The Beads of Nemesis

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “You should know!”

  Delia's cold eyes glazed with anger. “You’ll regret that! You’re a fool, Morag! I hold your happiness in the hollow of my hand.

  You didn’t mind when I took David, did you? But Pericles? You won’t like losing him to me!”

  “Pericles goes his own way!”

  “My way,” Delia rejoined. She stared long and hard at Morag. “Why, I believe you’re even afraid of him!” she laughed, and there was very little of the tinkling bell about it. “So I’ll be doing you a favour by taking him from you!” “But why?” Morag asked. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

  Delia turned away, putting one foot on a loose stone that slipped underneath her. If Morag had not held her upright, she would have fallen. “Don’t you know why?” she said in a low and deadly voice. “I hate you, Morag Grant. I hate you for always being right and for doing all the right things! If I took your favourite toy, you’d offer me your next favourite after I’d broken it for you! The less you had, the less you needed. Even David -you couldn’t be content with handing me him on a plate, but you had to sacrifice yourself to his memory and my good name. Who asked you to? Who asked you?”

  “But I thought you wanted me to!”

  “Well, you shouldn’t think!” Delia pulled away from Morag, examining her shoes. “Why are you afraid of Pericles?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you said you were!”

  “If you say so.” Morag’s face was controlled.

  “Well, there you are, then! What’s the difference? I’ll bet he knows it too and thinks he can treat you how he likes! I wouldn’t put up with it! In fact I shall quite enjoy teaching him a lesson. Of course, he’s madly attractive too. I like a man who doesn’t mind taking the initiative. And I don’t think there’s any danger of his not liking me, do you?” Morag stopped herself from giving Delia a shove that would have sent her flying on those ridiculous shoes. That, she told herself, was not the way to deal with her. There had to be a better more civilised way, if only she could think of it! “Pericles is a married man,” she said, seething inwardly, because if that was the best argument she could find, she might just as well hand him over on a plate to Delia here and now.

  “Oh, hardly, darling!” Delia’s laugh was well in control now and sounded more bell-like than ever. “I don’t suppose you’d have put so much as a foot in his room if I hadn’t happened to be coming! It’s obvious that he doesn’t think of you in that way at all!”

  Morag clenched her fists. “Why do you say that?” she asked quietly. A fine thing it would be if she were to burst into tears now and give Delia such an easy victory!

  Delia smiled, savouring the moment. “Well, dear, David always said that you were too nice to be much of a temptation, and, if you’re very inexperienced, it’s so easy to mistake good manners for anything warmer. I’m sure Pericles has lovely manners!”

  “I don’t see how you could know that,” Morag protested. The laugh came again. “Pericles and I had a lovely long talk together last night. I don’t intend to waste my time while I’m here!”

  Morag was scarcely aware of the cries of the children as they chased each other along the length of the beach. She watched them for a long pregnant moment, but she didn’t see them at all. She took a deep breath. “I think it would be better if you went back to England, Delia,” she said at last.

  “I’m sure you do, sweetie, but I’m having too nice a time here. Life has been frightfully dull since David died - and he was rather dull too, or he would have been if he hadn’t got involved with you.”

  “I don’t think you understand me,” Morag went on quietly. “I’m telling you to go. I’ll see about your ticket myself, and my mother-in-law will drive you to the airport.” Delia’s laugh was not quite so well under control this time. “And what will Pericles say to that?” Delia demanded. “He’ll take my side! You know he will, just as he did last night!”

  “My husband won’t know until you’ve gone.”

  “Your husband? My God, that’s rich! Don’t you think

  that I might tell him? It was he who invited me here.”

  “Did he?” Morag asked coolly.

  Delia’s eyelashes flickered. “I wrote to him in the first place, but he wrote straight back and told me to come!” “And now I’m telling you to go!”

  Delia sat down hard, almost as though her knees had given way underneath her. Morag regarded her cautiously. It would be a mistake to think that after all these years Delia could be as easy to deal with as that.

