The Windmill of Kalakos

by Iris Danbury

  The waiter brought the glasses of ouzo and Jacynth took a small sip of the aniseed-flavoured spirit. Ray drank his neat, but she found hers too strong undiluted and was surprised when the added water turned the drink cloudy.

  “You’ll get used to it in time,” Ray assured her, “and prefer it without water.”

  He ordered a light, simple meal of sea-bream followed by spiced meat-balls called keftedes. For some time afterwards he and Jacynth sat talking, while he smoked Greek cigarettes and told her about some of his business encounters with the local pottery manufacturers.

  “So I stood firm and beat the salesman down to a lower figure. Oh, he had tears in his eyes as he declared that a few more buyers like me would bankrupt him, but I’ve heard those tales before.”

  “Your employers should be proud of you,” murmured Jacynth, and was immediately sorry that a slightly sarcastic note had crept into her voice, but Ray apparently noticed nothing, for he continued with even more accounts of his triumphs in bargaining.

  At length he suggested that they might walk through some of the new town and look in the shops. Jacynth agreed, but hid her smiles, for “looking in the shops” was all she could do with no more than a few drachmas in her possession.

  She took out her street map and checked the names of the boulevards as she walked along, for in due course she would need to know the short cuts for her own satisfaction. At one point she and Ray turned a corner and she discovered that now they were close to the Villa Kalakos.

  She looked at the top of the windmill as she passed the wall topped by iron railings. “Not everyone can boast of having a windmill in their own garden,” she commented.

  “Is this where you live?” he asked.

  “Yes. Kalakos. But you must have known where it was when you sent me that note yesterday.”

  Ray laughed. “No. I sent a young boy with it. I knew your address, of course. It was on your luggage, but I’d no idea where the house was. So this is the ogre’s castle.”

  Jacynth was vexed with herself for giving him the information, believing that he already knew. Yet where was the harm? Ray Gurney was only a passing acquaintance, a young Englishman chance-met whose visit to Rhodes would be over in a week. It was unlikely that she would ever see him again.

  Facing the shore on the north-west coast were several new hotels, some only in the early stages of erection, others almost finished. She wondered if any were those with which Mallory Brendon was concerned, but no doubt in due course she would find out. It would make her work more interesting if she could see the actual buildings and follow their progress.

  “You’ve gone silent,” observed Ray. “Thinking about the great boss? I can see that I’m going to get very jealous of that man.”

  Jacynth laughed lightly. “No need for that. When I’m out of the house I’m glad to forget about him and his work.” To her astonishment, she realised that this was an outright lie. Mallory Brendon occupied her thoughts far more than was necessary, or even prudent. Since she had first started working in offices, she had never cherished any particular fondness for any of her chiefs. Of course, she reflected, they had usually been middle-aged or elderly men with families, sometimes daughters as old as herself. The only man to whom she had been really attracted was David—and he was shortly to marry her cousin Sara. So she must put him firmly out of her thoughts. At this moment she was startled to find that although she had been in Rhodes so short a time, David’s image was fading. He seemed very far away.

  Jacynth paused now by the promenade rail to watch the sunset tinge the sea to dark mauve and the sky to streaks of pink and gold.

  “I’m very annoyed that I’m obliged to leave you here in Rhodes,” Ray broke into her reverie. “If I had the time, I’d like to be taking you out every day, show you the sights and all that.”

  Jacynth smiled gently. “I can’t see Mr. Brendon giving me time off every day to go out sightseeing either alone or with an escort.”

  “It’s a darned nuisance that I have to leave for Athens tomorrow. I’ll be back on Thursday or Friday and then we could have a whole day together. Ask your boss.”

  “I can’t promise anything,” she replied. “It depends on how much work there is to be done.”

  “Well, let’s make the most of the rest of the day we have now. What would you like to do? Go back into the town? We could have dinner somewhere.”

  “Oh, please, not another meal.” Apart from not being hungry, Jacynth was thinking of the financial strain on her companion. “Perhaps a coffee somewhere?”

