Follow a Stranger
Page 10
been suddenly, violently sick, and when she came back
from her desperate race to the bathroom, she had found
him gone, and Sophia waiting with cool water and
gentle, soothing hands.
Her eyes closed. She preferred to forget what had
happened yesterday. It had been a traumatic experience.
The next few days were quiet and peaceful. Pallas and
Sam came in every morning. Sometimes they played
cards with her, or just sat and talked. Sometimes she
slept for most of the day. The burning sensation had
lessened gradually. Her skin was now merely hot and
dry. In places it was beginning to peel, and she watched
it discontentedly. She was going to look a sight when it
flaked off on her back. She would not be able to wear her
bikini for the rest of the holiday.
On the Friday morning the doctor said she could now
get up. “But,” he warned sternly, “no more sunbathing.
No exertion.”
She promised eagerly. “It’s been such a waste of a
holiday,” she said to Sam.
He was looking pleasantly tanned, his freckles
merging with his healthy brown skin.
He gave her his hand. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll help
you downstairs.”
“I’m not an invalid,” she protested.
Sam grinned at her. “You’ve been acting the part jolly
well, then!”
To give herself confidence Kate had put on one of her
new dresses, a cool white voile, very feminine and
delicate, with a full skirt which reached half-way down
her calf, soft frills which left her throat bare, and tight-
fitting sleeves.
She met Mrs. Lillitos as she and Sam were going
down, and the older woman smiled delightedly.
“My dear child, how enchanting you look! A vision
from the past. But you need a hat.” She smiled. “I have
just the hat you need, ma chere.” She walked stiffly
back to her room, leaning on her cane, and returned in a
short time with a large picture hat of white straw,
trimmed with one very floppy pink rose.
Kate stood still while Mrs. Lillitos adjusted it. Sam
watched, smiling.
“Great, kid,” he enthused. “You look ...” he hesitated,
lost for words.
“Beautiful?” Mrs. Lillitos suggested teasingly.
Sam grinned. “You took the word out of my mouth,
Mrs. Lillitos.”
“And it covers up my sunburn,” Kate told them
confidentially. “My back and arms are still very un-
sightly. I wanted to hide them.”
They sat on the verandah, out of the treacherous sun,
until lunchtime. There was no sign of Marc, and Kate did
not dare to ask after him, but she gathered later that he
had been engrossed in business during her illness, and
had rarely emerged from his office, which was at the far
side of the house.
They were about to move in for lunch when Marc came
out on to the verandah. He stopped dead, catching sight
of Kate, and stared at her in silence for a moment, then
said politely, “You look much better. How do you feel?”
She murmured a vague reply. Sam and Pallas dis-
creetly wandered into the house, leaving them alone.
Kate stood up, feeling ridiculously overdressed. Marc
was wearing a light blue shirt and casual grey slacks.
“I went up to the temple and told your fiancé about
your illness,” he said abruptly.
“That was very kind of you,” she said stiffly.
“He would have come down to see you, but he had to
finish his survey, and as sunburn is hardly a dangerous
illness ...”
“I see his point,” she said, quickly breaking in. “Of
course he wouldn’t come until he had finished.”
Marc’s lip curled. “You don’t mind?” he asked. “You
lack the usual feminine vanity, then. Doesn’t it worry
you that he couldn’t care less whether you are ill or not?”
“You don’t understand Peter,” she said hurriedly. During
her illness she had had plenty of time in which to think
about herself, and she had come to a decision about
Peter. She had made up her mind to
ask him if he would release her from their engagement.
But she had no intention of letting Marc Lillitos know
that. She did not want to discuss the subject with him.
Marc was watching her, with narrowed eyes. “Do you
understand Peter Hardy?” he asked her coolly. “Do you
realise what a selfish, irresponsible, coldblooded fish he
really is?”
She flushed and walked past him without answering.
She was still engaged to Peter. She would not be disloyal
to him now.
That afternoon, the other visitors arrived, and Marc
drove down to the airfield to meet them.
Pallas was sulky as she sat with her mother and Sam,
waiting for the black car to return. Mrs. Lillitos kept a
stern eye upon her and checked an attempt she made to
escape with Sam to play tennis, while Kate sat back,
watching, wondering why Pallas was in such a strange
mood.
The visitors arrived, talking in French which sounded
like machine guns rattling away, and Kate hoped that
they spoke some English, or the rest of the holiday was
going to become a nightmare.
Marc came in, ushering two women before him,
smiling down at one with great charm and courtesy.
She looked round and gave a little cry, “Madam!”
Mrs. Lillitos held out her arms, and the other woman
hugged her warmly. “Ma belle Helene,” murmured Mrs.
