When they had been at St Hugh’s, they had talked constantly of a time when the three of them would be working on a dig together in Egypt or Greece, and ever since the find of the palace Kate had held hopes that when Daphne visited Crete, she would be so dazzled by the work taking place on the upper plateau that she would want to stay and become part of the team. With Sholto once again in Daphne’s life, it was a scenario that was beginning to seem unlikely.
‘She’s fathoms-deep in love with him,’ Ella had said, after reading the letter Daphne had posted from Madeira. ‘And unlike all the previous men in her life, it appears that Sholto is the one calling all the shots – something I’m finding very difficult to get my head around.’
It was something Kate, too, found it very difficult to get her head around, and it wasn’t the only thing that was baffling her, for Ella had also begun behaving out of character. Usually full of fun and chat, and someone who, once she came to a decision, stuck with it, for the last two weeks Ella had been unusually quiet and had not only changed her mind about a wedding date once, but had changed it twice.
First of all, after being adamant that she wanted a long engagement of two years, possibly even three years, she had suddenly announced that she’d written to Sam telling him that, after having had time to think things over, she was now happy to go with next June as a wedding date. And then just yesterday, after a long day in the workrooms with Christos and without any explanation, she’d said that the June wedding was now off, in favour of Easter, a date that would be even more pleasing to her parents and to Sam.
‘But why, Ella?’ Kate had asked, bewildered.
Without lifting her head from the notes she was writing, on a Neo-palatial clay vase with a linear inscription engraved on its shoulder, Ella had said, ‘I just think it’s best, and don’t go badgering me as to why, Kate. If you do, I might bring it even further forward and opt for a Register Office wedding while I’m home for Christmas.’
A flock of sheep were now taking up the whole width of the road and Kate slowed to a snail’s pace behind them, pondering the irony that although Daphne and Ella’s love lives were seemingly going great guns, her own love life was at its usual barren standstill. Common sense told her it wasn’t because men found her unattractive; men’s reaction to her was invariably one of immediate interest, or had been until she had joined Lewis’s team at Kalamata, and Lewis – the first man she had ever passionately wished would fall head-over-heels for her – had so very clearly not done. It was something she had come to terms with, telling herself resolutely that it was his loss, not hers; and over the summer Helmut’s interest in her had gone a long way to restoring her self-esteem. Like her relationships at Oxford, it had, though, ended up going nowhere because although she found him attractive and good company, she hadn’t fallen in love with him. The spark simply hadn’t been there.
Lodging in a village as isolated as Kalamata, and working long hours halfway up a mountain with a team of Cretan workmen, didn’t offer much opportunity for meeting eligible men; and as Kate didn’t see her pattern of living and working changing in the foreseeable future, there was nothing she could do but accept that while she had a very satisfying work life, her love life was a non-event – and looked like remaining so.
The young boy herding the sheep finally succeeded in mustering them to one side of the road, leaving a hair’s breadth of room for her to drive past them. She did so deafened by their baa-ing protests.
Half an hour later, with Ella sitting beside her and with a disconcertingly large clump of wool clinging to the left side of the truck, Kate was heading through Heraklion’s crowded streets in the direction of the harbour.
‘Apparently the only other person the Squire can remember arriving by seaplane was Sir Arthur Evans, when he came for the dedication of his bust in the Palace of Minos’s West Courtyard,’ Ella said, her mane of fiery-red hair held away from her face by tortoiseshell combs. ‘I don’t think it’s a regular service and, even if it is, if that is the way Daphne intends returning to Athens, then she’ll have to do it without me. The fare must be eye-watering.’
‘I expect it is, but it isn’t an issue. We’ll all be leaving together on the ferry. Daphne wouldn’t want it any other way. You do realize she’s going to arrive looking a million dollars, don’t you? Which will be a bit of a contrast to us. I think it’s safe to say that a season of digging has taken its toll on the clothes we arrived with.’
Ella turned her face up to the winter sun. ‘It’s not going to matter. We’re not going to be partying in Heraklion and I do have a dress, for if we’re invited to dinner at the Villa. To be honest, because you’ve stuck to skirts when not wearing shorts, you never look disreputable. Whereas I . . .’ She looked down at the dungarees she was wearing and which, after giving her great service during the months of the dig, could only be described as well-worn and shabby. ‘I always look as if I’ve just come off a Bradford building site.’