  “Right,” he agreed. “Is it too far to walk back or shall we take a taxi?”

  “Oh, let’s walk.”

  The coloured lights of the facade of the new Market opposite the harbour, the yachts clustered close to the quays and crowds of people strolling about gave a liveliness to the evening scene that Jacynth thoroughly appreciated.

  “So different from our dear old home towns!” she commented. “Everything shut sharp at five and not a soul about anywhere.”

  Ray took her to one of the cafes along the outside terraces of the market. Almost every table was occupied, waiters dashed about and Jacynth could hear snatches of half a dozen languages among the buzz of conversation.

  “This is what I like about Continental places,” Ray said, when he found a table. “You can sit and watch the world go by.”

  She was quite content to do just that for the next hour. Later, Ray ordered what he told her were mezes, little snacks served with drinks, and she was happy to pick over a saucer of small fish like sprats.

  About ten o’clock, Jacynth suggested going home.

  “So early?” queried Ray.

  “I haven’t a latchkey, and I don’t want to wake up Caterina to let me in.”

  Ray took a taxi this time, as he said it was too far to walk in the dark along the promenade. At the gate of the villa he paid off the driver and accompanied her through the garden.

  In the shadow of some tall bushes, Ray took her in his arms and kissed her with more enthusiasm than a good-night kiss seemed to warrant.

  Jacynth did not respond, but freed herself as quickly as possible.

  “Don’t go yet, darling,” implored Ray. “Why don’t we go into this windmill you showed me? I could kiss you properly then.”

  “No, Ray,” she objected. “It’s late already and—”

  He pulled her roughly into his arms again and pressed his lips against hers. “I’m longing to come back to Rhodes,” he whispered. “Darling, we could have fun—if only—”

  This time she wrenched herself out of his grasp and almost ran towards the front door of the villa. “Good-night, Ray!” she called over her shoulder. “Thanks very much for a lovely day!”

  She raced up the two wide steps to the porch and cannoned into a solid body leaning against the door. The impact shocked her into a state of nervous apology.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Brendon. I didn’t—er—see you there.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Mallory Brendon replied calmly. “I didn’t think you’d dive-bomb at me if you knew I was there.”

  She swallowed some large obstruction in her throat and groped for words. When none came—or at least none that made sense—she took refuge in a stammered “Good-night, Mr. Brendon.”

  “I’m glad you had a good day,” he murmured, “and evidently good company. It seems that you’re on very friendly terms with him. Someone you met here?”

  She was aware that in her light-coloured clothes she must have been plainly visible to Mallory when Ray had grasped her in his arms. “The young man I met at Athens airport and who accompanied me to Rhodes,” she said coldly. It was no business of her employer to catechise her about acquaintances with whom she spent her, so far, very limited free time.

  “Oh, you’ve been able to communicate with him, then?”

  “He was able to communicate with me,” she retorted. “He felt that he had a certain responsibility towards me.”

 
“How did he know your address unless you gave it to him?”

  “I didn’t give it. The name of the villa was on my luggage labels.”

  “I see.” Mallory took a puff at his cigar. “Then in future I’d be obliged if you’d be more discreet. I don’t want dozens of young men calling on you here—and distracting you.”

  Anger welled up in Jacynth. “You can rest assured, Mr. Brendon, that there’s no need for alarm on your part. I’m not likely to attract these dozens of young men you mention. As for Ray—Mr. Gurney, he’s here on business for only a short visit. He returns tomorrow.”

  In the darkness Mallory gave a subdued chuckle. “I don’t know whether to give you my condolences on that account or congratulate you on making the most of your time.”

  In an impulsive movement her hand lifted sharply, but she arrested it before it could land on his face in a stinging slap. “Perhaps you would allow me to pass,” she said furiously. He was blocking the door.

  “Certainly.” He moved aside, but in her haste to get away from this mocking creature, Jacynth brushed his arm and was surprised at the confusing and weakening effect the contact had on her.

