A Bid for Love & A Chance of Happiness

by J. B. Sherrard

  "I'll get some of the lads to put up your tent," Nicholas said when they were outside in the sun once more. "We all eat together usually. Jane's in charge of the cooking. You could probably help her today if you want to be useful." He led her off the site and across to the encampment, carrying her case for her.

  The camp was arranged like a small tent village, the tents themselves dotted around under the trees and a rough open circle of grass in the middle.

  Nicholas left Petra with Jane and with a brief wave of his hand returned to the site.

  It was easy to slip into the routine of the camp. Breakfast was always early, to allow them to work several hours before the heat of the day forced them into the shade. The mid-day meal was taken and then most people had a siesta, or swam from the little beach below the camp. Work started again later in the afternoon and finished as twilight stole across the island. If Petra hadn't been so tense, it would have been idyllic.

  Chapter Ten

  After that first tour of the excavations, Petra didn't see Nicholas alone again. Whenever he was near her, so were several other people, either in the camp or on the site. He didn't exactly avoid her, but he made no effort to detach her from the crowd and so there was no chance of private conversation between them.

  Petra worked with her group every day, digging and sifting, or harrowing away the soil. The sun streamed down without respite and she was soon as brown as everyone else, while her hair, always fair, was bleached almost white. It was hard, back-breaking work as promised, but she found it fascinating. Soaked by the sun, and working hard, Petra's appetite increased enormously. When she joined the group for meals she did more than justice to Jane's cooking, and she acquired the same healthy glow she had noticed on Diana at the airport.

  She enjoyed being part of the group, but she needed time alone as well. When most of the others were dozing after lunch, she often braved the heat of the afternoon and set off to explore the island, following the narrow tracks worn bare by the numerous goats which wandered the hills searching out the scant pasture. These were herded by the village boys who grinned at her cheekily as she passed, and watching them Petra felt they could have been the same boys who had once inhabited the settlement now being excavated. Time had stood still on Thessos and though the twentieth century had arrived in the form of culture-seeking tourists and bicycles, it was a mere veneer laid on the old way of life.

  Nicholas was usually busy in his 'lair' at that time of day, and made no effort to join Petra's explorations. She began to wonder if she would ever see him alone, and several times was tempted to try and speak to him, but she feared a rebuff and continued to hold her peace. The time must come. If it hadn't been for her uncertainty about Nicholas she would have been utterly happy, but at the back of her mind nagged the questions, 'Why did he ask me to come and then ignore me?' and even more, 'Why does he think I came?'

  On the following Saturday, Diana called to Petra, "We're all going into the village this evening. They usually end up dancing in the square. It's great fun. Are you coming?"

  "Why not?" answered Petra. "How do we get there?"

  "On bikes," the girl replied. "There are several about, I'll get one for you."

  It was an even bumpier journey on a bicycle than it had been in the donkey cart, and extremely hard work pedalling up the hill, but at last they made it and cruised down, laughing, into the village.

  It was the hour of the promenade, and the village was alive with people. The taverna in the square was overflowing and the tables outside were crowded. Petra and her students, all of whom now regarded her as just Petra, had a drink together and then she told them she was going to explore the town.

  The tiny shops were still open, and Petra wandered in and out, pushing her way through beaded curtains to their cool dark interiors. There were the usual tourist souvenirs, onyx and carved olive wood, shawls, and embroidered skirts. Petra promised to buy herself one of the shawls before she went home, but for now she was content to drift in and out of the shops without making any purchases.

  At last she returned to the square, her eyes searching the crowds for the others. There was music now, fiddles and a zither were being played and some people were dancing already. It was hopeless to spot her own friends, with so many people milling about. Petra decided to stay put at a table outside the taverna and wait for them to find her.

  As she sipped a cool beer, she was suddenly aware of someone near her, and turning she found Nicholas standing watching her. He came over and said, "May I join you?"

  Petra, used by now to the reaction of her heart when she saw him unexpectedly, said as calmly as she could, "Yes. Please do."

  He sat down, his smile gleaming white in the dark tan of his face. "Did you come alone?" he asked.

