The Devil's Bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  Thimios, as usual, drove them and there were only Stein and herself in the back of the big car as his grandmother had declined to come. On the way Stein said little, other than to snap out a few brief replies when Sandra spoke. He had been morose for days. Not even the fact that her fingers soon healed and she was able to type again seemed to cheer him. She thought their visit to the taverna had done him good, but if it had, the effect had soon worn off. It wasn't because of neglect, Sandra was certain. The telephone rang continually with invitations from all over Corfu and people came to the house all the time. Yet, daily, she could feel him retreating into an increasingly grim silence. They hadn't done any work now for days and she didn't know what to make of it. That his grandmother appeared to blame Sandra for Stein's terse,

  black moods was not very comforting!

  When they arrived at the Nikitiadis house Sandra thought she understood at last what was making her uneasy. Sophy Parara was there. She had been unable to see Stein sooner, she said, as she had been indisposed since returning from America. Sandra saw immediately that Sophy Parara was no naive girl like herself, but a beautiful and very assured woman. Beside her Sandra lapsed into uncertain silence as she listened to her talking to Stein.

  'I couldn't get home quickly enough when my mother told me you were here,' she purred, shooting sharp little glances at Sandra, which naturally she knew Stein couldn't see. 'Poor Stein,' she went on, 'I was devastated to learn of your accident and should have liked to have rushed to your side immediately. Of course, knowing your fiancee would be there, I was forced to restrain myself.'

  'You would have been a great comfort,' he smiled.

  Sandra stared at him, amazed that he hadn't changed the subject abruptly. While not exactly encouraging Sophy he appeared to appreciate her concern.

  'I hope you are feeling better yourself?' he enquired politely, still speaking to Sophy.

  Oh yes,' Sophy returned. 'It was nothing, and I just couldn't wait to see you. Actually,' she laughed, with cool triumph, 'I bumped into an old friend of yours —Professor Manoli, at a reception in New York on Upper East Side. He was telling me about your case, without giving away any professional secrets, of course, and ... '

  'Come out on the terrace for a few minutes, Sophy. You can tell me there,' Stein interrupted smoothly, linking her arm through his and ignoring Sandra. 'Madame Nikitiadis isn't down yet, and I'm sure she would excuse us. It's such a long time since I've seen you that we have a lot to talk about.'

  Staring after them, Sandra felt both deserted and curious. What news had Sophy been about to impart so cheerfully, and why had Stein manoeuvred her so deviously outside? She was sure it must have been of some importance to have made him act so abruptly, in the middle of what Sophy had been saying. Or was it simply— Sandra's heart fluttered in dismay — that he couldn't wait to get Sophy to himself, perhaps to explain his bogus engagement?

  Over dinner Sophy, as if to emphasise the re-establishment of some previous relationship with Stein, asked Sandra mockingly if she wasn't yet tired of living in Greece. 'You must feel a stranger among us?'

  'No!' Not intending to reply so hotly, Sandra impulsively confessed, 'Well, sometimes I do'

  'There, you see,' Sophy's thick brows lifted. 'Feeling this way you can't be helping Stein so much. How long have you been engaged, Miss Weir?'

  Desperately Sandra glanced to where Stein was conversing with Mr. Nikitiadis further down the table. 'About a year, I think.'

  'A year!' Sophy's laughter was full of hidden scorn.

  'I cannot imagine Stein waiting so long for someone he loves.'

  'You forget my accident, Sophy.' At last he condescended to come to Sandra's rescue. 'It has made a difference.'

  'But your future is almost assured now, my dear,' Sophy's voice was puzzled. 'I should have thought you'd be brimming over with impatience —you were never any other kind of lover. Is this not so?' she appealed with a charming grimace to her aunt, who made disapproving noises and looked slightly embarrassed.

  'Don't look so horrified,' with a pretence of affection Sophy teased her. 'In England love and marriage are discussed more freely every day. In Greece it is the same. It is only on the islands that we still hang on to outworn customs, but even here,' the elegant shrug of her shoulders completed what she left unsaid.

  'Part of our island charm lies in our outworn customs, and I for one shouldn't like to see them changed,' Madame Nikidadis retorted stubbornly.

