And as he spoke the first of the incoming passengers came through the glass doors from the dispersal apron and into the lounge.
'Don't wait,' said Lorna. 'Please.'
Haldane was about to make a polite protest but she cut him short. 'No. I'd rather you didn't. Really,' she insisted.
He looked at her and understood. He nodded. 'Take care of yourself, Lorna,' he said quietly. He kissed her on the cheek. 'Be happy.'
'And you,' replied Lorna. She studied his face for the last time. 'But all things considered,' she went on, 'I think I'm the one with the better chance.'
Haldane shrugged and then turned and moved quickly away from her and into the rapidly swelling throng of incoming passengers.
Lorna picked up her suitcase and carried it over to the check-in desk.
It was as he was leaving the building that Haldane collided with the man. He was in his late forties, well built and good-looking but with a somewhat surly face. He was wearing an expensive and conservative business suit and carrying a briefcase. Haldane judged him to be an Athenian who had been on the plane which had recently landed.
'Signome,' Haldane excused himself. Without even glancing at him the man nodded his acceptance of the Englishman's apology and hailed a taxi.
As Haldane walked across to the car park, Petros Mataleis settled himself into the back seat of the cab and gave the driver his mother's address in Neapolis.
'I checked.' Annika had difficulty in controlling her anger. 'It was not difficult. I went to every travel agent in Heraklion, And also to the office of Olympic Airways. It has been confirmed to me. You bought the ticket. So it was you who sent the telegram.'
Immediately on her return she had summoned Noukakis to her house and the moment he had stepped into the room from the terrace she had confronted him, inwardly seething. He looked at her sullenly.
'And your scheme almost achieved its purpose,' Annika continued. 'It would have done if it had not been for a truly remarkable woman.'
'It was for your own good,' Noukakis countered sulkily.
Annika shook her head. 'No. It was not done from any concern for me. You did it because you are a jealous and spiteful man. I thought you were my friend. I was wrong. It is true that you have always managed the refinery well for me. I shall miss you for that at least.' Noukakis scowled. 'Do not go back there,' she went on. 'Whatever money there is due to you I will see that you receive it.'
For a moment Noukakis considered giving her an argument but then he decided against it. She would not listen to anything he might have to say in his defence. And what defence did he have? Abruptly he turned on his heel and strode over to the French windows.
'This Leandros,' he said, pausing and looking back at her. 'He is the wrong man for you.'
'That must be my decision,' said Annika coldly. 'One way or the other. It was never your right to make it. And I will give you this advice, Matheos. Light a candle against Leandros ever finding out that it was you who did this to him.'
Noukakis spat out onto the terrace and then looked at her scornfully. He laughed. 'I am not afraid of him,' he snarled. 'Let him come looking for me. Better he should light candles. And pray. Not matter what he was or what he did in Crete in the past, remember he is still a foreigner. And I have many friends. It could be that if I sneeze he catches cold. And that if I spit, he drowns.'
He was pleased to see, briefly at least. a look of concern on her face. He swaggered away across the terrace.
Petros Matakis sat across from Katerina, the wooden box standing on the table between them.
'So what is it that is so urgent, mother?' he said petulantly. 'So dark, so secret that it can not be spoken of on the telephone.'
'It is a matter of honour,' replied Katerina gravely. 'It concerns your sisters. Melina,' she crossed herself, 'may her soul be at peace, and Annika. A man has come to Crete who threatens the good name of one and the happiness of the other. Who threatens us all.'
She unlocked the box, opened it and took out the three letters which Haldane had written so many years before.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Haldane worked on the caique until eleven o'clock, revelling in the warmth of the sun which every day grew stronger and which had already coaxed the first of the spring flowers into bloom on the slopes of the hills behind the village. Easter would see all the countryside carpeted with bright red anemones, yellow ranunculi and a host of other plants and sweet smelling herbs, so closely interwoven as to make it impossible to walk anywhere without stepping on them. But Easter was still more than two weeks away.
