by Anne Hampson
ANNE HAMPSON
dear stranger
Shara couldn't blame her foster-brother Carl for having had nothing to do with her for years; his parents, after all, had virtually rejected him for her. But now he had come back into her life, prepared to be friends. Friends? It had never been as a friend that Shara had thought of Carl;
she had never even thought of him as a brother...
Carl turned slowly, his face grave and also troubled.
"You wanted me -- really wanted a brother?"
She lowered her lashes, speaking In the same whisper tones.
"Yes, Carl. At that time I did want to be close -- just as a brother and sister should. Later -- and I wasn't really very old before
I did begin to notice -- I tried to let you see how much I was hurt by it all--"
"Hurt?" with a sudden sharp edge to his voice. "You felt pity for me?"
Why hadn't she been a little more guarded?
"Carl... don't misunderstand me. When I say I needed you I mean it."
CHAPTER ONE In the brightly-lit village hall at Brackhurst half the population of the tiny hamlet were celebrating the golden wedding of Colin’s grandparents. Every window was wide open, for the early April evening was unusually warm and soft, the air intoxicatingly perfumed by the night-scented stocks bordering the lawns which fronted the long low building.
Colin and Shara had left the dancers and were on the verandah, seated at a round-table on which stood their drinks, brought to them a moment ago by one of the white-coated
waiters hired for the occasion.
‘Fifty years married.’ Colin shook his head. ‘Do you suppose they’ve been blissfully happy all that time?’ Shara’s grey eyes gleamed with amusement.
‘Now what sort of an answer do you expect me to make to that? You know I’m not a romantic.’
He looked at her, hard and long.
‘Not a romantic, eh? The career girl personified. Selfassured, independent—’ He spoke lightly and with a shade of amusement in his voice. ‘You and I shall marry in the end, Shara.’
‘Think so?’ Stretching out a hand, she idly touched the stein of her glass. ‘I wonder?’
‘One of these days we’re both going to discover we’re human, and no different from the rest.’
‘And become all sentimental over marriage and babies and domesticity?’ Laughing, she turned her head. The soft flow of light from the room behind brought into relief the delicacy of her skin and the firm contours of her face. Her ash-blonde hair, short and slightly curled, fell in a half-fringe on to her wide and unlined brow. ‘I’ll let you know when I feel the metamorphosis coming on.’
‘I’m top of the list, I take it?’ He cocked an eyebrow quizzically.
‘There isn’t a list.’ Shara fingered the stem of her glass thoughtfully. Before her dreamy gaze rose the vision of a slim young giant, sinewed and dark, with classical Greek features etched in stone, with remarkable dull-green eyes and a widow’s peak cutting a wedge into his low and noble brow. How would he look today? she wondered. He’d be thirty now, and should they ever meet it would be as strangers, as it was nine years since he had disappeared without trace from her life. Nine years... Shara was sixteen and Carlos twenty-one. Unemotional and cynical he had been even as a boy. She could almost see those hard metallic eyes looking indifferently through her, could hear his voice, quiet and rich, yet somehow harsh-edged and cold.
‘Penny for them?’ Colin’s voice broke into her musings and she glanced up. ‘No, I can guess. It s bound to be your work; you never think of anything else.’ He grinned at her. ‘You’re in Cyprus already.’
A faint smile touched her lips.
‘As a matter of fact, my thoughts were way back in the past.’
Colin glanced interrogatingly at her.
‘Your parents?’ Mechanically she shook her head, a gesture that went unnoticed by her companion who added with a hint of persuasion, ‘You’ve never said much about yourself, Shara. I know you were adopted, that your adoptive parents were Greek Cypriots who were killed in a plane crash when you were eighteen. You’ve also mentioned that they had a son of their own with whom you’ve lost touch—’ He spread his hands. ‘And that’s about all.’
Shara picked up her glass but made no attempt to drink from it. She and Colin had been friends for nearly six years -ever since she began working for his uncle, the celebrated Gilbert Holgrove, whose travel books were read in almost every part of the world. Shara loved her job because it took her travelling, always staying at first-class hotels, meeting interesting people, making new friends. She was happy and content, and if anything were missing from her life that her friends had acquired, then she had certain compensations. It all evened itself up, she estimated, thankful for what she had, grateful that out of fifteen applicants Gilbert had chosen her as his secretary.
Last year had been spent in Turkey, the year before that in Egypt, and in a week’s time they were off to Cyprus, her employer having obtained a villa in the mountain village of Lapithos, a green village, for Lapithos had springs gushing from the limestone hills to water the thirsty land. Shara was especially looking forward to this stay because it would be a complete change from hotel life. From the photographs Gilbert had shown her Shara gained the impression that the villa must be one of the most luxurious in the whole of Kyrenia District. Situated on a plateau cut into the mountainside, the villa was white and spreading, with colonnaded patios and balconies, its magnificent grounds shaded by palms and other exotic trees. Deliberately planned so that its primary rooms faced north, it had superb views over the lemon groves of Lapithos to the sandy coast, and across the waters of the Mediterranean to where the snow-capped mountains of Turkey glistened in the sunshine. The house had been loaned to Gilbert by a friend of his, a wealthy American who was at present on a year’s visit to his relations in California. With the house went two servants and two gardeners.
