The Passionate Greek

by Catherine Dane

  ‘Yes, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.’

  He sighed resignedly. ‘Even if you had not chosen to give her up to me I would have gone to court for custody and I would have won.’

  ‘How can you be so sure,’ she said heatedly. ‘Courts mostly give custody to the mother.’

  ‘Ah, yes, mother love.’ His lips twisted sardonically. ‘But in your case you were not in a position to provide a home for our daughter and I was.’

  ‘You could have looked after her until I was ….’ She couldn’t continue.

  ‘Released from prison,’ he finished for her. ‘Yes, I could have done that, but it wouldn’t have been wise.’

  ‘What’s wise got to do with it? I am talking about love.’

  He gave her a look she couldn’t interpret. ‘Love means different things to different people. To me to love is to be loyal, to trust and be trusted in return. To be constant and honest with the person you share your life with, to be faithful. To keep your promises.’

  ‘And you think I was none of those things. How little you must know me. Do you really believe that in all time together I wasn’t loyal and faithful to you?

  ‘I thought you were. I believed you were everything I had looked for in a woman, the one I wanted as the mother of my children. We would bring them up together, as a loving happy family. But it was a fantasy. I ought to have known better. Life has not been like that for me – ever.’

  He was tearing her apart with what could have been. He had set his mind against her and she couldn’t see a way to change it. What was it in his past that made him so unable to trust?

  She rose to her feet and he made no attempt to stop her. Blinded by tears she crossed the lobby and pushed her way out through the revolving doors.

  His words rang through her head. Loyal, constant, honest, faithful. She would have been all those things to Nicos. But she had made a promise, a promise she had to keep and it had cost her dear.

  * * *

  The weeks wore on and Nicos, true to his promise, made no further attempt to contact her. Gabby was successfully installed on Skiapolos and to Melanie’s joy sent regular emails about her new life. She felt a twinge of guilt that Gabby’s emails all started ‘Hi Stephanie’ and often wondered how to get around to telling her that her name was Melanie. Happy as she was that Gabby was clearly besotted with her new charge Melanie could not still the flash of envy she felt when Gabby related Electra’s latest development.

  ‘This morning she’s waving her little fist at me,’ wrote Gabby, unknowingly piercing Melanie’s heart with her words.

  Gabby had only praise for her boss. ‘I was a bit nervous about him at first because he can be hard to please,’ she wrote. ‘But I’ve found out he only barks at people when things aren’t right. He seems very pleased with me and now I think he’s the best boss I’ve ever worked for. He’s so considerate and so concerned for everybody that works for him.’

  Melanie would like to have disagreed but she knew Gabby was right. All Nicos’s staff on the island had known him since he was a little boy and each and every one of them loved him. But he’s not stealing their child,’ Melanie thought resentfully, knowing in her heart of hearts that in all fairness he did not steal his daughter. It was she, Melanie, who had given her to him and now he would not give her back.

  Melanie was calling up Gabby’s latest email one evening and wondering how she could get her to send a picture of Electra when her mobile phone rang. Glancing at the display she saw it was a foreign call. Puzzled she picked up and heard Gabby’s unmistakeable voice.

  ‘Stephanie, it’s me, Gabby,’ came the breathless voice down the wire. ‘I’ve had a bit of an accident.’

  Melanie’s heart dropped, dreading to hear something had happened to Electra, but Gabby went on. ‘I’ve broken my arm, falling on some rocks down on the beach. It’s all bound up now but I can’t look after the baby properly till it’s healed. Mr Chalambrous is away on business for a month but I’ve told him about it and he’s said to get the other nanny over ’

  Melanie’s heart pounded. A plan was beginning to form even as Gabby talked. “Mr Chalambrous is away for a month” resounded in her head. He would never know. Dimly she heard Gabby explaining that old Anna, the housekeeper was looking after Electra for the time being, but Mr Chalambrous thought it was too much for her at her age and to get the other nanny he interviewed over to the island as quickly as possible and if she had another position never mind how much it cost to get her to leave her job. Melanie gave a rueful smile to herself at that. Nicos could be ruthless when he set his mind on something.

