A Kiss From Satan

by Anne Hampson

  ‘Is this true?’ Mrs. Davis looked as if ten years had been added to her age. ‘You were away from home on the night in question, having told me you intended staying with one of your colleagues at her cottage in the country.’ Mrs. Davis looked probingly into her daughter’s eyes, a haunted expression on her face.

  ‘I - I—’ Gale stopped, moistening her lips, for her mouth had gone dry, making speech difficult. Never had she visualized a repercussion such as this. Had she even dwelt for a second on the idea that her mother would come to hear of the escapade Gale would have refused instantly to fall in with Tricia’s plan. How had Trevis discovered her name? No amount of brain-searching would provide an answer and Gale wondered if it would remain a mystery. She looked at her mother, noted the near-anguish in her tired and pallid face, and without further hesitation she decided that the only way open to her was to tell the truth, even though it meant relating a story that must surely shock her mother. ‘It would be useless to lie,’ she said, ‘but it isn’t as bad as it appears. I occupied one room and Julius another—’

  ‘Julius?’ interrupted Mrs. Davis swiftly. ‘Julius Spiridon

  - a Greek?’ and when Gale nodded uncomprehendingly, ‘Edward mentioned him, saying he had been giving you plenty of attention at the barbecue. Edward said he couldn’t take his eyes off' you.’

  ‘That hasn’t anything to do with this business at the lodge—’

  ‘It must have. You stayed there with this Greek, you’ve just said so.’

  ‘Not with him, not in the way you’re suggesting, Mother. We occupied separate rooms.’ Her mother would have interrupted again, but Gale went on quickly to relate the whole story, fully expecting to see at least some slight relaxing of the strained, tensed features, but instead she saw to her amazement that an expression akin to horror was slowly spreading over her mother’s face. ‘You don’t believe a word of it,’ she gasped, realizing only now just how unconvincing her story must sound.

  ‘I don’t know how you dare sit there and talk such rubbish to me!’ Mrs. Davis ended on a small sob, continuing after a moment, but murmuring to herself rather than to Gale, ‘You’re your father’s daughter ... and after all my prayers that you would never take after him. A liar - oh, yes, he’s told me some lies too, in his time - to account for his nights away from home, but never has he made up a story like this. A liar and a reprobate he’s always been, but life was bearable while I had you - and Edward, of course. And now you’ve also let me down....’

  She was still talking to herself, remote from her daughter, who could only stare, shocked by what her mother was saying. She had expected to be scolded for an action which Julius had put down as criminal - and rightly so, Gale now admitted. Yes, she had fully expected a scolding for that, and she had steeled herself to accept it without so much as a word in her own defence. But never had she expected her mother to behave in this way, refusing to believe her, classing her as no better than her father.

  ‘To go and sleep with a man - and a Greek at that!’ Mrs. Davis looked up; and Gale flinched at her expression, biting her lip till it hurt. ‘How long have you known him?’ Her mother shook her head as she spoke and continued without affording Gale an opportunity of replying to her question, ‘It can’t be long, because you’ve never even mentioned him.’ A great shuddering sigh escaped her. ‘To sleep with a stranger—’

  ‘I did not sleep with him!’ Anger rose within Gale even while remorse was her chief emotion. That she could have brought suffering to her mother, whom she had always dearly loved. The knowledge brought an almost physical pain to Gale’s heart. ‘You must believe me; I’ve told you the truth.’

  But Mrs. Davis was shaking her head and Gale’s spirits sank into her feet. How could she get the truth through to her mother? She tried, persevering for a long while, her emotions alternating between angry frustration and profound distress at hurting the one she loved best in all the world.

  ‘Is there any possibility of marriage between you?’ her mother inquired at last, just as if Gale had not been pleading desperately for over half an hour. ‘Or is it merely an affair, indulged in for nothing more than lust?’

