by Celia Scott
'That isn't quite the same thing is it?'
'You must understand,' he said but she ignored him.
'Did you treat Carol like this?' She glowered at him fiercely. 'Did you humiliate her too?'
The muscle in his cheek tightened. 'So you know about Carol.' She nodded. 'I had reason to doubt her,' he said.
His anger seemed to have subsided, but Lorna's had not. 'Well, I wouldn't know about that,' she said. 'But I warn you, Jason, if you won't trust me there's no future for us.' She sounded very calm, but inside she was churning with emotion.
He raked his hand through his black hair, making it stand in unruly curls. He looked suddenly like a small boy, and she relented a trifle, but she schooled herself not to reach out and touch him. He said softly, 'Does your love also include patience?'
'That too. Yes.'
'Then be patient with me, Lorna. Give me time to get used to this happiness. Remember that a few short hours ago I still believed you belonged to Nikos.'
'I belong to myself Jason.' She had to get this across to him. 'No matter how much I love you I will always belong first and foremost to myself.'
'Spoken like a true emancipated American woman,' he said, with a return to something of his old manner.
'CANADIAN!'
'The same thing.'
'Not the same thing at all,' she flashed, her eyes cobalt with irritation. He gave her a lop-sided smile and tried to take her into his arms, but she remained stiff and unyielding, although part of her longed to feel his arms round her again.
'If I was jealous for a moment I apologise,' he said formally, pulling away from her. 'Blame my stupid Cretan nature.'
'We can't help our natures. We're born with them… and then we're stuck with them!' She hadn't meant to say that, it was cruel and stupid. But it was as if she was on an icy toboggan slide, she seemed unable to stop herself.
'I understand you,' he said, so grimly that all the fight went out of her. 'Now we will deliver your parcel. As it is we shall be late for dinner.'
'Do… do you still want me to come to dinner?' she faltered. 'I mean… if you'd rather not…'
He replied tersely, 'My mother expects you.' Lorna didn't say another word.
Within minutes they arrived at the cottage. It was night now and light gleamed through chinks in the shutters. Jason said, 'I did not know you knew Maria Koronakis,' but she didn't reply.
Maria came to the door, hastily buttoning her dress. She had apparently been getting ready for bed. Lorna knew most of the villages retired with the sun, and she cursed herself for wasting all that time in a destructive argument with Jason, and now disturbing her friend. But Maria seemed cheerful enough when she saw who her visitors were. She was particularly glad to see Jason, and ushered them into the kitchen with great ceremony, pulling out two of her small rush-bottomed chairs and dusting them off for her guests.
Irene poked her head out from the sleeping room at the back. She was already in her nightdress. When she saw Jason she gave a squeal of pleasure and hurled herself at him.
'Irene… ochi,' her mother admonished, taking a black shawl from the back of a chair and wrapping it round the child's shoulders.
Jason lifted the little girl on to his knee and said something in Greek that sent her into a gale of giggles, then she sat, wrapped in her mother's shawl, beaming at the company.
In very halting Greek Lorna presented Maria with her presents. At first the woman was silent, her large dark eyes intent, as first the sandals, then the dresses and hair-ribbons were unwrapped. For a moment Lorna wondered if she had offended her, but when Maria gave a strangled sob, and hugged and kissed her she knew that it was simply emotion that had kept her quiet for so long.
'Hold on a minute,' Lorna said, slipping into English and presenting the box of candy, 'this is for you.'
'Ah!… you lovely… crazy…' Maria laughed, and tearing off the lid offered the sweets to her guests and cried, and mopped her eyes all at the same time.
Irene, who had climbed off Jason's lap when her gifts were produced, was already wearing her sandals and doing a dance around the kitchen table, holding one of her new dresses against her thin little body, the shawl trailing behind her like a shadow.
Jason and Lorna each accepted a candy, then Jason said it was time to be going. Maria took his hand in both of hers and chattered excitedly for a few more minutes, nodding towards the Canadian girl. Then she kissed Lorna again and whispered, 'Dombros … a good man, eh?' And Lorna nodded, but her heart felt heavy, contrasting her euphoric frame of mind when she chose these presents, and the strain she felt with Jason now.