Lillitos, smiling.
She was a tall, slender woman, with deep brown hair,
brown eyes and a look of quiet sophistication. Her coat
and dress were cut very plainly, but with exquisite taste,
in a striking violet. They looked superb on her.
Mrs. Lillitos looked past her to the other woman,
standing beside Marc, one hand clinging to his sleeve,
smiling up at him from wide brown eyes fringed by very
thick black lashes. Her eyes were too heavily made up,
giving her the appearance of a panda, with her thick
white skin and black hair. She wore a figure-hugging
black suit, very demure and yet very sexy. There was no
blouse beneath it and the deep v-lapels revealed the
white curve of her breasts and her slim white throat.
She was whispering to Marc and he bent his head,
seeming amused, his eyes flickering over her apprais-
ingly.
“Marie-Louise, ma chere,” said Mrs. Lillitos firmly,
and the other woman turned and walked over to her,
still holding Marc’s arm.
Kate stared at her. Was this, then, the French model
with whom Marc was in love? She could not understand
why he felt uncertain of her. She seemed madly in love
with him, if one judged by her practised arch looks, her
smiles and her air of possession.
She was very attractive, Kate had to admit. The silky
dark hair was sleek and straight, drawn back from her
face in a chignon.
Her mouth was painted glistening red,
her chiselled cheeks almost classically perfect. Yet there
was a falseness, a coldness about her which made Kate
dislike her.
Mrs. Lillitos introduced Sam and Kate to them, and
Marie-Louise stared at her with insolence.
“A schoolteacher?” she repeated, then laughed, look-
ing at Marc. She turned her head aside and whispered to
him. Kate caught the words, “How irritating for you to
have to put up with them, mon cher.”
Marc did not reply. A man had come up the steps into
the house and stood, watching them all with a smile. He
was tall, dark and about twenty-four, with curly hair,
pleasant brown eyes and a relaxed air.
“Jean-Paul,” said Marc, “come and meet my sister’s
friends.”
Pallas sat like a frozen statue, staring at her feet. The
newcomer glanced at her, then at her brother, his brown
eyes enquiring.
Marc said Kate and Sam’s names. “This is Jean-Paul
Filbert,” he told them, “a cousin of ours.”
He smiled at them, but his eyes rested longest on
Sam, with curiosity and intentness. Sam was rather red,
Kate saw. She wondered, suddenly, if this could be the
man Pallas had told her about—the man Marc intended
her to marry when she left college. Surely not? she
thought. He’s much older than Pallas. But she knew
that, even these days, arranged marriages were common
enough in Greece. And families always liked to keep
their money in safe hands.
“Marc darling,” drawled Marie-Louise, “give me a
cigarette. I’ve run out.”
He brought out his cigarette case and held it out to
her. She took one and put it into her bright red mouth.
Marc flicked open his cigarette lighter and held it to her
cigarette, bending down. She took his hand in hers and
held it steady, gazing up at him with provocative eyes.
“Thanks, angel,” she murmured, leaning back. Marc
straightened. “Now you must excuse me. I am expecting
a phone call from New York.”
“Angel, you’ll kill yourself,” complained Marie-Louise.
“Work and no play, you know. You don’t want to be a dull
boy, do you?” Her lashes flickered teasingly. “Why don’t
you relax and enjoy life?”
“I cannot afford to,” he said, lifting his shoulders in a
shrug. “Money, like children, needs constant attention.”
“But so do I, my darling,” she said, opening her eyes
wide. “I am going to compete like mad, Marc. Business
must be prepared for a battle.”
“With me as the prize?” he asked lightly, grinning.
“Of course!” she said softly, “and a very valuable one. I
will not share your attention with anything, especially
not a telephone!”
Marc laughed. As he walked towards the door he
passed Kate. Their eyes met. Hers were deliberately
blank. He gave her a mocking, derisive flicker of a smile.
She understood what he meant without needing it put
into words. That is how a feminine woman behaves, he
was telling her. That is how a man wants his woman—
flirtatious, flattering, attentive.
Mrs. Lillitos rose soon after Marc had gone, and said
that she was going to her room to rest.
“I will come with you, Maman,” said Helene, slipping
an arm around her. “We have so much to talk about, you
and I.”
Marie-Louise yawned. “I might as well have a nap
myself. If Marc is going to be boring, I might as well not
have come.”
Sam and Pallas stood up, too, as Mrs. Lillitos walked
slowly out of the room. Pallas said, “A game of tennis,
Sam?” and Sam nodded.
Kate was taken back to find herself thus left alone
with Jean-Paul.
“You are also going to sleep?” he asked her, as she rose
instinctively.
