‘You’re staring at me,’ he said. ‘Was I?’ she said, collecting herself with a start.
‘Don’t be sorry. I like it when you look at me like that.’
‘Like what?’ she asked. ‘Like I am going to eat you and you are going to enjoy it.’ He had an uncanny knack of seeming to know what she was thinking and feeling. This was dangerous ground. Why did the sexual temperature rise when they were together? She felt she could almost reach out and touch it.
‘Where are we going tonight,’ she said hastily, moving to safer ground. ‘I’ve booked somewhere new,’ he said. ‘Remember how we used to try out all the latest restaurants and you would give them marks out of ten for the cooking?’ He was smiling at the memory and her heart contracted. Her mood lifted. Enjoy the time you have, she told herself. Don’t think what might have been?
Outside the summer evening was balmy. ‘I’ve given my driver the night off,’ said Nicos. ‘The restaurant’s not far. I thought we’d walk.’ He cast a questioning at her high heels. ‘I could always carry you,’ he said. She laughed, already beginning to feel happy with him. The thought of being carried by Nicos was oddly pleasing.
‘I could outrun you in these heels,’ she teased. ‘Only if I were wearing similar,’ he rejoined.
The walk took them round the circumference of the park to a stucco fronted building. A red carpet spilled down the steps and on to the pavement from the open front door where a top-hatted doormen presided. Inside the restaurant was all white starched napery and chandeliers. ‘It’s very grand,' Melanie commented. ‘Let’s hope the food is,’ said Nicos.
Later Melanie couldn’t even remember what they had eaten and whether it had been good. They rejoiced in each other’s company, talking and laughing together as if the bitterness between them had never been. They walked back along the park and Melanie stopped to adjust the strap of her sandal. As she straightened up Nicos lifted her off her feet and into his arms. ‘I knew I’d have to carry you home,’ he said.
She didn’t protest. Enjoying the sensation of being carried so comfortingly she put her arms round his neck and nestled her head into his shoulder. He carried her easily up the steps and let her down gently, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. ‘Nightcap?’ he asked her in the hallway. She nodded, not wanting the evening to end, and he led her into the drawing room where soft lamps had been left burning, and the empty glasses and champagne bottle had been replaced with a tray containing two balloon glasses and a bottle of Courvoisier brandy.
Melanie took a sip of the fiery liquid. Opposite her Nicos watched, his own drink untouched. His eyes were fixed on her. She shifted slightly under his gaze pulling her skirt further over her knees where the silk had slid upwards.
‘Don’t,’ he said.
‘Don’t what?' she said uncertainly.
‘I want to see. Pull your skirt higher.’ His voice was on the edge of insistence. Mesmerized she did as he wanted, sliding the skirt further up above her knees.
Their eyes were locked together. ‘More,’ he urged. Melanie moved her skirt higher, revealing her thighs.
His gaze shifted to the shadowy line dividing her breasts. ‘Let down the straps of your dress’ he said. She slipped them from her shoulders as if in a dream.
‘Now let down the top. I want to see your breasts. His voice was husky with desire. The tip of her tongue found her lips Sexual excitement throbbed through her matching his own. She moved her hand to the boned corset top. As she did so her fingers snagged on the sapphire drop around her throat. The touch of the cold jewel took her senses reeling away from him.
‘Stop it,’ she said sharply... In a quick stride he was in front of her pulling her to her feet. He jerked the dress down releasing her breasts and pulling her towards him crushed his mouth down on hers forcing his tongue into her mouth. She struggled in his embrace but he didn’t release her. He pushed her back down on to the sofa and pinned her there beneath his weight. She lay quiet then, all the fight gone out of her. He began kissing her softly, running his lips over her neck down to her throat and nuzzling her gently. Gradually, unwillingly she felt herself responding. But he pulled away from her and got to his feet, running one hand through his hair.
‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ He looked distraught. ‘Sometimes I just want you so much it hurts. I can’t bear for you to be with anyone else. Just the thought of it crucifies me.
Melanie sat up awkwardly pulled her dress as best she could over her, wrenching the straps into place. She had encouraged him, played his game, undressing to his command. How could she blame him?
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said, not looking at him. He came and sat beside her on the sofa and took her hand. ‘What am I going to do about you?’ he said. ‘When we’re together I can forgot everything but the pleasure of being with you. Then it’s like a shutter comes down and I keep remembering.’
‘You remember all the wrong things,’ she said ‘And the wrong things you do remember you really haven’t got right.’
‘Is that my riddle for tonight?’ he said, with a small smile at her. He got up and walked to the mantelshelf, his back to her. He was silent for some time. Then he turned and said, ‘Let’s make a pact. For the week we are here in London let’s pretend that everything is like it used to be.’
‘You were happy with me then, weren’t you?’ she said.
He walked over and knelt in front of her looking up into her face. ‘I have never been happier,’ he said. ‘But I based my happiness on a false premise.’
‘I could prove to you here in London why you are so wrong, but I’m not going to,’ she said. ‘I could come to you and say, ‘look, this is why you are wrong’ and I think that now you might be prepared to listen. But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to do it because you have told me several times what you expect from the woman you love and want to share your life with.
‘Did it ever occur to you that I had expectations, too? I had certain standards that I expected from the man I was going to share my life with. If I didn’t come up to your expectations, but then you didn’t come up to mine, either.’ He looked stunned.
‘The man I love should know me enough to trust me, love me enough to have faith in me. You did neither of those things. So, yes, let’s by all means make a pact. No more raking over old ground. Let’s just enjoy this week together. It will be the last one. When we got back to the island I will have only one more week with Electra... After I leave the island we will probably never see each other again.’
‘Never see each other again.’ He repeated her words back to her. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘No, it’s what you want,’ she said.
‘I’ve never seen you like this before,’ he said. ‘You sound so….’ He paused ‘resolute,’ he finished.
‘Maybe it’s because I am. Inside me there was always a small nugget of belief that you would come round, that you would let me play a part in Electra’s life. There was even a tiny part of me that hoped you and I might be together one day.
He released her hand and stood up, walking away to stand in front of the mantel once again, his head lowered. She had to strain to catch his words. ‘What if the shoe had been on the other foot? What if I had been involved with another woman?’
‘But… she began.
He swung round. ‘Tell me. What would you have done? he challenged.
‘I would have walked away from you,’ she acknowledged, ‘but…
He interrupted finality in his voice. ‘Exactly.’
She felt beaten. She remained on the sofa long after he’d gone, her thoughts melancholy. How could she have thought they had a future when Nicos couldn’t let go of the past?
She climbed the curving staircase and looked in on her sleeping daughter. Tomorrow perhaps Nicos would remain true to his proposed pact. They could enjoy the week, take Electra to the park together, maybe even dine out again the way they had tonight. It had been such a promising evening. Why did everything alway
s go so wrong between them?
She slept surprisingly soundly, waking to the birds in the trees outside her window. The events of the night before crowded into her conscious mind, but she determined to shrug them off. Hurrying along to the nursery she found Electra awake, clinging to the bars of her cot. She lifted her into her arms, covering her with kisses and carried her down the corridor to the tiny kitchen. A highchair had been thoughtfully placed there and she strapped Electra into it and began to prepare her breakfast, singing softly to them both.
This is what happiness is about, she told herself. Men just got in the way. Mischievously, she began to improvise to the old nursery rhyme.
‘Men are black sheep, they take you for a fool, yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full,’
A shadow fell across the open door. ‘So that’s how you’re bringing up our daughter, came Nicos’s amused voice. Melanie, caught out, dropped the spoon she holding with a clatter.
‘Don’t creep up on me like that,’ she stuttered. ‘How else would I learn your amusing repertoire of nursery rhymes,’ he countered.
