by Anne Mather
‘You have not missed your sister?’
‘No. At least... not until just now. I saw she wasn’t in bed.’ Dallas felt near to tears suddenly. ‘Oh, please come in. I must get dressed. Does Mr. Stavros know where they’ve gone?’
‘He will explain,’ said Myron Saravanos calmly. ‘Do not be alarmed. They will be found and brought home. It is unfortunate, but not irrevocable.’
‘You’re so ... so ... detached!’ Dallas closed the door as he entered the room, and then hurried into the bedroom to dress.
She did not stop to think what she was putting on, and found herself wearing the green tweed dress which she had worn the previous evening and her sheepskin jacket.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, after she had hastily run a comb through her long hair. ‘Shall we go?’
A low red limousine awaited them outside, chauffeur-driven and luxurious, but Dallas had no thought to give to her surroundings. Her mind was in a turmoil, her tired brain alive with the knowledge that she had been right all along. It had been out of character for Jane to submit so easily. But what now?
Alexander Stavros was waiting in the suite of the hotel. Dressed in close-fitting dark blue pants and a navy blue knitted shirt, he looked restless and arrogant, pacing about the cream-carpeted floor. He stopped at their entrance and said:
‘So, Miss Collins, it seems your fears were justified.’ Dallas nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and without asking her whether she wanted a drink or not he poured out a generous, measure of brandy, added a little water, and said:
‘Drink that. It will restore your confidence as well as your voice.’ Dallas took the drink, accepted a cigarette, and sank down into a low armchair.
‘Wh ... where have they gone?’ she asked, after she had taken a few sips of the spirit and felt it burning its way into her stomach.
‘Of that I am not certain,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Knowing Paris, I doubt whether he is positive himself of his destination.’
‘But... I mean ... don’t you think they may be making for Scotland?’
‘For Scotland?’ He stared at her. ‘Ah, yes, you mean Gretna Green, yes?’ and at her nod, his face assumed a strange expression. ‘I confess I doubt whether my son has marriage in mind,’ he said harshly.
Dallas’s cheeks paled, and he gave an ejaculation. ‘Oh, really, Miss Collins, don’t pass out on me. Surely even you are not so old-fashioned as to imagine that every couple who run away make for Gretna Green!’
‘No, but how can you be so sure?’
He shrugged. ‘My son and I had a short conversation on the subject of English girls,’ he said. ‘Paris told me then that he had no intention of becoming seriously involved with anyone here. He is perfectly aware of his obligations to me and to his fiancee in Lexandros.’
‘Hisfiancee?’ echoed Dallas weakly.
‘I am afraid so. His marriage has been arranged for many years, and his fiancee is the daughter of one of my greatest friends. You see, Miss Collins, in Greece we are still a little old-fashioned ourselves, and we find these kind of marriages work very well.’
Dallas shook her head. ‘Jane doesn’t know about his fiancee,’ she said quietly. ‘No matter what you may think, she really believes she loves Paris.’
‘ She is bemused by his possessions,’ retorted Alexander Stavros, roughly. ‘Good God, I did not know there were such creatures left in the world today.’ He poured himself a strong whisky, and turned back to her. ‘You really are unique, Miss Collins, and I’ll drink to that.’
Dallas’s cheeks burned. He was mocking her and she did not like
it.
Apparently he had tired himself of baiting her, for he walked over to Myron Saravanos who was standing by the window, smoking quietly, and they had a short but animated conversation in Greek. Then Myron Saravanos left the room and Alexander Stavros lifted the telephone.
Dallas took little notice of what was going on around her. She thought that perhaps she ought to ring Charles, but he would not take kindly to being woken at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning, so she decided against it. Time slipped by. She was aware that investigations were being carried out, trying to find the whereabouts of the missing couple, and Stephanos Karantinos appeared and spent some time talking to Stavros.