  Petra shook her head. "No, with Diana, Sarah and Mark. But I explored a bit by myself and I seem to have lost them."

  "Will you come with me for a moment?" said Nicholas suddenly.

  "Of course." Petra felt the excitement building up inside her. Now at last they would be alone and perhaps… But she dared not put her hopes into words, even to herself.

  Nicholas took her arm and led her away from the square into the warm darkness of the steep and twisting streets beyond. Firmly he held her as he guided her between the houses, winding their way up the hillside. Indeed some of the streets were so steep they turned into flights of broad, shallow steps. There was very little light, for most of the windows of the houses were shuttered and the moon hadn't yet risen. Suddenly they emerged from an alley and Petra found herself clear of the houses, high above the village, with just one large white house in front of them, surrounded by a thick stone wall.

  The village was spread below them, its white houses gleaming faintly in the darkness, pinpricks of light dotted about like yellow stars. Far beyond was the glimmer of the sea, where the moon crept over the horizon.

  A painted door was set in the garden wall beside them and Nicholas lifted the latch.

  "In here," he said and pushed the gate wide for Petra to enter. She stepped through and found herself in a quiet walled garden. A lantern hanging from the corner of the house beside it gave a dull yellow glow. Somewhere there was the splashing of water, a fountain perhaps, and everywhere was the heavy fragrance of the flowers, jasmine, bougainvillaea and many Petra couldn't recognise, overflowing from their tubs and flower beds and climbing the walls of the house.

  "What a perfect place," said Petra softly as the quiet embraced her. Far away she could hear the music from the square, but it belonged to a different world. Time stood still in this garden, it was apart from the world, secluded and still.

  "It belongs to a friend of mine," replied Nicholas. "I often come here when I need to be alone." He led her to a seat beneath a twisted fig tree and they sat together allowing the peace to wash over them, enfold them and cut them off from the world.

  'It must be now,' Petra thought. 'This is the moment we've both been waiting for.' But she didn't speak, for her heart was so full that she couldn't begin. Instead she looked up at him, his face shadowed in the half-light of the lantern and found herself trembling at the expression she saw in his eyes.

  Nicholas had little use for words either and with one hoarse whisper of "Petra!" he gathered her into his arms, turning her so she was cradled against him, and began to kiss her, his mouth fierce and demanding as it took hers. As before Petra felt her own passion rising to match his as he strained her to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, the fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, those of the other pressing her body to his.

  Returning kiss for kiss she clung to him, afraid that this reality might turn out to be another of the dreams of him which haunted her.

  At last he raised his head, and while still holding her close looked deep into her eyes. Suddenly shy at what he might see there, Petra turned her head and buried her face in his chest.

  "Now then, young lady," he said firmly, "you've some explaining to do."

  She
tried to sit up and Nicholas allowed her to do so while still keeping a firm hold on her hands as if he feared she might escape him.

  "You told me you were going to marry Tom Davies."

  "Tom married someone else," replied Petra in a small voice.

  Nicholas said gently, "Poor darling, did you mind very much?"

  "I didn't mind at all," said Petra quietly. "I was never going to marry Tom."

  "What?" cried Nicholas. "But you said… You told me…"

  "I know what I told you, Nicholas, and I'm truly sorry, but there was a reason."

  "What reason?"

  "The best reason, or so I thought at the time," said Petra. "Tom said…" she paused awkwardly.

  "Tom said?" Nicholas prompted.

  "Tom said you were married and I couldn't face being just your mistress."

  "I see." Nicholas' voice was harsh but it softened as he went on, "I'm not married, Petra. I was, but my wife, Anne, was killed in a car crash."

  "I know," wailed Petra. "I know that now, but I didn't then." She turned away from him and fought down her tears before she said, "I was so happy when we were together that night in the flat, and then the next day Tom said—"

  "Tom said!" interrupted Nicholas angrily. "Damn what Tom said. What about me? Why didn't you ask me, for heaven's sake?"

  "I tried to find out by myself. I didn't just accept his word," said Petra defensively. "I'd been wrong about you before, and this time I wanted to be certain, make sure of my facts before I spoke to you."