  By “the other nanny” Gabby clearly thought he meant her friend Stephanie, not the starchy girl at the interviews that Melanie knew very well he must have been referring to.

  Gabby was chatting on excitedly. ‘Mr Chalambrous has been really kind. He’s paying my fare home till my arm is better and then he says I can come back. And he’s paying me full wages while I’m away. There’s not many bosses would do that.’

  Melanie’s mind whirled. No Gabby on the island. No one to know her as ‘Stephanie’. She could do it.

  ‘Mr Chalambrous said we have to get in touch with the agency but I thought I’d talk to you first,’ explained Gabby.

  Hardly daring to think of the consequences Melanie heard herself telling Gabby not to worry, she would give her notice in and be there as soon as she could.

  Once she had said goodbye to Gabby doubts began to assail her. If Nicos found out what a terrible mistake Gabby had made she would lose her job. She had to think of a way of protecting the girl but still having that precious month with her daughter.

  Gabby thought she was Stephanie. She would become Stephanie. She would sign one of the agency’s contracts as Stephanie and fax it through to Tele-Sky communications. The real Stephanie was safely miles away in a new position working for a wealthy American family in upstate New York.

  Nicos would blame Melanie for the deception, not Gabby. Was forging Stephanie’s name a crime? Probably. But Melanie had committed a crime for someone she loved before and for a month with her daughter it was a small price to pay. Sleepless, her thoughts circling through the long night, by the morning she knew she would do it. She was going to Skiapolos to spend a month with her daughter and hang the consequences.

  She deliberately put out of her mind what would happen when Nicos found out what she had done, which inevitably he would. The staff on the island all knew her. She would have to deceive them into thinking she had Nicos’s permission to be there. Luckily she knew that when Nicos was not on Skiapolos the islanders rarely had reason to contact him.

  Whenever her courage failed her about the enormity of what she was doing, she thought of Electra. She would do anything for her baby, anything at all.

  The flight to Athens contrasted sharply with her trip with Nicos. Then she had flown with him in his private jet and been driven in limousine comfort to the small port where his sleek motor launch awaited to whisk them over the sea to Skiapolos.

  Bumping along on the bus up the coast road from Athens to the port she could not help contrasting this journey with the luxury of the last. But the beauty of the wine dark sea was just as lovely from the windows of the rickety old bus, the stark white houses under the blazing sun just as picturesque as she remembered.

  The bus dropped her near the harbor and grabbing her case she set off to where she hoped she would find the boat for the island moored. As she was looking uncertainly about her a boatman, skin tanned dark by days at sea, beckoned from a bobbing wooden craft.

  ‘Skiapolos. English missy?’ he called out. She was glad it was not someone she knew. Jumping out he dumped her case on the boat and helped her aboard. Starting the ancient outboard with a noisy roar he headed out for the open sea. Melanie, seated gingerly on a shifting wooden seat, oily boxes stacked each side of her, was glad the noise of the engine and the boatman’s lack of English precluded conversation.

  In her hea
dlong flight to be with baby she had given little thought to what she was going to tell the staff at the house on Skiapolos. She knew all of them from the summer spent there with Nicos and had become very close to Anna, the old housekeeper

  Now, as the outline of island became visible on the horizon, she felt her courage fail her. But as the boat nudged up to the landing stage and the boatman leapt out to hand her ashore, she felt a surge of pure happiness. Soon she would be holding her baby in her arms. ‘I’ll cross all my bridges as I come to them,’ she told herself determinedly.

  There was no welcoming committee, of that she was glad. When she had arrived with Nicos all the villa’s servants had been lined up to greet them and be introduced to her. Now the boatman hoisted her case and led her up the steep path to the villa’s open gates and on to the terrace where he gestured for her to sit. Voluble Greek came from inside the house and Anna bustled out, looking just as Melanie remembered her, her tiny upright figure dressed head to foot in her customary black.