‘You look like an archaeologist,’ Kate said firmly, as she turned a corner that opened to a view of the harbour and the great fortress that, centuries ago, had been built to defend it.
She brought the truck to a halt. ‘There’s a silver dot on the horizon, which I think is the plane. We’re going to be on the jetty in time.’
The imminent arrival of the small seaplane was already arousing interest, and people were gathering on the harbour walls to watch it land. In mounting anticipation, Kate and Ella weaved their way down to the jetty and stood, shading their eyes from the glare of the winter sun, as the plane came nearer. When it touched down on the smooth water within the harbour and began taxiing towards the jetty, a great cheer went up.
‘What do you think?’ Ella said to Kate. ‘Is Daphne going to be first off, or last?’
‘First. She won’t have the patience for anything else.’
A member of the crew jumped out of the seaplane, ready to steady passengers as they stepped onto the gangplank, and seconds later Kate was proved right.
Daphne, having taken Kate at her word that it would be pleasantly mild in late November, was wearing the kind of patent-belted, figure-hugging sweater that the film star Lana Turner had made famous. In Daphne’s case, the sweater was pillar-box red and with it she was wearing white slacks and white wedge-heeled sandals. A white jacket was around her shoulders, and tucked under one arm was a lizard-skin clutch bag. Behind her was another crew member, this time carrying a sizeable piece of Louis Vuitton luggage.
‘Daphne!’ Kate shouted, waving furiously. ‘Daphne!’
Daphne, accustomed to managing the difficult descent from Sholto’s Leopard Moth, made easy work of the unsteady gangplank. With a shriek of delight she broke into a run, barely slowing down as she ran up the jetty steps.
Kate and Ella met her with open arms, hugging her enthusiastically as the crew member who was carrying her suitcase asked, ‘Is a car or a taxi waiting, Kyria?’
Daphne quirked an eyebrow at Kate.
‘I’m driving a truck,’ Kate said. ‘It’s parked about fifty yards away.’
Daphne linked arms with her and Ella. ‘Then let’s go,’ she said exuberantly. ‘The hotel first, and then where? To meet Kit, Lewis, Helmut and the Squire at the Villa Ariadne and then to the Palace of Minos? I’m simply aching to walk the ground Minoans walked over three thousand years ago. Then perhaps a trip into the mountains to Kalamata, to be introduced to all the locals, and after that the upper plateau? Or is that impossible all in one day? The trouble is I’m in a fever of impatience to see everything and meet everyone, from Andre and Agata to Ella’s Christos.’
‘Christos isn’t my Christos,’ Ella said immediately and with great emphasis.
Kate and Daphne raised their eyebrows.
Ella flushed. ‘There’s no need for both of you to look at me like that. I just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. I’m engaged to Sam, remember?’
‘Okay. Got it.’ Daphne was unfazed. ‘Is this the truck? I’d better w
arn you, I was travel-sick crossing the Channel and queasy on the plane.’
‘No problems,’ Kate said, as the obliging crew member heaved the suitcase into the truck’s rear and Daphne tipped him lavishly. ‘As the three of us are going to be squashed up front in the cab, Ella had better sit in the middle and then – if you want to be sick, Daphne – all you need do is hang your head out of the window.’
At a zippy speed Kate drove away from the harbour and into 25 August Street. ‘Named after the date of a massacre that took place in it in 1898, and which led to the ending of the Ottoman occupation,’ she said, adding, ‘Your hotel is at the far end of the street, close to the lion fountain.’
It took Daphne barely five minutes to check in.
‘Where to now?’ she asked as, back in the truck, they drove past the fountain and its water-spouting lions. ‘The Villa Ariadne? The Palace of Minos?’
‘The Archaeological Museum.’ Kate narrowly avoided a lorry piled high with golden melons. ‘The necklace Christos unearthed on the lower plateau is on display there, and the museum is so near, it would be a sin not to stop off and have a look at it.’