Maria and her daughter escorted them to the garden gate and waved as the sleek white car glided carefully over the bumpy track. Once they were on the road Jason asked her, 'Maria tells me she is teaching you Greek. Is this true?'
'Of course it's true. But I'm a very slow pupil.'
'She does not think so. And I was most impressed with your attempts to speak it just now.'
'Thank you… 'efharisto.' She hoped this was his way of offering her an olive branch.
'Why do you bother?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'I ask why you bother to learn my language? You do not need it on the dig surely?' He sounded so cold her hope of an olive branch withered before it blossomed.
'No, I don't need it on the dig. But I will need it if I'm to travel in remote parts of Greece for my book.'
She had been thinking of taking off in the autumn and exploring the rest of Crete, and also inland Greece, but until that moment she hadn't actually made up her mind. Now her disappointment that their quarrel was still unresolved crystallised her decision.
'Book?' he said. 'What book is this?'
'A photographic look at the country,' she answered vaguely, 'I haven't quite worked it out yet.'
'And you plan to visit remote areas you say?'
'Oh! Absolutely! Nothing "touristy" for me.' She could sense that her assumed nonchalance was getting to him, and she was perversely gratified.
His fingers gripped the wheel. 'Do you not realise that it is extremely unwise for a woman to go alone to such regions?'
'Don't patronise me, Jason,' she said with airy detachment. 'I'll have you know that back home I drove from coast to coast by myself, and I didn't have any trouble.'
'That was Canada not Crete,' he insisted. 'I tell you that here it is not safe for a woman alone.'
'Well, I don't have any choice,' she said flatly, 'besides I think you exaggerate.'
'I DO NOT!' Viciously he jabbed at the accelerator and swerved the car on to the villa's flower-bordered drive. The rear wheels spun for a moment, causing a shower of grit to fly behind them. 'I do not exaggerate,' he said, 'it is you who do not… will not… understand. This is still a savage and sometimes dangerous land. And with your blonde beauty… you command attention.'
'You're trying to tell me that I'm just a foreigner in your country, aren't you?' The stone that was her heart was getting heavier.
He stopped the car at the front of the house. 'Not just a foreigner, but a stranger to our ways certainly.'
'Oh! There's such a gulf between us,' she cried forlornly, 'you make me feel so… so lonely.'
'You do not need to feel lonely kookla mou.' The anger had gone from him as suddenly as it had flared.
She hunched in the seat and stared miserably at the velvet black night. 'But we're so different,' she said at last. 'It's as if there's an ocean between us… and we just shout to each other from separate ships.'
'Then let us jump into the water and swim towards each other,' he said. 'Then we will meet. Ne?'
She gave him the ghost of a smile. 'What about sharks?' she said.
'No sharks, I promise.' He kissed the tip of her nose. 'Only porpoises.'
'I'm very fond of porpoises,' she whispered.
Putting his arm round her shoulders he said softly, 'Shall we try, Lorna? To have patience and to swim towards each other.'
Not trusting herself to speak she nodded, her eyes suspiciously bright. He kissed her mouth and held her gently against his broad chest like a child who needs comforting, stroking her silky hair until she relaxed against him. After a while he said, 'We had better go in. They will be waiting for us.'
Obediently she let him lead her up the shallow steps to the house. Before he opened the door he looked at her searchingly for a moment. 'Do not worry kookla mou,' he said, 'everything is going to be all right.'
She made herself smile up at him and say, 'Of course it is, darling.' But she knew in her heart that it was going to take more than a blue glass charm to ward off the storms and perils that threatened this tempestuous love affair she had embarked upon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mornings were always glorious in Crete, but the morning of Ariadne's wedding seemed particularly so. The air was fresh, and golden fingers of sunlight lit the distant hills.
Although it was still early the villa was buzzing with activity when Lorna woke. Maids bustled about with bundles of freshly ironed linen, or with trays bearing plates and glasses, or with vases of brightly coloured flowers. The Peritakis cook was being helped by several women hired from the village, and from the kitchen regions came the steady hum of conversation, accompanied by much clanging and banging, and the sweet smell of baking.
