`My hair—I like it tied back. I can't bear it against my face when I'm sleeping,' she said almost in a gabble, 'but I don't think I could manage—if you could—' she held out the streamer of new white and silver gauze ribbon she'd bought for this purpose '—it goes over like a band and underneath at the back, then ties it all together in a bow.' She sensed his uncertainty and added hastily : `Anyhow'll do—as long as it's out of the way so that I can wash and—'
'Keep your head up.' With the same grave care he gave to the measurements of a plan he smoothed the soft amber strands back from her brow, laid the ribbon in place and followed her instructions. Momentarily his movements checked, made an adjustment that pulled a bit, and ceased. 'Not a very successful bow, I'm afraid, but I can guarantee that the knot won't come undone.'
Suddenly she felt his touch again and the tress of hair was lifted gently. His mouth brushed the nape of her neck and she held her breath, then he said lightly : 'Next problem?'
`Bathroom.' She grabbed her toilet case. 'But please ... I've got to learn to cope ... it's not that I don't want ... but you'll—'
`Don't spoil my handiwork on that hair-do,' was all he said, moving away with apparent disinterest.
With a sigh of relief she escaped. Even if a full-scale soak with all the trimmings took all night to achieve, even if scaled down to a dabble in two inches of water for fear she got the plaster wet, she wasn't yet ready for the breaching of that chasm of intimacy which Quinn's aid would entail.
When she finally returned to the bedroom she was almost inclined to take the easiest line of resistance and join the
unwashed for the next few weeks. Perhaps her expression told a great deal, for Quinn made no comment as he departed for his own shower.
The room seemed very quiet and suddenly oppressive once she was alone. She went to the wide windows and experimented with the blinds. The slats slid closed, then open, and finally flew upwards, and she found her way out on to a narrow balcony. There was the light outline of the balustrade showing in the spill of light from the room, and pale shapes of a table and two chairs. Undefined greenery trailed from hanging baskets above the divisions between the neighbouring balconies on each side, and there were soft fallen petals on the rail when she leaned on it and stared out at the darkened scene.
Her eyes becoming accustomed to the dark, she tried to perceive her surroundings. There was a faint radiance immediately below, showing the outline of a terrace and further away the deeper shadows of trees and shrubs. Beyond, to her right, were distant irregular patterns of pinpoints which must be the lights of the town itself, and to her left a dark stillness of indigo. There was no moon. She wondered if the dark stillness was the sea : he had said he had stipulated a room overlooking the sea. She sighed; no doubt they would discover the roof garden, the terraces, the arbors and the pool, and the various amenities portrayed glowingly in the brochures over which they had pored weeks ago.
She was about to turn away when the drifts of music were born in snatches on a quickening breeze. Unseen feet pattered along the terrace beneath and a girl's laughter came lightly, then was stilled. Somewhere, night gaiety was in full swing: people were dancing, drinking, laughing, making love ...
`So this is where you are.'
There was a rustle of silk as he brushed past her and stood at her side, resting his hands lightly on the rail. She could smell the tang of the toiletries he had used and tensed slightly, knowing he must expect some gesture from her and for the moment unable to venture one. She said tentatively : `They're dancing somewhere. I keep hearing the music faintly.'
`Did you want to go dancing tonight?'
`Not really. Perhaps if I hadn't ...' She let the words trail into silence and stared uncertainly out into the night.
He did not make any response. She felt the silkiness of his robe brush her shoulder and the warmth of his arm through the thin material, and she moved slightly, not to break the contact but because she could not maintain immobility and silence an instant longer. As though her movement were the cue he awaited he spoke, without gesture, and the sigh of his breath was quite audible.
'Shelley, I'd better tell you now ... I'm not going to make love to you. Not tonight, or for a while.'
`Aren't you?' she managed, after an agonised pause. 'Because of—because of this?'
Because of that.' He moved then, turning her towards him and looking directly into her wide eyes instead of at the barrier she was beginning to loathe more than ever.
