She arrived back in Grayston-on-Sea late on Bank Holiday Monday evening. As the taxi took her from the station and drove along the promenade, she looked out over the sea. The full moon made a silver pathway across its restless waters, tossing diamonds of spray as it splashed gently on the beach. How different from the ugly grey violence of the winter sea, pounding upon the sea wall, swirling through the streets and carrying all before it.
Thoughts of the storm brought immediate thoughts of Nicholas, and Petra felt the now familiar heartache. It was too late to phone this evening, but at least she only had to wait another twenty-four hours before she could call.
Tuesday crawled by. Tom was back from his two day honeymoon, and talking of the real honeymoon he and Melanie planned as soon as college was closed for the summer vacation. Petra saw students, gave her opening archaeology lecture to her second years, ate nothing and waited for the moment when she could go home and dial Nicholas' number.
When she did reach her flat she made herself drink a cup of tea before phoning and then taking several deep breaths lifted the receiver. Her hands shook as she dialled and her whole body felt weak and feeble as she waited, listening to the ringing tone. At last it stopped and a woman answered.
"Is that Mrs. Romilly?" asked Petra huskily.
"Yes. Can I help you?"
"I wondered if I could possibly speak with your son?" she said, trying to sound calm.
"I'm awfully sorry," replied Mrs. Romilly, "but I'm afraid he's not here."
"Not there? Oh, well, do you think you could tell me when you expect him back?"
"I'm afraid I don't. He left for Greece this morning and he'll be away for several months, probably till early October."
"October!" echoed Petra. She had missed him. He had left that morning and she had missed him.
"Can I help?" Mrs. Romilly was asking.
"No, no thank you very much." Petra's voice trailed away.
"Who is it speaking, please?"
"Just a friend. Petra. Thank you very much."
Gently, Petra replaced the receiver. If she had phoned last night, when she first got in, she would have caught him. She might not have been able to see him, but at least she could have spoken to him and heard his voice. Now, maddeningly, it was too late. Perhaps it always had been.
Chapter Nine
The summer was wet and tedious, but as before Petra flung herself into her work, knowing she had to keep her mind occupied and herself at exhaustion point so that the time would pass until October when Nicholas would return to England. She still derived pleasure and satisfaction from her job and she was especially pleased with the work done on the archaeology course by the second years. The flame of interest kindled by Nicholas at the conference had grown stronger and it was with pleasure that Petra heard that three of her students were planning to join a dig during the summer vacation.
"You should come with us," one of them, Diana Hill, said, laughing. "Keep us in order."
Petra laughed too. "I doubt if I could," she said. "But you'll have far more fun on your own. Though you do realise, don't you, that if you should find anything you'll be brushed aside and the experts will take over."
They all laughed then. "Of course," said one, Sarah Drayton. "But we remembered what he said and we want to be part of it."
"What who said?" asked Petra puzzled.
"Professor Romilly, of course. He said at the lecture that we'd be welcome if we could find our own way there."
"You're going to Thessos?" Petra was incredulous.
"Of course, didn't we say?"
"No," said Petra lamely, "you just said Greece."
"Well, it's Thessos. If we can get as far as Athens there's an island boat that goes out to Thessos, among other places. We'll take that. Sure you don't want to come?"
This last was said with a grin and Petra managed to return it as she replied, "Quite sure. I already have plans."
It was quite untrue, she had nothing planned and when the college closed for the summer vacation the following week, she had still made none. Tom and Melanie were going to Yugoslavia for two weeks, "For our real honeymoon," as Tom put it, and various other members of staff were off to far-flung places. Petra, though restless, could think of nowhere she wanted to go, except Thessos of course, but there was no way she could turn up there uninvited.
Knowing enforced idleness would be the worst possible thing, she spent the first weekend of the holidays with her parents after which she invited herself up to Cumbria to stay with Mary for ten days. But there were still nearly ten weeks before the college year began again and to Petra they stretched into infinity.
Travelling back from Cumbria, she decided to try and get a part-time job, and got as far as buying a local newspaper at the station to look for something, but when she got back to the flat there was an air letter waiting for her which entirely changed her plans. The stamps were Greek and the address was written in Nicholas' bold hand.
Shaking, she picked it up and carried it through to the living-room. Then she sat down, drew a deep breath and opened it. Inside there was an airline ticket and a single sheet of paper. The ticket was for a return flight to Athens, and on the paper it simply said, "Please come. Nicholas."
Petra stared down at the contents of the envelope. She couldn't believe what she saw. The ticket was dated for July 31st. She glanced at the date on her watch. July 31st was tomorrow. Her immediate reaction was 'I can't possibly go, I've no time to get ready.' But even as she thought this she knew from the crazy leap of joy in her heart that she was going. Somehow she would be on that flight, come hell or high water. She looked at her watch again. She had precisely eighteen hours to organise herself, pack and be at the airport for the flight.
Why he had sent the ticket, what had made him contact her at all, she did not know. Perhaps it was because she had rung his home, and his mother had mentioned it in a letter. Petra neither knew nor cared, but whatever the reason she was determined not to waste this chance; her second and probably last chance to be with Nicholas and her only chance to set the misunderstandings to rights.
