Time was pressing now, she knew she’d better start getting herself organised. First, she needed a glass of water. Diana tidied away her manuscript; as she was very superstitious about letting others read her unfinished work, and hurried down the stairs. As she was passing through towards the kitchen she met her sister Elaine coming in the front door.
‘Phew! It’s amazingly hot!’ Elaine exclaimed, ‘Far too hot to sit outside painting really.’
She removed a large straw sunhat from her head and shook out her short and damp blonde curly hair. Elaine had the usual smudge of paint on one of her cheeks and Diana was for moment reminded about Charles Kingsley’s “The Water Babies.” Tom, the chimney sweep always had sooty smudges on his face and hands. Elaine set her easel and paint box down on the floor and wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘I don’t know how you do it. Sit out there for hours in all that heat. By the way you’ve got paint on your cheek again,’ she said giving her sister a cheeky grin.
Elaine looked at her reflection in the hall mirror and pulled a face. Shorter than her sister Diana, but facially they were similar.
She was staying with Diana and Steve. Originally she’d come out for a fortnight’s holiday, but bowled over by the amazing diverse scenery of the beautiful island, she had stayed. So far Elaine had painted a good number of canvases and had almost enough for another exhibition on her eventual return to the UK. Recently, Diana asked her sister just what her long term plans were. Elaine had been noncommittal; she had made a lot of new friends out here, both expatriate and some good female Cypriot ones. She’d recently received the decree absolute from her marriage of some twenty years and felt unsure of exactly what she wanted to do with her new found freedom. Steve and Di were perfectly willing to support her, but now four months later, Steve had the sneakiest suspicion they were perhaps making it all a little too comfortable over here for her. Four months from the original two weeks he considered long enough.
Elaine scrubbed her face with a wet tissue. ‘Oh, the heat’s Okay. I think that after a while you don’t notice it. Besides, today I’ve managed to sit under a particularly huge old olive tree and the shade was wonderful. Here Di, what do you think of this?’ Unlike Leslie with his modern art, Elaine was conservative with her landscapes. She held out her large sketchpad for Diana to examine.
There was a pause as Diana stared at the picture Elaine was holding up in front of her. She didn’t know what to say.
‘Well? Don’t you like it? What’s wrong?’ Elaine had noted Diana’s reticence and turned the pad round again to look at the picture herself.
Diana took a step back from the picture; she felt her scalp crawling and the hairs prickling on the back on her neck. She could feel the blood draining from her face. She didn’t want to look at the picture. Elaine had captured the rural scene entirely. A wide sweeping vista of little terraced fields of grapes and olive trees reaching the edge of a riverbed. A tumbledown stone-house was nestled in a shady grove of citrus, and the ubiquitous donkey grazed nearby. It should have been perfect – except for one detail. Why had Elaine painted a small body lying grotesquely strangled, in the roots of a gnarled olive tree? Every limb looking like it was twisted and distorted in agony. And why had she painted the body in deep red?
‘Oh my God!’ she heard herself whisper.
‘What? Surely it’s not that bad? I personally thought it was one of my best,’ Elaine said huffily. She held it out from her with arms outstretched. ‘Still, if you don’t think so.’ ‘No, it’s not that. I just wondered why you painted that – that figure in it, like that. It’s horrible!’ Diana finally gasped. She was shaking and the recent feelings of nausea were with her again.
‘What figure? What are you on about? Are you having me on?’ Elaine demanded crossly and glanced over at her sister. She paused, taking in the colour of Diana’s face. There was concern in her voice, as she said, ‘Hey. Are you all right? You do look a bit funny.’
Swallowing hard, Diana pushed back the rush of sickness and forced herself to peer at the picture once again. She saw the faultless blue sky, the sweeping fields of green, the little house in the trees and the dusty looking old brown donkey. There was no body lying in tortured pain, or covered in blood. Had she imagined it? Like last Tuesday night at the rehearsal and Leslie’s script. When he had angrily tossed it onto Alicia’s lap she’d been sure it looked as if it was almost dripping in blood. Was she going mad? A shaft of panic rose in her.