Shara’s musings were interrupted by an impatient sigh from Colin, reminding her of his subtle enquiry, and she glanced across at him. Always he was there to take her out during her short visits to England; invariably he could be relied on to escort her to some function or other, and for some time now Shara had felt she owed him a little more information about herself.
‘I suppose you’ve considered it odd that my adoptive parents were Greek Cypriots?’ she began, idly twisting her glass so that the amber contents caught and reflected the light.
‘Naturally I have, and I’ve wanted to question you about it, but you’ve always made it abundantly clear that you weren’t going to talk.’
‘Have I?’ This was true, of course, simply because she preferred to forget a certain unpleasant interlude in her life. But she decided to talk now, telling Colin how her mother had died when she was born. A short while later her father was informed that he had an incurable disease and, almost out of his mind with anxiety, he begged his Cypriot friends, Panos and Stella Angelos, to adopt his daughter.
Panos was Shara’s godfather, and in Cyprus this role carried tremendous responsibility, the godfather being expected to rear and nurture any of his godchildren who might be left alone in the world. As Panos and his wife were naturalized Britons, and as they were extremely wealthy, there were no complications regarding the adoption. Shara and her father went to live with her adoptive parents, but a month later he was dead.
‘How tragic!’ A heavy frown settled on Colin’s brow. ‘So you’ve no recollection of your own parents?’ Shara shook her head; they sat in silence for a while and then something in Shara’s expression caused Colin to ask curiously, ‘Were you happy with these people?’
She flushed a little, thinking that perhaps her decision to confide had not been a good one after all. For how could she speak
of Carlos’s people without revealing them in an unfavourable light? However, it was too late to retract and she continued with her narrative.
‘They had a child already - a son, as you know. He was five when they adopted me—’ She broke off, her eyes shadowing with regret. ‘Had Carl been younger - or older - things might have been very different.’ Returning her drink to the table untouched, Shara leant back in her chair. ‘You see, Carl’s parents never really wanted him—’
‘Hold on,’ interrupted Colin. ‘How can you know this?’ ‘Pure deduction on my part, when I had grown older and was trying to discover just when and how things had gone wrong between Carl and me.’
‘They went wrong? That’s why you never have anything to do with one another?’
She nodded.
‘Panos and Stella were both eighteen when they married. It was a love match and I firmly believe they resented the intrusion of a child into their lives when Carl arrived less than a year after their marriage. At that time they desired only each other, and I’m sure that from the moment he was able to comprehend Carl knew instinctively that he wasn’t wanted. Naturally he grew away from them, having been put into the care of a nanny from the day he was born. On becoming more mature his parents realized what they were missing and tried to repair the damage, but it was too late. Carl by this time was an introvert.’ She paused, having difficulty in framing her next words. ‘I believe they were glad when - when a situation arose where they could adopt a child.’
An astounded silence ensued before Colin said, slowly and incredulously,
‘You’re suggesting they adopted you out of pique!’ ‘Not exactly. They would have adopted me in any case because they’d consider it a duty, on account of Panos being my godfather. But I do believe they were angry that Carl could not give them the affection they now wished to have from him. They doted on me, giving in to my every whim. There was nothing I couldn’t have. I had a horse, and dancing lessons; they bought me silly things like expensive jewellery. They smothered me with clothes and presents galore.’
‘And ... Carl?’
She sighed audibly.
‘I’ve said they became more mature, but it was comparative. In fact, they were still immature in many ways. They seemed to derive the greatest pleasure from discriminating between us. My toys were always more expensive than his; I had only to ask and I received. It wasn’t so with Carl, and - and naturally he grew up hating me. I was the usurper.’
Colin was shaking his head.
‘You’ve just stated that he knew he wasn’t wanted long before you came on the scene.’
‘He did, but don’t you see that when he was older and viewing the position in retrospect, he would associate my appearance with his being treated as an outcast. He was only five when I came, remember, and that’s what I meant when I said that had he been either older or younger when I came, the position - or perhaps I should say the relationship between us -would have been very different.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean. Had he been, older he’d have remembered quite well that he was an outcast long before your arrival.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And had he been younger he wouldn’t have remembered your entry into his life at all, so he couldn’t - on looking back
— have considered you to be the cause of his unhappiness.’
She nodded. From the ballroom there floated to them the
soft sweet strains of a waltz and they both listened for a space before Shara spoke.
‘When Carl was twelve he was sent away to boarding school and we saw each other only during vacation times. But gradually the position unfolded itself to me, and young as I was I felt horrified at what had occurred
- and still was occurring. One Christmas, when I was only ten and Carl fifteen, our parents spent a fantastic amount of money on presents for me, while Carl was given a fountain pen and a book. It was awful; he kept looking at all my things - and when he went back to school he left the pen and book behind.’