  “Aren’t you afraid what Pericles will do to you?” Delia demanded.

  She was, but there was no need to dwell on that, Morag told herself. “Perry won’t hurt me,” she said.

  “He might, if that old woman is to be believed. She goes on as if Greek husbands were little tin gods and do exactly as they like to their wives!”

  Morag smiled slowly. “Well, I don’t see myself making Perry do anything he doesn’t want to do, can you? Why should I? I like it very well that he’s the boss and holds the reins, but he wouldn’t hurt me. He’s too big a person for that.”

  Delia gave her a condescending look. “You never knew anything about David. What makes you think you can read Pericles any better?”

  “I wasn’t married to David,” Morag answered with a calmness she was far from feeling. “Shall I help you pack?” But Delia ignored the question. “What will you tell him? I mean about my not going to Eleusis with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Morag admitted. “I may talk him into taking the children and me after all.”

  Delia narrowed her cold eyes; she flicked a lock of fair hair out of her eyes and then pulled on it thoughtfully. “You haven’t got rid of me yet. Really, Morag, I don’t see how you’re going to. You can hardly put me physically out of the house. I might fight back!”

  Morag straightened her back, squaring her shoulders.

  “I’ll ask Dora to drive us both to the airport,” she began.

  “And what about the children?”

  Morag had forgotten all about her charges. What was she going to do with them? “They’re not babies,” she said aloud. “Peggy has a whole lot more stamps to stick in, and Kimon can always find something to do.”

  “Let’s hope Pericles will agree with you!” The laugh rang out again, and Morag was very conscious of the new note of confidence in Delia’s voice. “You’re storing up a terrible bust-up for yourself with that so-called husband of yours! I think I’ll stick around and see the fun. I came here to teach you a lesson, but I shan’t have to lift a finger to do anything after all. You’ll do it all yourself! Go ahead, Morag, it’ll do you more harm than good!”

  Repelled by the dislike in Delia’s face, Morag clenched her fists. “I will!” she said wildly. “I’ll get rid of you if it’s the last thing I do!”

  “It’ll be the last thing you do as Mrs. Pericles Holmes!” Delia retorted.

  Morag felt cold despite the hot sun beating down on her. “We’ll see,” she said grimly.

  She turned on her heel and walked up the path towards the house, resisting the temptation to take the steps two at a time just in case she fell flat on her face, for she had no intention of granting Delia the satisfaction of such a spectacle. There was no sound of movement in the house. At least that was one problem out of the way, for to have run into Pericles at that moment would have destroyed the last vestiges of the courage that she had fought with herself for so long to bring to a steaming head. She had to make Delia go - there could be no turning back on that. If Pericles wanted her, it was too bad!

  Morag wouldn’t give herself time to change her mind. If she didn’t do it now, in the heat of the moment, she knew herself well enough to know that she would never do it at all, and then she would deserve to lose Pericles.

  But Delia should not have him! No matter what Pericles had to say to her, Morag couldn’t allow that. She was his wife and, even if he couldn’t love her, she would try to be co
ntent with what he could give her. Indeed, she couldn’t imagine how she could live without him now that he had taught her what it meant to love a man so much that all else paled into insignificance beside the wonder of it.

  She swept into Delia’s room and began to shove her clothing into her open suitcase. It was like her stepsister not to have found the time to unpack, not even her evening dresses, nor her sponge-bag, but then perhaps she hadn’t felt the need to wash

  since her arrival the day before. It helped to stoke the fires of Morag’s rage and she seized on it with relief. She banged the suitcase shut and dumped it down on the floor, pushing it across the floor. As she pulled open the door, she was confronted by her astonished mother-in-law,

  “What are you doing?” Dora demanded. She had a paintbrush in her hand and was plainly cross at having been disturbed in her work.

  “Packing,” Morag answered briefly.

  “I can see that. But can’t Delia do her own packing?”

