Mirrors of the Sea

by Sally Wentworth

  Gail seemed to be of the same opinion because, after she'd determinedly sat next to Alys, she lowered her voice and said, 'Thank goodness there's someone else on this trip who's under a hundred. I take it you're here as dutiful relative-cum-nursemaid, too.'

  'I'm with my aunt,' Alys admitted, not sure whether she wanted to be drawn into a kind of instant youthful alliance against the older generation by a complete stranger.

  Gail made a sympathetic face. 'Ma insists on having me go with her on these trips, then spends all her time with her cronies so that I'm bored to death. Never mind; we'll be able to keep each other company.'

  She turned away as the waiter came up, giving Alys the chance to look at her objectively. With her curly dark hair and tanned skin, Gail had a gypsyish look about her, an impression heightened by her dark brows and brightly made-up lips. Lips that had a slightly pouting tilt, whether from a sulky nature or because Gail thought it looked sexy it was too soon to tell. But she was good-looking in a sultry, sensual kind of way. Men must find her so, anyway, because she wore a wedding-ring on her finger—rings on most of her other fingers, come to that, as well as bracelets and a heavy gold chain necklace.

  Alys turned to talk to her aunt and they were into the main course before Gail leaned towards her confidentially and said, 'I suppose it's too much to hope that there might be any halfway decent single men on this trip. Some of the waiters aren't too bad,' she murmured, looking contemplatively round the room, 'but the trouble with the Greeks is that most of them are so short.' Her voice became more animated as she leaned nearer. 'I did catch a glimpse of one really gorgeous man—and without a grey hair in his head, would you believe?' But then she became pessimistic. 'I haven't been able to find out who he is yet, but you can bet your life he's with his wife—he's much too divine not to have been snatched up already. Have you seen him yet?'

  Shaking her head, Alys laughed. 'No, I definitely haven't seen anyone I'd describe as "divine".'

  'Well, you'll recognise him when you see him.' Gail glanced at Alys's ringless left hand. 'I take it you're not married?'

  'No.'

  'Neither am I.' Adding, when she saw Alys's surprised look, 'I'm divorced. Twice, actually. The trouble with me is that when I'm married I want to be free, and when I'm free I can't wait to get married again. Terrible, isn't it?'

  Taken aback by her candidness, Alys said, 'Yes, I suppose it must be. What do you—er—do when you're not married?'

  'Do? Oh, you mean for a career?' Gail laughed in surprise. 'I don't work. I never have. I got married the first time as soon as I left school so I didn't have to. Then I lived on alimony. And the same this time around. Just as well, really. I couldn't possibly sit in an office all day; it would be too deadly boring.' She looked at Alys. 'What do you do? Are you a model or something?'

  With an inner smile of amusement, Alys said, 'Nothing so glamorous. I'm a teacher. At a girls' school. I teach history and sports.'

  'How interesting,' Gail commented politely, but obviously thinking it as boring as hell. 'I don't suppose you have much chance to meet many eligible men at a girls' school?'

  'Not many, no.'

  'That's an awful shame with your looks and figure. I suppose it's all that sport.'

  'Very likely,' Alys agreed, accepting the oddly given compliment with amusement.

  Aunt Louise and Gail's mother seemed to be getting along quite well, so the four of them stayed together after dinner when they went up to the lounge for coffee. There were about two hundred and fifty passengers on board and perhaps half of them had gathered in the lounge, many of them already forming into groups around the circular tables. Alys looked round, wondering which man was the one Gail had described, but Gail, guessing her thoughts, shook her head. 'He isn't here,' she murmured conspiratorially.

  Annoyed with herself, Alys turned away; she had come on this trip to please Aunt Louise, not to meet men, and she didn't want Gail to include her in her own obvious man-hunt. Just because she wasn't married didn't mean that she must therefore be hungry for male company. When you'd partaken of the best then nothing less would do. The unbidden and unwanted thought made Alys tighten her grip on her coffee-cup, and when her aunt said she was tired and was going to the cabin Alys got up to go with her, refusing Gail's suggestion of a walk round the deck.

