Desire

by Anne Hampson

  Kim made her way to the charming little outdoor cafeneion where the tables with their snowy white cloths were placed in a garden hedged in on three sides by flaring hibiscus bushes, where shade was provided by the vines woven through overhead trellises, the huge green bunches of grapes there for all customers to help themselves. All you had to do was reach up and take your pick of the lush ripe fruit.

  There was the usual mixture of customers—a couple of tourists, Americans on a tour of Europe, and a seaman with a black roll-neck jersey sitting with his wife, who was nursing a baby. Several men were playing tavli while a few others stood by the tables and watched, cigarettes dangling from thick sensual lips, worry beads twirling automatically. Why was it that in these Eastern countries it was always assumed that the men had all the worries?

  Kim sat down at a table close to the American couple. She gave her order and the woman said, 'You're English, aren't you? We've just come from London. Gee, but we loved every minute of our stay there!'

  'Where else did you go?' asked Kim, wondering how so many Americans could afford to be travelling half their lives.

  'France and Spain—'

  'I mean in England.'

  'Oh, we just stayed around London. There is so much to see!'

  'And time went so quickly,' interposed her husband.

  'London,' said Kim wistfully, 'is not England.'

  'Well, we know that, but—'

  'Just as New York is not America. If I ever go to your country, I want to see far more than one big, bustling city. I want to see the beauty that man has not messed up.' Why was she talking like this to strangers? she wondered. It must be the mood she was in that made her feel resentful that they had not made the effort to see a little more of her beautiful country.

  'Whereabouts do you live?' the woman asked with interest. 'You see, we intend to come again next year, and we're going to take note of what you say. We'd like to come and see you, wouldn't we, Randy?'

  'Very much…' He was feeling in his pocket as he spoke, and he brought forth a wallet. Extracting a card, he handed it to her. 'That's where we live, in Oregon. Our home is right on the Pacific Ocean, and we have a lovely breeze all the time. You're welcome to stay with us if ever you come over that way.'

  'Thank you.' Kim took the card and, after looking at it, slipped it into her handbag.

  'Where do you live?' asked the woman again.

  'At present I am living here, on the island.'

  'Here? But how wonderful! You've been here some time?'

  'Perhaps, Jan,' interrupted Randy, 'the young lady doesn't want to answer all these questions.'

  'Oh, it doesn't matter,' said Kim swiftly. 'I've been here since my marriage.'

  'You're married to one of these handsome Greeks?'

  Kim had to smile as she glanced around at the assortment of stocky, swarthy men sitting about in the cafe.

  'I am married to a Greek yes…' Her voice faded and a hint of colour touched her cheeks. 'Here is my husband,' she murmured from the depths of a dry, parched throat. 'He—he doesn't usually come into town…' He had seen her and soon he was standing by her table. Kim frowned, wondering how he came to be here.

  He said stiffly, 'May I join you, Kim?'

  'Of c-course,' she stammered, and then, in an effort to regain her composure, she introduced him to the couple she had been speaking to. Within seconds they had moved over to her table, Vidas having picked up Jan's chair when he realised what was happening.

  'Thank you very much.' Jan smiled up at him, her blue eyes laughing and appreciative. 'I knew that this young lady would have a tall handsome husband,' she said. 'We've just been making friends with one another, but we haven't yet discovered her name.'

  'It's Kim,' supplied Vidas, his strong white teeth flashing in a smile, 'and mine's Vidas.' His dark eyes slid to his wife's face with a look of sardonic amusement, because of the surprise she evinced at his spontaneous friendliness to strangers. Her colour fluctuated and she lowered her lashes. Vidas clapped his hands imperiously and a waiter came at once.

  Vidas glanced around the table and asked if he could order anything for the American couple. Randy said he would have a beer and Jan had another lemonade with ice. Kim said she had already ordered.

  'And ouzo for me,' said Vidas, then turned to Randy to ask how long they would be on the island.