‘You look a bit peaky. Come on, sit down for a mo,’ Elaine led a dazed Diana by the arm, over to a chair. ‘There. Is that better? Steve’s right, you’ve been overdoing it a bit too much lately. Too many late nights and scratching away for hours with that new book of yours. You need a break, besides you’re over forty now.’ Elaine finished with what Di suspected was a smug voice.
Di had to laugh as she brushed her sticky hair out of her eyes; Elaine was a right one to talk when it came to work. She was almost never without a paintbrush in her hand when she felt inspired, and loved to rub in the fact that she was the younger sister.
Sitting down and looking at the picture clearly, she realised it was perfectly normal. It was a rather good landscape with absolutely nothing sinister in it whatsoever. The whole incident made her feel ridiculous. She recalled the other evening; Leslie’s script was probably a trick of the light too. Failing that, she needed to see the optician.
Di gave a little embarrassed laugh before replying, ‘I’m fine, but you’re absolutely right. I have felt rather jaded lately. We have been overdoing the going out bit, especially at night. A good social life is all very well but not if it makes you tired all the time and with this hot weather as well. Phew!’ she repeated the gesture with her hair and stood up to look once again at the sketch.
‘I’m sorry; it’s a fine picture. You’ve captured the feel of this part of the country really well.’
‘Mmm. I thought maybe this tree’s not quite right. I’ll go back and do some more tomorrow. I haven’t time now, as I need to pop down into Limassol to meet a friend and I could do with a shower first. Do you want to come for a ride?’ Elaine added this last line with a tone of reluctance in her voice.
‘No thanks; you remember we’re going to the village taverna for Sunday lunch; most of the crowd will be there. Afterwards, I really ought to get out and get some exercise. I’ve sat down too long this week writing. Look at these shorts, they’re far too tight!’ she grimaced at her behind in the mirror. ‘It’s certainly getting to be ‘does my bottom look too big’ in this scenario! I’m probably hitting the red wine a bit too much too. Trouble is, it’s cheap and palatable, and is deathly for making me put on weight. Why are you going to Limassol, and what time do you think you’ll be back?’
‘Oh nothing much, ‘Elaine said airily. ‘I’ll be back in plenty of time for supper. Not that you’ll want any after a hearty village Sunday lunch. See you later then,’ she hauled her painting things up the stairs towards her bedroom.
Diana shrugged to herself. As a child, Elaine had always been a bit scatty and secretive. Why was she going all the way down to Limassol on a Sunday for goodness sake? Perhaps she was seeing someone. Now that would be good for her.
She wandered outside in search of Steve and found him reading on the terrace. He had a large jug of water and a glass in front of him. Di helped herself to his glass, kissed the top of his head and flopped down into the chair opposite. ‘Hi hon.’
Steve looked up and smiled a lazy smile at her, his deep blue eyes crinkly in his suntanned face. Once again she was reminded of how good-looking he was.
‘I don’t suppose you fancy a walk later after lunch?’ she asked.
‘Hi yourself sexpot. A walk? Now there’s a good idea. I’ve been going over my lines and I have to say it’s all a bit daunting. No, actually it’s ruddy frightening! Macbeth is a huge rôle to play. Far bigger than anything I’ve done before. Look at this, Act one, scene seven. “If it were done when ‘tis done then ‘twere well it wer
e done quickly.” That is the beginning of just one of a dozen long speeches by the Thane himself! What if I can’t learn it all in time?’
Diana laughed at his worried look. ‘Oh you will. Don’t worry. You’re brilliant at learning lines and besides I’ll help you and we can go over them together. The few scenes we share anyway.’
‘Thanks. God is that the time? We’d better get our shoes on and trek up to Costas’. Yes, your idea of a bit of cardiac exercise is an excellent one and should do us good. Shall we go down to the river for a change? It’s sure to be a bit cooler under the trees and we can walk off some of our lunch. We might see some interesting birds too.’