Haldane packed up his tools and walked slowly to the taverna, pausing as he crossed the square to buy a three day-old copy of the Times from the tobacco kiosk. The price was exorbitant but it was a luxury which from time to time he allowed himself. He was disappointed to find, when he got to the taverna, that Nikos was not there. It had been a fortnight since he had put his plans for the sailing centre to him and not once had Nikos mentioned it since then and that disturbed him vaguely.
Elena welcomed him and, grown used to his daily routine, made him a cup of medium-sweet coffee without his having to ask for it. Nikos was out fishing, she told him, and would not be back until the evening. I'll talk to him then, thought Haldane, as he carried his coffee out on to the patio, see if I can't sound him out. But gently. He settled himself down at one of the tables, filled and lit his pipe and then opened his newspaper and began to read of people and events in England which now seemed unreal and irrelevant.
'My only living son,' complained Katerina scornfully. 'My eldest child. The head of the Matakis family. For more than a week you have been here. And in that time what have you done? Nothing! You think only of your business in Athens and of how it is perhaps suffering because of your absence.'
Petros Matakis stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched her as, expertly, she cut off the head of the freshly plucked chicken she was preparing for the pot.
'That is not so, mother,' he said petulantly.
'No?' she demanded, looking up and waving the blade of the knife she was using at him. 'Then tell me, how is it that the Englishman, Haldane, is still in Elounda? Living there in contentment. Building a boat. And each day growing closer to your niece, Elena, and to Annika, your sister. This man who has wronged our family so.'
Matakis frowned. 'You have told me this,' he replied and there was a note of doubt in his voice. 'But only now. when you called me here from Athens last week.'
'You have read the letters. The letters the Englishman wrote to Melina. The letters I showed you.'
'Yes.' Matakis nodded. 'But those are not the letters of a casual, uncaring seducer. They are full of tenderness, of yearning. There is great feeling in them.'
Katerina shook her head despairingly. 'Dear God!' she said. 'Have you lost your spine in Athens, Petros? Where is your anger? Your rage at what he did? It must be plain to you from what he wrote that your sister and this man, who some call Leandros, were lovers.'
'Probably. And in that, perhaps they were wrong,' said Matakis.
'Perhaps! You doubt it? The Englishman took her. And she was only a child.'
Matakis sighed. 'She would have been eighteen years old,' he said patiently. 'A woman. Could it not be that she gave herself to him freely and from her love for him?'
'He dishonoured her,' Katerina insisted grimly, as she slit the skin of the chicken along the underside of the neck and began to loosen it.
Matakis pursued his course of reason. 'And in none of the letters is there one word about a child,' he said. 'Surely it must have been if Melina was carrying his baby she would have told him.'
'She did. She wrote to him in England.'
'How do you know this?'
His mother hesitated but only for a second or two. 'Melina told me,' she said . brusquely. 'As she also confessed her sin to me. When she lay 'dying in the hospital four years ago. She told me these things to purge herself of the guilt which had burdened her soul for so l
ong. The Englishman is Elena's true father. And he knows it. He has always known it. And now he has returned to Crete to make more trouble for our family.'
'Trouble?' queried Matakis. 'What trouble? He has said nothing to Elena, has he?'
Katerina removed the crop and windpipe from the chicken. She shook her head. 'No. But he could,' she postulated. 'If he thought it would be to his advantage.' She paused in her work and looked across at him again. 'And worse. Annika is attracted to him. And he sees much of her. He could destroy her as he destroyed Melina. You have spoken to her since I called you here. You know her feelings for him.'
Matakis shrugged. 'She has said very little to me about him.' And then he went on thoughtfully. 'But yes, it is plain enough. When she does speak of him her eyes tell their own story.'
His mother nodded. 'So she is at risk. And Elena also.
While you, brother to one and uncle to the other, do nothing. As for me, I am only an old woman. I can only curse him and this I have done. In the name of God and also in the names of all the old gods. But you must work with the Almighty. Be the instrument of Zeus in seeing that my curses bear fruit.'
