by Anne Mather
Charlotte stared at him, realizing he meant every word he said. But how could she explain to this man her position? How could she tell him that there was little point in her involving herself with the Faulkner corporation when in -what? - a year, eighteen months? - she would be a free woman again? She simply wasn't interested - was she?
Choosing the least provocative thing so far as she was concerned, she said awkwardly: "You can't really blame yourself for Alex's father's death. I mean, even if you had been the first out of the hotel, surely whoever killed Mr. Faulkner would know who he was aiming for?"
George nodded heavily. "Oh yes, I tell myself this, of course. Alex tells me this. But one cannot completely erase the doubts. That is why I urge you not to minimize the risks your husband is running, why you must not behave childishly because you cannot always have your own way."
"My own way?" echoed Charlotte confusedly. "What are you talking about?"
"Kyria, life is too short to be small-minded. Refusing to write your husband a letter, refusing him even a kind message ! I know you are angry with him. Perhaps you would rather he was here than me. I would rather that myself. But it is not possible. I should add that Alex's mother went everywhere with her husband. Perhaps you should think along those lines yourself!"
"Now-wait a minute!"
Charlotte could not allow him to get away- with that, but already he had turned and was walking down the steps. Maria's appearance forestalled the retort Charlotte longed to make, and gripping her arms tightly, she followed them across the hall and down the corridor towards the patio.
Another man was waiting outside the villa, seated at a glass-topped table, drinking beer and chatting with Sophia and Tina. They all stood around awkwardly when Charlotte appeared.
"This is Manuelo," George introduced the pilot casually, and Charlotte managed a tight smile at the young Greek in his unconventional attire of jeans and vest, a peaked cap, the only badge of his profession, pushed incongruously to the back of his head.
George slapped him on the shoulder, and the young man moved away towards the helicopter, standing squarely on the green turf. Then George turned back to Charlotte, and his words were for her alone.
"Do not look so angry," he said. "We all make mistakes."
"Alex did not ask me to go to New York with him," she told him tautly, but George's expression did not alter.
"Do wives need invitations?" he queried dryly. "I must go. Herete, kyria. Kali thiaskethasi!”
He strode away to climb into the helicopter, and Charlotte watched it take off with a frustrated sense of impotency. When she turned back to the villa, only Maria was waiting on the patio.
"Kyrios Alexandros?" she asked at once. "He is well?"
Charlotte's sigh was defeated. "Yes, Maria, he's well. But he won't be coming - back, for some time,"
"Oh, kyria!"
Maria's sympathy was almost Charlotte's undoing. It would have been so easy to give in to the tears which burned at the backs of her eyes, to allow the old woman to comfort her, secure in the knowledge that Maria would believe her distress was solely to do with the news George Constandis had brought.
But she couldn't do it. She couldn't cheat the old servant like that, even though she resented George's attitude. But the tears she was tempted to shed had much more complicated origins, much of which she didn't entirely understand herself.
So she accepted Maria's condolences dry-eyed, and as soon as possible made her escape to her room to try and prepare herself for the second ordeal of the day.
Eleni Faulkner's home was little more than a cottage, nestling in a fold of the difis overlooking a rock-strewn cove. There was a garden surrounding the cottage, bright with flowers and shrubs, some of which like roses and hollyhocks Charlotte recognized, and others she did not. The building itself was made of stone and painted white, dazzling in the noonday sun.
Charlotte had quite enjoyed the journey across the island. Sitting in the donkey cart, she could see so much more than when she was on foot, and she had determinedly put all disquieting thoughts out of her mind.
Yanni, the old man who drove the donkey cart, spoke little English, and for this she was grateful. It meant that he, at least, was not continually asking her about Alex and his affairs. Yanni spent most of his time chivvying the donkey, who seemed inclined to stop and eat grass unless he was prevented.