  She almost ran across the dimly-lit hall towards the stairs. “Eight o’clock start tomorrow morning!” he called, and she turned sharply on the stair. “I like to begin early. Also, when the weather becomes hotter in the summer, we have siesta timetables.”

  He was standing at the foot of the stairs, an orange lantern glinting on his dark hair and upturned face. “I’ll be ready!” she called back, and fled up to her room. She flopped on the bed, shaken by seething anger but also by the way hot colour flooded into her cheeks and her heart leapt about when she unavoidably barged into him.

  It had been bad enough to collide with him that first time in the porch. That unexpected encounter had knocked her off balance, both physically and emotionally. The second time was worse and could have been avoided if she had observed rather more dignity in escaping indoors. Yet, she muttered angrily aloud, what gave him the right to spy on her, lurking about hidden in doorways?

  She should have asked him that question before rushing away so ignominiously. She vowed that next time she would demand an answer. At the same time she remembered with a sigh that she was here in Rhodes working for Mr. Brendon on only an exceedingly temporary basis. At any moment he could pack her off to England, not only on the grounds of incompetence, but probably because he would maintain that temperamentally she was unfitted to continue in the job.

  Jacynth sniffed away a tear or two of self-pity and wondered what further humiliations might be in store.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When Jacynth went down to her office next morning at ten minutes to eight, she found Mallory Brendon already there. He was scribbling notes and corrections on some of the immaculately-typed foolscap sheets she had worked on during Saturday.

  “These will have to be done again,” he murmured without looking up or even giving her a good-morning.

  “Kalimera,” she said pointedly.

  He looked up sharply as she sat in front of her typewriter. “Kalimera,” he replied. “Is that one of your half-dozen words of Greek?”

  His voice was as taunting as ever, but this morning there was the hint of a smile around his mouth and his dark eyes held a sparkle of amusement, so perhaps he was inclined to be more amiable than last evening.

  “I’m trying to learn a few expressions so that I can find my way about,” she answered evenly.

  He smiled at her and his eyes lost that amused expression, if it had ever been there. “Are you sure that you’ll be here long enough to use your Greek?”

  She flushed. He had scored another point. So he was still holding over her the threat of dismissing her.

  “Even on a fortnight’s holiday in a foreign country, I still think it courteous to try to learn a few words,” she said without looking at him.

  He gave a subdued exclamation of laughter. “Neatly rebuked! I see I must be more careful in future how I frame my questions.”

  She took the amended sheets of foolscap that he now handed to her.

  “Those will keep you busy for part of the day,” he told her, “but before you tackle those I want you to come to my study now. I have some information I’ve been waiting for and I can now dictate the rest of that contract we had to leave the other day.”

  She followed him to the large study he used in another part of the house and for the next hour concentrated on taking down the complicated conditions of a new contract for financing an hotel along the coast.

  “You’d better make a rough draft of that,” he instructed. “There may be alterations.”

  ‘Very well. Shall I do this first?”

  “Yes. If you could knock it out by about eleven o’clock, I’d be glad.”

  She nodded.

  “By the way, at last the London office have sent me the confirming letter about substituting a Miss Jacynth Rowan for Diana Osborn. They claim that they sent a telegram, but evidently that went astray somewhere.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get the girl you expected,” she murmured.

  “I have yet to discover whether that will turn out an advantage or otherwise,” he said drily. “Did you know Diana?”

  “Oh, yes. She was in a different department, but we used to meet sometimes.”

  “Very different from you.” Under his scrutiny she felt the fiery colour rising fast in her cheeks.

  “I could never compete with her. She’s very attractive and—sophisticated, too.”

  “Probably,” he agreed. “Yes, you’re quite a contrasting type. Fair hair, blue eyes—the English look.”

  The way he said it made it sound as though she were very insipid-looking. She remembered Diana with her masses of dark hair round her shoulders, mischievous brown eyes and an eminently kissable mouth that probably had a long record of service.

