by Anne Weale
Before he could reply, Cathy touched his arm, and introduced Bernard to him. But Lucia had the satisfaction of knowing that her saccharine manner had momentarily shaken his urbanity. Not much, perhaps, but enough to make him lift that mobile left eyebrow.
As the two men shook hands, she noticed with surprise that Bernard appeared to wince. Although he had large hands, his clasp was rather a limp one. It was among several admittedly trivial reasons why Lucia knew she could never fall in love with him. Two others were that his nails were not always perfectly clean, and he kept his change in a purse.
One small point in Nicholas Curzon's favour was that, on the three previous occasions when they had met, his nails had always been spotless. But she would not have suspected, from looking at his thin, brown fingers, that his grip would make Bernard flinch.
Cathy smiled at her sister. "You don't mind if we join you, do you?"
"Not in the least," said Lucia amiably. "But I thought you didn't like Chinese food?"
For an instant, Cathy looked uncomfortable. Then she said, "Well, Nico does, and you've always said this place was particularly good."
"We think so - yes," said Lucia, glancing at Bernard. "But we're not connoisseurs, as Mr. Curzon may be." She gave him an innocent look. "I do hope you won't be disappointed, Mr. Curzon. It's a long way to come for a meal when there are several good Chinese restaurants in the West End."
Cathy sat down next to her sister, and Nicholas sat beside Bernard.
"Yes, there are indeed," he agreed smoothly. "But I have often found that the less pretentious restaurants in the suburbs serve better food than one gets at the better-known places. Now—" starting to study the menu, "what would you recommend?"
Lucia left it to Bernard to advise him on the Soo Chow's specialities. She was in no doubt that he and Cathy had come here deliberately. The question was - why? And the answer seemed fairly obvious.
All through the meal she waited for Nicholas to bring up the subject of Greece. But even when Bernard happened to mention Easter, he did not take advantage of this opening.
It was Cathy who invited the men to come in for coffee, after Nicholas had driven them back to Montrose in his Lancia.
"Isn't it rather late?" Bernard demurred. Had they been alone, he and Lucia would have said goodnight by half past eleven. Now it was almost midnight.
"Oh, nonsense - it's barely twelve, and none of us has to work tomorrow." Cathy led the way into the house. "Shall I make the coffee, Lucia?"
"No, I'll do it," Lucia said hastily. "We'll have it in the study. Would you get the electric fire from the drawing- room, please, Bernard? I don't want to light the coal fire just for half an hour or so."
"Certainly." Bernard disappeared into the drawing- room, leaving Nicholas helping Cathy to take off her coat.
Alone in the kitchen, Lucia sagged for a moment. Putting on an act was easier than she had thought - for a short period. But a whole evening of pretence was a strain. In order to prolong her respite, she decided to make proper coffee instead of the instant kind. She had bought some fresh beans during the week and, although she had no cream in the house, there was a spare pint of Jersey milk in the pantry.
She was pouring the beans into the top of the wooden hand-grinder, when the door opened and Nicholas walked in.
"Can I help you with anything, Miss Gresham?"
She managed to mask her dismay. "I don't think so, thank you, Mr. Curzon." She began to turn the handle.
"That looks hard work. Let me do it for you." He strolled round the scrubbed kitchen table, and held out his hand for the grinder.
Reluctantly, Lucia surrendered it. Now she wished she was making instant coffee.
"It's been a very pleasant evening. We must make up a foursome again some time," he said, in his blandest voice. The handle, so stiff for Lucia, went round with ease in his grip.
"Yes, it has been fun," she agreed, with smooth insincerity.
He would have to do better than that if he wanted to ruffle her.
"You aren't wearing a ring, I notice," he said. "But I gather it may not be long before you do announce your engagement."
This did shake her. "My engagement?" she repeated, staring at him. "What on earth gave you that idea?"
His black brows lifted a fraction. "Perhaps I have misread the matter - or perhaps you wish to keep it sub rosa for the present. In that case, I beg your pardon. It wasn't my intention to embarrass you."