Diana looked a bit perturbed, the river was where Elaine had been working and she remembered her reaction to her painting. ‘I don’t know. It’s a fair way and all uphill at the end. Let’s just see, we can make that decision later.’
‘Okay then, so long as you don’t back out. By the way, Di, what was that racket coming from Leslie and Sonja’s earlier. It was a right row what with people shouting and doors slamming.’
Diana looked at Steve with a puzzled expression on her face and shook her head. ‘I didn’t hear anything, but then I was engrossed in my work.’
Steve looked amazed at Diana’s denial. ‘But, Di! You must have! I couldn’t concentrate; it sounded like someone was being murdered.’
Chapter 9. Sunday afternoon
Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?
Come, let me clutch thee. I have ye not, and yet I see thee still.
Macbeth. Act 2 Scene 1
Without hurry, the walkers reached the top of the hill on the dusty track and paused for a welcome break. Panting from their exertion, the sweat glistened and ran down their faces.
‘Thank God it’s not a Sunday morning in December or the local hunters would be out in full force with their shotguns, and I wouldn’t like us to be their target. They’re particularly good at missing their birds and hitting each other you know.’
Steve mopped his face with the front of his white t-shirt while Diana grimaced at the thought of washing it. It was fast becoming a streaky-grey rag covered with yellow sweaty stains. Men!
Irritated, Di turned around to look at the view, which from here was staggeringly beautiful. Forgetting her earlier little flush of annoyance she relaxed letting out a sigh of pure pleasure. Almost the whole of their hill was covered with grapevines set in little terraced fields originating from the Roman occupation. Ancient white limestone walls framed each family plot, while below; the valley plunged away to a clear river that ran over strewn smooth boulders that glinted with flecks of granite. The far side of the valley struggled up yet another steep slope dotted with fir, spruce, and prickly bushes, while the odd poplar tree lined the valley bottom. The far hills were a mixture of wild vegetation, sparse scrub, citrus, carob and grapevines; an unending topography of rough hills and steep, dark valleys that eventually led all the way down to the lower more fertile plain before halting its orange-brown earth at the reach of the wide glittering sea. The late afternoon had brought its own beauty. A soft breeze from the southwest rustled through vines that would soon be turning into lustrous shades of autumn. Pale gold deepening to darker russets and reds, shot through with the sparkly thousands of spiders’ webs spun between the low bushes. Now, the shadows from the declining sun stretched long and low, brushing the tops of the cedar trees fringing the western hills, bringing deeper hues of purplish-blue along the valley floor.
Diana gasped and Steve turned to see what caught her attention as she stood looking out over the fields into the wide beyond.
‘Look there! Surely it can’t be? It looks just like a pair of eagles.’
Steve followed her keen gaze, matching her excitement. She was rarely wrong when it came to anything in the natural world. Sure enough, there were two huge birds soaring above the tops of the highest hills. With great efficiency they seemed to drift in tune with the thermals, their enormous expanse of wings outstretched as they danced together, almost touching wing tip to wing tip.
‘Wow! They are the first we’ve seen since we arrived here. How amazing. Aren’t they wonderful? Oh, I just love this beautiful country. Don’t you feel privileged to have seen them?’
Steve nodded in silence as he observed the birds. A small smile of pleasure touched his lips while he quietly took in the aerobatics many feet above their heads. Together they watched the perfect display, until the pair changed direction and took off, heading towards the higher crags of the Troodos Mountains.
Diana breathed a sigh of complete contentment, the rapture of her smile bringing a sudden beauty to her face. ‘How gorgeous. How lucky we are to have caught them before they flew away. I wonder if they’ll over winter here.’
Steve agreed they had been magnificent, and suggested that Elaine as a celebrated wildlife artist would be interested. She could use the background hills and reproduce on canvas what they’d just witnessed.
‘What a fabulous end to another perfect day in paradise,’ Di laughed using the well-used cliché.