The light breeze lifted the hem of Charlotte's skirt, blowing it above her knees, and she smoothed it down quickly. She had thought a long time about what she would wear for this visit to Alex's grandmother's house, and had eventually decided that this cream silk chiffon dress, with its long wide sleeves and vee neckline, was most-suitable. She had put up her hair, too; for coolness, she told herself, although in truth she found a childish satisfaction in doing something of which Alex would not approve. Still, he could not disapprove of her visit to his grandmother, and the care she had taken over her appearance proved she was not quite as undaunted as she would like to believe.
Eleni Faulkner awaited her in a cool lounge-parlour. Charlotte was shown in by an elderly woman servant who regarded her mistress's guest with obvious curiosity. And why not? thought Charlotte wryly. She was supposed to be Eleni's granddaughter-in-law.
As before, Alex's grandmother was wearing black, this time with a white apron over her ample skirts. She stood in the small, over-furnished room with all the dignity of a queen receiving her subject. A dark figure against the white walls, surrounded by an assortment of furniture and bric-a-brac that would not have disgraced an antique shop. There were upright chairs and small tables, stools and cabinets, and against one wall an enormous carved dresser, set with some exquisite pieces of bone china.
"So you came," Eleni greeted her disconcertingly. "Why didn't you let me know that Alex had left the island?"
Charlotte moved uncomfortably. "I suppose - I didn't think." She paused. "He didn't let you know?"
"As I understand it, he left in rather a hurry. How could he let me know?"
Charlotte shrugged, trying not to be intimidated. "I'm sorry."
"Well, never mind. Sit down, sit down. We'll have an aperitif before lunch. Do you like ouzo?"
"I don't think I've tried it," admitted Charlotte, perching rather precariously on the edge of a wooden seated chair.
"What? Not tried ouzo" Eleni sounded shocked. "Bettina, feremas to ouzo, parakalo."
Ouzo was, Charlotte discovered, completely colourless until water was added when it became cloudy, like diluted milk. Nevertheless, she quite enjoyed its flavour, and as it seemed innocuous enough, she accepted a second.
"Now," Eleni eyed her thoughtfully over the rim of her glass, "and how are you finding life without Alex's company? Lonely?"
"I -! manage." Charlotte sipped at her drink. "As a matter of fact, I had news of him this morning."
"From Constandis, I know."
"You know?"
"Of course. He came here before coming to see you. He had a letter for me - from Alexandros."
"I see."
Charlotte digested this information without pleasure. So Alex had seen fit to write to his grandmother, but not to her. It was surprising how irritated this made her feel.
"He didn't write to you, I suppose," went on Eleni, with her usual perception. "He wouldn't. Alex was never a good correspondent - he prefers to use the telephone. But there were things he needed to say to me which could not be conveyed by word of mouth. Constandis is a good man, but he is not a member of the family, after all."
Charlotte took another sip of the ouzp. "It really doesn't matter," she assured the older woman tightly. "We had nothing to say to one another.'* And then, realising how peculiar that must sound, she added: "What I mean is - anything —e have to say to one another can wait until he gets back."
"Which will not be for some time if his letter is to be believed," put in Eleni sharply.
"No. Well, that can't be helped."
"Can it not?" Eleni sounded sceptic
al. "Were I a more suspicious person, I might wonder if my grandson was not staying away deliberately."
Until that moment, such an idea had never even entered Charlotte's head. But when it did, there seemed such logic behind it that she actually found hertelf considering the truth of it. Was it possible? Could h be? Once he had had time to reconsider - to evaluate - the events of that hour before his departure, had he decided that the end did not justify the means after all?
With hot colour darkening her cheeks, Charlotte faced the old matriarch. Whatever suspicions Eleni might be nurturing, without confirmation they could mean litte. "I don't think you need to concern yourself about us," she stated firmly, holding up her head. "George Constandis told me that no one else could handle this merger now that - Steiner? Is that right? - now that Steiner has been taken ill. The last thing Alex needs right now is a - a jealous wife!"
