The Windmill of Kalakos

by Iris Danbury

  The room appeared to be well kept, but Jacynth thought rarely used and Caterina confirmed this. Mr. Brendon did not come in it unless he entertained visitors.

  Jacynth giggled. She could scarcely imagine Mallory Brendon acting as host to a gathering of assorted people. Presiding at a board table was more in his line.

  On the opposite side of the house there were two rooms between Jacynth’s office and Mallory’s study. One was a library with well-filled shelves and leather armchairs. A man’s room, obviously, and perhaps it was here that Mallory usually entertained his cronies. The other room was apparently locked and Caterina said she had no key.

  “Bluebeard’s chamber,” said Jacynth, but the other woman did not understand the allusion, repeating that it was never used.

  Jacynth was intrigued, but did not press the point. So Mallory kept a room locked. To hide some secret in his past? Or merely to practise a hobby?

  The rest of the day was occupied in hard work and Jacynth decided to continue until half-past seven to make up for the time she had dawdled away at lunch-time.

  She heard Mallory’s car just as she came out of her office and dodged back again inside. She did not want him to believe that she was waiting to welcome him on the mat in his own home.

  She picked up several files as though she were tidying them when he came striding in and flopped in the nearest chair.

  “God! I’ve had a day!” he muttered.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

  He waved his hand impatiently. “Don’t start trying to mother me. You can safely leave that to Caterina.”

  However tired he might be or disappointed over some business worry, his tongue had lost nothing of its sharp edge.

  Jacynth hesitated, uncertain whether to leave or stay. Over his shoulder he said, “Tell Caterina to bring me a brandy.”

  She hastened out to the kitchen, only too relieved to have some definite message, but apprehensive in case she muddled his order and the housekeeper brought him a glass of milk. She guessed that the word “cognac” might sound the same in Greek and watched while the woman poured a large glass of brandy and added the bottle, with a bottle of mineral water to the tray.

  She motioned to Jacynth to take the tray, but the girl shook her head and followed Caterina at a discreet distance. Jacynth did not want to be accused twice in a few minutes of trying to “mother” her employer!

  When she arrived in the office, Mallory was speaking in Greek to the housekeeper. Jacynth waited until the woman left to return to the kitchen and while Mallory took a large gulp of his brandy.

  “Do you want me to—?” she began tentatively.

  “No,” he interrupted. “Everything can wait until the morning.” After a slight pause he asked, “Have you finished all the work I gave you?”

  She half smiled. “Not all of it. I kept to the order that you’d indicated, but there are still several schedules to do.” In her turn she paused, then added, “You didn’t really expect me to complete the lot, did you?”

  He gazed at her across the table and again that disturbing current flowed through her veins, undermining the cool, businesslike but friendly attitude she was trying to create.

  “I don’t really know your capabilities, Miss Rowan,” he said with that elusive smile playing around his mouth.

  “Well, I haven’t slacked all day—just because you weren’t standing at my elbow!” She was aghast at her loss of temper. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brendon. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “If you thought that way, why shouldn’t you say so? No need to bottle it up. I prefer people to be honest.”

  She doubted very much whether he preferred all his business associates to be honest and frank about their own plans. She was well aware that secrecy, camouflage and sometimes false information innocently disclosed were all apparently desirable in the kind of financial deals in which he was involved.

  He took another deep draught of brandy and passed a hand across his forehead, ruffling his thick dark hair in the process.

  “Go away and leave me now,” he muttered. “Have your dinner and meet your boy-friend, if that’s what you intended.” There was no point in reminding him that Ray had left for Athens and she went quietly out of the room.

  In her room while she changed her dress, applied fresh make-up and brushed her pale corn-coloured hair, she reflected that Mallory was occasionally vulnerable. The mask of the hundred per cent business man fell, if only for a short time, and behind it was a man, subject to the frets and ills of day-to-day encounters. In a way she was glad, for even a moment’s weakness made him seem more human.

  She waited another quarter of an hour before going down in case he remained in her office. Then the idea struck her that perhaps he was intending to dine with her and discuss the business of the day—that is, as much as he ever disclosed to her. He needed to unwind and she would be his undemanding companion.

  But a first glance into the office told her that no tête-à-tête dinner was arranged. One place was laid as usual and Mallory’s tray with bottles and glass had been removed. No doubt he was dining alone in solitary state in the handsome room she had seen for the first time this afternoon.

  Jacynth experienced a keen sense of disappointment, even though he had certainly given her no encouragement to believe that he would still be there. Apart from a faint aroma of cigar smoke, the room seemed empty and lifeless without his vital masculine presence.

  Caterina had evidently been waiting to serve the meal and now she brought in the first course, a shrimp and tomato salad with a very piquant sauce. Jacynth was surprised when this was followed by a large turkey, studded with chestnuts and raisins and Caterina proceeded to carve off several succulent slices. The dish of vegetables as accompaniment—artichokes and aubergines, with beans of a shape unknown to Jacynth, contained enough to serve three or four people and she had to refuse too large a helping of each. Pastry with a creamy custard filling and preserved plums on top and finally a crumbly yellow cheese called kaseri.

