Innocent Obsession

by Anne Mather

  ‘Lipon, you are back! Oriste, Sylvie, we have been so worried!’

  ‘There was no need.’ Sylvie’s words came out jerkily, as she climbed out of the car, and Eleni paused to give her only the briefest of acknowledgements before hurrying round the vehicle to reach Andreas.

  ‘Agapitos! Darling!’ Eleni grasped Andreas’s arm as he got out of the car, and once again Sylvie was subjected to the sight of another woman tilting her face for his kiss. Turning abruptly away, she allowed Leon to escort her round the villa, and up the shallow steps to the terrace, where Thia Ariadne was seated with her interminable lacework.

  ‘Ah, thespinis, you are back,’ she greeted the girl warmly. ‘What a storm in a teacup, ohi? Is that not what you say? Ha, Leon, he has been like the hot kettle, ever since the storm broke.’

  ‘I think you mean a hot cat, thia,’ Leon corrected her dryly, but his smile was indulgent. ‘Come, Sylvie, sit down. Let me get you a drink. I am sure you must be exhausted.’

  Sylvie allowed herself to be seated, but she watched Leon anxiously. ‘Are you sure you should be doing so much?’ she exclaimed, glancing behind her apprehensively and discovering that Andreas and Eleni had not yet come to join them. ‘Leon, don’t be too ambitious, will you? Not when things seem to be going so well.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Leon bent over her affectionately, touching her cheek with his fingers, and Sylvie thought rather wearily that Andreas would have to choose that moment to appear right behind them.

  ‘So much concern, brother,’ he remarked cuttingly. ‘One wonders how you might have felt had it been Eleni, and not Sylvie, who was with me.’

  If Leon was disturbed by his brother’s unexpected sarcasm, he quickly hid it, and it was Eleni whose brows arched delicately, her eyes moving to Sylvie in evident surprise.

  ‘Naturally I was concerned about Sylvie,’ retorted Leon mildly, straightening to face the other man. ‘She is my responsibility.’

  ‘Is she?’ Sylvie was amazed at Andreas’s behaviour. It was as if he was blaming Leon for what had happened to them. ‘I wonder what Margot would have to say about that?’

  ‘Oh, really—–’

  Sylvie sprang up from her seat in sudden agitation, but it was Thia Ariadne who rose without any apparent haste and insinuated herself between the two brothers.

  ‘I think that is enough, do you not?’ she enquired, her calm tone tempered with steel. ‘Andreas, you need to change. I do not propose to eat dinner with someone wearing shorts!’ Her lips curled distastefully. ‘As for you, Leon, I suggest you allow Sylvie to go and change also. She has obviously had a trying afternoon. Do not assist in making it an impossible evening.’

  ‘Ne, Thia Ariadne.’

  Leon accepted his aunt’s advice without another word, and although Andreas still looked dangerous, he strode into the villa without further argument. Sylvie, for her part, felt hopelessly out of her depth, and Eleni’s eyes upon her held none of the shy reticence Sylvie remembered from their first encounter.

  But once again Ariadne came to the rescue. ‘Run along, little one,’ she advised her gently, resuming her seat and her sewing. ‘We will wait dinner for you.’ And Sylvie offered Leon an apologetic shrug before doing as his aunt suggested.

  In her room, however, she found her legs giving out on her again. What had Andreas been thinking of, causing that scene on the terrace? How could he pick an argument with his brother, knowing that Leon should not get upset? And Eleni—what must she have thought? Was there no end to the humiliation Sylvie was to suffer at his hands?

  CHAPTER TEN

  SYLVIE was awakened by the sound of the helicopter. It seemed to be directly overhead, but that was because sound travelled great distances over the water, and she crawled up on to her pillows, blinking at her watch.

  She had not slept until the first faint fingers of dawn light touched the horizon, but although the sun was glinting through the shutters, she did not think it was very late. The air was still too cool, her bedroom too fresh, and she concentrated with difficulty until the watch face swam into focus.