Outside several workers from the orange groves had been dragooned into helping the gardeners put up long trestle tables under the plane trees for the wedding feast. Already an old man was lighting the charcoal in one of the pits dug specially for the occasion. Before long he and his friends would take turns to rotate the spit, gazing almost entranced while the meat sputtered over the smouldering charcoal.
Lorna hastily flung on a pair of slacks and a shirt, and grabbing her camera went in search of pictures— and a morning cup of coffee if she was lucky. She found her coffee—an electric kettle and a tin of Nescafe on the kitchen counter—and took several shots of the general activity before returning upstairs to knock gingerly on Ariadne's door, which was opened by Madam Peritakis, who greeted her warmly.
'Poor child!' she said, 'you did not have much chance to sleep this morning with all the noise.'
Knowing that Jason's mother was not unaware of the growing affection between her son and her Canadian guest this friendliness was particularly welcome. 'Who would want to sleep on an important day like this?' Lorna smiled.
'I have not slept all the night,' piped Ariadne who was sitting on the end of her bed, her face pale with excitement. She was wearing a pair of blue cotton pyjamas and looked about fourteen years old. She looks awfully young to get married, Lorna thought. Why! she's hardly out of the schoolroom.
Madam Peritakis said, 'I cannot enforce your sleeping habits, Ariadne, but I do insist that you eat some breakfast.' She gestured to a silver tray that stood untouched on the bedside table. 'Otherwise you will faint before you get to the church.'
Ariadne looked at her mother rebelliously. 'I will not faint, Mama,' she said.
Lorna took one of the small sesame rolls from the tray and bit into it. 'Why don't I share your breakfast?' she suggested. 'I'm not going to be married so I'm starving.'
The young girl giggled, but she took the other roll and nibbled at it delicately. This token gesture seemed to satisfy her mother. 'Kala!' she said. 'Now that is settled I will see if they have finished ironing your dress. Then it will be time for your bath. No! Stay!' she commanded Lorna, who had moved tentatively towards the door. 'It is good that you are here. Both Ariadne and I are nervous this morning. Your presence calms us, I think.'
Lorna held up her camera. 'As long as I'm not in the way maybe I could start taking some pictures?'
'A good idea,' agreed Madam Peritakis, and clutching her lace dressing-gown to her ample bosom she left the two girls.
'Photographs before I am in my wedding dress?' Ariadne looked down at her crumpled pyjamas.
'Sure! Let's get a record of the whole day. You can always discard any prints you don't like. And don't pose for me,' she said, for Ariadne had straightened up and smoothed her hair when Lorna looked through the viewfinder.
'It is hard to ignore a camera,' the Greek girl grumbled. She stretched towards the tray to pour herself a glass of orange juice and Lorna caught the glint of jewels at her throat. 'I am not like a professional model.'
In an attempt to take her mind off the ordeal of being photographed Lorna asked, 'What's that round your neck?' Ariadne pulled aside the collar of her pyjama top to reveal a necklace of aquamarines. 'Do you always wear jewellery to bed?'
'Mama gave them to me this morning. They belonged to her. They were a wedding gift from her father.'
Lorna admired their watery fire. 'They're lovely.'
'For Jason's bride there will be emeralds,' Ariadne informed her.
'That's nice,' Lorna said, wondering why she felt suddenly defensive.
'Do you have such a tradition in your family Lorna?'
'We're not exactly in that league,' Lorna replied gruffly, screwing up one blue eye and concentrating on the viewfinder of her camera.
Ariadne looked puzzled. 'What does that mean? I do not understand this… league?'
'It means that we don't have any jewels to give away in our family,' Lorna said. 'We're not rich at all.'
'But you wear lovely jewellery,' the other girl insisted. 'Much silver, and at the party some very pretty turquoises. I noted them particularly.'
'They were my mother's.' She pressed the button and rewound the film.
'You see!' Ariadne crowed, 'Your mother also gave you jewels.'
In an effort to get Ariadne off the subject Lorna said, 'Just lean against the pillows will you, and moisten your lips for this next shot?'
