Mirrors of the Sea

by Sally Wentworth

  'Oh, dear,' Louise murmured to Alys. 'I hate to be uncharitable, but I do hope we don't have to abandon ship and spend ages in a boat with them. Mrs Gilbert has become rather confiding—I'm already on to Gail's second marriage.'

  'We'll try to avoid them in future, then,' Alys promised with a grin, supremely confident that Louise would never confide her problems to any chance acquaintance.

  Tonight was the captain's cocktail party followed by a gala dinner. Alys was tempted to dress down, to put on a simple cotton dress and merge with all the middle-aged passengers. But then she remembered Titus; she didn't want him to think she'd become a complete frump, did she? Pride said certainly not, so Alys put on one of her glitzy numbers: a simple black sheath dress with a shortish skirt, but with a richly beaded black jacket to go over it. With black tights and high heels, her blonde hair left long and straight, Alys knew she looked good. Rather sophisticated and remote, but good. Just the way she wanted to be when Titus was around.

  Gail had chosen to wear red, obviously one of her favourite colours. Her mother trailed behind her in the receiving line like a flustered brown hen, but wasn't altogether displeased when the captain, a dapper little man, gave Gail a lot of attention. He gave Alys an appreciative once-over, too, but she responded with her most glacial smile and moved to follow her aunt, who had determinedly become blind as she walked past Gail and her mother to join another group. Drinks were served, people circulated. There were a few more of the ship's officers there, and they talked to one of the lecturers and his wife, he a clergyman, she dressed like a Sixties flower-child in long, full skirt and open sandals— a woman who must have been about fifty but determined not to grow up, let alone to age gracefully.

  There were several clichéd characters there, Alys thought with amusement, looking round. An earth mother, very big and bosomy, an ex-army major with loud voice and moustache, three stick-thin American sisters, all with fluffy blonde hair, who looked as if they ought once to have been a singing trio—and probably were. And then there was Titus. Partly hidden by the earth mother, Alys watched as he shook hands with the captain. He was wearing evening clothes, as all the men were, but he had a white tuxedo and red bow-tie rather than the usual black suit. He looked—just terrific. And the sight of him started a fierce ache deep inside her that physically hurt.

  Wrenching her eyes away, Alys began to mutter, 'I'm indifferent, indifferent, indifferent,' under her breath.

  'Good enough to eat, isn't he?'

  Startled, she turned to see that Gail had come up beside her.

  'I saw you looking at our divine Dr Irvine.' She put a hand on Alys's arm. 'And to think I didn't want to come on this trip. I had no idea intellectuals could be so gorgeous. Are all schoolmasters like that nowadays?'

  'Not quite.'

  'No, I didn't think they were. Excuse me.'

  She went to move away, to intercept Titus, Alys strongly suspected, but just then Jack Reed came up to them.

  'Hello, Miss Curtis, or may I call you Alys?'

  'Of course. This is Mrs Turnbull,' Alys said quickly before Gail could get away. 'Have you met Jack Reed, the ship's doctor?'

  'No, I haven't.' She was sufficiently vain to want every man to admire her, so Gail gave him a warm smile as she shook his hand.

  Jack blinked a little but responded with a big grin. 'If anyone's going to trip and sprain their ankle on this trip I do hope it will be one of you two girls—it will make the whole voyage worthwhile.'

  Gail laughed delightedly, making people turn to look at her, and Alys smiled, thinking that Jack was a bit of a flirt. He looked as good as he ever would, she thought, in a black evening suit that was well cut but still managed to look casual on him. But perhaps his easygoing air was too casual, perhaps it was a mask for something. Gail was talking to him, making him laugh, but her eyes constantly flicked across the room to where Titus stood with a couple of lecturers and their wives. A few of the passengers were wearing the name-tags that had been supplied with their tickets, but most of them, including the lecturers, hadn't bothered.

  The cruise director came round, breaking up groups, making people circulate. Gail took the opportunity to go over to Titus, but she didn't draw him away, as Alys expected, instead getting him to introduce her to the people with him and then stand by his side as if they were a couple. Clever tactics, Alys realised. She and her aunt had moved on but Jack Reed ambled with them, which she wasn't too happy about. She didn't want to have Jack or anyone else attach himself to her—for her own sake, her aunt's, and mostly because she didn't want Titus to think that she was on the lookout for a man and deliberately encouraging him.