"Not much!" thought Lucia succinctly. Aloud, she said, "Did Cathy tell you I might be getting engaged?"
"No, no - she hasn't been indiscreet. But she did mention that you and Fisher have been close friends for some time. It was entirely my own assumption that you had, as they say, an understanding with him."
"I see," said Lucia, thinking fast. Had he really made such an assumption? Or was this a new ploy?
"I daresay you don't believe in friendship between men and women," she went on lightly. "But that is all there is between Bernard and me. There's no question of an engagement."
"Perhaps not on your side, Miss Gresham. But can you be sure of Fisher's feelings? He must be an odd sort of chap if he doesn't find you attractive."
Lucia could control her voice and her expression. She could not prevent herself blushing. However, in spite of her heightened colour, she managed to hold his regard.
"But I'm sure you would be the first to agree that being attracted to someone is not the same as wanting to spend one's whole life with them," she replied, in a level tone.
She could tell by the quirk of his mouth that he had not missed the delicate emphasis.
"How true," he agreed, with a twinkle. "Indeed it's even possible to be attracted to someone whom, in other respects, one dislikes."
Was he implying - again! - that she was attracted to him? Inwardly, Lucia bristled. But this time she did not allow her indignation to show.
"It may happen to very young, susceptible people," she said, rather pleased with her casualness. "But I doubt if superficial charm makes much impression on older ones. They see that it's superficial."
He removed the drawer from the grinder, and passed it across to her. "And you, I imagine, were never susceptible - not even in your salad days," he mocked gently.
Lucia tipped the ground coffee from the drawer. Was there nothing which would pierce his arrogance? Did he really believe that no woman alive could fail to respond to his magnetism?
"I wonder what he would do if I pretended to be charmed?" she thought. "Even he might turn tail if he thought we were both trying to catch him. No, I don't believe he would. It would only amuse him - confound him!"
"Then it's not because of Fisher that you don't wish to come to Greece for Easter?" he said, as she screwed the filter into the espresso pot.
"Aha?" she thought. "So we've finally come to the point, have we?"
Aloud, she replied, "Oh, no, it has nothing to do with Bernard."
"In that case, perhaps I can persuade you to change your mind. Cathy has told you, I believe, that you and she would not be my only guests?"
"Yes, she said it was to be a house party."
"Well, then what could be more comme il faut?" he asked, with a smile. "Even you will admit there is safety in numbers, Miss Gresham."
"That depends on the numbers," she said, with a touch of asperity.
He laughed. "And you suspect that my friends may be even more decadent than I am? You are quite wrong, I promise you. My other guests are all of unimpeachable probity. Cathy may find them rather dull. But you should like them very much." He paused to light a cigarette. "I may not speak your language," he added provokingly. "But my three other English guests will be right on your wavelength."
This deliberate reminder of their conversation in the study made Lucia's cheeks warm again. Turning away to fetch out the best china cups, she said, "Where exactly is your place in Greece?"
"It's on a small island called Marina. One gets there by steamer from Piraeus. If you decide to
come, I'll meet you off the plane and take you there. Without a smattering of Greek, you might find yourselves at sea in both senses. A first journey abroad is always a little confusing."
He waited for her to say something and, when she did not, he went on, "I have a particular reason for wanting you to come, Miss Gresham."
Glancing at him, she saw that, for the first time in their acquaintance, his expression was wholly serious. He looked, she thought, almost stern.
"What reason, Mr. Curzon?" she asked.
A smile changed the set of his mouth, and lit up his eyes. "It would be premature to make a formal declaration of intent at this point," he said lightly. "But perhaps it would reassure you if I said that, since our first meeting, I have - let's say - changed my tune."
"You mean—" She stopped, her throat tight.
"I mean that, from now on, your sister's reputation will be as safe with me as it is with 'the worthy Bernard'," he said, quoting Cathy.