  Gale flinched, and replied that there was no question of marriage as she and Julius were not even friends. They were merely acquaintances, she said, and even tried again to make her mother accept that there had been nothing wrong between her and Julius.

  ‘It isn’t any use,’ said Mrs. Davis wearily. ‘You’re lying all the while; perhaps you don’t know it, but you’ve been blushing all the time you’ve been talking about this man, and denying there was anything between you.’

  Blushing. ... Yes, she had felt her colour rise - and that was owing to the memory of Julius’s intended mischief. Had he not been prevented from carrying out his intentions then Gale’s story would have been very different. Yes, she had blushed, and this circumstance had served to weaken further a story that already lacked conviction.

  ‘I can never forgive you,’ Mrs. Davis was saying bitterly. ‘I think I could have done so had you both had marriage in mind, simply because times have changed since my day and it’s normal now to be intimate before marriage. Yes, I could have accepted the situation ... but to think that you knew

  when you went there that you’d never marry the man!’

  Further efforts on her part being useless, Gale left her mother and went out, driving her car into the country, and endeavouring to steal some of the peace she found there. But her mind was in chaos, and her heart ached for her mother. Edward had always prophesied that she, Gale, would one day regret her way of life, but Gale had laughed, confident that she would always be master of any situation in which she found herself. But this situation had been very different from all the rest... in more ways than one....

  The tantalizing question of Trevis’s informant remained with Gale, and the only person she could think of was Julius; but he was not in England. Julius ... of the attractive iron-grey hair and noble commanding personality. From the first meeting Gale had felt something - indefinable and unreal as the threads of a dream on the awakening, but present all the same. And what of that morning at the lodge? Could she have resisted him? His strength would have overcome any physical struggles on her part, but defeat did not always mean total surrender. What worried Gale, even though she had come safely out of the danger, was that she might just have been forced into total surrender... by the charms of the man and by her own feelings regarding him. To admit to his devastating attractions, to own that he moved her at all even, must surely weaken her resistance when the time came for him to exert his persuasive and experienced tactics. She had vehemently declared her innocence to her mother — but was she innocent? Fate alone had saved her, but even now, in all honesty, Gale had to admit that the feeling of emptiness following her escape had a certain element of disappointment about it. And as this admission filled her with shame she tried to shift her thoughts into other, less embarrassing channels.

  Yet what else could she think about? It was natural that the whole miserable business recurred over and over again. Julius continued to dominate the scene. She reflected once more on her brother’s assertion that Julius could not take his eyes off her; and yet, later when they were talking,

  Julius had declared that she would have waited till hell froze before she could have affected him with her charms. This obviously meant that he was impervious to these charms ... and yet he had kissed her, saying he had wanted to do so from the moment he first saw her.

  What a strange man — but then he was from the East and, cultured as he was, having been educated in England, he still possessed those inherent traits which were

  so vastly different from those possessed by people from the West. His temperament was different, and his appearance. He had all the fire of the average Greek’s passionate nature, and this was allied to the possessiveness that was traditional, and had been since the ancient times of the pagan gods. A Greek possessed his woman - she was his property, his chattel; she obe
yed absolutely his commands, because this also was traditional; she had completely to succumb in every way to her husband’s desire and to remember always that his word was law.

  What an outdated structure, thought Gale, dwelling for a space on two things Julius had said to her, the first being that the desire to marry comes only with the appearance of the right woman and the second being that until a short time ago he had not given much thought to marriage. That surely must mean that the idea of marriage was now present Gale found herself frowning heavily at the thought of Julius marrying ... but why should it affect her? His life and the way he chose to live it was no concern of hers. She had endeavoured to pursue the subject, she recalled, but Julius had abruptly changed it, leaving her guessing.

  She had stopped the car and got out to walk along the tree-lined lane, but now she turned back and drove home. As usual her father was out, but to Gale’s surprise her mother was also out and Gale’s heart turned over as she fell to wondering where she could be, for she was always at home in the evenings; in fact, she went out only to shop, and that for about an hour or so — no longer, not usually. Had the behavior of Gale anything to do with her going out? A troubled frown knitted Gale’s brow. Where could her mother have gone?