  Whether it was her doing or Titus's, they managed to avoid each other during the party, and she was amused to see that he also managed to avoid sitting with Gail during dinner. The two walked into the restaurant together, but after he had seated Gail and her mother he gallantly gave up his place to a lone, lost-looking elderly lady. Alys almost laughed aloud at the look of chagrin that flashed in Gail's eyes. But watching Titus and Gail had made her own attention slip and she found herself on the same table as Jack Reed, although she did manage to put Aunt Lou between them.

  The restaurant had been decorated with flowers and the waiters wore traditional Greek dress. There was Greek food and plenty of wine. Everyone was very jolly and really getting into the swing of the holiday. People were speaking to each other on first-name terms now and tended to stay in their groups when they went up to the lounge for coffee after dinner. Several, however, went out on deck to watch as the ship berthed at the little island of Hydra, Alys's group among them. It was already dark, but as the ship nosed into the horseshoe-shaped bay they saw the lights of the port and the town above it spread like a glistening tiara against the sky.

  'Oh, how lovely!' Aunt Louise exclaimed. 'We must go ashore for a while.'

  The dock wasn't long enough for the ship and they had to anchor close to a long concrete mole and disembark through the door in the ship's side that the crew normally used, a sailor standing at the awkward gangplank to help the less able-bodied ashore. Houses climbed the steep hills leading from the waterfront and there were little cobbled alleys that zigzagged between them, lit by occasional streetlights attached to the walls. The night air was very still and heavy with a spicy, musky scent, the warmth of the land coming out to meet them.

  They walked slowly along, about seven of them in their group, and took a leisurely stroll, glancing in the windows of jewellery and souvenir shops, avoiding dogs and cats, and promenading dark-eyed islanders. The two other couples decided to buy hats for themselves and went into a shop, but the doctor stayed with Alys and Aunt Lou as they walked on. In the inner harbour there were several luxury yachts, their occupants eating or sitting over a drink at one of the pavement cafes. Music came from the open window of a bar up the hill: Greek music, lively, insinuating. The waterfront wasn't very long, less than half a mile, but it was enough for Aunt Louise. 'It's been a long day,' she declared, 'what with Delphi this morning. I think I'll make my way back to the ship. But you don't have to come, my dear; I can manage quite well alone.'

  'I think I would like to stay a bit longer.' Alys turned to Jack Reed. 'Perhaps you'd be kind enough to escort my aunt back to the ship?'

  'Of course.' But he came up to her and lowered his voice to ask, 'May I come back and join you or am I being dismissed?'

  'I'd like to be alone for a while, if you don't mind. It seems an awfully long time since I was alone.' But Alys smiled to show that there was no animosity in her words.

  He nodded. 'Goodnight, then.' And strode after her aunt.

  Alys walked slowly to a nearby cafe which had little palm trees in tubs among the tables. She sat at one in a chair facing the sea, her back determinedly turned against a tank where a couple of small octopuses swam, waiting to be chosen and eaten. She ordered a drink and, feeling very European, watched the people strolling along, both visitors and native islanders. Several passengers from the
ship went by, some of whom greeted her. Then she saw Titus. He was with a group of people, Gail among them—which was no surprise. Alys felt her chest grow tight, realising that she would have to acknowledge them, but the waiter came with her drink as they passed, so she merely gave the group a general nod before turning away.

  They went past, came to the end of the waterfront and turned to retrace their footsteps. Alys was able to ignore them by lifting her glass to her mouth this time, but nearly choked when she heard Titus say, 'Excuse me. Someone I know. Goodnight.' And he abruptly left the others to walk over to her table. Gail made a surprised gesture of protest, but there was nothing she could do, and after a moment she moved on with the rest.

  Alys coughed a couple of times, trying to recover.

  'Are you all right?' Titus stood with his hands on the back of a chair, waiting for her either to invite him to sit down or tell him to go and drown himself in the harbour, presumably.