Incoherent reactions came immediately, a sense of something guiltily like relief warring with a surge of despair and disappointment. Feverish thoughts clamoured in her brain, that he also must be experiencing disappointment, impatience, annoyance, or worse, even boredom behind the façade of courtesy which was second nature to him. Or—she caught her breath in an anguished murmur—did he see it as an infirmity that roused distaste in him, that killed any desire he might have for her? She whispered : 'I understand. It's not very nice—in fact, it's repulsive !'
`No, darling, it isn't.' An exclamation escaped him. 'Shelley, you're not imagining that because ...? I can't let you harbour that impression.' His hands gentle on her shoulders, he regarded her with grave eyes. 'Listen; forty-eight hours ago you crashed headlong down a full flight of stairs, you've spent a night in hospital after a general anaesthetic, and you've had the strain and excitement of a full-scale wedding with the hectic last-minute rush which seems an inescapable part of any wedding. I know youth is resilient, but it isn't completely invulnerable.'
He hesitated, and looked past her into the darkness, his hands sliding free till they dropped to his side. He said
flatly : 'I could make love to you, in spite of that missing chunk of the de Milo that seems to have found you, but I doubt if it would bring you the joy I hope to give you eventually. I don't expect you to understand that now, but later I think you will, and when that time comes I don't think you'll regret my being wise, for both of us.'
For a long time she was silent, then she looked down. `I—I wanted everything to be perfect, for you, I mean,' she said in a choked whisper, 'even if—if it wasn't perfect for me, because I—'
`I know.' He checked her with a small shake and drew her in the curve of his arm. 'If I can be patient then you can.' Firmly he turned her away from the night and led her unresistingly to her turned-down bed. When she had climbed in he drew the covers over her and said softly : 'I want both your arms round me, Shelley, and nothing else will do.'
The curve of his mouth rueful, he bent over her and kissed her without passion, and she clung wordlessly to him until he slowly straightened.
She had never loved him so much as at that moment.
The sheer sun-bathed beauty of the Island of Roses drove the troubled frown from Shelley's brow next morning and brought a sigh of delight to her lips. Rhodes was beautiful; as beautiful as she'd been assured it was, and suddenly she could not wait to be running along that golden shimmering beach that stretched invitingly beyond the hotel grounds and opening her arms as though she could embrace the incredible blue glory of the crystal sea.
Something of her normal impetuosity glowed in her that first morning as indecision gripped her ; she wanted the sea and the shore, and the fascination of the historic mediaeval town, and the beckoning beauty of the countryside all at once.
`We've got two weeks, you know,' Quinn said indulgently after lunch when the discussion on the afternoon's outing reached deadlock. 'I think we should explore the old town at night when it's cooler and sample the pool this afternoon.'
What, with all that sea out there? Besides, I can't,' her
face sobered, 'I can't get the plaster wet.'
`I've thought of that,' he said calmly. 'I've got a strong polythene bag to put over it, so you could at least play about in the shallow end or sit on the edge and start getting that sun-tan you wanted.'
She looked doubtful, immediately conscious of the difficulties involved in dressing and undressing and unabl
e to voice to him just exactly where the heart of this difficulty lay; she could see the wisdom of his decision last night and was prepared to abide by it, and she could not help but reflect that the certain intimate help that donning a bikini would entail was not going to strengthen that decision. Unless ... what if his feelings for her were less affectionate than hers for him? Supposing that she didn't attract him after all! She had joyously assumed that because he had asked her to marry him he would want to share every facet of the man-woman relationship; laughter and sorrow—when it came—joy and companionship, and love. What was it Bruno had once said? The guy doesn't play with little girls. And it was impossible to ignore that fact, that at times Quinn's attitude had been just that : the indulgence of a man to a girl who to him was not yet quite a woman. But why had he married her, if he ... ? The thought didn't bear thinking of; she was being silly and childish if she allowed it rein. She had to believe in him and keep her trust.