"I see," she murmured, in a low voice.
There was a pause. Nicholas smoked, and watched her. Lucia arranged the blue and white cups on a tray, and tried to put into order her conflicting reactions.
"Far from being reassured, you seem to be even more worried," he remarked ironically. "You don't believe me, I gather?"
"Yes ... I think I believe you," she said, with a troubled glance at him. "It's just that I don't—"
"Well, we can't go into that now," he intervened quickly. "The coffee is about to boil over."
"Oh, goodness!" She hastened to turn off the gas.
When the tray was ready, he picked it up and took it to the door. But, as Lucia opened it for him, he did not at once pass through into the hall.
"Have I succeeded in changing your mind? Will you come to Marina next month?" he asked her.
She avoided his eyes. "It seems I must," she said hollowly. "Very well, Mr. Curzon, I'll come."
"In that case, you had better start calling me Nicholas. May I use your first name now?"
"If you wish."
"Good - that's settled." He took a pace forward, then halted again. "Oh, by the way, I think you are very wise to keep Fisher at arm's length. He may be an excellent friend, but as a lover - not your style at all."
In the following fortnight, Cathy's initial delight at her sister's capitulation was tempered by the gradual discovery that a change had come over the elder girl.
Lucia had given way on the most important issue, but she was not to be budged on the smaller ones-such as how much Cathy could spend on clothes for their holiday.
By the time they came to grips on this subject, Lucia had had the French bureau expertly valued. The representatives of the two firms she consulted both assured her, that, if put up for auction, the bureau was certain to fetch at least five hundred pounds. This being so, it seemed to Cathy that they could afford to splurge a little.
Lucia, however, had other ideas. "No, we'll spend what we have in the bank, and perhaps it may not be necessary to sell the bureau after all," she said, very firmly. "When we come back, I'll see if I can get the bank manager to lend me the money for having the house painted. He probably won't, but I'll approach him."
"When we come back, I may be engaged," said Cathy. "Then money won't matter any more. I do think you're being mean, Lucia. You know everything depends on this holiday. I can't go to Greece in what I have. You can bet your life the other guests will look stunning. I want to look even more stunning."
But although she had usually been able to get what she wanted in the past, this time her sister was adamant.
"You can spend fifty pounds," she said decisively. "What you wear won't influence Nicholas. If he means to marry you, he will. If he doesn't, your clothes won't make any difference."
"Fifty pounds? That's nothing these days. What can I get for fifty pounds?"
"You already have plenty of pants and tops, and a couple of swimsuits."
"They're last year's styles. Everything is different this year," Cathy objected. "How much are you going to spend?"
"A hundred pounds," Lucia said calmly.
"What! Twice as much as me? Why should you have the lion's share?"
"Because your wardrobe is packed with clothes, and you're pretty enough to look nice whatever you wear. I'm not pretty, and my cupboard is practically empty."
"But you wouldn't be going at all if it weren't for me. You've no right to spend more than I do. It isn't fair!"
"Oh, don't be so childish, Cathy," Lucia said sharply. "You don't think I want to go, do you? I'm sure to hate every minute of it. But if I've got to spend two weeks in an intolerable situation, I think I'm entitled to a few presentable clothes."
A few days before the end of term, she came home from school to find the telephone ringing. Rather breathlessly, for she had sprinted the last hundred yards to avoid being caught in a downpour, she lifted the receiver and gave their number.
"Lucia?"
"Yes - speaking. Who is that?" At first, she did not recognize the voice at the other end of the line.
"It's Nichols here."
"Oh . . . hello." She sat down on the edge of the rug chest, and began to untie her headscarf.
"You don't sound very pleased to hear me. Am I calling at an inconvenient moment?"
"No, not particularly. I've just arrived home from school. What can I do for you?"
"I wondered if there was anything I could do for you? I •gather from Cathy that you have all the arrangements in hand, but I thought I'd just check with you."
"There wasn't much to arrange. Everything is fixed, I think, thanks. When are you leaving for Greece?"