  "Well," said Nicholas, "you seem to have got them wrong again even so. What did you do to find out?"

  "I read the blurb on your books, I looked you up in Who's Who. All of them said you were married, so I rang your home. A woman answered and said she was Mrs. Romilly, Mrs. Anne Romilly."

  "My mother," said Nicholas gently." Well, stepmother. Her name is Anne as well."

  "I didn't know it was. I assumed it was—was your Anne. And somehow I couldn't face you with that." Petra sighed wearily. "That's why I told you I was going to marry Tom. I hoped that if I didn't see you again, I'd forget you." At this the tears she had been trying to hold back began to trickle down her cheeks and she turned her face away again so he shouldn't see them.

  "Did you?" It was almost a whisper as if he were holding his breath for the answer. "Did you forget me?"

  "No."

  "Do you still want to?"

  "No." Her voice came out on a sob and it was too much for Nicholas' self-control. He pulled her into his arms once more and rocked her gently like a baby, until her sobs died away and she lay still against him.

  Plucking up courage at last she said, "What made you send me the ticket? Why did you ask me to come out here?"

  "Because I wanted you. When I heard from your students that you hadn't married Tom at all, and that he'd in fact married someone else, it gave me hope," explained Nicholas. "You see, I'd tried to forget you too. But I couldn't do it either. You haunted me. I loved you too much."

  "Does anyone else come into this garden?" asked Petra suddenly.

  Nicholas was surprised at the sudden change of subject. "No, I don't think so, not often anyway. Why?"

  "Please, will you kiss me again?" She looked up at him and he caught the sparkle of her eyes in the lantern light. For a long moment his gaze held hers and then he said, "You know what'll happen if I do!"

  Petra put up a hand to his cheek and said softly, "Yes, I know. That's why I asked you."

  "Witch!" groaned Nicholas, and putting her from him he got to his feet. Then he took her hand and led her to a door in the side of the house.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, surprised.

  "I keep a room here, too. We'll have more privacy there, and I want you to myself."

  They went into the cool and silent house and he led her up a narrow stair to a room overlooking the garden they had just left. The heady fragrance of the white jasmine which grew outside the window filled the air and the room was faintly-lit by moon glow from over the sea. Gently Nicholas closed the door behind them, and Petra turned to him, but he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her away, looking into her questioning face.

  "We've come a long way from that January day in the basement flat," he said lifting one hand to twist a strand of her hair loosely round his fingers. "I'll never forget how you looked then, in a towering rage, quite beautiful, even as you hurled abuse at me."

  "Don't remind me," begged Petra. "I'm still so ashamed of myself when I think about that."

  "Don't be," said Nicholas. "You were the first woman who had made me aware of her, since Anne died." He paused and captured Petra's hands in his, holding them firmly as he went on, "All my happiness seemed to die with Anne," he said, "but you brought me to life again. When I kissed you that first time I felt disloyal to Anne's memory. That was silly, she would never have wanted me to live my life alone; or begrudged me a second chance of happiness, but I'd always been so sure I couldn't love anyone else. And yet, with you, I couldn't help myself. I couldn't bear not to hold you in my arms. I loved Anne, she was, and is, part of my life, part of me, but I love you, Petra, I love you because you're you, and I can't live the rest of my life without you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

  Petra heard the uncertainty in his voice and she felt a wave of love surge through her. Gently she drew him to her and kissed him before she said, "Oh, Nicholas Romilly, don't ever leave me again. Without you I'm nothing,"

  "Love me?" he asked, a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

  Petra gave an enchanted giggle. "Well," she said, considering, darting a look at him from under her lashes.

  "Well?" said Nicholas dangerously, his fingers tightening on her arms.

  "Sometimes I love you so much it hurts," she admitted, "and sometimes I love you more. Nicholas!" she cried out his name as he gathered her up and tossed her on to the little bed which stood beneath the window.

  "That does it," he said, dropping down beside her. "You're stuck with me for life."

  "Promise?" she murmured, reaching up for him.

  "Oh yes, angel," he breathed. "I promise."