She shook her head, smiling. “I think I’ll take a stroll
in the garden. I’ve been ill for a few days and I need the
fresh air ”
“May I come, too?” he asked, head to one side,
scrutinising her.
“Why not?” she returned politely, and they went out
into the garden.
They walked beneath an arched trellis, hanging with
vines, out on to the lawn. The cypress trees and flower
beds gave a quiet grace to the little garden, which was
framed in a close-set hedge.
“Tell me about yourself,” said Jean-Paul. “A
schoolteacher, Marc said—how did you come to meet
him?”
“I teach Pallas,” she explained. “I teach music at her
school, Cheddall.”
He shot her a sidelong look. “Ah, yes, Pallas. And do
you get on with her?”
“Very well,” Kate said. “That’s why I am here.”
“And ... the young man? He is your brother? Is that
why he is here? Because of Pallas?”
“They’re friends,” she said carefully.
Jean-Paul lit a cigarette, after offering them to her.
For a while he smoked in silence. Then he said, “Pallas
thinks herself in love with him, perhaps?” His tone was
diffident, almost embarrassed.
She shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. I don’t have her
confidence in this matter.”
He looked sharply at her. Kate met his gaze directly
and frankly.
He sighed. “I see. But perhaps you have your
brother’s?”
“No,” said Kate firmly, “I’ve never discussed her with
Sam. After all, it’s a very private subject.”
He laughed incredulously. “Love is never private,
Miss Caulfield. It is, above all else, a family matter. That
is why, as soon as I knew I loved Pallas, I spoke to her
brother upon the subject.”
She came to a halt and stared at him, with total
disbelief. “You love Pallas? But she’s only sixteen; years
younger than you. Almost a child, still.”
“She will be seventeen in two months,” he said. “My
mother was married when she was sixteen. I was born
when she was seventeen.”
“You are Marie-Louise’s brother, though, aren’t you?”
she asked, puzzled. She had been sure Marie-Louise was
older than him.
“I am her half-brother,” he said. “My mother was
Greek, a Lillitos. Her mother was French. Marie-Louise
is five years older than me.”
“Oh.” Kate considered the information for a moment,
then went back to Pallas. “Does Pallas know you love
her?”
“She knows I wish to marry her,” he said quietly. “I
have not, of course, approached her alone. It would not
be fitting.”
Kate almost reeled with hilarious incredulity. “I can’t
believe it!” she exclaimed. “You talk like a Victorian
novel!”
He flushed. “You are laughing at me,” he said.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. No wonder Pallas was
so awkward when you arrived!”
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, �
�You think
she does not like me? Finds me unattractive?”
She looked at him, embarrassed, and saw the hurt
look in his brown eyes., “Look,” she said frankly, “Pallas
is a modern girl. She doesn’t want to be married off like
a prize cow. She wants to ...” she gestured vaguely, “live
her own life.”
“And I am not part of the life she wants?” he asked
quietly.
“How do I know? How does she know, when she’s
never given the chance to choose freely? Perhaps you
may be the man for her. But if you marry her against
her will you’ll never know if you are.”
“I see,” he said slowly. “You think I should back out
now? Tell Marc I have changed my mind?”
“I shouldn’t really advise you,” she said. “You may
think me prejudiced on my brother’s behalf. To be
honest, I don’t believe that he and Pallas are in love. I
don’t believe they will ever be in love. But I think that if
Pallas feels under pressure from you and Marc, she may
convince herself she does love Sam, and that will be a
disaster for everybody, including my brother, because I
think Sam is the wrong man for Pallas. They’re good
friends, but they are too far apart for anything more
intimate.”
“O wise young judge,” he said gently, taking her hand
between both his and kissing it. “Thank you. I will speak
to Marc tonight.”
“And make sure he passes the word to Pallas,” she
said. “Insist on that being done immediately. Marc is
capable of playing it by ear, and that might push Pallas
too far.”
He nodded. “I will be firm with him. And I am grateful
to you for your advice. Several things Marc had said to
me in his letters had made me suspicious of some other
intervention. I was not surprised to see a young man
here.”
“Marc didn’t tell you?”
“He never mentioned Sam to me,” he said. Then, by
common consent, they dropped the subject, and walked
round, talking of the weather, Kate’s sunburn, the world
situation and other very natural subjects.
Dinner that evening was a far more lively occasion.
The two new arrivals, Helene and Marie-Louise, talked
to Marc throughout the meal, ignoring everybody else.
Pallas and Sam ate silently, and Jean-Paul devoted
himself to Kate.
Their frank discussion had left them on a compara-
tively intimate level of friendship. He had discovered a