‘What strange people they were,’ put in Colin with disgust. ‘And heartless, too. How could they treat their own son like that?’
Shara shook her head, deep distress in her eyes.
‘That Christmas really brought the situation home to me and from then on I tried even harder to get close to Carl - I had been making some effort before that, simply because I was the kid sister and I wanted to be friends with my brother. He was terrifically handsome and I was so proud of him—’ She gave a little shrug. ‘You know how it is with kid sisters - or perhaps you don’t?’ she added with a forced little laugh.
‘I think I can understand,’ he responded gently. ‘Well, as I’ve said, I really began trying to get close, to make it up to him in some small way. But by this time he had acquired an impenetrable armour; he was very unhappy, Colin—’ Again she broke off, this time her eyes glistening as emotion tore at the tender strings of compassion. ‘I tried so hard, but he was away at school for lie whole of the term and during vacations I hadn’t sufficient time to make any headway before he was gone again. He left home when he was eighteen and I saw even less of him because he never once came to visit his parents. I did go to his flat, however, even though he never made me welcome.’
‘He didn’t actually show you the door, though?’
‘No, of course not, for we never had a quarrel, or even any cross words. There was just an underlying bitterness on his part which formed a barrier I couldn’t scale.’ She leant forward and, taking up her glass, she drank deeply. It was as if she required strength for the utterance of her next words. ‘At twenty-one he met - he met a girl; she was English and - and they were married a few weeks later... ’ Her soft clear voice trailed away into silence, for the finale was not for Colin’s ears.
Shara had never been in any doubt as to what had occurred. In her desperation to make up for the hurt Carl had suffered, in her endeavours to convince him that the blame was not hers, and to bring about an understanding between them, she had extended to him what she thought at the time was compassion - and sisterly love. But the love she had poured out in her urgency and desperation had gained in strength until it acquired an ardour which was far removed from the love a sister would extend to her brother.
She had become conscious of a strange and inexplicable yearning, but the - truth struck her only when, on calling at Carl’s flat one evening, she had been introduced to Alison....
‘He married after only a few weeks’ acquaintanceship?’ Colin spoke thoughtfully. ‘I expect you reached the same conclusion as I’m reaching now?’
‘Someone turned up who could give him affection.’ Shara nodded as she spoke. ‘He grasped that affection avidly, for it was the first that had been extended to him
- except for mine, which he didn’t want. Never in the whole of his life had he known love, and here it was, quite suddenly, given him by this girl.’ A tremulous smile quivered on Shara’s lips. ‘Naturally he grasped it.’
‘What was she like?’
A slight shrug and then,
‘Pretty and fragile. Rather like a doll one must treat with care.’
‘Were they happy?’
‘I wouldn’t know, but I sincerely hope it’s turned out well for him. I’ve never seen him since the day he was married, and that’s almost nine years ago. We all attended the wedding, of course, which was very quiet. Carl and Alison went away immediately after the ceremony was over, and as far as I know he never wrote to his parents. He certainly never wrote to me.’
‘You had no idea where he went?’
Shara shook her head.
‘When his parents were killed the solicitor located him in Greece, but he didn’t come over for the funeral. Then there was the will—’ For a brief space her customary calm deserted her and she swallowed convulsively. ‘He would neither accept the money as a gift nor contest the will.’
‘You mean—?’ Colin’s eyes widened disbelievingly. ‘They didn’t leave everything to you!’
Colin looked searchingly at her.
‘You’re obviously upset at this estrangement. You’ve an affection for Carl even now?’
‘We were brought up together,’ she replied quietly. ‘Of course I have an affection for him. ’
Colin sighed.
‘Well, it’s very plain he has no affection for you,’ he returned gently, ‘and the best thing you can do is put the whole unhappy episode out of your mind.’ He hesitated uncertainly and then, ‘The money?’
‘Is all in the bank, accumulating for—’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘For someone, but I neither know nor care who that someone is. I shall never touch a penny of it.’
He evinced no surprise at her answer, and the subject was dropped as Shara’s employer emerged from the ballroom and joined them. Following on his heels were his married daughter, Audrey, and her friend Daphne. Rising, Colin gave up his chair; from the shadows a waiter appeared with another and no sooner were they all seated than a tray of drinks was produced and they helped themselves.
‘This is a wonderful party!’ Daphne looked long and hard at Colin. Used as he was to this sort of attention, he sent Shara a surreptitious glance of bored resignation and opened up a conversation with his uncle.
‘You’re all set to write a book on Cyprus, then?’
‘Just over a week from now Shara and I will be hard at it.’ Gilbert smiled at his secretary and she responded. From the first there was an attraction between them. Gilbert, a tall wiry man with thin features and greying hair, was possessed of
boundless patience and understanding; he was good-humoured and cheerful and never a cross word had he spoken to Shara in all the six years she had worked for him.
‘How I envy you,’ put in Audrey on a wistful note. ‘Always off somewhere - and with my favourite man!’
Her father raised an eyebrow.