"Bravol" Eleni clapped her hands together admiringly. "Bravely said, Charlotte. Put the old woman in her place. Tell me to mind my own business. I couldn't have said it better myself."
Charlotte's colour deepened. "That was not my intention, kyria-"
"Nonsense! Of course it was. Don't go and spoil it now by apologising." She paused. "Come, we'll have lunch. And I would like for you to call me yaya, as Alex does. Kyria is much too formal."
Much to Charlotte's surprise and relief, Eleni did not ask any more awkward questions. Charlotte had expected her to want to know how she and Alex met, how long they had known one another, the kind of things parents and grandparents like to know. But perhaps Alex had invented some story especially for her, and that had been sufficient. In any event, the rest of the visit passed off harmlessly, and in fact Charlotte quite enjoyed herself. Once away from personal topics, Eleni was a fascinating raconteuse, and as she had travelled to most of the major countries of the world, she had a fund of interesting stories with which to entertain her young guest. Charlotte was sorry when Bettina came to announce that Yanni was waiting to take her back to the villa.
"You will come again ?" Eleni insisted, as Charlotte climbed up on to the cart. "Won't you?"
Charlotte smiled. "Without an invitation," she agreed. "And - thank you."
Eleni shook her head, and with a gesture of farewell walked back into the villa.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charlotte lay drowsily on the lounger, gazing up at the arc of blue sky through the trailing leaves of the vine which had entwined itself round the pillars on the patio. She felt sleepy and lethargic, and it was only a couple of hours since she got up. She had been feeling this way for over a week, and as the temperature was much cooler now than it had been on her arrival, it could not be that which was upsetting her.
Yawning, she glanced at her watch, and as she did so she noticed with satisfaction how attractive was the light tan she had acquired. Several weeks of walking across the island to see Alex's grandmother, bathing in the sea which was still warmer than the English Channel in summer, and her earlier basking in the sun had burnished her hair and skin alike, and the added advantage of good wholesome food had covered her bones with a layer of much needed flesh. She knew she had never looked or felt so good in her life.
But these weeks of lazy self-contemplation were beginning to arouse certain anxieties inside her. It was more than six weeks since Alex's departure, and apart from that one visit from George Constandis, she had had no word to say how he was or when he would be coming back. She had told herself a hundred times that she didn't care, that she didn't want him to come back, but deep down she knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, he would come, or the reasons for her being here would never be fulfilled, and until they were...
All the same, there were times when she recalled what his grandmother had said, about his not wanting to come back. Those were difficult words to contemplate. She did not altogether understand why they should trouble her so, except perhaps that as time was a great healer, it had cast a concealing veil over the most terrifying aspects of that fateful morning. It could not really be so bad, she had told herself angrily, or people would not go on reproducing themselves with such enthusiasm. Even so, she shuddered when she remembered what he had done.
Footsteps on the patio caused her to turn her head and she saw Tina approaching with a jug of hot coffee. .Lately, Charlotte had taken an aversion to coffee, but the milky chocolate smelled delicious.
Smiling, she swung her legs to the ground and sat up, only to grasp the back of the lounger sharply as her head swam dizzily. For a moment the bile of sickness surged into her throat, and she turned quite pale.
"Kyria!" Tina set down the jug on the nearby table, and came to bend towards her. "Kyria, are you feeling unwell?"
Charlotte felt the dizziness recede, and managed to look up into Tina's concerned face. "I - I'm all right, Tina," she answered, wiping the back of her hand across her damp forehead. "I don't know what it was. I just felt dizzy for a moment. -I expect it's the sun. I've been out here rather a long time. I think I'll have the chocolate in the saloni"
"Poli kala, kyria" Tina continued to regard her anxiously. "Can I help you?"
"Heavens, no." Charlotte got rather nervously to her feet but found with relief that she felt perfectly all right now. "I can manage."
It was beautifully cool in the saloni, and Charlotte sank down rather thankfully on to the couch. Tina set the chocolate on a table beside her, and then said: "You are sure you do not •wish me to bring Maria, kyria?"