He had gone in to change and for a moment of indecision she was tempted to follow him, do anything to fulfil that trust, then she saw his tall figure threading its way among the tables on the terrace and stayed where she was until he reached her side. Silently she accepted his outstretched hand and strolled across the beautifully landscaped garden to the swimming pool.
He left her ensconced in a lounger under a big yellow sun umbrella and took a confident header into the pool. The sun glimmered on the water and the air was alive with the happy laughter of the holidaymakers who swam or fooled or merely looked decorative, and Shelley felt a tremor of sadness. It was so cool, so inviting, the longing to be in, her body bare to the golden rays, was almost overwhelming.
Several people glanced at her, one or two gave her friendly and sympathetic smiles, and a tall, statuesque Nordic beauty with a tan like rich gold oiled silk paused, as though she would like to make offers of friendship, then contented herself with a friendly little nod and went to rejoin a group of equally healthy and vital young companions. Shelley sighed, trying not to feel sorry for herself, then a long shadow cut across her and a laughing voice cried: 'Hey there! All on your own?'
The speaker dropped down on the lawn and shaded her eyes against the dazzle. She eyed Shelley with open friendliness and her accents left no doubt as to the place of her homeland as she said: 'I'm Cara Martin—we just got in this morning. You're British, aren't you?'
Shelley nodded and introduced herself, and the American girl laughed. 'I guessed so. That skin! You Britishers are the only folk in the world with that kinda complexion. But you mustn't mind me. I'm always crashing in, but I thought you looked a bit lonesome so I thought I'd just say hello.' Inevitably her glance fell to the sling. 'Auto bust-up?'
Shelley explained briefly, and Cara looked across the pool, picking out the dark head that was Quinn and saying with unabashed admiration: 'Say, he's sure a looker! What a shame!' Cara hesitated, her blue eyes compassionate. But I guess you're wise not to try to tag along all the way. My kid sister broke her leg last fall—had to have a graft—and she just hid herself away. I guess it kinda cramps your style, doesn't it? Specially in a bikini.'
A sudden shout made her turn her head and she scrambled up. 'I guess that's for me. We're off to see those famous butterflies. But do come and join us for a drink tonight—we'll be here for a couple of days before we move on to Istanbul.'
Another friendly smile and she had gone, and Shelley settled back, warmed by the small encounter. But at least it had decided one wavering point : not for anything would she risk looking a right charlie in a bikini and have people looking sorry for her. It was bad enough as it was!
They bumped into Cara and her companions later that
evening and adjourned to a taverna overlooking the harbour, where they drank rather misleadingly light Rhodian wine and sat on, watching the blue deepen until it merged in the rim of the sea. It was a pleasant, relaxing pastime, listening to the medley of tongues and haunting traditional lyrics of a boy with burning dark eyes and the patina of sea and sun burnishing the slender hand plucking the strings of the guitar-like instrument across his knee.
Afterwards they rambled up and down the ancient cobbled streets, under the soft romantic glow of the wrought iron lamps that touched the old stone houses of the Knights with a magic that was ageless.
Each corner and turn brought some new discovery to exclaim over, and Shelley slowly began to accept that the fascination of exploration could almost compensate for the sadness of a honeymoon that had become a holiday, albeit a wonderful one, but still ...
The following day Quinn hired a car for the rest of their stay. In leisurely mood, his quiet yet lighthearted attitude unchanging towards her, he drove over the island. Up into the mountain village of Asklipion, remote in atmosphere if not distance from the more cosmopolitan capital, where the smoke rose lazily from woodfires and the men tended the fields, and the taverna keeper's welcome held the warm hospitality of the true Greek countryman that is characteristic of his race and none the less in evidence far from the regular tourist haunts, then down into the valley, following the winding tarmac wherever it led. He took her to the valley of the butterflies, shared her wonder at the living hovering clouds of scarlet and orange, but smiled when she mentioned Lindos.
'I'm keeping that in reserve,' he remarked, walking back to the car. 'At the moment I'm looking for something else.'