'But what can I do, mother?' Matakis sighed. 'You will not permit me to tell both of them the truth.'
'No,' Katerina said adamantly. 'For Elena's sake. For the sake of the family. To protect your dead sister's honour. The truth must remain a secret known only to you and to me.'
'And to the Englishman,' Matakis added quietly.
Katerina shot a look at him. 'Yes. And that is why he must leave Crete. Why you must force him to go.' With a quick flick of the knife she made an incision in the vent end of the bird lying on the table.
Matakis gave a helpless shrug. 'How?'
Katerina regarded him and made little or no effort to conceal her contempt. 'How!' she exclaimed. 'You ask me that. Your blood may have thinned in the air of Athens but it is still Cretan blood. With such a question you shame me, Petros. You shame yourself and you shame the name of Matakis. How! Do you think that your father would have needed to ask such a thing of me? He would have known what he had to do. Besides, you know the answer already. You must go up against this Englishman. In everything he does. In everything he plans to do.'
Matakis looked at her, stunned and disbelieving. 'Vendetta!' he said incredulously.
Katerina nodded. 'What else? It is demanded of you.
However little stomach you may have for it.' And then she added quietly and in a matter-of-factly, 'And if all else fails, then you must kill him.'
She reached with her hand into the chicken and with one brisk movement disembowelled it.
'The story of the world does not make happy reading these days.'
Haldane lowered his newspaper. Annika was standing only a little way off from him. She was smiling.
'So I have no regrets for disturbing you,' she added.
'Annika!' Haldane exclaimed, delighted to see her.
This was not their first meeting since Lorna Matthews' departure. Soon after she had left, Annika had come to his house and she had acted as if nothing had happened and she had not mentioned Lorna's visit to her. So all was well again between them but for the past three days she had been in Athens.
Haldane folded the Time! and put it down on the table.
'When did you get back?'
'Late last night.' She sat down beside him.
'Coffee? A drink?'
Annika shook her head. 'No thank you. I met Babis in Heraklion this morning. He told me how much progress you have made with the boat. I could not wait to see for myself.' She looked at him and smiled again. 'I also came to say hello to you. I could not wait any longer to do that either. '
Her eyes met his and Haldane held her gaze. 'I'm glad,' he said simply. 'Hello.'
'Hello, Leandros.'
It was Haldane who looked away first. 'Well, have you seen it?' he enquired, adopting a light-hearted tone of voice.
'Yes. I have just come from the beach.'
'What do you think?'
'That you should be very proud of yourself. Such a task.
So well done. And all alone.'
Haldane shook his head. 'Not alone,' he said. 'Alexis helps me. He is now my apprentice. He hammers well.' Annika laughed. 'It is nearly finished,' he went on. 'Another week. Two at the most.'
'The launching will be a very special occasion. It has to
be,' she insisted. 'And it must be done with great style.'
'A bottle of champagne?'
She laughed and nodded. 'Of course. The best.'
'And you shall christen her,' said Haldane.
Annika studied him for a moment, suddenly serious.
Then she smiled again gently. 'Thank you. I would like that. What name have you chosen?'
'The Knot’ , replied Haldane quietly.
Again their eyes met and again they held each other's gaze.
'The Knot,' mused Annika. She nodded. 'Yes, That is a good name. The knot which binds you to Crete, eh?'
'Which binds me to many things.’ said Haldane, his eyes still on hers.
Once more he looked away from her. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip from it. 'How was Athens?' He asked conversationally.
Annika pulled a face. 'Tiring. Three days of business, business, business. And very little to show for it I am afraid. '
'I'm sorry.'
'It is not easy for me,’ she said. 'Previously Matheos dealt with all the negotiations with the shippers. I merely approved them .. But until the new man I have appointed is free to start work ... ' She shrugged.
'Matheos was a good manager, wasn't he?' Haldane asked.