  As she had suspected, it was barely eight o’clock, and she pushed back the sheet which was all that was covering her and padded to the windows. The helicopter had gone now, the sound fading away into the distance, and she decided it must have been on its way to one of the other islands, and not their concern at all.

  However, she was awake now, and the idea of going back to bed did not appeal at all. After only a moment’s hesitation she pulled off her nightgown and replaced it with a bikini, and letting herself out of her bedroom, went barefoot down the stairs.

  To her astonishment, someone had already had breakfast. Two places had been laid and discarded, and she was fingering the handle of the coffee pot doubtfully when she heard someone coming. Her heart pounded, as she anticipated what she would do if it proved to be Andreas, but to her relief it was Leon whose sandals flopped across the patio, his smile as warm as usual, as he took in the entrancing picture she made.

  ‘Kalimera,’ he hailed her easily, and she returned the greeting, gesturing rather awkwardly at the evidence in front of her.

  ‘Someone’s beaten us to it,’ she said, running her palms down over her honey-brown thighs. ‘I can’t believe it was Nikos, even if he was eager to see me last night.’

  ‘It was Andreas,’ Leon informed her wryly, taking a seat and stretching his legs. ‘He phoned for the helicopter before he went to bed, and he and Eleni left half an hour ago.’

  ‘Left?’ Sylvie could hear the consternation in her voice, but Leon seemed not to notice.

  ‘I am afraid so,’ he confirmed, inhaling deeply. ‘He decided he had to get back. It was a pity for Eleni, of course, but she would not stay without him, and perhaps it is just as well.’

  Sylvie half turned away, breathing shallowly, struggling to contain her desolation. Andreas had gone! Just like that, he had gone! And she was sensitive enough to his moods to know that he would not be coming back.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Leon was speaking to her, and she had to force herself to turn and face him again.

  ‘I—no. No, what could be wrong? I—I was just watching that seabird, that’s all. Isn’t it enormous?’

  ‘It looks like a pelican,’ remarked Leon indifferently, crossing his legs. ‘Would you ring the bell for Irene? She should have cleared this table by now.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Sylvie obediently summoned the maid, and then walked to the edge of the patio. ‘I—er—I was just going for a swim. Will you excuse me? This—this is my favourite time of day.’

  Leon hesitated. ‘Last night—what Andreas said—it did not upset you, did it?’

  Sylvie stiffened, but she had to look round. ‘Last night?’ she said, playing for time. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I mean what he said to me,’ declared Leon. ‘About—well, about our relationship. I do feel responsible for you, Sylvie, and I am very fond of you.’

  Sylvie forced a smile. ‘I know you are.’

  ‘And were I not married to Margot—–’

  ‘Oh, Leon, don’t go on.’ Sylvie couldn’t bear it. ‘I’m going for a swim.’ She stepped down on to the sand. ‘See you later!’

  A week later Sylvie had convinced herself that she would get over Andreas. She had to. There was nothing else she could do. But the spring had gone out of her walk, and she no longer felt the zest for living that had previously put vitality into her smile. It was harder to get up in the mornings, and harder to keep cheerful throughout the day, and what had been a joy and a pleasure to her before was now just so much time she had to get through, until she could return to England.

  She and Leon had discussed her return to England. The day after Andreas’s departure, Sylvie had gone to him and explained that whatever happened, she could not stay indefinitely.

  ‘I don’t know what story Margot told you,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘but I have to be back before the start of the Michaelmas term, in time to prepare mys
elf and the things I have to take when I start university.’

  ‘I knew that.’ Leon was endearingly understanding. ‘Andreas told me that you were just filling in, and I know he has another girl in mind, who will take over from you when you want to leave.’

  Sylvie’s lips had tightened. She should have known Andreas would have everything organised, she thought bitterly. It wasn’t any part of his nature to leave himself unprotected.

  The nights were the worst, naturally. After the house-hold had retired, Sylvie no longer found it a simple matter to escape her thoughts in oblivion. She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t persuade her tense muscles to let go. And although she practised all the yoga exercises she had read about, nothing seemed to do any good.