  Again Sophy merely shrugged. 'All the same, I'm sure Stein and Sandra won't be embarrassed if I ask them when the wedding is to be. Unless, Sandra,' Sophy's lip curled, 'since Stein's accident you have been trying to postpone it indefinitely?'

  Almost Sandra gasped at such effrontery, not even feeling slightly mollified to hear Stein insisting lightly that it had been he who insisted Sandra should have time to be quite sure. 'We have both been through a rather traumatic experience and need a breathing space to adjust. Because of this we haven't yet fixed any date for our marriage. I might as easily change my mind as Sandra.'

  As Stein adroitly took charge of the conversation, Sandra felt her cheeks grow pale. What she felt for him could only be infatuation—but whatever it was it hurt! To hear him talking like this was like having a knife turned in an open wound and she found herself wishing feverishly that she had known at the beginning what she had been letting herself in for. What compensation, she wondered bitterly, would Alexandra be prepared to dole out for a broken heart? This whole episode was growing more and more into something she didn't understand, nor was she altogether sure she wanted to.

  Yet on the way home, for all her resentment against Sophy, she was shocked when Stein exclaimed savagely, 'I wish people would stop prattling on about marriage. They must think me a complete fool!' Her teeth gritted against the pain, she said as coolly as she was able, 'I agree —about our marriage at least. Under the circumstances I expect it's only natural they should be interested. There is one easy solution.'

  'Don't ask me to release you.' He didn't pretend not to understand what she was getting at. 'I've already told you how important this book is to me.'

  The most important thing, she suspected, was to prove his ability to work and at the same standard. It was something, she sensed, that he must have reassurance on, and to complete his present book was the only foreseeable way he could find out. He had other business interests, but this was the most important to him. As she turned to him, her heart was once again wrung with a compassion she dared not utter.

  'When my next book is finished and we return to London you'll be free to go,' he snarled, lying back against the upholstery, his profile presented to her, hard and formidable. 'I'm sure the few hours I ask you to work can't be very taxing.'

  Her whole body cold, Sandra looked dully out of the window at the brilliant stars which seemed to reflect in the dark waters of the glinting sea. The blue Ionian Sea, beautiful and mysterious, not in any way reflecting Stein's regard for her. He made it too obvious that he disliked her intensely, and there was nothing beautiful about hate. How was it, when she so often wished to be all things to him, he didn't appear to feel even one scrap of affection for her?

  'I'm sure,' she derided stiffly, 'Sophy would be more than willing to step into my shoes, should you ask her.'

  She wilted under the sudden blaze in his eyes. 'What on earth has Sophy to do with it? I may have been a blind fool, even before my accident, but I don't wish to hear her name on your lips.'

  The lips he mentioned went white. 'I wasn't insulting her! I was simply making a suggestion.'

  'Then kindly allow me to run my own life. A woman of Sophy's charm doesn't have to slave over a typewriter.' His mouth twisted sardonically as he gripped both her wrists, hurting her. 'Haven't I everything here I need? A moderately efficient secretary and entrancing little fiancee, whose body usually betrays even her most straitlaced rantings.'

  'I never win, do I!' she cried wildly, with a nervous glance at the back of Thimio
s's impervious head.

  'You'd better realise it!' Stein grated coldly, pulling her quickly to him, his hands releasing her wrists to run slowly over her bare arms and shoulders. 'How pleasant you feel,' he. murmured with a devilish softness. 'Silk against silk.' Suddenly, without warning, he bent his head to crush her mouth savagely beneath his.

  Minutes later he spoke thickly against her quivering lips. 'This is the only way I can really see you, and I refuse to ask your forgiveness. It's so easy when I'm paying for it, anyway. Quite without the usual complications.'

  'Stein!' Horrified though she was by his thickly muttered comments, it seemed she could deny him nothing when he held her in his arms. Perhaps he was right in what he said about her, but she couldn't seem to care. 'Stein,' she breathed again, 'must we be always fighting each other?' But then they were back at the house and it was too late. As though he regretted the slight softening on his face, he drew away from her abruptly without bothering to reply as Thimios opened the car door. 'Goodnight,' he said coldly, the curtness in his voice dismissing her even before he turned away.