He was dressed for his business meeting, elegantly suited, white shirt, sober tie and the inevitable briefcase. Melanie was struck again how handsome he was. Suddenly aware of her own dishevelled appearance she pulled her bathrobe closer round her.
Nicos lifted Electra out of her high chair and oblivious of dribble deposits on his dark business suit cradled her close. ‘Here’s a rhyme for you,’ he said. ‘Melanie had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow and every time that Melanie left he was full of woe.’
His eyes, glimmering with amusement over the top of Electra’s head, met Melanie’s. ‘Here’s another one,’ he said, crooning to the baby in a singsong voice:
‘Polly’s putting the kettle on in the park at half past three, if you and your mummy want to come and have tea in the park with me.’
Melanie couldn’t help smiling. The Nicos of last night and this Nicos were like two different people. He deposited his daughter back in the highchair and as he straightened up Melanie saw that Electra had inevitably left her mark on his immaculate lapel.
‘Here. Let me sponge that off,’ she exclaimed, hurrying to dampen a clean cloth under the tap. He stood there while she rubbed diligently and suddenly realised as she worked away that he was blowing softly on the top of her head.
‘Stop that,’ she said crossly. ‘’Why? Don’t you like it,’ he said. She looked up at him. ‘Are you annoying me on purpose?’ ‘No. By accident,’ he said impishly.
She turned back to the sink and plonked the damp cloth down noisily. ‘Oo, Mummy’s cross with me,’ he said to Electra. ‘Maybe Mummy won’t bring you tea in the park. But if Mummy does want to bring you to tea in the park perhaps she’ll be at the front door at 3.30 this afternoon?’
Electra, enjoying the attention, banged her spoon happily. ‘Well, that’s a clear “yes”,’ announced Nicos to Melanie’s turned back. He came behind her and put both his arms round her waist. ‘See you this afternoon,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘You’re Daddy can be very persuasive,’ she told Electra as she spooned cereal into her daughter’s open mouth. ‘Shall we have tea with him? What do you think?’ Electra burbled something through a mouthful of cereal that sounded suspiciously like ‘Dada’.
‘I can see whose side you’re on,’ she scolded, but she couldn’t deny a bubble of happiness. Perhaps the non-aggression pact of the night before was on after all.
She was downstairs waiting in the hallway, Electra snug in her buggy, at the appointed time. ‘I’m going to feel an idiot if he doesn’t come,’ she thought to herself. But he did, leaping out of the Bentley, and taking the steps two at a time. He paused only to fling off his jacket and tie and throw them on the hallstand before hefting the buggy down to the pavement and setting off across the road to the park.
He led the way through shaded paths, into the rose garden and on to the outdoor café beyond. It was a perfect summer afternoon. Electra pointed excitedly to the trees where squirrels scampered up and down and reached out her chubby little hands to the colorful blooms. Nicos gazed at her with paternal pride, only taking his eyes off her to smile at Melanie.
‘A perfect family afternoon,’ Melanie thought ruefully. ‘If only we were the perfect family. But Nicos was acting if nothing was wrong between them. At the café he settled them at a table and ordered tea. He looked around him contentedly. ‘If this weather holds we should have a wonderful week,’ he said. ‘I’ve finished the business I came here for, except for some loose ends to tie up at the end of the week, so the rest of the time is for us.’
Melanie looked questioningly at him. He was buttering a scone assiduously as if it deserved all his concentration. He reached for jam and spooned it on to his plate humming softly to himself. Without looking up he said, ‘It will be a sort of competition.’
‘What will?’ asked Melanie, perplexed.
‘Who will be the first to break the non-aggression pact? Who will start a fight first? Who will last the week without alluding to the past?
Melanie bridled. ‘It won’t be me,’ she protested.
‘In which case you will win the prize.’
‘What’s the prize?’ asked Melanie suspiciously.