  In consequence, the silent hours between darkness and dawn assumed a nightmare quality, and she dreaded them coming with all the fervency of a toddler afraid of the dark. She looked at her watch a dozen times throughout the long hours, each time disbelieving how little time had passed since the last time she took notice.

  One thing, she told herself, she was grateful for. The extra weight she had always carried on her hips and thighs fell away, leaving her as thin and bony as Margot had ever been. It was amazing how quickly weight disappeared when one was not eating or sleeping well, she reflected, and she wondered if she should write to some slimmers’ magazine, and recommend insomnia as a diet.

  She thought Leon had begun to worry about her too, and although she wanted to allay his anxieties, there was not a lot she could do. Besides, he was growing stronger every day, and the doctor who came from Athens to visit his patient pronounced that he was well on the way to recovery. That morning, the morning the helicopter arrived bringing the doctor from the mainland, Sylvie had waited in nervous anticipation for Andreas to appear. But only Dr Maxwell arrived at the villa, accompanied by his nurse, and Sylvie dug sand castles on the beach, with a determination born of desperation.

  She had written back to her mother and Margot, but so far she had received no replies. The post on Monastiros was not regular, and in consequence she was not troubled when no letters arrived for her. Although she was looking forward to going home and forgetting what had happened here, the idea of picking up her studies again also seemed alien to her, and she put off thinking of the inevitable outcome.

  It was funny, she thought, but when she came to Greece the idea of giving up her plans for a career would have seemed totally unreasonable. Now, however, it was the prospect of academic life that seemed cold and bleak, and she realised how much less important qualifications were than people. Her mother had always maintained that she was the one who had the brains, but that Margot’s beauty was sufficient compensation. It was Margot who was expected to marry well, and had done so, while she, Sylvie, had never ever imagined herself in a situation like this. Her dealings with Brian, and boys like him, had confirmed her conviction that she was incapable of any deep emotional upheaval, and to find herself as weak and as vulnerable as any other girl was both chastening and terrifying. She didn’t want to feel this way about Andreas. She didn’t want to care about him, or wonder where he was and who he was with. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wishing for something that was out of reach. Andreas was a man, he was too old for her, and he was already committed to someone else. Besides, he had admitted, he could only hurt her.

  For once, however, what she wanted didn’t seem to make any difference. No matter how she tried to avoid it, no matter that she tried to close her ears to the facts, the truth was ringing in her head. She was in love with Andreas. She cared desperately for someone who had found her just an amusing diversion. And although she would not admit it, there was no way out.

  But in consequence, with characteristic determination she set about convincing herself that she would get over it. It might take time, years even, but sooner or later she would forget about him. Or if not forget, at least be able to think about him without this awful sense of desolation. No one died of love, she told herself severely. They only wilted a little. Nevertheless, her health did deteriorate, and at the end of another week Leon spoke to her gently, suggesting in his apologetic way that perhaps she ought to go home.

  ‘I do not quite know how to phrase this, Sylvie,’ he said, as they sat over coffee after dinner one evening. Thia Ariadne had retired to her balcony and they were alone, and he covered her hand with his as he sought the right words.

  ‘I want you to know how much I appreciate you giving up your time to come here. No—–’ This as Sylvie would have protested, ‘I know you are going to say it has been in the nature of a holiday for you, but nonetheless, you came when I was at my lowest ebb, and helped me to get my life into perspective again.’

  Sylvie forced a smile. ‘Honestly, Leon, I’ve done nothing.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ he was adamant, ‘you have done a great deal. Not only for me, but for Nikos, too. You have made him see that he can be happy, even without his mother.’ He paused. ‘You have made me see that, too.’

  ‘Oh, Leon—–’

  ‘No, listen to me, Sylvie. I want you to know. When—when Andreas accused me of abusing my responsibilities towards you, I denied it—–’

  ‘Leon!’

  ‘—but I fear it was not exactly true.’