  ‘Miss Melanie,’ her old, brown face broke into an incredulous smile. ‘You come back. Nicos he no say,’ and opening her arms wide with delight, kissed Melanie on both cheeks and enveloped her in a warm hug. Melanie began a faltering explanation, hating the lies she was going to have to tell Nicos’s beloved old housekeeper. But Anna forestalled her. ‘My English still no good. Never mind. You say English nanny no come. You come instead. Is better. You come see Electra.’ And with that she hustled Melanie into the cool of the villa and up the wide staircase. At the top she turned to Melanie with a finger on her lips. ‘Electra sleeping. You come see her.’

  Melanie entered the nursery her heart beating. Tiptoeing over to the beribboned cot she looked down at her sleeping daughter’s little body with her plump arms thrown up each side of her turned head, long eyelashes fringing her pink cheeks and was swept with unbounded joy.

  The days on Skiapolos flew by. Melanie spent every waking moment with her daughter from the moment Electra woke in the morning till she slept at night. The bond between mother and daughter grew stronger by the day till Melanie felt they had never been parted.

  It was Anna who broke the news Melanie had dreaded to hear. ‘Mr Nicos come back soon,’ she announced, peering worriedly at Melanie with her beady black eyes.

  Sudden realisation flashed through Melanie’s mind. ‘Anna knows. She has known from the start. Nicos doesn’t know I’m here and she hasn’t told him.’ In the look of understanding that past between the two women Melanie realised that it was no accident that Anna, using the excuse of her bad English, had not questioned her presence, on the island more closely. She could not go now and leave Anna to face Nicos’s wrath alone.

  ‘I will stay till he arrives,’ she told Anna and was rewarded with a quickly suppressed glint of dark eyed gratitude.

  ‘Why, Anna?’ she asked the old lady gently and Anna understood.

  ‘A mother should be with her child.’ was her simple reply.

  Melanie had one precious week left with Electra and she resolved to make the most of it. When Nicos returned she was sure he would bundle her on the boat off the island as fast as he could. The day before Nicos was due to arrive Melanie awoke with a heavy heart. Electra’s sunny smile when she lifted her from her cot pierced her soul. Only one more day with her beloved daughter. She was determined not to let her sadness show while she played with her all morning in the garden of the villa. After Electra’s afternoon nap she dressed her, put a perky sunbonnet on fluffy haired head and took her down to the beach to play.

  Electra’s joy as Melanie dangled her baby legs in the gentle waves could not help but raise her spirit. Laughing, Melanie lifted her high in the air, bouncing her gently back down on to the water where Electra kicked her little feet in the waves and squealed with laughter.

  Some instinct, she could not tell what, made her think they were being watched. She looked around her, but could see no one. ‘Come on, baby. Time for tea,’ she crooned to Electra and hoisting her on to her hip, beach bag over her other shoulder, she set off up the steep path. She was almost at the top of the incline when shock stopped her in her tracks. Nicos. He was standing there silently, gazing at her, an impenetrable expression on his dark features

  Chapter Five

  She had rehearsed over and over what she would say to him when she saw him again but surprise robbed her of her prepared speech Shifting Electra from her hip into her arms in an unconscious protective motion as if she thought Nicos was going to snatch the baby from her arms she could only stutter, ‘I thought you weren’t coming till tomorrow.’ ‘By which time you would have been miles away,’ he said sardonically.

  Stung, she replied hotly, ‘It was never my intention to leave without an explanation,’

  ‘How very honorable of you.’ His face registered disbelief spurring Melanie to fury.

  ‘Since you are obviously quite prepared not to believe a word I say I won’t bother to even try,’ she snapped.

  Their raised voices disturbed Electra who began to cry. Suffused by guilt Melanie rocked the baby in her arms and, comforted Electra’s sobs subsided to sleepy snuffles. Meeting Nicos’s s eyes over the baby’s head she could see he felt as guilty as she did.

  ‘Here, let me take her up the rest of the way,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘She’s getting heavy now, isn’t she?’ Unresisting, Melanie let Nicos take Electra from her and cradled in her father’s arms Electra stuck her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes contentedly. In spite of herself Melanie was oddly moved to see father and daughter together.

