara’s eyes sought his again, her pleasure at his acceptance plainly evident.

  On leaving a couple of hours later Carl invited Shara and Gilbert to dinner the following night; they accepted, but the next morning Gilbert complained of a sick headache and as it persisted all day he decided he wasn’t up to visiting.

  ‘You must go, Shara; and convey my apologies, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course - but I don’t like leaving you.’

  Faintly he smiled.

  ‘My dear, you’re not supposed to be on duty all the time. Were you in an office you’d work far fewer hours than you do for me.’

  ‘But those hours wouldn’t be half so pleasantly spent,’ she returned sincerely. ‘A job isn’t really work if you love every minute of it.’ She paused, noting the

  glimmer of affection that entered his eyes. ‘I can phone Carl-’

  A swift shake of his head cut her short.

  ‘You must go,’ he repeated. ‘I shall be going to bed shortly, so there’s no point in your staying in. Besides, it would spoil both your evening and Carl’s. You’ll enjoy being alone for a change; I’m sure you’ve a great deal to talk about.’ He went on to say she could take the car, but Shara preferred to walk, as there wasn’t more than three-quarters of a mile between the villa and Carl s house.

  He was informally dressed yet immaculate, his white linen suit seeming to accentuate the leanness of his body even as the white shirt accentuated the mahogany of his skin. An anxious frown appeared on his low brow as Shara told him the reason for Gilbert’s absence; he said perhaps the heat was affecting him, as it had been almost unbearably hot that day.

  ‘We don’t usually get this sort of heat in May,’ Carl went on. ‘Do you think Gilbert should have the doctor?’

  ‘I don’t think so; he does sometimes have headaches

  - eye-strain probably - but they’re usually gone the next day.’ Carl had seen her coming up the drive and had stepped out on to the patio to meet her. They were standing together, in the slanting rays of the sun as it began gently to lower itself in the sky. Shara wore a low-cut cotton dress, short and flowing out from the waist. She knew she looked nice, and hoped Carl thought so too. From his incredible height he looked down at her, seeming to be arrested by her appearance for the very first time. She saw his eyes move from her hair, short and shining, its ends flicked up in half-curls, to her brow and her mouth and then to her bare brown shoulders. An odd expression settled on his face; those dull-green eyes flickered in a manner which appeared to give evidence of an inner regret. Shara glanced away, frowning and strangely affected by a force as disturbing as it was indefinable.

  She had gained the impression that the regret had nothing at all to do with what had occurred in the past, but that it was vitally connected with something that was actually happening now.

  But in an instant her access of unease had dissolved and her smile took its place, deepening into one of unaffected charm which brought in response one of those rare smiles that touched her companion’s lips. This time his features were softened in some small way by it and her heart gave a tiny jerk as she caught her breath,
afraid of the dangerous path which she trod, and yet unable - and unwilling - to make any attempt to turn back before it was too late. Carl regarded her as a sister, she reminded herself one moment, while the next moment she found herself freely allowing her thoughts to soar away into a future that could prove to be bliss beyond her wildest dreams.

  Carl was speaking again, expressing further sympathy for the absent guest and then, inviting Shara to sit down, he poured the pre-dinner drinks.

  An awkwardness assailed Shara, but she contrived to hide it as she chatted with her host, answering his questions about her life and her work, and finally venturing to ask him about his. He had moved from Greece to Cyprus some years previously and found work in an office, he told her in unemotional tones.

  ‘The man I worked for seemed to appreciate what I did,’ Carl continued, paying only perfunctory attention to the fact of the deep frown that had settled on Shara’s brow at the idea of his working in an office when so large a fortune was his by all that was right and fair. ‘He died suddenly and I was left a legacy which, used wisely, gave me a start in the business I now own. I bought my first citrus groves at a most reasonable price - they were near Famagusta. But the town was growing rapidly, owing to tourism, and my land became extremely valuable as speculators wanted it for building.’ Carl paused a moment reflectively and then continued, ‘I had to decide whether to retain the land and remain comparatively poor, or to sell it and find myself another occupation. However, luck appeared to be following me, for I was able to strike a bargain with a man who owned citrus groves in Morphou. He had an urge to work in the city, to set up as a land agent, so we did an exchange.

  His lands were vastly more extensive than mine, but of course not nearly so valuable donum for donum—’ He broke off, then said, ‘Perhaps I should say acre for acre?’

  ‘I know the Cypriot measurements. Gilbert tells me he s already been offered a donum of land on the hillside near our villa. He thinks he might buy it, to build a house for when he retires.’