He did not elaborate further, and after several stops during which he silently surveyed the numerous small coves and beaches dotted round the coastline she still did not know what he was seeking. Then quite early the next morning she found out.
A hamper and his bag went into the car, and a slight smile
played round his mouth as he drove with rather more speed than usual along the coast road until there was no sign of habitation and the only sign of life a meandering group of goats, their bells making a soft, tingling music in the hot golden air. He stopped the car on a rough track overlooking a small shallow bay ringed by a gently rising incline and led the way down to a lonely beach lapped by creamy-edged ripples.
`Sun-ray treatment,' he said without preamble. 'I refuse to take home a bride who looks like Snow White and looks as though I'd taken her to the far north for her honeymoon instead the heart of the Mediterranean.' He was unpacking the bag as he spoke, spreading out a large beach towel and produced a bottle of Ambre Solaire. Lastly he dropped the minute swimwear on the towel and turned to her.
`Darling, there's not a soul to see you and look as though they were saying, "poor little soul", except me, so stop being shy and enjoy yourself.' She hesitated, and he said lightly : 'I have seen girls before, you know, and I'm not going to indulge in wolf whistles, if that's what's worrying you.'
'It isn't,' she said simply.
`Then why should you worry?' he said quietly.
Afterwards, she wondered why she had worried, or doubted his ability to make his calm, practical assistance the most natural thing in the world. It was sheer bliss to lie on the sunbaked sand, feel the cool breeze from the sea temper the sun's heat on her body, to wade and splash in the warm silken blue, to laze again and soak up that wonderful sun.
The discovery of the special beach laid the pattern for the rest of that week. Quinn betrayed no inclination for whooping it up in town or further trailing round the usual tourist haunts and antiquities. He seemed content to laze in the sun, sometimes reading, sometimes strolling along to scramble among the crags at the end of the bay in search of marine-life. He was a strong swimmer, but she would watch anxiously to keep his dark head in sight, unconscious of the small sigh that escaped her when eventually he would lope up the sand to her and throw himself down, saying: 'It's your turn to make yourself useful,' and she would towel his back dry
and rub in a fresh coating of oil to add to the deepening bronze he was acquiring. She no longer tried to evade his gaze when she needed his help to wriggle out of her swim things and into her clothes. A new acceptance had come to her and for the moment she was content.
It might have stayed that way, but for two things she couldn't possible have foreseen.
The second last day was given over to Lindos.
They left after lunch and took the hour-long drive leisurely, keeping a fair distance behind a small white Fiat which also seemed bound for the same destination. When they reached the approach to the Homeric city the white Fiat was parked and the boy and girl were getting out, the usual clobber of tote bags and cameras tangling their arms, but somehow they found free arms to entwine about each other's waists and they strolled beachwards.
Shelley noticed the same couple again while she hovered by a quaint little shop that sold herbs and spices and sweetmeats and glass jars holding strange herblike grains. The boy and girl were looking at embroidered shawls that were displayed outside one of the dazzling white cottages further down the narrow cobbled street. The girl was shaking her head and the boy was persuading, and finally the boy spoke to the old woman, there was some gesticulation, agreement and then the boy laughingly draped the shawl about the girl's shoulders and they moved slowly away.
`Do you want one of those?' Quinn said behind her.
No, I don't think so, but I want to buy something for you,' she said.
She moved on, doubtful of pottery and hand-woven lengths in bright greens and reds and blues, and looked at the Cretan sweaters. At her enquiring glance he shook his head. `We have to remember packing space,' he reminded her, `we've already acquired a few oddments.' He saw her disappointment and added, 'I'll choose some small memento before we leave, if you must buy me something. In the meantime ...' He moved purposefully back to a tiny, almost hidden shop, so dark was it in the shadows, and said firmly : But you're going to have one of those embroidered
blouses.'
A pleasant ten minutes passed in the choosing of it, and Shelley came back to the realisation of the afternoon almost past and they had not yet seen the Acropolis. But Quinn had other plans.
Miss Columbine and Harley Quinn Page 14