At ten-fifteen the telephone rang, and Alexander Stavros answered it himself. As he listened to what was being said his face darkened and he gnawed at his bottom lip for a moment before replying in the affirmative and replacing the receiver meticulously. Dallas could see his face was very pale beneath the tan, and Stephanos put a hand on his arm and spoke to him in his own language. Alexander Stavros answered him, and Stephanos gave a startled gasp and pressed his hands together violently, shaking his head. Dallas felt her nerves jumping. What now? She rose from her seat, and Stavros faced her wearily.
‘They have been found,’ he said in an expressionless voice. ‘Paris is dead. Your sister is all right.’
Dallas stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Paris is dead! she echoed faintly? ‘But... I mean... how... ?’
Stavros shook his head. ‘As usual Paris was driving recklessly. He crashed into a lorry on the M1. Mercifully your sister was thrown clear. She is merely suffering from shock, and a few minor cuts and bruises.’ He lit a cheroot with hands that were not quite steady. ‘The police want me to go and identify the body of my son.’ He turned away, clenching his fists, and Dallas looked from Myron Saravanos to Stephanos Karantinos awkwardly. She did not know what to do; what to say. Anything would sound inadequate. Stephanos took pity on her.
‘Come, Miss Collins, I will take you home. Arrangements will be made to bring your sister back to you. I think you had better leave it all in our hands, yes?’
Dallas nodded, casting a compassionate glance at Alexander Stavros’s back. What a terrible thing to have happened to him! How desperately he must feel the pain.
She walked to the door, and then went out without speaking again. There was nothing she could say that would in any way assuage his grief. Besides, at times like these, it was his wife he needed most.
But when, in the car, she tentatively mentioned this to Stephanos Karantinos, he shook his head.
‘Alex has no wife,’ he said softly. ‘She died almost ten years ago.’
‘Oh! ’ Dallas bent her head. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘How could you?’ He shrugged. ‘Anna suffered from leukaemia. The last few months of her life she was in terrible pain. It was a blessed relief.’
‘Does.... does Mr. Stavros have other children?’
‘No. Paris was his only child.’
‘How terrible!’ Dallas clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘So now he has no one.’
‘Not exactly,’ replied Stephanos, turning into the road where the girls’ flat was situated. ‘He has a mother, and several brothers and sisters. He will not be completely alone.’
He halted the sleek car, and Dallas slid out without waiting for his assistance.
‘Well, thank you,’ she said. ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do.’
Stephanos nodded kindly, wished her goodbye, and drove away.
Dallas walked tiredly up the steps and into the flat. She felt shivery and shaky with the aftermath of the shock, and could hardly take it all in. It scarcely seemed possible that so much could have happened in such a short period. That Paris Stavros should be dead seemed incredible, and she wondered what the gossip-hungry press might make of it all.
She made herself some coffee, lit a cigarette, and sank down into a low armchair to await for Jane’s return. Her thoughts were in a turmoil, and it was difficult to assimilate the events of the last few hours.
Charles would have to be told, of course, but she would leave that until later. Just now, she had no desire to be forced into revealing situations which were so painfully evident.
She needed time to gather herself together to speak to him, but for the moment she could only remember, Alexander Stavros’s fa
ce when he told her the news, all arrogance gone, leaving his face strangely vulnerable.
In the days immediately following the accident, Jane and Dallas acquired a closeness which they had not experienced since the first few months after their father’s death. Jane seemed to have lost all her independence and clung to Dallas helplessly, looking to her for strength and guidance.
Alexander Stavros himself brought Jane home, carrying her up the stairs and into the flat as though she was a featherweight. His face had resumed its mask of indifference, although his eyes
were strangely gentle as he looked at Jane.
Dallas indicated that he should leave her on her bed in the bedroom, and after he had done so and said goodbye to Jane, he came out, closing the door behind him to speak to Dallas alone.
His height and presence seemed to fill the small room, and Dallas, for all her five feet six inches, felt small and inadequate beside him.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, looking down at her with his intensely dark eyes.
Dallas felt suddenly disturbed, and looked away from him.