  Used to sleeping in a high-ceilinged room with the window open, Alys woke in the night feeling hot and stuffy in the little cabin. In the other bed her aunt slept soundly, very soundly! Her snuffling little snores drowned the buzz of the air-conditioning. For half an hour or so Alys tried to go back to sleep, then gave up, put on her bathrobe and slipped out of the cabin and up the nearby stairs to the observation deck. Above her there were lights in the bridge section as the crew steered the ship, but she had the deck to herself. They weren't going so fast now and the breeze hardly lifted her hair, but it was much cooler out here. There were distant lights on the land on both sides of the ship, so they must be going through the narrow Gulf of Corinth. The smell of the sea was strong in her nostrils, drowning any scents from the land. It made her remember the day she'd met Titus. That, too, had been on a boat, but a much smaller one than this, the ferry boat coming back from the Shetlands to mainland Scotland.

  For a few moments Alys let her thoughts drift, remembering her first sight of him in jeans and sweater, his thick dark brown hair, worn quite long then, blown back from his face, emphasising the strong bone-structure and square jaw. He was standing with a small group of similarly clad young men at the far end of the deck, but Alys had felt his eyes on her and had turned. That incredible 'across a crowded room' bit had come true for her then. She had looked into his eyes and it was as if they were alone, there was no one else on the thronged deck, no pop music coming from someone's radio, no wind, no sea, no sky. Just the face of this stranger whom she instinctively knew was to be part of her destiny, her future.

  She stood, staring at him like a fool, until someone moved between them and she couldn't see him any more. Then she flushed and turned back to her friends, expecting them to be gazing at her in amazement, as aware of what had happened as she was. But they hadn't even noticed, were all occupied in holding the map in the wind and choosing a place to stay for the night. It was some minutes before Alys dared to look again to where the man had stood, and she was devastated to find that he had gone. Perhaps it hadn't been the same for him, she thought in a panic, perhaps he hadn't been looking at her at all. Without thinking about it, she began to move towards where he'd been standing, but it had begun to rain heavily and the others pulled her inside the crowded saloon, ignoring her protests.

  And then she saw him again, over by the small bar. He was very tall, taller than almost everyone in the room, and when he turned and looked round he found her almost at once. Alys almost lifted a hand to wave, sure that his eyes were searching for her. Almost—but not quite.

  She waited, not knowing what to do, her heart thumping, her throat tight. Without acknowledging her at all, he faced the bar again and said something to his companions. Alys's heart crashed through the bottom of the boat, but began to soar again as the big stranger turned, shouldered his way through the crowd of passengers and came to stand in front of her. 'Hello.' The greeting was almost hesitant and there was a slightly punch-drunk look about him, a look, she realised, that must be mirrored in her own face.

  'H-hello.'

  For a moment they just stared at each other like a pair of fools, but then he grinned and held up the bottle and plastic tumblers that he carried. 'They didn't have any champagne—seems they don't have much call for it on a ferry, so I got the only thing they had that was fizzy. Lager. Will it do?'

  Alys smiled up at him, her eyes radiant. 'Lager will do fine.'

  He filled the tumblers and they solemnly clicked them together. They didn't have to say the rest; their eyes said it all.

  But then they became aware of their own silence and he said, 'I'm supposed to be on a climbing holiday with some friends
. Except that it's hardly stopped raining since we've been here. How about you?'

  'A walking tour. But we've been soaked every day, too.'

  'We're thinking of heading for the Peak District instead; the weather's supposed to be all right there.'

  'Is it? I haven't seen the forecast.'

  She smiled suddenly, thinking how English their behaviour was—talking about the weather when their hearts were doing crazy somersaults and a great golden glow of happiness was spreading through their veins, shining from their eyes. She couldn't believe that others couldn't see it. Surely everyone in the saloon must be staring at them in dumb-struck awe. But the noisy hubbub of voices was the same, the boat still pitched and rolled in the wind, there was the same cloying smell of dampness from people's clothes. But he understood and smiled back, this large stranger with his hair dishevelled by the wind and rain, and dressed so ordinarily in jeans and sweater, tough holiday wear.