Annika nodded. 'Excellent.' .
'Then why did you get rid of him?'
She frowned and then said gravely. 'He acted foolishly.
Out of spite. He tried to hurt someone. Someone I care for. And in doing so he betrayed my friendship for him. He had to go. I had no choice.'
‘I’m sorry,’ said Haldane.
Annika dismissed Matheos and the memory of his betrayal from her mind and smiled again. 'Did you know that my brother, Petros, is here in Crete again?'
Haldane shook his head. 'No. He's been away then?'
'For many years. In Athens.'
'He has returned for good?'
'No. To visit our mother.' Annika smiled ruefully. 'I think it must be that his conscience troubles him.' Haldane gave her a puzzled, questioning look. 'We have seen little of him since he left,’ she explained. 'He has been too busy making money and becoming important.'
'And is he important?'
She nodded. 'To Petros he is.'
'And to you?'
Annika smiled. 'He is my brother. I love him.' Then she added thoughtfully. 'But I am also sorry for him.' 'Oh,' said Haldane. 'Why?'
'He is a man who has forsaken the old horizon but who, I think, has not yet found another,' she said.
'As you have, you mean?'
·Yes.'
'You've seen your brother?'
'Yes,' said Annika. 'He came to my house the day before I went to Athens.' She frowned slightly. 'But it was a strange reunion. He seemed uncomfortable with me. We talked but said nothing.'
'Perhaps I'll meet him,' prompted Haldane.
Annika nodded. 'Yes. That would please me. You shall both come to dinner with me. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow you and I are going up into the mountains.'
‘Are we indeed?' exclaimed Haldane in mock affront at her temerity. 'You have decided?'
‘That you need a rest from your work on the boat, yes,' she replied firmly. 'That a change of scene would be good for you, yes' She smiled. 'You agree?'
'What if I said no?' he teased.
Annika shrugged. 'I would insist,' she said stubbornly.
And then she switched to pleading. 'Please. A day off. A day away from business for me, from Elounda for you. From everything and everyone that has a claim on us.' She paused and then added, 'And together.'
Haldane hesitat
ed but not for long. The idea appealed to him enormously despite the reservations he still had about their relationship. He smiled and nodded. 'No argument. I agree. And gratefully.'
Annika clapped her hands delightedly. 'Good,' she cried. 'You will enjoy the day I promise you.'
'Where are we going?'
To the place where I was born. To the village where my mother and father were born and where they were married. You will see. It is beautiful. You will like it.' She smiled. 'And it has a beautiful name. It is called Dhafnai.'
It was later that same morning that Matheos Noukakis brought Katerina the news which his cousin who worked at Heraklion airport had been so eager to tell him on the telephone.
Katerina thought at first that he had come to ask her if she had been successful in persuading Annika to give him back his job. Noukakis had freely confessed to her the reason why Annika had dismissed him and that had pleased her. For she saw in him that she had at least one reliable ally against Haldane and that he hated the Englishman almost as much as she did, even if for a totally different reason. He was to be encouraged, cultivated even, for the time might come when she would need him and could use him. Besides, despite his obsequiousness which sometimes irritated rather than flattered her, she liked the man and she was genuinely sorry to have to tell him that her appeal to Annika on his behalf had been to no avail.
Noukakis thanked her humbly and gratefully for trying but explained that that was not the reason why he had called. Then he passed on to her the information which his cousin had given him on the telephone. 'I felt certain that you would want to know this, Kyria Matakis,' he said.
Katerina's reaction was first one of shock which quickly developed through alarm and distraction into furious and calculated venom. 'Dear Lord in heaven,' she lamented, raising her eyes to the ceiling. 'Why have you done this to me? Are my sins such that you must add further weight to the cross. bear?' She took a bunch of keys from one of the drawers in the cabinet and gave them to Noukakis. She told him to open the garage and bring her car round to the front door of the house and wait for her. Noukakis obeyed her eagerly and without question.
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