"Tomorrow," he told her. "All being well, I'll see you at Hellenikon Airport in the early hours of Thursday morning." She heard a low laugh. "Now that you've had time to get used to the idea, are you feeling a little more enthusiastic about it?"
"It will be nice to see a blue sky for a change," she said, in an expressionless voice.
"Is that all you're looking forward to?" It might have been a trick of the connection, but all at once, his voice sounded as close as if he were standing beside her in the hall. His tone was subtly different too-deeper, oddly disturbing.
She swallowed. "I shall enjoy swimming."
"Good weather and swimming? Surely you hope for more than that?"
"I don't think I follow you."
"Most girls go on holiday hoping to meet a man, don't they? Are you so different from the rest of your sex?"
Lucia did not answer. Since she could think of nothing crushing, it seemed best to keep silent.
"I don't think you know," his voice said, close to her ear. "I think, at Marina, you may find that the real Lucia is quite different from Miss Gresham, the rather prim schoolmistress."
"Well, if I do, it won't be through you," she retorted rashly. The moment the hasty words were out, she could not think what had possessed her to say such a thing. Her cheeks burned with mortification.
"Now that's a curious remark," he said, after a pause. "I have to ring off now, so you can explain it to me when we meet. See you in Athens. Goodbye."
The spring term ended on the Wednesday before Easter, and Cathy had persuaded the Maybury Hotel management to let her start her holiday on that day, instead of the customary Saturday. Had they not agreed to this arrangement, she had intended to give in her notice.
"I can easily get another job," she had said confidently, when Lucia objected to her taking such a drastic step. "Anyway, I probably shan't need one."
There seemed no doubt in her mind that she was going to return to London with a costly engagement ring on her finger.
By the time Cathy reached home on Wednesday evening, Lucia had done all but the last-moment packing for them both. The younger girl had only to have supper, and a bath, and find room for her toilet things.
The night flight to Athens took off at a quarter to eleven, and Peter was running them to the Air Terminal in his Mini. After Lucia had washed the supper dishes, and doub
le-checked that all the ground floor windows were securely latched, she changed and went upstairs to spend the remaining time with Janet.
"Oh, you do look nice," her friend said warmly, when she saw her in her new clothes.
"You don't think this colour is too bright for me?" Lucia asked doubtfully.
For, in the past, she had always stuck to safe, serviceable colours like grey, and camel, and navy. But the lightweight coat and matching skirt in which she was going to travel were a vivid flamingo pink. Her turtle-necked silk-knit sweater was a lighter tone of the same colour.
"Certainly not! You look super," Janet assured her.
"Well, it's made of Courtelle, so it isn't too impractical. But I can't help feeling I ought to have had the navy version."
Peter came into the room, and stopped short in mock- stupefaction. But he wasn't teasing as he said, "My word! You look smashing, Lucia. I've never seen you so smart."
"Really?" Her face lit up. Peter was the type of man who seldom noticed what his wife wore, let alone the clothes of other women. Praise from him was praise indeed.
Presently, Cathy joined them. She had not seen Lucia's pink outfit, and her eyebrows went up at the sight of it.
"Goodness, what a bright colour," she remarked, with a critical look.
"Yes, and doesn't it suit her?" put in Janet.
"Mm... it's quite nice," Cathy said tepidly.
Janet could have slapped her. But Lucia knew that her sister was still sulking about not being able to spend as much as she had wished. So it was hardly to be expected that Cathy would enthuse about the things Lucia had bought with her larger allowance.
At last it was time to go.
"Goodbye. Have a lovely time," said Janet, giving Lucia a hug.
"Well, I'll try," said Lucia, with a wry expression.
Yet, in spite of many misgivings about the purpose and outcome of the holiday, she could not help feeling a thrill of excitement at the thought that, in a few hours, she would be in a foreign and beautiful country. To travel had been her dream for so long that she could hardly believe it was really happening at last.