  'We're here for another two days. We originally came for a weekend but we love the beaches, and so we decided to stay a little longer.'

  'Where are you staying?'

  'The Aphrodite Hotel on Livia Bay.'

  'The best hotel on the island.'

  'We're very satisfied with it.' The waiter came with the tray, and after the pause in conversation Jan said, 'How about you two joining us for dinner this evening? We'd love to have company; we usually dine at about eight o'clock but we could meet for drinks first.' She was eager, vivacious, reminding Kim of Bridie, but Jan was older, around forty-five, she estimated.

  Kim looked at Vidas, fully expecting him to decline the offer and to resist any further persuasion with that sort of courteous immovability she herself had encountered on more than one occasion. But much to her surprise he readily accepted, without consulting her.

  'Then that's settled!' Jan was delighted and Randy was equally happy. 'It's so nice to make friends on one's travels, isn't it?'

  Kim said curiously, 'Have you been travelling for a long time—on this present trip, I mean?'

  The two looked at one another in an intimate kind of way before Jan said, 'It's our honeymoon. Randy insisted on a prolonged one, so we've been away from home for almost a year. We had less than a month in our lovely new house before he swept me away, but now I'm more than ready to go back.'

  'A whole year,' breathed Kim, shaking her head. 'I can understand your wanting to get back to your house. After all, there's no place on earth like your own particular home…' Her voice trailed into silence as she noticed her husband's eyes fixed upon her. It was almost as if he read her mind, knew she was contemplating leaving him and the home that had been hers for so short a time.

  Conversation continued for another half hour or so before they rose from the table and said good-bye.

  'Only for the present,' smiled Randy. 'We'll look forward to seeing you at about seven-thirty.'

  Alone with Vidas, Kim said quietly, 'I took it for granted that you would refuse their offer.'

  'That's not surprising,' he returned dryly. 'You take so many things for granted.'

  The subtle meaning escaped her and she asked what he was talking about.

  'It doesn't matter,' he said casually. They began to walk slowly along the waterfront, passing fishermen mending nets and others selling their catch. One grizzled old man carrying the stamp of a lifetime at sea was squatting on the pavement slapping an octopus on the concrete, creating the frothy white substance that would tenderise the fish. 'How did you come to be here?' Vidas enquired, slanting Kim a glance.

  'I felt like a walk,' was all she said, then asked him why he had been in town.

  'Like you, I felt like walking,' was his unexpected rejoinder. 'And like you I decided to have some refreshment in Stamati's cafeneion.'

  Are you walking back or shall we call a taxi?'

  'Which do you prefer?'

  'I'm agreeable either way.' They were talking for the sake of it, she thought, a deep sadness enveloping her at the lack of cordiality in their manner of speech. Yes, it would be best if they parted—and the sooner the better.

  Kim was undecided as to what to wear for dinner at the hotel. Since coming to Malindos she had been used to wearing an ankle-length dress, but knowing that dining out was often an informal affair these days, she decided it would be wise to ask her husband's advice. He spoke quietly when, after tapping on his bedroom door, she called his name.

  'What is it?' Opening the door, he stood there, looking down at her with an interrogative expression on his face.

  'Shall I wear a long dress?' Her tone w
as equally soft, her eyes lowered so that he could not read her expression.

  'Haven't you a mid-length evening dress?'

  'Of course.'

  'Then wear that.' He stood a moment, in an attitude oddly suggestive of indecision, as if there were something he would like to say to her. For some reason she turned away, a pain at her heart as the door closed behind her. Instinctively, she knew the moment had been lost.