  'Yes, fine. A lemon pip went down the wrong way.'

  'I think we ought to talk, don't you?'

  There was nothing at all conciliatory in his tone, which made it easier for her to say coldly, 'If you insist.'

  Titus sat down, flicked his finger at the waiter and ordered a drink. They were silent until it came, Alys very aware of the sound of the water lapping against the harbour wall, of the click-clack of heels on the stone pavement, worn smooth and shiny by countless feet. She tried very hard not to think of other times when they had sat together at cafes like this, when there had been love and contentment between them instead of this taut, wary hostility.

  The waiter set his drink before him and Titus picked it up, stirring it with a circular motion of his hand. 'This is quite a coincidence,' he remarked.

  'Isn't it?' she replied unhelpfully.

  'I took the place of a lecturer who couldn't come at the last minute.'

  'So I heard.' She wondered why he found it necessary to explain.

  He fell silent again, then lifted his glass and took a long swallow, as if he was very thirsty. 'How are you?' The question was jerked out as if he was reluctant to ask.

  'I'm fine,' she answered unsteadily. 'And you?'

  He shrugged. 'Very well.'

  She had to ask it, it was unavoidable, but Alys's mouth was completely dry as she said, 'And your son—I hope he's OK?'

  His eyes seared into hers, looking for malice or sarcasm. Finding none, he said shortly, 'He's well enough.'

  There were lots more questions she longed to ask but knew it was impossible, so she asked a safe one instead. 'Ancient Greece isn't your line, is it?'

  He sat back a little, tilting the chair. 'I've widened my scope since—during the last couple of years.'

  Since she'd left him, had he been going to say? Had he taken on the extra study to try and fill the long, empty hours of loneliness? But he had had his son—and his son's mother. While she'd had—nothing, nothing at all.

  She didn't speak, couldn't, but after a long, uncomfortable moment Titus said, 'Did you take your doctorate?'

  Putting a hand under the table, Alys dug her nails into her fist, the pain somehow helping her to shake her head and say, 'No. I left university straight—straight away.'

  He was watching her but she didn't meet his eyes.

  'That's what I heard. That was ‑' he searched for the right words, tactful words, she realised '—a great pity, a great waste. I'm sorry.'

  Her head came up at that. 'Why the hell should you be sorry? It was my decision. If anything I'd been wasting my time taking the course in Egyptology in the first place.'

  Titus's jaw hardened. 'Just as you'd wasted your time being with me, I suppose?'

  'As it worked out, yes,' Alys retorted, her cheeks flushed. But then she bit her lip and slowly shook her head. 'No, that's not true. I don't—regret it.'

  His left eyebrow rose. 'You would appear to have grown up a little.'

  'Don't be so damn patronising!'

  A flash of amusement came into Titus's eyes but was quickly gone. 'So what are you doing now?'

  'I'm a teacher—at a quite good girls' school.' This last was added defensively as she looked for derision in his face. She was right; he laughed.

  'So you ran to hide yourself in the modern equivalent of a nunnery, did you? I might have guessed.'

  She glared at him. 'And just what is that supposed to mean?'

  'You know full well what I mean; life became real instead of the beautiful dream you expected it to be and you couldn't handle it. So, like the coward you are, you turned and ran rather than face up to it. Just the way you ran when you saw me at Delphi this morning.'

  'Don't you dare call me a coward!'

  Titus gave a mocking laugh. 'I was wrong; you haven't changed at all.'

  Alys was about to make a crushing retort, but suddenly realised that they were already fighting again. Biting her lip, she sat back in her chair, then said shakily, 'It seems that neither of us has.'

  They were silent, both remembering the past, then Titus finished his drink and set the glass down on the table with a snap. 'Would you like another drink?'

  'No, thank you,' Alys replied, adding stiffly, 'Don't let me keep you. Gail will have got back to the ship by now—you should be safe so long as she isn't waiting to grab you when you go on board.'

  He grinned suddenly and it tore her heart. 'I'm hoping she'll take the hint.'

  'Well, I'm glad I came in handy.'

  'And I see you managed to ditch the doctor. Was that because you don't fancy him—or simply because he's a man?'

  'I have nothing against men in general.'