  When Caterina came to clear away and serve coffee, Jacynth complimented her on such a superb meal and the woman’s eyes glowed with pleasure. She murmured a few words which Jacynth understood to mean roughly that it was better for food to be eaten than to cook for nothing.

  “Mr. Brendon has already eaten?” she queried.

  “No. Only an omelette and a glass of wine.”

  Now she understood Caterina’s rather dour remark about cooking for nothing. It seemed that Jacynth herself had been treated to first cut of all the courses.

  A voice in the hall calling “Caterina!” sent the housekeeper hurrying out. Jacynth could hear Mallory speaking in rapid Greek to the woman and through the half open door she could see him, in evening dress now and obviously going out somewhere important. He spoke incisively and his weariness seemed to have vanished. In a few moments the front door slammed and soon there was the sound of his car as he drove off.

  Caterina returned to the room where Jacynth sat drinking her coffee. She collected the remaining dishes on to a tray and smiled as though enjoying a joke.

  “Mr. Brendon has gone out, then?” Jacynth remarked, confirming the obvious.

  Caterina muttered that it was possible he had gone to see his Greek girl. She hurried out of the room before Jacynth could ask any further questions.

  His Greek girl? Jacynth felt a hollowness that disturbed and annoyed her. Surely it was only natural that Mallory should have numerous friends and acquaintances on the island and that among them would be some beautiful girls. Not only Greek, either, but any nationality that might come within the aura of that “irresistible” personality that Diana Osborn had mentioned.

  But was there one special one? Jacynth realised that she did not even know if Mallory were married. Certainly no Mrs. Mallory Brendon lived in the Villa Kalakos at the present time, but she might be in some other part of the world. He might be a widower, divorced, merely separated. It was difficult to imagine that wi
th his male magnetism he had so far eluded matrimony altogether.

  Jacynth shook herself as though to chase away these absurd thoughts. What did it matter to her if he had gone out tonight to meet half a dozen Greek or French or Italian girls? But the answer ricocheted back to her at once. Let him have his fun with half a dozen, but if there were only one special girlfriend’ Jacynth would hope that whoever it was would be worthy of Mallory.

  Now she laughed at herself for these righteous ideas. Why trouble herself about her employer’s love-life when she would be working for him for only the next three or four months? Even less if he sacked her earlier. She went to bed fairly early and read for more than an hour. Once or twice she thought she heard the sound of a car returning, but her bedroom was nearer the back of the villa and it was unlikely she could distinguish one distant noise from another.

  She shut the book with a bang and switched out her reading lamp, unwilling to admit to herself that her ears were on the alert for Mallory’s homecoming. It was more important, she told herself, to get a good night’s sleep and be fit for the morning and its problems and difficulties.

  For the next two days the work seemed to go smoothly, although she saw little of Mallory, for he was either out of the house or occupied in his study with instructions not to be disturbed. There were minor disturbances, one when she failed to find the correct batch of photographs of “Project N” to attach to a schedule. The hotels were labelled with letters of the alphabet, for usually the actual names were not chosen until the buildings were completed.

  “I gave you the right prints yesterday,” Mallory complained. “Have you lost them?”

  Jacynth returned to her office and searched for the large envelope labelled “Project N”. Eventually she found the missing photographs in the wrong envelope. She suspected that the fault lay with Mallory, but it would be useless to tell him so. No doubt he regarded himself as infallible.

  Jacynth realised that on such incidents depended the future of her job here, and even if she considered she was blameless, she must learn not to complain.

  So she was both surprised and delighted when later in the week he said suddenly, “I want you to come with me tomorrow evening to the Grand Summer Palace—that’s the luxury hotel a little way out of the town. Be ready about eight o’clock.”

  “Very well.” She was about to ask him if she should have her dinner first or whether something would be provided at the hotel, but he forestalled her.

  “I know you have an excellent appetite and I don’t want you feeling faint, so ask Caterina for a snack at some convenient time.”

  “Anyone would think I thought of nothing but food,” she retorted mildly.

  “And don’t you? Caterina tells me you can put away quite sizeable meals. She likes that and says you’re worth cooking for.” He glanced up at her, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “More than I am, I’m afraid. She grumbles when I spoil her dishes by my irregular hours.”

  “Perhaps I ought to watch my diet,” she suggested. “I might put on too much weight with such good Greek food.” He surveyed her, his eyes travelling up and down her figure as she stood near his desk. Today she was wearing a turquoise blue jersey dress, clipped in at the waist with an antique gold belt and, under his scrutiny, she wished she had been wearing a shapeless sack that did not reveal the soft curve of her breasts.

  She knew the hot colour was flooding up into her cheeks, and was irritated that she could not control it when Mallory’s eyes held hers with a strange, compelling quality.

  “I doubt if you need worry about weight-watching yet,” he said at last, then added abruptly, “All right, that’s all.”