  Ten minutes later Gale found the note; it had been left on the sideboard, but the opening of the door when Gale entered must have caused a draught and the note had blown on to the floor where it settled just underneath the sideboard, and Gale saw it only when she sat down.

  ‘Don’t wait up for me, I shall be late,’ was all she read, blinking at the brevity and cold abruptness of the words. Her nerves fluttered uncomfortably, but as there was nothing she could do she determinedly forced herself to be calm. Her mother had mentioned a film that was showing at the big cinema in town; perhaps she had gone there.

  But when she did come in she refused to tell Gale where she had been.

  ‘I told you not to wait up for me,’ she almost snapped. ‘Why did you?’

  Gale looked at her, sure she must be ill, as she had never spoken to her daughter in such a tone before.

  ‘I was worried, naturally. You never go out and I couldn’t think where you could be.’

  ‘No, I never go out, do I? Well, I shall be doing so in future, and neither you nor your father need inquire about where I go!’ and with that parting shot she left Gale standing there, and went upstairs to her room. Gale waited for her father, who made his appearance at half past two in the morning.

  ‘What the dickens ails you?’ he demanded in a throaty voice, and then, as the thought occurred to him, ‘Your mother - she’s not ill, or anything?’

  ‘Would you care if she was?’ in a cold tone as Gale examined his face. He’d been drinking — but not until this time of the morning.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked briefly, walking towards the couch.

  ‘Mother’s been out this evening, and she didn’t get home until after twelve.’

  Her father frowned.

  ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘She wouldn’t say.’ A small hesitation before Gale resignedly told her father of what had transpired earlier. ‘I’m sure it was that which caused her to go out,’ she ended contritely.

  ‘You went off' to Cumberland and stayed with a Greek?’ Her father flung back his head and laughed. ‘A chip off the old block, eh—?’

  ‘Stop it!’ she cried, stamping her foot to give emphasis to her words. ‘I’ve just told you the truth!’ ‘But your mother didn’t believe you?’

  ‘I’ve told you that too.’

  ‘Neither do I believe you,’ he said with a sly grin as his eyes swept over her slender figure. ‘Hope you knew what you were about— All right, all right; there’s no need to boil up like this. What’s wrong with a little fun, anyway? Trouble with your mother is that she’s always been too damned strait-laced.’

  Gale’s violet eyes glinted; she could have struck her father, wiping that grin from his face.

  ‘Strait-laced, is she? What would you say if she began doing what you’re doing?’

  His mouth went tight instantly and an ugly expression settled on his face.

  ‘Where could she have been until that time of the night? ’ he asked harshly, and Gale’s contempt grew. He himself could play his wicked game, but his wife must remain ‘strait-laced’, even though he spoke of the term in such derisive tones.

  ‘I’ve already said, she refused to tell me where she’d been.’

  ‘She doesn’t know anyone. I mean, she couldn’t have been in a neighbour’s house, because she never mixes with the neighbours.'

  Gale shook her head.

  ‘No, she’d never go into a neighbour’s house.' Her mother was polite, and friendly, but far too reserved to go further than passing the time of the day or making the necessary inquiry when anyone was ill, or there was a birth or a wedding. ‘I’m dreadfully worried about her,’ Gale went on when her father remained thoughtfully silent. ‘She was so upset by what I’d done - by what she believed I’d done, and I’m sure that was the reason she went out.’ ‘She probably walked about,’ her father submitted after a pause. ‘Yes, she’s that type; she’d wander through the streets, thinking and brooding. She used to do that a long while ago, before either you or Edward were born.’

  ‘She wandered about - all on her own? Why?’

  He shrugged carelessly.

  ‘Because of my wicked ways,’ he blatantly admitted.