  Morag wrinkled up her nose. “No.” She sat down on the bed, trying to regain the pure flame of her anger. “I’ve told Delia she must go.”

  Dora started. “You haven’t! What did Pericles say?”

  “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “Oh! Oh, Morag, do you think that was a good idea?”

  Morag nodded. “I told her you’d drive her to the airport. Will you, Dora? I’ll make it all right with Pericles. I’d drive her myself, only you know I can’t.”

  ‘ Yes, but, my dear, if she won’t go, what will you do then?” “She has to go!”

  Dora sat down on the bed beside her. “Has she made you very unhappy?”

  Morag nodded again. “She wants Pericles!”

  “She may well, but does Pericles want her?” Dora waved her paintbrush in the air, uttering a small sound of annoyance as some of the paint fell on the blanket. “I think you’re making too much of this. The Greeks have a deep respect for the institution of marriage, and Pericles is entirely Greek in that respect. Believe me, if he hadn’t, his marriage to Susan would have foundered long before her death.”

  “She hates me,” Morag said simply.

  Dora bridled, spattering yet more paint on the bedclothes. “Oh, my dear!” she murmured. “Are you sure?”

  “I think she always has, only I didn’t know it. I never guessed that it was that that lay between us. I can’t think why she should have thought that I was any kind of a threat to her, but it seems she did. Yet I always gave way to her in everything.”

  “But after all these years of putting up with her, why has she

  suddenly got to go?”

  “She says she’s come to take Pericles away from me.”

  “She said that?”

  “I’ve never given her any reason to think I’ll fight back, only-”

  “Only this time you will?”

  “This time I’m fighting for my life. I can’t let her have Pericles even - even if he wants to go. Will you help me, Dora?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking Pericles to do that?”

  “Oh no!” Morag shook her head vigorously. “I must do it all myself. You see, I haven’t told him - I mean, I don’t want him to know -”

  “Pericles has a right to know!”

  Morag swallowed. “I’ll tell him afterwards. If he’s angry with anyone, he’ll be angry with me!”

  “But he did say -”

  “I don’t care what he said! Delia is going. I’ll have it out with Pericles afterwards!”

  Dora looked less convinced than ever. “He’s fond of you, Morag, or he wouldn’t have stopped me yesterday - I would never have been allowed to speak to my mother-in-law like that!- but it will be a different story if he finds you have defied him. His indulgence with your English ways will stop short at that!”

  Morag found herself grinning. “I’ll try to be very Greek -afterwards!” she promised. “Perry will probably see to that!”

  “I certainly hope so!” her mother-in-law retorted. “Has she got an air ticket back to England?”

  “She hasn’t got a reservation yet,” Morag answered. “That’s another thing I want you to do - telephone the airport and get her a seat on the plane.”

  “But what are you going to do for money?” Dora protested. Morag’s grin grew broader. “Take it out of the housekeeping!” There was still no sign of Pericles anywhere. Morag took a look outside and was surprised to see that his car had gone as well.

  “Where did Daddy go?” she asked Kimon who was coming running up the path from the beach. “Delia didn’t go with him, did she?”

  Kimon shook his head. “I’m afraid Delia got a little wet,” he

  said in innocent tones. “Peggy and I thought we’d show her some

  of the jellyfish that the Greek children next door had fished out of

  the sea. She fell in!”

  Morag hardly took in this information. “Did you see Daddy?”

  “Yes, of course. We told him Delia didn’t want to go with him.

  Was that right?” Morag looked at him quickly. Surely the

  children wouldn’t have deliberately -? If they had, she thought, it

  was very much better that she didn’t know anything about it. “Where’s Delia now?” she asked.

  “Down there,” he jerked his head back down the path. “Peggy’s helping her. She’s all right, Morag.”

  Delia, however, thought she was far from all right as she came up the path a few seconds later. “Look what those brats did to me!” she shouted angrily. “Where’s Pericles? I’m going to tell him how you’ve all treated me.”