  She glanced in the long gilt-framed mirror when she was ready, the perfume spray in her hand. She wore a cocktail dress of larkspur-blue, the waist nipped in below a tight-fitting strapless bodice. The skirt, full and flowing, was trimmed round the hem with deep blue lace, which was matched by the trimming round the top of the bodice. Kim used the perfume, drew a comb through her gleaming hair again, and then, aware that Vidas was still moving about in his room, she waited, her eyes wandering to the window and the glowing outline of flaming treetops in the garden. She moved, opened the window, and stepped through onto the balustraded stone balcony. Her brooding eyes stared into the distance where, in another direction, the sea joined the sky in the silver haze of oncoming dusk. She watched the sun go down swiftly, watched the dusk fall softly, covering the landscape. The eddy of a breeze carried the tang of the sea and the added perfumes it had gathered on the way. Twilight in the East was short, and even as she stood there shadows closed in around her, mysterious and cool. Suddenly she shivered; Vidas was behind her, and she felt his hand on her arms as he turned her round to face him. Acutely aware of the stress in their relationship, she felt the tears film her eyes, but he couldn't see and she was glad.

  'What are you thinking, out here so quiet and alone?'

  'Fate brought me here,' she said, which was not an answer but the thought that had come unbidden into her mind.

  'Fate rules our lives.'

  'It can be malignant at times,' she said, and felt him give a start.

  'That's a strong word, Kim.'

  'Fate brought Dendras and I together; fate killed him. It was fate that made my parents adopt Stephen and suffer for their kindness. Fate's malignant,' she repeated.

  He said nothing and she would have loved to see his face clearly. But it was in full shadow, and freeing herself, she turned again to stare broodingly down into the gardens where a shower of creamy moonglow had already vanquished the mothy darkness; it shone through the branches of the twisted olive trees; it adorned the cascading waters of the fountain with a thousand scintillating diamonds. A night for romance… Again Kim's mind was filled with thoughts of the stress in their relationship.

  'I suppose we ought to be moving.' Her voice was still and cool. 'What time is it?'

  'A quarter past seven. You are right; we ought to be on our way.'

  He drove the car in silence. Kim was conscious of a nerve-twisting tension within her and made an effort to relax. It was difficult, for she suddenly had the sensation of being poised on the edge of a cliff… and of wanting to jump. They stormy torrent of Vidas's fury was preferable to this stolid silence he was adopting. She wondered if he wanted to tell her of his decision to end the marriage but was having difficulty in finding an approach. Well, she would save him the trouble. Tonight she would tell him that as far as she was concerned, the marriage was ended and she would be leaving the castle almost immediately. This resolve, though it relieved some of the tension, brought back with stark reality the fact that she had nowhere to go when she landed in England. However, she did have a little money, despite what she had been spending on her project, and this would see her through the first couple of months. She sighed as she tried to visualise what would happen to the donkeys she had rescued, and decided to ask this one favour of Vidas, that he would leave them where they were and have them cared for by the gardeners, as was being done at present. Kim felt sure that Bridie and Denis would carry on, especially as two more volunteers had come forward in the past week. No one was indispensable and they could do very well without her.

  Jan and Randy were in the hotel lobby waiting for them, and greetings followed their entrance before they all retired to the lounge, where they chatted over predinner drinks. It was during this time that they exchanged surnames and Kim learned that Randy was of Irish extraction, as were so many Americans. His name was Kelly.

  'You'd be interested to meet my friend Bridie,' Kim said conversationally. 'She's from Galway.'

  'Galway!' exclaimed Jan. 'That's where Randy's people came from!'

  'Perhaps you would like me to arrange a meeting with Bridie, then?'

  'Oh, would you, Kim? That would be great! Is she married?'

  'Yes, to a Greek.'

  'She is? Then ask them to dine with us tomorrow evening—here at the hotel.'

  'How about you all coming to dine with Kim and me tomorrow?' interjected Vidas, ignoring the start of surprise his wife could not suppress.

  'That would be wonderful,' said Randy. 'Do you live on this side of the island?'

  'No, the other side.' Vidas had a calling card in his breast pocket. Before he handed it to Randy, he explained how to get to the castle. Randy took the card, and Kim had to smile at his widening gaze and the slow, almost reluctant way he passed the card into his wife's impatient hand.