  ‘You were like that, so early in your married life?’ Disgustedly she looked at him, but he met her gaze, unashamedly.

  ‘Your mother and I are not suited - never have been from the start—’

  ‘She had two children,’ snapped Gale, her eyes blazing. ‘What’s that to do with it? Cold women can have children.’

  Gale swallowed. She hated this conversation, and yet she continued it by saying,

  ‘What you should have had is a harem.’

  He only laughed at that and said he agreed with her.

  ‘All men should have more than one wife,’ he continued, ignoring the scorn on his daughter’s face. ‘The people of the East can teach us a lot. Take the Anatolian peasant - he can have four wives. It’s so sensible.’

  Gale allowed her glance to rake him from head to foot, acutely conscious of the fact that never before had she and her father had such a conversation as this. Both had deliberately steered clear of bringing into the open what they knew was there. But now all pretence was down; her father was not disinclined to talk, while she felt she ought to listen, discovering more about her parents’ married life. And as he spoke of things long past Gale’s heart went out to her mother with even deeper feeling than before. To live with a man so long, to bear him two children, and be faithful while he basely flaunted all that was sacred in marriage.... Her mother had been a saint; Gale saw that now.

  ‘I’d have left you long ago,’ said Gale when he had finished speaking. ‘I’d have left you to go your own way.’

  ‘You would, yes, but not your mother.’ Such confidence in his tone, and Gale’s mouth compressed. ‘Your mother will be with me till the end; she’s made that way.’

  ‘And you — are you intending to continue like this indefinitely?’ Gale spoke after a long pause, during which she digested what her father had said, finally agreeing with him. Her mother would stay with him to the end.

  ‘Until I’m too old for—’ He broke off and the grin returned. ‘Until I’m old, and then we’ll settle down, your mother and I, to a happy and peaceful old age.’

  ‘Mother must wait until she’s old before she can be happy?’ Gale automatically shook her head. ‘Can’t you change, Father? You must have loved her once.’

  ‘Once? I still love her.’

  ‘You—! Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t possibly love her.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Gale. There’s no doubt about my loving her.’

  She frowned, bewildered and still disbelieving.

  ‘And yet you leave her, night
after night? If I didn’t stay in with her three or four times a week she’d be alone every night of her life.’

  Her father yawned; he was no longer interested in the subject and as he leant back against the couch she saw his eyelids droop.

  ‘We’d better go to bed,’ she suggested, rising from her chair.

  ‘You haven’t told me why you stayed up,’ he said, stifling another yawn.

  ‘It was to tell you about Mother. I was dreadfully concerned because I couldn’t think where she could have gone to.’

  ‘Well, you know now. She just wandered about the streets—’ He wagged a forefinger at Gale. ‘And this time it’s you who are to blame for upsetting her. If you must go off' and enjoy yourself in that way then for the lord’s sake keep it dark.’

  ‘I did not enjoy myself in that way, as you term it!’

  ‘Come off' it, Gale; there’s no need to pretend with me. You know very well I’d never blame you—’

  ‘You’re despicable!’ she flashed and, turning on her heel, she left him sitting there, on the couch, looking ready to fall asleep.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When her mother had threatened to go out in future Gale had naturally believed the words to be spoken in the heat of the moment, and expected her mother’s normal routine to continue as before. But contrary both to her daughter’s expectations and those of her husband, Mrs. Davis continued to go out about four times a week, and no amount of inquiry on Gale’s part or threats on her father’s would bring from her what she was doing with her time.

  ‘Where can she be going?’ This was the third week and Mr. Davis was furiously angry. ‘She’s like a clam!’

  Troubled as she herself was, Gale was stung into saying, ‘You’ve no grumble. Do you ever tell Mother where you’ve been?’

  His eyes kindled.

  ‘If I thought for one moment she was with a man....’ Contempt flashed in his daughter’s eyes.

  ‘If she does have a man friend - has it really anything to do with you?’