  ‘Can you manage the beach bag?’ Nicos’s voice was kindly questioning, as if they had never had a cross word between them.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Melanie, in a small voice.

  They were behaving as if Electra could understand every word and were determined to put up a convincing show of togetherness in front of their daughter.

  As she followed Nicos’s long strides up the steep steps cut out from the hillside which led up to the villa Melanie could not help but be aware of Nicos’s deeply tanned muscular legs as he powered upwards, his sleepy daughter no hindrance. He was in shorts, and shirtless, displaying broad shoulders narrowing to slim hips. ’He’s still got the sexiest butt on any man alive,’ she thought ruefully and chastised herself for it. She was disturbed to find that he still had the power to attract her like no other man had before.

  At the top of the steps he turned to her and placed Electra tenderly back into her arms, running his hand softly over Electra’s baby curls. ‘Her hair is the same color as yours,’ he said, unexpectedly. ‘Sea green eyes like yours, too. She will grow up as beautiful as her mother.’ Melanie stared speechlessly at him. He had spoken almost to himself. Abruptly he said, ‘I know how long you’ve been here. You have obviously spent all your time with her.’

  Melanie, rocking Electra in her arms, kept her gaze averted from him and stayed silent. A dreadful fear engulfed her. Now that Nicos was back was she looking at the last of her daughter? It had to be.

  Nicos took a step towards her. She hugged Electra closer to her protectively.

  ‘I’m not going to snatch her away,’ he said. ‘You needn’t look like that.’

  Melanie struggled to speak. She had a lump in her throat that refused to go away. She could feel his eyes on her. ‘And how have you been spending these illicit days,’ he asked, but he sounded more amused than angry. Melanie remained mute and he said, ‘Well, whatever you have been doing Electra looks very well on it.’ Melanie was startled but before she could think to say anything he had turned away abruptly and left her staring at his retreating back.

  As Melanie readied Electra for bed she wondered how she was supposed to spend her evening now that Nicos was back. It would be time for dinner in an hour or so. At Anna’s insistence she had always eaten her evening meal alone in the dining room. She had suggested she eat in the kitchen with the staff but Anna would not hear of it. Perhaps she could have something sent up to her ro
om.

  She was pondering this option when Anna appeared and as if reading her thoughts announced: ‘Mr Nicos want you to eat with him on the terrace tonight.’

  ‘Confrontation time,’ Melanie told herself. ‘I might as well get it over with.’

  Anna turned to leave the room. At the door she looked back at Melanie and said sternly, ‘You wear something pretty.’ Melanie half smiled. ‘You know you can be a very bossy old lady when you want.’ But Anna had gone’

  Melanie gazed after her nonplussed. The case she had brought to the island contained only practical clothes like jeans, cotton tops and beachwear. She had the feeling that they were not Anna’s idea of ‘something pretty’. Like a mind reader Anna appeared in the doorway again. ‘You look in storeroom cupboards. .You find things.’

  With that pronouncement she disappeared again.

  Melanie sighed to herself. Anna was obviously not going to be satisfied unless she dressed for dinner. ‘I’ll do it for Anna,’ she decided. ‘No doubt Nicos would prefer me in sackcloth and ashes,’ she thought crossly.

  The storeroom so called was in reality the top floor of the three-story villa. As Melanie mounted the stairs she wondered what on earth she was going to find up there to wear. She rummaged through a few trunks filled with spare warm bed linen for the island’s cold winter months and hunted through a few boxes before she remembered one of the rooms was lined with cupboards. The first one was filled with warm winter clothing obviously belonging to the staff. The second was full of what seemed to be an overflow of Nicos’s wardrobe. The third made her gasp. Hanging on the rails was a collection of jewel colored silk and chiffon dresses.

  ‘Mine, they’re mine,’ she breathed. Her mind spun back to when Nicos had bought them for her. A shopping trip to Athens, the smart boutique, trying them on under Nicos’s approving gaze and being quite unable to decide which she liked best. ‘Have them all,’ laughed Nicos. And pulling her to him whispered, mock wicked, in her ear. ‘The dress I like best is the one I can get off you quickest.’