Diana turned to walk on and stopped. ‘Oh look! Buttons! How curious. Three, no four of them. Who on earth could have lost four buttons at once? There’s no sign of a garment.’ She looked around her perplexed, and then gave a shrug. It was nothing really. ‘Let’s get on. I’m dying for a cuppa. I’ve finished all the water in my bottle.’ She gave it a rueful shake.
Once again she started along the level track that would eventually bring them back to their village house in Agios Mamas. The village was a wonderful collection of old creamy stone-houses perched precariously and higgledy-piggledy on a ridge, straddling the curve of the head-end of the valley that eventually led down to the sea. Cobbled donkey lanes connected the dwellings that had been abandoned in the sixties and seventys when the younger generation of their affluent grape-producing parents, decided to head for the more exciting modern attractions of the towns.
Cypriot owners were now rediscovering the ‘abandoned’ houses, and renovation work had begun to reclaim the run-down dwellings from their many years of neglect. Now, visitors to this village and others like it could not fail to notice the shady courtyards and spiral staircases half-hidden behind ornate gates and doorways. The colours from the potted flowers and palms joined together creating an amazing backdrop of cascading bougainvilleas, riotous blue plumbago, scented jasmines and musky smelling geraniums. The wonderful simplicity of the stone lodges, and the peace and tranquillity created a place that few could not fail to wish to return to. Steve and Diana had stumbled on it by pure chance, after searching much of the world looking for a suitable place in which to live.
On a visit to Cyprus, they both agreed this country with its more relaxed rules might be just the place. They found a large and comfortable house with a fabulous panorama laid before them. Here they realised, Steve could carry on with work for the company he held a major stake in, and Diana would find the inspiration and motivation to do what she liked best: write.
Now, as she half skipped back towards home she could feel the inspiration flowing inside her. She felt the beginnings of another chapter effervescing, waiting to bubble up into words…
‘Di.’
She didn’t hear him; she was wrapped up in what she was thinking.
Steve called more urgently. ‘DIANA.’
She paused, half-turned back to look at Steve. He was still standing on the edge of the track. He wasn’t looking in her direction at all, but over the side, down into the small vineyard below.
‘What?’
He finally turned to face her, a worried look on his normally calm features.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Something in his voice and tense manner made Diana retrace her footsteps to where he stood. She touched his arm in concern. ‘Darling?’
‘Look.’ He pointed with some agitation down at the ground, over the edge of the cliff.
Diana took another step closer, immediatel
y sobered. She peered down, over the side of the steep slope to the flat ground below. Immediately she tightened her grip on his arm.
‘Oh no!’ she gasped. ‘Someone’s down there, they must have fallen!’
Steve gave her a slightly exasperated look as she stated the obvious.
‘The ‘someone’ is clearly unconscious or…, he left the sentence unfinished and Di flashed an alarmed look at him.
‘Hello? Hello? Are you all right? Einai endaxi?’ he cupped his hands around his mouth as he called down to the person below. There was no response.
‘We’d better take a closer look. It may be nothing, someone having a late siesta and sleeping off his lunch or perhaps suffering from too much of the local vino.’ Di dragged her eyes away to look at Steve. He didn’t sound very convincing.
Together they scouted around, looking for a safe way down into the field. It was not easy. The slope was very steep and the edges soft and friable sandstone. It would be all too easy to slip and fall. After a few minutes they found a parting in the vicious prickly bushes covering the slope and managed to scramble down a tiny track.
Making sure that Di was behind him, Steve slowly approached the person lying on the ground with some apprehension. They could be blind drunk after all. By his clothing and footwear Steve quickly surmised it was a man. He was half hidden by the surrounding broken and bent branches. The loose earth around him clearly indicated he had indeed taken a tumble. His face was concealed by a straw hat that had slipped forward to cover it. As Steve neared the man he again tentatively called out to him, enquiring if he needed any help. When there was no answer he removed some of the debris and pushed back the broken branches. Shocked, he exclaimed.
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