Grateful to Kate for drawing attention to Christos’s spectacular find, Ella said, ‘The necklace is so gossamer-fine, and was in such a fragile condition, that you would have thought a breath of air would have damaged it, yet Christos retrieved it without breaking even one of its delicate links.’
Daphne was impressed, and she was even more impressed when, in the museum, she stood before the glass case displaying it. On a small card in front of it was written: ‘Neo-palatial Period 1650–1450 BC. Discovered 1936, Kalamata.’
Ella said, ‘Lewis wanted the museum to add Christos’s name to the card, but the museum authorities said it wasn’t their habit to display the name of the finder, when the finder was the member of an official archaeological dig. Lewis is going to have a word with the director of the British School in Athens, to see if he can persuade the museum authorities to think differently.’
‘I hope he succeeds. As for Lewis . . . I’m looking forward to meeting a dig director who takes that kind of trouble.’
‘That’s one thing you’re unlikely to be able to do while you’re here. Lewis is in London, giving his yearly report to the dig’s sponsors.’
Daphne said a rude word, seriously miffed. Of all the people she had been looking forward to meeting, Lewis Sinclair had been top of her list. ‘Is there any likelihood of his returning while I’m still here?’
‘Not if last year is anything to go by.’ Kate’s voice was carefully expressionless. ‘Last year he didn’t return until after Christmas.’
‘He arrived on New Year’s Eve,’ Ella added as they began walking away from the display case, ‘just in time to first-foot at the Squire’s New Year’s Eve party. No one knew he was back until he knocked at the door at five past midnight and entered the house, looking absolutely magnificent in full Highland rig.’
Reminded of Lewis’s fierce, scorchingly deep New Year’s kiss in the Villa Ariadne’s lamplit library, Kate breathed in hard and then, when she could trust her voice, changed the subject, saying briskly, ‘Next stop is Knossos and the Kourakis household. Eleni is home and waiting in great impatience to meet you – as is Kostas, which is a great compliment. Cretan men of his age are rarely to be found at home, but Ella has told him you are aristocracy and, as he has never been introduced to the daughter of an earl before, he’s greatly looking forward to meeting you. When we left he was already sprucing himself up for the occasion.’
‘Good heavens! I hope he’s not expecting ermine and pearls.’
‘I think he is,’ Kate said as Ella began laughing, ‘so you’re going to be something of a shock, although in that tight sweater, not a total disappointment.’
The visit to the Kourakises’ home was a resounding success, just as Kate had known it would be. Kostas was in full historic dress, his baggy blue breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a mulberry-red sash wound around a belly where once a waist had been, the obligatory knife tucked between its folds. Over a full-sleeved shirt he was wearing an embroidered sleeveless jacket, and the crowning touch was a black bandana tied rakishly over still-thick white hair. Although his reaction when he first saw Daphne was one of almost pathetic bewilderment, it was a bewilderment he soon recovered from. Within minutes he was as beguiled by her as old Jos Tetley had been.
Eleni had fussed around Daphne, plying her with little cakes and pastries until at last Daphne had said apologetically, ‘Enough, Eleni. I’ve had travel-sickness these last few days and it’s still lingering.’
‘You need a glass of Mountain Tea,’ Eleni had said firmly. ‘Mountain Tea is what you need.’
Later, with Daphne revived by the tea, and when they were en route to the Villa Ariadne, Ella said, ‘It’s a pity you haven’t yet met Nikoleta, although we’ll probably run into her later this morning when we take you to the Palace of Minos.’
‘And Christos? When are we likely to run into Christos?’
Ella’s pale skin always flushed easily and it warmed now as she said, ‘Oh, we’ll probably run into him at the Villa. I expect he’ll be in one of the workrooms, doing an honest day’s work on the Kalamata palace finds.’
Twenty minutes later they were in the Villa Ariadne’s drawing room where, after Daphne had been introduced to the Squire, Kit and Helmut, they were all drinking the dry sherry Mrs Hutchinson thought suitable for the occasion.
The atmosphere in the Villa was always one of relaxed informality and Kate perched on the arm of a chintz-covered sofa, amused by the effect Daphne was having, not only on Helmut, but on the Squire as well.