‘ I... I... of course I am. Are ... are you?’
He shrugged. ‘My feelings are not easy to describe,’ he replied, softly. ‘But yes, I suppose you could say I am all right.’
‘There’s nothing I can say,’ began Dallas, twisting her hands together nervously.
‘No, there is not.’ He took out his case and extracted a cheroot. ‘May I?’ and at her swift nod, he lit it. ‘You will need to talk with your sister,’ he went on. ‘There is much to discuss.’
Dallas didn’t quite understand this remark, but she let it go. This was not the time for questions, and while she wished he would go with one half of her, the rest of her being experienced a desire for him to stay. He emanated a feeling of power and competence, and she thought he was the kind of man a woman would always feel protected with.
‘So.’ He walked to the door slowly. ‘I will go. I have much to do ... to arrange. We will of course see you later.’
‘Yes, Mr. Stavros,’ Dallas nodded hastily.
Brushing past him, she opened the door of the flat for him, but he stopped her, his eyes intent upon her.
‘Dallas,’ he said, surprisingly, ‘I may call you that, may I not?’
Dallas nodded, too surprised to do anything else.
‘Don’t worry ... about anything.’ He fastened the dark astrakhan coat closely about him, turning up the collar.
Dallas frowned. She didn’t understand what he meant, unless he thought Jane was going to be very difficult to console.
‘All right,’ she said, allowing him to open the door wide and step into the aperture. ‘Th... thank you, for bringing Jane home.’
He nodded. ‘Oh, by the way, Dallas, don’t be surprised if you find some newshounds on your doorstep later in the day. Unfortunately it will be impossible to keep something like this private. Do you understand? My life has been in the public eye for so long it is difficult for me to do anything without it being reported, and this is news!’
‘Yes, Mr. Stavros, I understand.’ Dallas swallowed hard, and he half smiled, and then turning, walked swiftly away towards the stairs.
Dallas closed the door and leaned back against it momentarily. Then the sound of Jane’s choked sobbing coming from the bedroom aroused her from her reverie, and with a stiffening of her shoulders she walked briskly through to the bedroom.
For several days the flat was besieged by newspaper men and women, all wanting to know how Jane was, and about her relationship with Paris Stavros. Dallas refused to answer any questions and Jane was too distraught to care one way or the other. So everything was left to Dallas, and she was forced to take a week off work so that she could stay with her sister.
Charles was unsympathetic. He couldn’t understand Dallas’s attitude, and said so.
‘Really, Dallas,’ he complained, ‘you’re treating the whole affair as though it was a grand tragedy. I thought you’d be glad that it was over once and for all.’
Dallas stared at him, aghast at his unfeeling words. ‘I would never, never wish this on anybody,’ she denied hotly. ‘Charles, surely you can find it in your heart to feel compassion. Jane’s going through a terrible experience, and she isn’t going to be helped by that kind of statement. All right, I know it’s over, but she needs love now, and gentleness, not chastising.’
‘Did you find out where they were going?’ he asked bluntly.
Dallas shook her head. ‘We’ve never discussed it, why?’
‘Well, I’d certainly be interested to know.’
Dallas sighed. ‘I expect we will know everything in time, when Jane feels capable of telling us. Until then, we don’t question her.’ Charles snorted, and went away in a huff, but for once Dallas didn’t particularly care what he thought.
She read from the newspapers that Alexander Stavros had flown his son’s body back to Greece for burial there, and she wondered whether indeed she would ever see him again. It seemed unlikely. There was no reason why he should care about what happened to them now, and their paths were never likely to cross in the normal course of events.
Two weeks after the accident Dallas began to get really worried about Jane’s depression. It did not seem to be lifting at all, and she refused to talk about anything remotely connected with the events of the last few weeks. She had not as yet returned to work, although naturally Dallas had had to return to her teaching job at the school. Jane spent her time either in bed, or moping about the flat, and refused to go and see a doctor, even though the doctors at the hospital where she had been taken after the accident had advised her to see her own doctor before resuming work. She averred that she was perfectly all right, and would get better in her own good time.