"Quite sure." Charlotte shook her head. "Honestly, I'm fine." She forced a smile. "I'm probably putting on too much weight with all this good food you're feeding me."
Tina shook her head. "Ohi, kyria," she denied vehemently, but with a sigh she left her.
After she had goney however, Charlotte was unable to dismiss what had occurred so easily. An uneasy suspicion was stirring inside her. Was it possible that there was something causing this lethargy, this sudden aversion for things she had previously enjoyed? And now this dizziness? She was not a fool, but she was an inexperienced girl coping with a situation she could scarcely believe. Her hand probed the smooth skin of her abdomen bare above the low waistband of her hipster jeans. She couldn't feel anything, but then what did she expect
after only six weeks ?
She shivered where before she had been too hot. Could she actually be pregnant? Could such a momentous event have occurred after such a disastrous beginning? Her knees shook. She felt frightened, purely and simply frightened, and there was no one she could turn to to explain her fears.
It was her own fault, of course, that she had not realized it sooner. But she had never been so regular in her habits that the events of the past couple of months could not have held up her bodily functions. Or so she had imagined. And she had not been knowledgeable enough to disbelieve what one would-be confidante at school had told her, which was that fertilization only occurred if the girl was getting as much pleasure out of the act as the man. It was scarcely credible that a living organism could result from Alex's brutal possession of her, and certainly there had been no pleasure in it for her.
Fleetingly, she thought of Eleni, but then rejected the idea. Much as she had come to like and respect the old woman, she was still Alex's grandmother, and this was something she couid not bear to discuss with her. It was something so personal - so intimate - she was loath to discuss it with anyone. And yet she would have to.
Hardly aware of her actions, she poured herself a cup of chocolate and sipped the satisfying liquid slowly. What did one do on Lydros if one was ill? If one wanted to see a doctor? She couldn't believe there was a doctor on the island, and yet surely a patient would not have to make the journey to Piraeus for medical attention.
She frowned. She would have to ask one of the girls, or Maria. Perhaps one of the girls might be best. Maria's eyes were too sharp, her perception too astute. With a little imigination, she might well guess what Charlotte was trying to hide.
After lunch, Charlotte w
ent to take her usual rest on the bed. Unless she was going out, she invariably rested for an hour after the meal, and now she knew why lately she had fallen asleep instead of reading as she used to do.
Today, however, her mind was too active to sleep. All manner of thoughts and possibilities were spinning round in her head, and she stared up at the ceiling wondering what Alex's reactions would be. She frowned. Of course, he would be delighted. It was what he wanted, after all. The reason for her presence here made manifest. Now he would know that it was only a matter of time before he had the heir he wanted.
Charlotte found this knowledge curiously unpalatable. Her hand probed her body again and lingered sensuously. It was a tantalising thought that there could be the seed of another being growing inside her. She felt a protective sense of possession towards it, a satisfying knowledge that she was capable of motherhood.
She must have slept eventually because when she woke it was late afternoon, the shadows lengthening across the soft rugs piled on the floor. Stretching, she sat up to get off the bed and experienced the same dizzy sensation as she had felt on the patio that morning. It made her feel slightly sick, and she waited until the dizziness subsided before attempting to get off the bed. So, she thought, the evidence strengthened. She was not reassured by the thought.
When she walked on to the patio some fifteen minutes later, showered and changed into a cool lime green cotton dress, she found Eleni sitting waiting for her. She was surprised. There had been no arrangement to see one another today, and for a moment she wondered whether Eleni had had news as Alex. Her lips trembled. Surely nothing had happened?
But Eleni's expression was calm and composed as she turned from her contemplation of the flowers to greet her grandson's wife. "Ah, there are you are, Charlotte," she exclaimed, with a sraiie. "You sleep late these afternoons."
Charlotte could not control the slight deepening of colour which darkened her cheeks. "It's laziness, yaya," she told the old woman firmly. "Has Maria offered you some tea?"