  Alys sipped her drink and looked at him over the rim. He was older than her, almost thirty, she guessed, and very good-looking in an open, strong kind of way, even though there were a couple of little lines around his mouth that betrayed his experience of life. But she took little notice of those lines, too overwhelmed by the wonder of it all to even think about his past; they were just part of the features that together had brought to life a face that yesterday she hadn't known but now would mean everything to her for the rest of her life. And he had been looking her over too, because as the ferry hooted as it approached the dock he leaned forward and quoted softly into her ear,' "Divinely tall and most divinely fair".'

  Her face was still flushed when they walked off the ferry on to the jetty together. The rain was pouring again by now but she put up the hood of her anorak with reluctance. The other girls were waiting for her, aware now that she had met someone, their eyes alive with curiosity.

  'We've got a minibus,' he said, pointing to a vehicle that was being driven off the ferry. 'Why don't you let us give you all a lift?'

  'Yes, please,' she said unhesitatingly, and so fervently that he laughed.

  Taking his hand, feeling an overwhelming rush of emotion as she did so, she led him over to the girls. Excitedly she said, 'We've been offered a lift. This is ‑' She stopped suddenly, disconcertedly realising that she didn't know his name.

  'Titus Irvine,' he supplied, mouth twitching in amusement.

  'Titus,' she repeated, drinking the name in, engraving it on her heart. 'And I'm Alys.'

  So they'd all crowded in the bus among the climbing gear and rucksacks, and she and Titus had sat close, covertly holding hands, full of joyous anticipation as they'd driven off into a future that could only be bright and golden after such a wonderful start.

  But now Alys grimaced wryly in the darkness as the ship chugged along through the night. It had been such a romantic beginning that she'd thought it too good to be true. And she'd been right. What had started with instantaneous love and attraction had suddenly turned to stubborn, uncompromising anger, to jealousy and hate, and she had run away, unable to take it. Run to Aunt Louise—who would worry if she woke and found her gone. Determinedly pushing the past from her mind, Alys went back to the cabin, let herself silently in, climbed into bed and this time fell instantly asleep.

  Alys was used to waking early to go for a morning jog before school started, and the next morning, despite her sleepless night, she woke at the usual time. To her surprise her aunt was already up and dressed.

  'Breakfast is at seven this morning,' she reminded Alys. 'Have you forgotten we're leaving for Delphi at eight o'clock?'

  'Have we moored?'

  'Yes. We're at Itea. Come along, Alys; I know how you young people like to lie in bed half the morning.'

  Her aunt's voice was chiding but there was a note of subdued excitement in it that made Alys realise how much Louise must have looked forward to this holiday, and she was really glad now that she had agreed to come.

  Breakfast was a buffet-style meal which they ate quickly so that Aunt Lou could go back to the cabin and make sure she had everything she needed for the trip. Normally Alys would have worn shorts and a strapless sun-top, but, remembering the age of her fellow passengers, she put on a more sedate top and lightweight skirt. Gail Turnbull, though, had had no similar regard for age. If any of the old gentlemen had been on the verge of a heart attack they would probably have had one when they saw her walk down the gangplank in a minute pair of bright red shorts and a halter-neck top that left her midriff bare. Alys said as much to her aunt, who gave an unladylike snort of derision. 'Nonsense! It will do them all the world of good.'

  Alys burst into laughter and allowed her grinning aunt to shoo her on to the first of the waiting buses.

  The cruise company issued all the passengers with printed handbooks about Greece and Alys had read up about Delphi, knew that it was the home of the oracle, that there was a theatre and stadium, and a museum--closed Tuesdays—containing the famous bronze statue of a charioteer. But nothing had prepared her for the magnificent natural setting. As the coach rounded the last bend the entire horizon was bounded by mountains and in their centre a great plain that was a sea of olive trees. They stopped and alighted at Mount Parnassus where the sanctuary of Delphi was built on a steep and narrow shelf of land on the lower slopes, the sheer cliffs of the shining ones behind it, and to the south a deep ravine.