'I thought you told me I was not to pose,' Ariadne reminded her.
'Yes… well… Just for this one. Because of… of the light on the pillows,' Lorna improvised.
Dutifully Ariadne licked her lips and lay against the linen-covered pillows. Then she said, 'Does it upset you that we are rich?'
Somewhat taken aback Lorna blustered. 'Upset me? Of course it doesn't.' She took a couple of pictures and was conscious of Ariadne's steady green gaze staring back at her.
'I think it does,' she said, 'but we were not always rich. My great-grandfather was a poor peasant. Everything we have we have earned. We are not… how do you say it? Autocrats.'
Putting aside her camera Lorna squatted on the end of the bed. 'I'm sorry, Ariadne,' she said, 'I'm behaving like a pig. You're quite right. I do get uptight when I think of the differences between us.'
'I do not see any differences,' the young girl smiled. 'I wear my mother's aquamarines and you wear your mother's turquoises.'
'But you're Cretan and I'm Canadian,' Lorna muttered.
With a laugh Ariadne bounced down to the end of the bed to sit next to her friend. 'And we are both women and consequently share the same feelings.' She put her arm round Lorna's hunched shoulders. 'Do you know what I think? I think that you have the soul of a peasant, Lorna. You distrust anything that is unfamiliar. But we are peasants too! So you see there can be no differences between us.'
'You make it sound so simple.' Morosely Lorna fastened her camera case.
'It is simple,' insisted Ariadne. 'And now stop looking so serious on my wedding day or I shall be most cross.' Her eyes, so like Jason's, twinkled mischievously. 'And I am horrible when I am cross for I too have the Peritakis temper.'
The door flew open and Madam Peritakis, a galleon in full sail, burst in. 'The hairdresser has arrived,' she announced. 'Quickly Ariadne. You must have your bath and then get dressed.'
Lorna headed for the door. 'I'll leave you in peace,' she said.
'I do not mean to drive you away, Lorna,' Madam Peritakis smiled assuringly.
'You're not, but I want to get some more pictures of the preparations outside,' Lorna told her. But in truth she had an overwhelming longing to see Jason. She wanted to stand close to him and f
eel the magic his presence always gave her.
She went first to the back of the house. Vasily was just driving up in his battered old mikani which was loaded with trays of keftehes—cold rissoles flavoured with ouzo and lying under a cover of lemon leaves. The mikani also contained a huge basket of bread and many sharp and unfamiliar cheeses. He greeted Lorna cheerfully and bustled into the house.
There were many strange cars parked in the drive, and donkeys tethered under the trees, and a constant coming and going of people carrying chairs and flowers and the impedimenta of a large party. She took several photographs of this cheerful industry and then made her way to the trestle tables that had been put up under the plane trees. From there she caught a glimpse of Jason's broad back. He was standing a little way down the garden, gazing out across the valley. When he heard her footsteps he turned.
'Lorna! Kalimera, my darling.' He took her hand and tucked it under his arm. 'I was just thinking,' he said, 'I was thinking how quickly the years pass. I carried Ariadne on my shoulders through those groves. She was a baby, and it seems like yesterday. And now it is time for me to hand her over to the care of a husband.'
Privately Lorna thought he made his sister sound like a parcel being delivered from one household to another, but she merely said, 'Kosti seems very nice though,' and let it go at that.
'He is a fine man,' Jason agreed, 'I shall be happy to have him for my brother. And it is a love match. That too is most fortunate.'
'And if it wasn't would you still be happy to have Kosti for your brother?' Lorna asked, and when he looked at her searchingly she continued, 'I mean would you expect Ariadne to marry someone the family chose, rather than someone she had chosen for herself?'
'Do you really believe that I would force Ariadne to marry against her will?' he said, pained.
'Well… no… but marriages are sometimes still arranged in Crete, aren't they?'
'Certainly. And usually they are successful. You North Americans have such a horror of arranged marriages. Yet my parents had a long and happy marriage… which was arranged by my grandparents.' His jaw jutted squarely. 'I would point out that our divorce rate is a tenth of yours,' he said.