  “I’m afraid Pericles has already left,” Morag smiled. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you?” Delia took a step towards Morag and slapped her across the face. “All right, I’ll go! But you haven’t heard the last of this, Morag Grant. I’ll finish you with Pericles, and I’ll finish you at home too!”

  Morag was aware only of the expression on the children’s faces. “It’s all right,” she reassured them. “She won’t really hurt me. She’s just a bit cross.”

  “She’s silly,” Kimon opined. “Silly and beastly!”

  “And you’re a horrid little boy!” Delia snapped back. “Look at me! Just look at me! They deliberately drenched me - they knew I was scared of those jellyfish! They were huge and - and ugly!” She turned on Morag. “Don’t pretend you’re sorry, because I won’t believe you! You may have used those brats to get me out of the house, but I don’t give up so easily! I’ll write to Pericles and tell him how you’ve all treated me-”

  “Daddy will be glad!” Peggy interrupted her. “He doesn’t like you either!”

  “Peggy!” Her grandmother’s tone froze them all to the spot. “Peggy, you will apologise at one. It will be I who will be speaking to Pericles about this. I will not countenance such a disgraceful lapse in good manners in any granddaughter of mine!”

  “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

  “It is Delia who will have to excuse you, not me, child!” Peggy flashed a rebellious glance in Delia’s direction “I won’t!” she declared. “She slapped Morag, and I’m not a bit sorry!”

  Dora’s look of distaste would have turned Morag’s bones to jelly, but Delia was made of sterner stuff. “Sisters can be expected to have their quarrels,” she said casually. “Morag and I always have had our differences.”

  “How fortunate that you didn’t both turn out badly,” Dora murmured with deadly charm. “My daughter-in-law has asked me to take you to the airport, Miss - I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I know your name?”

  “Miss Price,” Delia supplied.

  “Well, Miss Price, I have booked and paid for your seat on the next plane back to London myself. So, if you are ready to leave -” “Like this? I shall have to change!” Delia flung a vindictive look in Morag’s direction. “Morag, I can’t go like this!”

  Morag’s face was expressionless. “I’ll help you change,” she offered. She picked up Delia’s suitcase and carried it
back into the house with Delia teetering along beside her, her high platform soles slipping out of control on the highly polished marble floor.

  “You’ll be sorry that you weren’t nicer to me!” she threatened. “I shall tell your father -”

  “Tell him anything you please.”

  “Don’t you care?” At another time Delia’s bewilderment would have made Morag laugh. How odd, she thought, that this time she didn’t care what Delia did! If her father didn’t know them both by this time he never would, and she didn’t think he would judge her too harshly. After all these years, Delia’s threatened tale-telling had lost its venom.

  Delia saw that she had failed. “What are you going to tell Pericles? He won’t appreciate having his guests bundled on to the first plane out of the country!”

  “I don’t know.” Morag’s tone was even.

  “I suppose that mother-in-law of yours will tell him some story to save your bacon! I thought at first she didn’t like you - it was all right when she hit you, I noticed! - and yet she protects you. I

  wonder why?”

  Morag was silent for a moment. “She has her reasons,” she said then.

  Delia looked up from putting on a clean pair of tights. “Oh? What?”

  But Morag wasn’t prepared to tell her. It was enough that she herself should know that Dora tolerated her simply because she worshipped the ground that Pericles walked on. Her stepsister would not view such a weakness with kind eyes. To her, love had always been a matter of taking, just as Morag thought it meant giving and no-more than that. She knew better now! Pericles had taught her that! Love meant loving and being loved, and one had to have both elements for it to be perfect.

  The children were openly jubilant over Delia’s temperature.

  Morag at first flushed with triumph, then began to worry. She felt depressed and shaky and very close to tears.

  “What do you want to do this afternoon?” she asked the children.

  They shrugged their shoulders. “Don’t care,” Peggy said. “Grandma said she might take us out somewhere.”

  “But Grandma is playing bridge,” Morag reminded them.