  It was still very early and they were the first group of tourists to arrive that day. As soon as Alys had moved away from the bus she was aware of the peace and quietness of the place, a peace that came not from the lack of sound but from an aura of deeply ancient tranquillity. Even if there had been no ruins here she sensed that she would still have felt this inner peace. A local guide was waiting to meet them and led them to the Temple of Athena, reeling off historic facts, but Alys mostly switched off, letting the feel of the place take her over. They moved on, the other busloads of passengers duly following in their turn, but when they reached the Sacred Way where the ground rose steeply Aunt Lou said firmly that she wasn't going to climb any higher. Several others agreed with her and they sat down on the fallen stones in the shade of an old, spreading olive tree to rest.

  Confident that her aunt was in good hands, Alys went on with the rest of their group but instead of staying with them she hung back a little and the guide soon went on ahead. It was magical to walk alone up the ancient way, to see a lizard sunning itself on a fallen stone carved over two thousand years ago, to look down on the distant plain of olive trees and see them move like rolling waves in the breeze, to see the butterflies, and to feel a primitive sense of a holy presence here on the mountain. Was that what the ancient peoples felt? Alys wondered as she climbed higher. Was that why they came on such long and dangerous pilgrimages and to consult the oracle? She reached the remains of the old theatre, built to face the distant valley, and paused to look back at the unbelievable view. But something urged her on and she soon went past it, taking the path that led on to the long flat plateau of the stadium. The bases of the stone archways at the entrance were still standing and a strange feeling of heady anticipation filled Alys as she walked between them. To her right there were still the tiers of seats where the spectators had sat to cheer on the contestants in the ancient games that had been held here, but to her left they had broken away and the view was screened by trees.

  The sun was hot now as Alys walked slowly down the long length of the beaten earth, her shadow sharp and black against its greyness. There was no other human being there; not even the strident voices of the guides carried so high. She had been no stranger to loneliness for a long time, and easily recognised its insidiousness, but here, even though she was entirely alone, she felt only the warmth of an inner peace and a growing eagerness for life. She neared the curved end of the stadium, trying to imagine it as it had been, wishing she could go back in time and see it then. When she reached the very end, she turned and looked back at the entrance. She wasn't alone any more; a man was standing in the
shadow of the entrance arch. As she watched he moved forward into the sun and she saw, somehow without surprise, that it was Titus.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alys blinked, expecting this sun-drenched dream, this mirage, to disappear. But Titus was still there. Really there. Not a figment of her wayward imagination. For an agonisingly long moment Alys couldn't move, was so shocked that she hardly even breathed. Titus, too, seemed to be rooted to the ground, and it was only when he stepped forward, his steps hesitant and uncertain, that Alys's limbs unfroze. She instinctively moved backwards but was brought up short by the wall of the stadium. Her body began to shake and she looked wildly round, seeking for some means of escape. But then another figure appeared in the entrance behind Titus, an unmistakably female figure in bright red shorts and halter-top.

  Gail called out to Titus but he didn't appear to hear and came on, still moving slowly, as if he, too, could hardly believe his own eyes. But then Gail called again, more loudly, 'Dr Irvine.' And this time he heard, slowed, but came to a stop, looking reluctantly over his shoulder.

  Alys didn't hesitate. She leapt for the side of the stadium where the seats had broken away, was over it, and scrambling down the steep hillside on the other side. There were broken stones among the trees, and she was in imminent danger of falling or twisting her ankle, but Alys didn't care so long as she didn't have to walk back along the length of the stadium to where Titus stood, didn't have to pass him with the terrible choice of having to speak or else just ignore him. Her sandalled feet slid on loose pebbles and she swayed but recovered immediately, her fitness and physical agility thankfully helping her when she needed it most. She came to a path, not much wider than a goat track, that would have led her back to the theatre, but Alys ignored it because it was in sight of anyone looking down from the stadium, instead plunging on down the hillside until she came on to a much wider path lower down the slope and nearer the main body of ruins, which she quickly ran along until she was hidden by a wall and knew that she couldn't possibly be seen.