  'Only me in particular, I suppose.'

  She shrugged and he gave a contemptuous laugh but didn't pursue it, instead signalling the waiter for more drinks, ignoring her refusal.

  'Why did you run away from me this morning?' Titus asked curtly in a tone she recognised, one that demanded an answer.

  She thought about it before saying carefully, 'Delphi is a magical kind of place. To be alone in that stadium with so many ghosts... I closed my eyes to try to get closer to them. When I opened them I was dazzled by the sun—and then you walked out of the shadows.'

  'You thought I was a ghost?'

  'More a figment of my imagination. For a minute or two. I couldn't believe that it was really you. I expected you to dissolve or something. But then Gail came.'

  'And you ran.'

  'I needed time to recover, I admit that.'

  'Yes, I suppose you might.' But his expression hadn't softened any.

  Their drinks came and while he was paying the waiter Alys was able to study him more closely. The lines around his mouth had deepened, but whether that was because of her she didn't know. Otherwise there was nothing different about him; his hair was as thick and dark as ever, his body just as toned and supple. He must still do the course of exercises that she had taught him, the workout that they'd done together every morning—unless of course they'd made love when they'd woken; then they'd been too exhausted for anything energetic afterwards.

  The waiter went away, pleased with his tip, and Titus turned back to her.

  'How long have we got?' she asked quickly.

  'Till midnight.'

  She smiled slightly. 'Like Cinderella.'

  'That's right; when the church clock strikes the hour the ship will change into a tramp steamer.'

  'And the crew into fish.'

  'The slipper into a sea boot.'

  'Aunt Louise into Neptune.'

  'And Gail into a shark,' Titus finished with feeling.

  They looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter. But both quickly sobered, Alys feeling a great sense of loss. 'A touch of deja vu,' she said unsteadily.

  'It wasn't all bad,' Titus said on a curt note.

  'No.' Alys looked across at him, her eyes tender with remembered love. 'Most of it was—magnificent.' She said the word on a long sigh, but then blinked and looked down at her glass, letting her hair fall forward to h
ide the sudden tears that came into her eyes.

  Titus didn't speak, and after a moment she raised her head, pushed her hair back with her hand, and took a long drink. They watched in silence as a small boat, its engine noisy, came into the harbour and pulled up beside the steps in a practised, efficient movement. It was brightly painted and had an orange light at the mast. It dropped its passengers, they paid, and the sea taxi was away again, back to the mainland.

  When it had gone the silence suddenly became heavy, unbearable. 'What did you think of Delphi?' Alys asked in a determinedly casual tone.

  'I think I've heard that question about thirty times today.'

  She was immediately annoyed. 'I'm sorry to be so mundane.'

  'Don't get prickly.'

  'You should have stayed with Gail, then; I'm quite sure she would have been absolutely charming.'

  'Maybe I should.'

  'Only she isn't your type, is she?'

  His jaw thrusting forward, Titus said brusquely, 'No. And we both know what my type is, don't we?'

  For a moment her heart fluttered crazily and she could only stare at him, taken aback by his openness. But then Alys managed to pull herself together a little and say carefully, 'I know what it was. You might have—altered your view since then.'

  'So I might,' he concurred harshly. 'You certainly gave me reason enough.'

  It was a good job that her glass was a serviceable one, thick and tough, otherwise it would probably have broken as Alys's hand tightened on it suddenly, her knuckles showing white. Taking refuge in anger she said acidly, 'Do we have to talk about the past? As far as I'm concerned it's dead and done with.'

  '"Dead and done with".' Titus repeated the phrase, his eyes bleak for a moment as he looked at her, but then they grew contemptuous again as he said, 'And yet you ran away today.'

  She stood up, really angry now. 'But not far enough, unfortunately.'

  'So what are you going to do—leave the ship? Run away again?'

  It was an idea that was becoming infinitely more attractive by the minute. But there had been a sneer in his tone that put her back up, and, besides, he had already accused her of cowardice. So Alys's head came up and she said icily, 'Sorry to disappoint you, but I really don't see why I should have my holiday ruined by something as—as trivial as this. So if you don't like me being here, then I suggest that you leave.'