  She hurried out of his study as though pursued by demons. In the privacy of her office, she sagged on to a chair. What on earth was the matter with her? It was plainly idiotic and absurd to find herself trembling and slightly breathless now as if she had been running. Oh, she had plenty of experience of working for various chiefs in her business life and knew the value of being on the same wavelength. But this strange turbulence that assailed her so often in Mallory’s presence was beyond all reasoning. She was acting like a silly schoolgirl of fifteen or so.

  Yet she was flattered that he had asked her to accompany him to this reception, conference or whatever it was at the Grand Summer Palace. In her mind she surveyed her not very extensive wardrobe, but reminded herself that she was not supposed to dress up as though she were being taken out dancing.

  Dancing? She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the heady pleasure of being held in Mallory’s arms and circling a ballroom floor, but thrust that vision away. She was at it again, conjuring up the most ridiculously impossible fancies.

  Jacynth was finishing off her work next afternoon when Caterina came in to tell her she was wanted on the telephone. Mallory was out somewhere, so she naturally assumed he would be the caller, perhaps to give her some instructions.

  In his study she answered, “Yes, Mr. Brendon?”

  A different voice replied, “But it isn’t your marvellous Mr. Brendon. It’s me—Ray. Ray Gurney. Remember?”

  “Oh-er-yes. What is it?”

  “I’ve just arrived back from Athens and I have the most marvellous news. Can you come out with me tonight?”

  “No, I’m afraid I can’t,” she said quickly.

  “Well, why not? You don’t have to slave all hours still for the man, do you?”

  “It isn’t that. I have to go with him to a—a business meeting.”

  “Oh? Is that what he calls it?” drawled Ray.

  “That’s what it is,” answered Jacynth sharply. But she was not disposed to tell Ray the place of the meeting. It was essential to be discreet if she were to retain Mallory’s trust and confidence by not discussing his business affairs with outsiders.

  “What time will you be through?” queried Ray.

  “I can’t possibly know that.”

  “And what is it that you can’t possibly know?” Mallory had entered the room.

  She looked up guiltily, although there was no need. He had not forbidden her to have incoming calls.

  “May I know who the caller is—unless it’s a personal one of yours?”

  “It’s Ray—Mr. Gurney.”

  The expression of sardonic satisfaction on Mallory’s face almost made her jam down the receiver, but at the other end of the line Ray was impatiently muttering, “What’s up? Is someone else there? Hallo!”

  “Oh, your boy-friend! Then carry on, by all means. Did he want you to go out with him?”

  Jacynth was furious with herself for being trapped into the admission, with Ray for telephoning at this precise moment and, unreasonably, with Mallory for his untimely appearance.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said abruptly. Then, to Ray, “I’m sorry, Ray, but I’ll have to go now. I can’t come anyway.”

  As she was about to cut off, Mallory prevented her by holding her wrist. “Tell him you’ll see him tomorrow,” he said. “You can have the afternoon and evening off, if you want to.” In almost a daze, Jacynth nodded. The touch of Mallory’s fingers on her wrist had been quite unnerving, sending shivers of excitement through her body.

  Into the phone she said, “I could manage tomorrow, if that would suit you.”

  “O.K., that’ll be fine,” answered Ray. “Although I can see that I have to take second place to your illustrious boss; Right, then. Seven o’clock at the Actaeon?”

  “Yes. Seven o’clock.” Jacynth was only too eager to put down the receiver.

  To Mallory she said, “I’m sorry about that. I don’t encourage telephone calls in business hours.”

  “No need to apologise,” Mallory said, almost airily. “I wouldn’t wish to deprive you of simple pleasures, especially as you haven’t had the chance of making many friends here in Rhodes.”

  Now that he had sat down in his usual chair facing his desk, it occurred to her that she was dangerously close, to him, so near that if he had been the flirtatious
kind of employer, he could have pulled her down on to his lap with a single movement.

  She moved a yard away from him to the corner of his desk. Not that her proximity mattered to him. But it was important to her and she drove out of her mind those embarrassing thoughts.

  “Thank you, Mr. Brendon, for tomorrow evening,” she said quietly. “Will that be all now?”

  “Er—yes,” he muttered, already busy with a sheaf of papers he had taken from his briefcase. As she reached the door, he looked up. “Oh, there’s just one thing. I take it you’ve learned to be careful about talking business matters with friends.”

  “Oh, yes,” Jacynth answered emphatically. “I’ve had good training in that respect at the London office.”

  He nodded once or twice. “Then you understand how important it is that no cats are let out of bags before the right moment.”

  “Naturally.” Then she added, “I didn’t tell Ray, of course, where we were going tonight. I just said it was a business meeting.”

  His dark eyes seemed to be measuring her truthfulness. “All right.” As she turned to go, he added, “If you want to use the phone, you’re at liberty to do so, provided I’m not on the line myself.”

  At last he let her go as she murmured, “Thank you.”

  Back in her office she gazed unseeingly at her covered typewriter. Why must she always become so excited and disturbed whenever she encountered Mallory Brendon? She could find no sane answer to this silly question, except to resolve that in future she would be the cool girl who could work for a devastatingly attractive employer without being affected in the least. Concentration on the work itself, not on the man connected with it.