  “And did you go shopping yesterday?” was his next query when she did not answer what she thought an unanswerable comment. “Diana was everlasting pottering around the shops.”

  “Actually, no. I found I had very few drachmas and had omitted to take sterling with me to cash.”

  “Then it was fortunate that your boy-friend took you out for the day and, I presume, gave you something to eat?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I shan’t be so careless next time.”

  He chuckled. “Does that mean that you have these quality ideas? Share and share alike? He pays one time and you pay the other?”

  She laughed. “Not exactly. In any case, Ray is not my boyfriend. I haven’t known him long.”

  “Long enough for a prolonged good-night embrace last night.”

  A spark of mischief entered her head. “If I’d known you were standing there, I might have encouraged him to spin it out longer.”

  “Would you indeed?” His dark brows converged in a frown. “You’d better start on that draft,” he said abruptly. The amiable mood was over. Jacynth was dismissed.

  As she typed the complicated phrases and clauses, part of her mind was occupied by thoughts of her employer. Evidently he could make sarcastic remarks no matter whether they wounded or not, but she must not exchange the same currency with him.

  Bother the man! Thinking about him caused her to make mistakes. A blessing this document was only a first draft. However, she managed to finish it in reasonable shape by the time he came in demanding it.

  She had just poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot Caterina had brought and absent-mindedly Mallory helped himself to the solitary cup.

  “Right!” he said briskly as he picked up the draft, “I’ll take this with me to the conference. You’ve plenty to get on with for the rest of the day.”

  Indeed she had! Some of the documents were twenty pages thick.

  At the door he paused and looked back at her. “And the siesta season hasn’t started yet,” was his final warning as he went out.

  Jacynth let out a long gasping sigh of relie
f. Too much of his presence was more than she could stand, yet the room seemed empty and devoid of vitality without his masculine dynamism.

  She poured out another cup of coffee from the pot and experienced a thrill of pleasure at the idea of sharing the same cup, even if a trifle unhygienic.

  What absurdity! Really, she must shake herself out of this ludicrous day-dreaming and apply herself to Mr. Brendon’s tasks or she would find herself day-dreaming on the way home to England.

  After lunch she walked about the grounds of the villa, where Nikon was tidying the rock garden behind the swimming pool, still empty and forlorn with dust and dead leaves.

  “When do you fill the pool with water?” she asked him in half Greek, half English.

  “In April,” he told her. That was easy, for the names of the months were fairly similar to those in English.

  She left him to his task and wandered among the shrubs, many of them already in blossom, oleander and paeonies, with other kinds which she had never seen before. Pines and cypresses were sited where they would afford shade in the summer months and in one corner of the garden was a small summerhouse, with a conical roof of intertwined branches. On one of the wooden uprights of the door were initials carved deeply. “KTZ” and underneath “OEP”. She wondered who had been the original inhabitants of the villa, whether it was the family home of Mallory Brendon or if, as she considered more likely, he merely rented it as a residence also serving as a business apartment.

  When she returned indoors, it occurred to her that so far she had not even seen the other rooms in the villa apart from Mr. Brendon’s study and the small crowded room on the other side of the hall where she had waited on the day of her arrival.

  She asked Caterina if she might look in the downstairs rooms, since at this moment there was little chance of disturbing her employer. He would not be back until the evening, so the housekeeper confirmed.

  Caterina accompanied Jacynth and identified each room in turn, but that was hardly necessary, for the dining room with an oval walnut table and chairs with tapestry seats and richly carved backs proclaimed its use. The drawing room—Jacynth thought it was too large and spacious to be called a sitting-room—had pale turquoise walls with elaborate cornices and a handsome ceiling. There were comfortable-looking armchairs upholstered in modern fabrics and groups of other chairs arranged around small tables. At the far end near the wide french windows was a full-size grand piano and Jacynth wondered if Mallory played. Gilt-framed mirrors reflected each other on opposite sides of the room and large porcelain vases and urns stood on the white marble mantelpiece and on tables.