With a singing heart she phoned her parents, did some laundry, found her passport and packed her case before she allowed herself a few hours sleep. Next morning she rushed to the bank and then caught the London train. By two o'clock she was in the air and on her way to Nicholas.
She had been so busy, she'd had no time to think once her decision was made, but as the plane droned its way across Europe, doubts began to assail her. What should she do when she arrived? She had no way of contacting him, and hadn't even let him know she was coming. If she hadn't gone to Mary's she might have had the letter days earlier. If she'd stayed in Cumbria any longer she would have missed the opportunity altogether. Her heart skipped a beat at that thought. Would he be at the airport? He knew after all which flight she'd be on, if she were coming.
"Please let him be there," she prayed. "Please let him be there, and help me not to waste my second chance."
As the aeroplane circled Athens, Petra could see the city spread below bathed in the hot afternoon sun. It shimmered faintly in the heat haze and Petra gazed at it sprawling beneath her, hoping and praying Nicholas was down there somewhere waiting for her.
The plane landed and taxied in towards the airport buildings. Petra followed the crowd on to the airport bus and then up into the luggage hall.
While she was waiting for her case to appear, she took the opportunity of going into the ladies and renewing her make-up. She gazed into the mirror there, and seeing a pale face staring back at her from huge navy eyes, she wondered how she would look to Nicholas. Quickly she applied more make-up, trying to add a touch of colour to her cheeks; then she brushed her hair and re-coiled it into a knot on the top of her head. It was cooler off her neck, and wearing her hair up always gave her confidence. She had travelled in a cool linen dress, and smoothing the skirt from her hips she gave one last glance in the mirror and went to collect her luggage.
; When at last the suitcases came through, Petra found hers easily and made her way out through the customs hall. Nobody stopped her and all at once she was in the general concourse, where a crowd of people awaited the passengers.
She scanned the group quickly and felt herself droop with disappointment. Nicholas wasn't there. Tall as he was, he would have over-topped most of the people around him, clearly visible amongst the rest.
For a moment, Petra paused uncertainly, wondering what to do, and she was just deciding to see if there was a message for her at the airline desk when she saw a face she recognised. Nicholas hadn't come to meet her, but Diana Hill, one of her students, had.
She slid out of the crowd and stepped in front of Petra. "Hello, Miss Hinton," she said cheerfully. "Old Nick says he's sorry he couldn't meet you himself, but it's difficult for him to leave the site."
A little taken aback at this reception Petra said faintly, "Old Nick?"
Diana giggled. "Prof. Romilly. It's what they call him on the site. Very appropriate, actually. He can be a bit of a devil. Workwise I mean. He's an absolute stickler for detail, particularly in the recording and drawing of each layer, but he does take the trouble to explain as well. David Horton, one of the supervisors, says he's one of the best directors there are, so we're very lucky. Shall we go?"
A little bemused at this sudden burst of information, Petra let Diana take her suitcase and followed her out of the airport and into a taxi.
"Piraeus," Diana directed the driver and they were soon speeding through the outskirts of Athens. "We weren't sure you'd be on that flight," said Diana settling back, "but Old Nick said to wait for the next one from London if you weren't."
Petra, who was calmer now that the disappointment at finding Diana rather than Nicholas had lessened, said, "It was very good of you to come all the way just to find me. I could have got to Thessos by myself, you know."
"Oh, I know," said Diana airily, "but I didn't mind. Actually," she confided, "I was glad to come. It's back-breaking work out there in the sun."
"You're very brown," said Petra looking at the girl's healthy suntanned face. "You make me feel disgustingly white."
"You'll be brown enough after a few days bending with your trowel all day," promised Diana. "That is if you've come to work on the site."
"Of course I have," said Petra quickly, wondering what Nicholas had told them.
"We're camping just near by," said Diana. "It's such a perfect place. Do you know there are no cars on the island? It's too small. Everyone uses bikes or rides donkeys."
They drove along the marina at Piraeus and Diana pointed out the yachts lying alongside the quay and riding at moorings in the bay.
"Gin palaces," she said, "for the rich and famous. I'm afraid the boat we take leaves a lot to be desired. It's, well, it's just so Greek. You'll see what I mean."
She paid off the taxi and led Petra through the confused noise on the dockside to a small vessel making ready to sail. It was much as Petra had imagined, small, dirty and salt-caked, not much more than an old and battered fishing-boat, converted to take passengers. One quick glance into the cramped interior passenger accommodation decided them to settle for a place in the fresh air on deck.
They found an empty corner by the rail at the stern and Petra staked their claim while Diana went in search of chairs. She found none unoccupied, so they simply sat on the deck, their backs against a locker and waited for the boat to sail. The evening sun, still hot and bright, streamed down on to them, and Petra closed her eyes, letting its warmth surround her, sink into her, so that she began to relax even on the uncomfortably hard deck.