  'A castle! We've seen the ruins of a few Venetian castles, down in the valley, and we saw two that have been restored.'

  'The one on the cliff is where Bridie lives,' Kim informed them.

  'So Bridie lives in a castle too?'

  'That's right.'

  'And you live in the other? It seemed to us that it had fantastic views.'

  'You will see for yourself tomorrow,' said Vidas in a casual tone, as he accepted a menu from the waiter who had appeared at their table.

  The evening went off splendidly, and it seemed to Kim that Vidas could not possibly be contemplating divorce. Both Randy and Jan passed remarks as to how happy she and her husband were, and it was Vidas who vouchsafed the information that they had been married only a few months.

  'So we're all on our honeymoons!' exclaimed Jan, who had earlier confided to Kim that it was the second time round for both Randy and herself. She said little about her first husband, but it was not difficult for Kim to guess that the marriage had been a bad experience almost from the start. Randy's case was different; he had been happily married until the death of his wife eight years ago. He was now fifty-two and his three children—two boys and a girl—were all married. So he had considered himself free to marry again if he wished. It so happened that he and Jan had actually met at the wedding of his son Jeremy, who was the last of the three to marry and leave home. On deciding to marry, Jan and Randy sold their homes and bought the one in Oregon. 'We decided that memories would be gathered by us, for us,' she said, and Kim thought what a wonderful philosophy that was. 'Memories gathered by us, for us…' Kim wished that Vidas had heard. But would it have made any difference? Looking at him, noting the softened lines of his face as he chatted to Randy, Kim asked herself if it was really Floria he wanted to marry… Floria, who would give him an heir, and perhaps other children.

  It was not long after that silent question that Kim, with a little throb of uneasiness, attempted to push something from her mind, which she knew had been hovering in its far recesses for about a week. The morning after the dinner with the Kellys, as soon as she rose from her bed, she felt nausea spread through her body. A quivering hand went automatically to her stomach.

  It had been after midnight when she and Vidas arrived back, after sitting for more than two hours in the hotel lounge, chatting with their newfound friends over coffee and liqueurs. Kim had quite naturally abandoned the idea of speaking to Vidas about a separation; it could keep till the morning, she decided… but now…

  Strangely, the leap of perception came with a suddenness she would never have expected, and weak from a sense of shock, she sank down on the bed, dragging her damp palms over the coverlet.

  'It isn't true!' she cried. 'No, I won't accept it!' Yet even while one part of her
mind uttered the denial, she admitted at last what an inner voice had been persistently claiming, though she had refused to listen. Or perhaps she had not wanted to hear. It was impossible now to thrust away what she had known for some days. She was expecting her husband's child…

  What must she do? If she told him of her condition, he would naturally give up all thoughts of a divorce. But would he give up all thoughts of Floria? Kim rather thought they would take up where they had left off; they would become pillow-friends again. That sort of life was not for her, decided Kim, resolving there and then to keep to her original intention of telling him she was leaving. He wanted a divorce, and therefore he would have to give her a settlement. That would suffice for her child and herself. Vidas would never even know she had had his child.

  Tears gathered in her eyes as desolation swept over her. She loved her husband with a devotion that bordered on the spiritual, and yet she was forced to leave him, never to see him again as long as she lived. And when he was married and another child came along—Floria's son—he would be the heir…

  It seemed, for a fleeting moment, that Kim's heart stopped beating. For something had affected her as she thought of her child being robbed of his rightful heritage. It was something she could never allow to happen, and this meant she had to make a decision; either she would stay and suffer any pain inflicted by her husband's infidelity, or she would resign herself to giving up her child at a later date, when he was older and no longer needed a mother's love, so he could claim his rightful inheritance.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was natural that making such a crucial decision should take time, and after hours of conflicting resolutions, followed by a feeling of helplessness, Kim tried to give her mind a rest. She had reached the state where a decision was impossible anyway.