One evening, when Dallas was leaving the school gates at four o’clock, she was surprised to see a huge black Mercedes parked nearby, and as she passed it on her way to the bus-stop the nearside door opened, and Alexander Stavros slid out and confronted her. It was a cold evening in early April, and Dallas was muffled up in a headscarf and her sheepskin jacket, and compared to the immaculate elegance of his clothes she felt terribly untidy. But he merely smiled, rather sardonically, she thought, and said:
‘Hello, Dallas. Get in, please. I want to talk to you.’
Dallas hesitated, only momentarily, and then slid into the passenger seat while he walked lazily round the bonnet and slid behind the driving wheel. He was driving himself today, so they were alone.
He did not start the engine, but instead offered her a cigarette which she gratefully accepted, while her body relaxed in the warm, luxury of the car. He lit himself a cheroot, and then looked sideways at her.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘I have been in England exactly three days, yet you have not made any attempt to get in touch with me.’
Dallas stared at him in a bewildered fashion, her cheeks turning pink. ‘I ... I don’t understand,’ she said awkwardly.
‘No? And yet I did send a message round to the flat advising you of my return. ’
‘You did?’ Dallas felt like an idiot. What on earth was all this about now?
‘Of course. Your sister took the message herself.’
‘She did?’ Dallas shook her head. ‘Well, I’m afraid she didn’t tell me. Did ... did you want to see me?’
‘Did I want... ?’ His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘I think perhaps we must be talking at cross-purposes. Naturally, you would want to see me.’
‘I would?’ Dallas bit her lip, desperately trying to understand him. At last she gave up. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Stavros, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. ’
Now it was his turn to look surprised. He studied her intently for a moment, as though weighing up whether she was telling him the truth, and then he shrugged. ‘Perhaps you don’t at that,’ he murmured. ‘I should have made certain before I left that you were informed. It seems apparent that your sister is afraid to tell you herself. ’
Dallas’s fi
ngers clenched convulsively on the strap of her handbag. ‘What is she afraid to tell me?’ she asked breathlessly, her eyes wide and dismayed.
Alexander Stavros’s mouth twisted. ‘It seems I must again be the bearer of unhappy tidings; your sister is pregnant.’
Dallas felt her stomach turn over, and she suddenly felt very sick. It wasn’t that it was such a great shock; she had known instinctively that all was not right with Jane for a long time, but now that it was put into words so blatantly, she felt suddenly lost and helpless, with no one to whom she could turn. Except Charles, her emotions argued, but what would Charles think?
Stavros stared out of the car window at the passing traffic, giving her time to collect her scattered wits. He smoked his cheroot slowly, and Dallas, her eyes drawn to him, relaxed a little at his calm acceptance of the situation. When he thought she was recovering, he looked at her with his dark, inscrutable eyes.
‘I’m sorry I had to break it to you so bluntly,’ he said. ‘But it was the only way. Your sister knows, of course, and I was told at the hospital when I went to bring her home. They thought I already knew, you see.’ He sighed. ‘I told Jane to tell you at once, but obviously she found herself incapable of doing so. I also outlined an idea to her which I wanted you to think about, too.’
Dallas drew deeply on her cigarette. ‘She has said nothing at all about anything personal, but I suppose this explains the withdrawal symptoms she is suffering from. ’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘So now everything is known to you I will tell you my suggestions, yes?’ As she inclined her head as though in assent, he went on: ‘This child, when it is born, will be my grandchild, do you understand? It matters little to me whether your sister was going to marry my son, or otherwise. The child is all that is important; I cannot have my grandchild ignored by his own family, so I have suggested to your sister that she comes with me to Lexandros until the child is born.’
Dallas stared at him in astonishment. ‘Lexandros?’ she echoed.
‘Yes. Lexandros is an island, my island. My home is there; I was born there, and so was Paris. It is right that Paris’s child should be born there also.’