  For the next two weeks life at the Villa Kartalis grew increasingly busier, but this was only socially. So far as Stein's writing went, little was actually accomplished. Not even a letter from his London publisher seemed to hurry things up. Sandra knew that because Stein was used to working straight on to the typewriter himself, he found it difficult to dictate in a way he found satisfactory, and sensing his frustration, she did everything she could think of to help him and eventually thought she was succeeding. It was difficult but not impossible, or it wouldn't have been if his grandmother had been willing to leave him in peace.

  The doorbell and telephone rang continually and Madame Kartalis, with an energy that far belied her eighty odd years, entertained indefatigably. Relations between her and Sandra remained strained, but while the old lady took every opportunity to speak sharply to her there were occasions when she did address Sandra in an almost cordial manner.

  There was no getting away from it, Sandra thought unhappily, Madame favoured Sophy Parara as a granddaughter-in-law, and she was quite honest about it. Sophy appeared to share the same sentiments as she spent hours of each day at the villa. She came into the study, persuading Stein so charmingly to go out with her that he seldom refused. They swam in the pool together and Sophy drove him around the island while Sandra was left behind to solve his rough dictation as best she could. Often she sat blindly, seeing only two people, Sophy and Stein, in each other's arms. Stein seemed to have forgotten all about his stipulation that he and Sandra should appear a loving couple. It soon became apparent that he never gave it another thought.

  Once, when Sandra suggested tentatively that she wouldn't mind a trip around the island herself, he told her intolerantly to get Thimios to take her. He didn't intend being driven like a helpless invalid in his grandmother's huge limousine to please her or anybody else. Hadn't the locals plenty to gawp at without adding him to their list of curiosities?

  Only once did she take his advice and went alone. Thimios, whether instructed by Stein or not, she didn't know, had offered to take her several times, and one day, after Stein had gone off with a smirking Sophy, Sandra decided to go to Corfu Town and have a look around.

  Thimios, as a general guide, couldn't be bettered. He wouldn't say a word against Stein, whom he obviously rated highly, but he did put himself out to make up for what he perhaps privately considered the kyrios's neglect of the charming little thespinis.

  Close to Corfu Town he showed her the beautiful villa of Mon Repos where Prince Philip was born and then he circled around by the coast to show her the famous Mouse Island and its sister island of Vlachema, both lying peacefully in the blue reflective waters of the bay. After this they followed the waterfront and into the old town. Here, close to the harbour, were the old Venetian parts of the town, the high-balconied buildings strung along narrow streets.

  They left the car and though Thimios said he could easily hire a monipo — one-horse carriage —Sandra preferred to explore on foot. There was the red-roofed church of Aghios Spiridon, the island's patron saint, but she declined to look at his mummified remains, to be seen in a glass-topped coffin. But apart from this there was so much to see that the afternoon flew, and finished with a delightful wander around the little jewellery shops and boutiques. Here she bought, with her precious drachmas, a shawl for Madame Kartalis and small gifts for Katrina and Thimios. The whole town was so colourful she felt reluctant to

  leave it, and she rather envied the tourists whose time was their own.

  When they returned Stein was back but there was no sign of Sophy. 'Well,' he mocked, almost as if he had been put out by her absence, 'have you sent all your postcards?' 'I didn't buy any as there's no one to send them to,' she retorted, then could have bitten her tongue out when he sneered,

  'Little Orphan Annie! Pull the other one.' 'It happens to be true,' she retorted, feeling near to tears, though not, she was convinced, of self-pity. It must be because he spoke so sharply; she prayed she might grow a thicker skin. Quickly she tried to change the subject by asking if he, too, had enjoyed his day.

  He grunted derisively. 'As good as I can expect. Why the devil I go at all I don't know. If it wasn't for Sophy.

  He broke off abruptly and, as he had declared Sophy a forbidden topic, Sandra stubbornly refused to show interest. She thought she knew, anyway, and didn't wish to hear him extolling another girl's virtues.

  He sighed, still impatiently, turning his dark head towards her again. 'So Corfu Town drew you out of your shell but you purchased no cards or presents. How long is it since you lost your parents?'