‘If I win I take you to my bed. If you win you get to come to bed with me.’
Melanie did her best to look exasperated ‘You are the world’s most exasperating man,’
‘That’s me,’ he agreed. ‘World Class.’ He leaned across the table and deposited a blob of cream on her nose... ‘You’re teaching the baby bad habits,’ she complained, but he was winning her round. He always could.
The week was glorious. The weather was mild, the sun shone and every day Nicos arranged some fresh delight for Electra, from a simple seaside outing to a visit to the zoo. He spent every evening with Melanie. They dined out, a small French bistro in Soho becoming their firm favorite. One evening Nicos took her to the open-air theatre in the park, where they enjoyed the pre theatre buffet and snuggled together on a bench seat for the performance. As the night sky darkened and the evening grew chill, he put his jacket round her shoulders and held her close to his side. Melanie was so aware of his closeness, the scent of his skin that was all his own, she was hardly aware of what she was watching.
But Nicos never so much as kissed her. The sexual tension between them was as strong as ever but it was as if they had a tacit understand. By holding back they could keep the past at bay. Once, on an evening when they hadn’t gone out but were eating together in the opulent dining room, Melanie felt Nicos looking at her in that old familiar way. His fingers had tightened so hard on the stem of the crystal wine glass in his hand that Melanie was sure it would break.
That evening he didn’t suggest they move through to the drawing room for coffee as he usually did, but announced quite formally that he was tired and if she would excuse him he would go straight upstairs. Melanie wasn’t fooled. All her instincts told her that if she had made one move towards him they would have been in each other’s arms.
They didn’t kiss; but they didn’t quarrel, either. It seemed neither wanted to be the one that broke the truce. Now and then some small shaft of dissension evidenced itself, but was quickly overridden by one or other of them.
Once, driving to the country, they passed the Old Bailey, London's famous ancient court house, and Nicos commented on the crowd outside. ‘Ah, the Central Criminal Court doing good business as usual.’ Melanie smothered a sharp retort. Nicos quickly changed the subject, complimenting her on how well she organised Electra’s needs on their days out. She for her part bit her tongue when Nicos cast doubt on some trivial point they were discussing before she could utter an inflammatory ‘You don’t believe anything anybody says’.
On their last evening before returning to Skiapolos they were going to their usual French bistro. Nicos had asked Melanie if she would like to go to any of the celebrity restaurants he reeled off, but she chose
what she liked to think of as ‘their place’. As she dressed she couldn’t keep the thought out of her mind that so far neither of them had broken the pact. They had gone the whole week without a cross word. It looked like the competition was going to end in a draw. So what about the promised prize? A tremor of sexual anticipation invaded her. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she scolded herself, but her body refused to obey.
In the taxi to the restaurant he held her hand. The waiters greeted them like old friends and they were led to their usual secluded table. Melanie wanted this last evening in London to be perfect. It had been a wonderful week and nothing could spoil it now, she thought.
Mellowed by the wine she dared to ask him, ‘So who do you think won?’
‘The competition? Me, of course, I always win,’ he said decisively.
‘You did not win. It’s a tie,’ she said indignantly.
‘There you are, you see. You just argued with me. So I’ve won.’
‘You cheated,’ she complained, laughing. Leaning forward he whispered in her ear. ‘I’m claiming my prize tonight.’ His breath against her bare neck shot a thrill of nervous expectation through her. His tongue licked gently at her ear.
‘Don’t do that,’ she protested. ‘People can see.’
‘They can watch if they want,’ he said. ‘They will see a beautiful woman and a man who can’t keep his hands off her.’ But he leaned back in his seat, and casting an amused glance around the room and said, ‘Every man in this in this room is jealous of me.’
Melanie looked sceptical. ‘That’s your clue to say “and every woman is jealous of me”. he said mock indignantly. Melanie laughed. She loved Nicos in this mood. He was fun to be with, light hearted and carefree.
The Passionate Greek Page 12