‘I understand you are an archaeologist?’ the Squire said to her.
‘Only technically.’ She smiled encouragingly at him, sensing that he was shy with women he didn’t yet know well. ‘Since leaving university I haven’t worked as one.’
Helmut, who was as far from being shy as it was possible for a man to get, said, ‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t.’
He was leaning against the corner of the fireplace, one foot crossed over the other, his arms folded, his eyes riveted admiringly on her. ‘Next season’s dig at Kalamata is going to be gewaltig,’ he continued. ‘Tremendous. I know I can speak for Lewis when I say a position on the team would be yours for the asking.’
‘That’s very gratifying, but I shan’t be asking, although I am agog to see the site.’
‘You’ll need different clothes and shoes. It’s a steep climb.’
‘I have different clothes and shoes.’ Daphne looked away from him and towards Kate. ‘For today, I’m going to be satisfied with being shown around the Palace of Minos, but tomorrow I’ll be all rigged out ready for the upper plateau, if that’s okay with you and Ella?’
‘Absolutely okay. We can’t wait to show it to you, and for you to meet Andre and Agata, and Dimitri and Angelos and their families.’
Half an hour later, accompanied by Kit and Helmut, they walked the short distance from the Villa to the palace’s paved West Court. Due respects were paid to Sir Arthur Evans’s bust on its granite pedestal and then Kit, the only one among them who was an official member of the Knossos team, acted as a guide to Daphne as they walked through the ruined remains and the restorations of halls, courts, staircases, royal rooms, priestly ceremonial rooms, storerooms, workrooms and porticoes that had once formed the palace where, according to Homer and legend, King Minos had conversed with the god Zeus, and his daughter, Ariadne, had rescued Theseus from the Minotaur.
Later in the day, though this time without Kit or Helmut, they drove up into the mountains to Kalamata village where, with troops of excited children following in their wake, Daphne was introduced to Andre and Agata, to the two Mamalakis brothers and to Apollonia, Pericles Georgiou’s landlady. Then it was back to Heraklion and dinner in a candlelit taverna looking out over the harbour.
The following week and with Lewis still in the UK, they visited the palaces
of Phaistos and Mallia; returned time and again to the Palace of Minos; and spent long hours in Heraklion’s Archaeological Museum, where Daphne was mesmerized by a fresco that, three thousand five hundred years ago, had decorated a wall in the West Wing of the palace.
It depicted three pale-skinned young women of the court against a dazzling blue background, their jet-black hair jewelled and coiled in intricate ringlets, their tightly bodiced dresses impossibly narrow at the waist and open above to reveal pert, bare breasts. All three ladies had enigmatic half-smiles on their faces, and to Kate and Ella’s hilarity, Daphne had declared that the painting was of the three of them when, in a different incarnation, they had been Minoan priestesses.
Afterwards they had walked the entire length of Heraklion’s great fifteenth-century walls. Another day they had motored out to Réthymnon. Every evening they sat over glasses of King Minos, talking about everything under the sun, but always ending up discussing their private lives.
‘Though, from the sound of it, I’m the only one whose private life is interesting,’ Daphne said late one evening as, in her room at the Astoria, the three of them sat cross-legged on her bed. ‘Ella has spent just days with Sam, since becoming engaged to him – and that was way back in August – and what were you doing, Kate, letting a hunk like Helmut Becke slip through your fingers? That striking blond hair, those wonderfully broad shoulders, that powerful, careless charm? He’s such a perfect specimen of handsome masculinity that if I wasn’t so madly in love with Sholto, I’d be making eyes at him myself.’
Lifting the bottle of wine from the floor, Kate topped up their glasses. ‘He is dishy, isn’t he? Especially so since he shaved off his beard. I thought I’d finally struck lucky, when we first began dating. It was very gratifying being wined and dined in Heraklion by such a good-looking man, and especially one who is intelligent into the bargain.’
‘So what went wrong?’
Kate pushed a wing of jaw-length hair back behind her ear. ‘Nothing, except that on my part there was no overwhelming sexual chemistry, and Helmut is thirty-one and expects a little more from a girlfriend than I was prepared to give.’
Beneath the Cypress Tree Page 16