  His last question was so unexpected she was startled, 'Years ago — I was about eight. Gran brought me up.'

  Is she still alive?'

  Hadn't she told him? 'No, she's dead too.'

  'And since then, you've done exactly as you've pleased, using your freedom unwisely rather than well.'

  She knew better than to argue when he was in this kind of mood. It was very obvious something had happened to displease him. 'Do you want to get on with some work?' she asked carefully.

  'Work!' There was no reward for her willingness in the harshness of his tones. 'Haven't you learnt yet that my kind of work isn't something you can pick up whenever there are a few spare minutes? I'm not in the mood. I probably wouldn't manage more than a couple of inferior sentences and the telephone would no doubt be ringing in the middle of them.'

  His mouth tightened and she saw his face was pale under his tan, as if his outing had proved exhausting. His strength, his hard, well-proportioned body seemed to contradict this impression, yet Sandra thought the lines of strain around his mouth had grown deeper since they had come here.

  'What are you wearing?' He jumped so quickly to another subject she started, momentarily afraid he was going to touch her. Somehow she felt if he did she couldn't bear it. Not after he'd spent the entire afternoon with Sophy while she had wandered alone.

  'A cotton dress.' She described it briefly, hoping this would satisfy him.

  'You aren't short of clothes,' he startled her again by commenting dryly. He made no attempt to come near her.

  'No,' Sandra's mind was not on what she was saying, 'Alexandra gave me a lot. All I have.'

  'You can't be serious?'

  'Why not?' Again she regretted a lack of thought, but it couldn't be helped now. What did it matter, anyway?

  His voice held contempt. 'You mean you used the money they bought you with to pay for the clothes you have now?'

  'Stein!'

  'Shut up, girl. Tomorrow we'll go to town together and I'll buy you a new wardrobe. Never let it be said my fiancee wore clothes procured in this way. Tomorrow you can think of some excuse and ask Katrina to get rid of these.'

  Sandra felt chilled all over, sensing his renewed hostility. 'I can't see how it can be any better, taking things from you.'

  'You wouldn't, girl, would you? It's the
kind of mentality you have!'

  If this was bad there was worse to come. Almost Sandra didn't go down to dinner. To feel mentally bruised was nearly as bad as being hurt physically — in fact when she had time to think about it she decided it was worse. Bruises on skin faded in time, but a heart that ached might never recover. As she pondered, unhappily reluctant to change, she remembered how kind Thimios had been and that he had confided his beloved Katrina was cooking something special for the evening meal. Rather than disappoint them she bathed and put on a simple dress before descending the wide staircase. Stein had been in one of his worst moods this afternoon, but she must make allowances. Learning to live in a world of perpetual darkness must be a terrible strain, especially when, as in Stein's case, it hit one in the prime of life. He did try, and the courage he usually showed seemed above average. She must try to remember this whenever she felt like fighting him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sandra, who had hoped that a good wine and the excellent food might help, gauged Stein's mood as still bad, even as they finished eating. This evening Katrina's adjem pilafe — lamb cooked in rice — had been wonderful, and afterwards she had served baclava, a sweet made with thin pastry, honey and nuts. Now, as they sat drinking the thick Turkish coffee and Madame Kartalis nibbled greedily from the dishes of rich Turkish Delight, Sandra wondered if her mention of Alexandra had been responsible for plunging him into such a dark depression. Or was it that in the course of his outing with Sophy he had discovered a fondness for the Greek girl that made his supposed engagement to Sandra both an obstacle and a nuisance?

  Naturally Madame wanted to know exactly where he had been that day and how dear Sophy was. His answers were short to the point of rudeness and, while she was somewhat surprised that he should be so unusually curt with his grandmother, there was nothing to prepare Sandra for his eventual announcement.

  'Grandmother, I have decided to go to Kalnos to finish my book. Maybe I should say get it started, as this seems to be something I am scarcely going to accomplish here.' There was a sudden fraught silence and Sandra realised Madame was as startled and perhaps as dismayed as herself. She said something sharply in Greek, but when Stein glanced pointedly at Sandra she repeated it reluctantly in English, 'I don't think that is a good idea.'