  ‘Please, Leon …’

  ‘Let me finish.’ He moistened his lips. ‘Sylvie, these last days have convinced me that I must say something more. Watching you, worrying about you, seeing you fade away before my eyes, I knew I must be honest with you. I have come to care about you, Sylvie, to care about you very deeply. And if circumstances were different I should be proud to ask you to be my wife.’

  ‘Oh, Leon …’ Sylvie was appalled. She was not prepared for this. ‘Leon, please, you don’t understand …’

  ‘What do I not understand?’ Leon looked perplexed as she withdrew her hand from beneath his and got nervously to her feet. ‘You cannot lie to me, Sylvie. We have lived together for six weeks, remember, and I have seen you changed from a vital, vivacious child into a hollow-eyed wraith of a woman. There can be only one reason for that change—me!’ He pointed towards himself. ‘Can you honestly tell me you do not care for me?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Sylvie turned to him helplessly, wringing her hands, caught in the cleft stick of her own emotions. ‘Leon, of course I—I care for you—–’

  ‘I knew it!’

  ‘—but as a brother! A brother! Only as a brother.’

  Leon’s brows descended. ‘You are saying this for Margot’s sake—–’

  ‘No!’ Sylvie was desperate. ‘Leon, I like you, I do. I think you’re one of the nicest men I’ve ever met, but I don’t love you—not in the way you mean. I’m sorry.’

  Leon gazed at her uncomprehendingly. Obviously he needed some time to absorb this statement, and Sylvie turned away hopelessly, wanting to leave him. She didn’t know how long she had before the real reason for her condition occurred to him, and she didn’t think she could bear for him to offer her his sympathy.

  ‘Then you must be homesick,’ he said at last, his voice flat and expressionless, eloquent of the shock he had sustained. Sylvie prayed that her honesty would not be the prelude to a setback in his recovery, but for the moment it was enough to have something concrete to cling to.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed hastily. ‘Yes, I think I am. I—well, perhaps it would be best if I went home.’

  ‘Home?’ Leon looked at her bitterly. ‘You mean—all this, this fretting you have been doing is just because you wish to go home?’

  Sylvie sighed. ‘Is it so—unlikely?’

  ‘Yes!’ With unexpected vehemence, Leon pronounced the denial. ‘Sylvie, look at me. Look at me! If I am not responsible for those dark lines around your eyes, then it must be someone else, do you not agree?’

  ‘Leon—–’

  He got to his feet, pushing back his chair and facing her with grim determination. ‘I should have realised,’ he declared savagely. ‘I should have
understood: only I regret, my illness has made my brain sluggish. Theos!’ He smote his forehead with the flat of his hand. ‘How could I have been so blind, so insensitive, so foolishly arrogant as to imagine I could have had such a devastating effect on you!’

  ‘Please, Leon, leave it—–’

  ‘It is Andreas, is it not?’ he demanded, somewhat wearily now as his anger drained his strength. ‘What has he done to you? If he has hurt you, I will kill him!’

  Sylvie uttered a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘Leon, this is ridiculous! How could Andreas hurt me? Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I have not been silly, only conceited,’ he declared harshly. ‘Imagining your distress could have anything to do with me.’ He shook his head. ‘I understand now why my brother was so angry every time he found us together. Andreas can be very jealous of his possessions—–’

  ‘Leon, I’m not his possession!’

  ‘No?’ He studied her pale face. ‘I wonder how well you know him.’

  ‘Leon, he’s your brother, that’s all.’

  ‘He has not—touched you?’

  Sylvie bent her head. ‘Not in the way you mean, no.’

  ‘What way do I mean?’ Leon was dogged.

  ‘He—he hasn’t—made love to me,’ exclaimed Sylvie tremulously, not knowing why she was even answering his questions. ‘Leon, don’t ask me, please. It—it’s over. It’s all over.’

  Leon’s mouth compressed. ‘I shall have much pleasure in telling him what I think of his behaviour—–’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Sylvie was horrified. ‘Leon, no! No, you mustn’t. Whatever else you do, please don’t mention any of this to Andreas.’

  ‘He should know what he has done,’ insisted Leon grimly, and Sylvie gazed at him in agony.