'Well, I'm here,' she thought, 'and soon I'll be on Thessos with Nicholas. Why did he ask me to come? Why have I come?' The answer to the second question was easy, but to find the answer to the first she must still wait.
As the boat chugged out of the harbour into the Aegean Sea, Petra and Diana stood at the rail watching the receding shore. A faint breeze ruffled their hair and the sun, slowly slipping towards the horizon in a blaze of red and gold, warmed their faces and tinged their cheeks with pink.
Diana had some food in her bag and they picnicked on the deck before huddling together to doze the night away.
The journey to Thessos took several hours and Petra awoke to find the dawn rising out of the sea, golden, silver and rose against a buttermilk sky. She stood at the rail gazing in wonder at the miraculous colours before her, while the darkness faded behind her.
Diana joined her and suddenly pointing out across the water said, "There's Thessos."
Petra screwed her eyes against the brilliance of the morning and saw the dark hump of an island silhouetted against the dawn, an island floating darkly in the gold and silver setting of the sea.
The sky continued to lighten as they stood and watched and from the dark outline emerged the details of the island, no longer in shadow. As Diana had said, Thessos was very small. A fishing village clung to one end, looking for all the world as if it might up-end the land and sink into the sea. Its white sun-baked houses climbed the rocky hillside above the harbour, watching out across the sea for the return of its fishermen.
A jutting harbour wall protected the shore from the winter seas, but now, basking in the hot sunshine, it did no more than divide one smooth patch of water from another. The boat slowed as it neared the harbour and manoeuvred round the protecting wall to lie alongside the quay.
Petra was surprised at the number of passengers who left the boat, but Diana told her they would almost all be back aboard when it sailed on in about an hour's time.
"They come ashore and visit the street market, and then go on somewhere bigger to stay. Very few people actually stay here, it's quite unspoilt so far. I suppose in time…" Her voice trailed off as she looked across the harbour. Then she said briskly, "Old Nick says there's a tent you can have out at the site or there's a room free in the town if you'd rather." Diana watched Petra's face as she spoke and added, "Most of us are out at the site; it's marvellous to sleep out under the stars."
"I'll take the tent," said Petra decisively; being away from the site in the town somewhere was not at all in line with her plans.
Diana grinned. "Right, well let's get out there."
In the shade of a fig tree in the dusty square beyond the harbour, Diana found a donkey cart and swinging Petra's case into it, had its sleepy driver take them out to the site.
It was a bumpy, twisting ride. The road was little more than a track, hard-baked and dusty and very uneven. It wound away from the village through a large olive grove, where the gnarled and twisted trees fluttered silvery leaves in the sea breeze, and then up the hillside parallel with the shore for a mile before winding down again to a flat plateau, a patchwork of rock and stones, dried grasses and scrubby bushes. At the far end was more sea, smooth and shining blue and between the two were the excavations of the site.
The site itself was fenced off with a single strand of wire slung between posts. Within the fence were some wooden huts—the site offices, Diana told Petra, where the records were made and the artefacts stored. Beyond these the land sloped down to the sea and there were some tall trees and a patch of dusty grass, and the tents of the work force.
"Old Nick'll be in there—" she added, pointing to the end hut—"that's his lair. If you need any help with your tent or anything just give a call, Mark and Sarah and I'll be more than pleased to give you a hand."
Petra stood watching the girl run towards the encampment in the trees for a moment and then turned back to the site. The sky arched, a cloudless blue, above her, as she stared across the excavations. Groups were working carefully in separate places, removing soil with trowels and sifting it into barrows. There were pegs marking out the horizontal levels and plastic tags of different colours labelling the layers.
"I'm glad you came."
Nicholas had approached her from behind and the sound of his deep voice made her start. Suddenly shy, "Nicholas!" was all she could say. She
looked up at his face, tanned dark brown by the sun, and smiled unsteadily as her heart turned somersaults.
"Did you have a good trip? Diana found you all right?" Nicholas spoke easily and naturally as he picked up her case. There was no constraint in his manner; no awkwardness at the memories which must have been in his mind, as they were in Petra's.
Petra, determined to match his calm, said, "Yes, thank you." She wanted to ask why he'd sent the ticket, to know what had prompted him, but a warning voice inside her cautioned her to wait until the time was right. So she said, "Isn't this the most glorious place? It's a paradise."
Nicholas agreed. "Come on, let's dump your case in the office and I'll show you round."
He led her round the site, pausing at each group to explain what it was doing. There were trays laid out and marked with coloured labels which corresponded with the layer labels and from several of these Nicholas lifted items and studied them for a moment. There were questions from the supervisor of each group too and this made their progress leisurely.
At last they reached the huts again and Nicholas showed her where the artefacts and other remains were taken from their trays and placed in polythene bags and labelled. In another hut were two women indexing, filing and cross referencing the accumulating information so that should Nicholas need to know anything about any particular area of the work, the information so far collected could be retrieved with ease.
In the last hut, Nicholas introduced Petra to the site supervisor, his second-in-command, and at Petra's request, arranged for her to join with the diggers next day.
A Bid for Love & A Chance of Happiness Page 22