by Celia Scott
She could no longer hide from herself that she had fallen in love with him—deeply, irrevocably in love. She knew that a love of this intensity was possible only once in a lifetime. She also knew that she mustn't give herself away. While she was with him she must constantly watch herself, so that he would never guess how deeply she cared. Because it was plain he didn't feel the same way. From the beginning he had stressed the businesslike nature of their relationship… 'The last thing I want is an emotional entanglement'… Well, she must make sure he never found out. She would be constantly on her guard, and somehow she would carry the sweet pain of loving him, and not tell a soul.
She climbed out of the cooling water and dried herself on one of the thick peach-coloured bath towels. Then she dropped the towel and looked at herself in the steamy, mirror-covered wall. I wish I wasn't so tall, she thought wistfully, for the umpteenth time since her adolescence. But she wasn't blind, she could see that she had high, firm breasts, a slender waist, and sensuously rounded hips. She was aware that when she held herself proudly, and did not hide her attractiveness in dowdy clothes, she looked good. If Damon could see me like this, she wondered, naked and unashamed, would he still want no part of an emotional entanglement? She flushed hotly at this illicit thought, and bundling herself in a terry robe went to the bedroom to repair her damaged nails.
She dressed with care for the evening's party, piling her hair high on her head the way she had been shown. She wore the wine silk dress, with the pearls Damon had given her for the wedding. They seemed to draw their creamy lustre from her satiny skin, so that she glowed in the warm scented gown like a pearl herself.
When she went into the living room Damon was already there. Athena, who was not invited to the party, was sitting in the shadows, a pale little ghost.
Damon, in the act of pouring a glass of ouzo, turned and stared at his wife. 'That's a very good colour for you,' he said at last, offering her the drink, but she refused it. Her nerves were still raw from the afternoon's adventure, and God knew what emotions alcohol might release. 'Now what's all this Spiro tells me about you getting yourself locked up this afternoon?'
Athena gave her an agonised look, then stared miserably at the floor.
'I was very stupid, Damon,' Philippa said, as lightly as she could. 'I started poking around in that storeroom near the dig… the one on the Acropolis… and the door swung shut on me. Athena couldn't open it, so she got Spiro. I wasted the afternoon, and I didn't even get a good look at the shards, it was too dark,' she forced a giggle.
'For God's sake be more careful, Pippa,' he said roughly. 'That place is strictly out of bonds. Didn't Athena tell you?'
'Oh, she said something, but you know me—I don't always listen,' Philippa replied, before Athena could say a word.
'Well, I advise you to listen in future.' He sounded irritated, but perhaps this was better than sympathy. Sympathy from Damon now might have released another flood of tears. 'If Athena hadn't been there you might have been trapped all night.'
Philippa repressed a shudder. 'I know. Shouldn't you change, Damon?' she asked, anxious to change the subject, 'We only have half an hour.'
He gave her a long hard look, then abruptly handed her a large jewel box that had been lying on the chair beside him, there was a key in the lock.
'These are for you,' he said shortly. 'I'll put them in the bedroom safe, you can examine the contents tomorrow. But first let me choose something to go with your dress.' He opened the lid, poked around in the box, and bringing out a pair of ruby and pearl ear-rings and a heavy ruby and pearl bracelet, said, 'Here, these should do. They match that silk well.' He thrust them into her unresisting hands and left the room.
Philippa looked at the exquisite jewellery lying heavy in her hand. The rubies shone like blood. She stood in front of the mantel mirror and put on the earrings, standing back to admire the effect of the glowing stones against her creamy neck. There was a broken sob from the direction of Athena's armchair. Philippa took a handkerchief from her evening purse and handed it to the girl.
'Here, mop up.'
Athena gulped miserably and dabbed her eyes. 'I feel so awful, Philippa. I behaved so badly.'
'Yes, you did. But it's over now. Now you must forget it.'
'How can I forget it,' Athena wailed, 'when you've been so kind? I was sure you would tell Uncle Damon about me, but you didn't. Instead you protected me. Can you ever forgive me?'
Philippa perched herself on the edge of the chair and put her arm round the child's shaking shoulders. 'I've forgiven you already, darling,' she forced the girl to look into her eyes, 'and I want to be your friend. Will you be mine?'
In a passion of tears Athena buried her face in Philippa's breast. 'Yes! Oh yes! And Pippa… can I call you Pippa like Uncle Damon does?… I did try to let you out. The minute I pushed the door shut I was sorry… but then I couldn't move the door. I did try. You do believe me?' Her tear-stained face was filled with entreaty.
'I believe you, Athena. Now you must stop crying or your Uncle Damon will smell a rat,' Athena looked mystified. 'Will get suspicious,' Philippa explained. 'Also you're making the front of my dress damp.' Athena gave her a watery smile. 'Now, could you help me with this bracelet? I can't seem to work the clasp.'
And that was how Damon found them—Philippa on her knees holding out her arm to Athena, who bent lower when Damon came in to hide her tear-swollen eyes.
Damon drove the car to the party. On the way he slowed down and turning to Philippa said, 'I'm perfectly aware, Pippa, that something happened between you and Athena this afternoon. I suppose it's useless to ask you to tell me about it?' He again turned his attention to the winding road.
'Absolutely useless,' she agreed. She kept her eyes on his stern profile, the cleft in his chin accentuated by the faint glow from the dashboard. His beautifully shaped hands lay lightly on the steering wheel.
'I shall find out eventually.' He was as smooth as silk. 'At least the child seems better behaved than this morning. I congratulate you on your victory.' He glanced at her again, and gave her a smile that made her heart turn over in her breast. Hastily she looked away. The need to touch him was so acute it was a fierce pain. To protect herself she answered curtly:
'Congratulations aren't necessary, Damon. It's what you're paying me for, isn't it?' She saw his mouth tighten, his beautiful mouth that she longed to kiss. But he remained silent, and she turned to the window and studied the passing scenery intently.
Nothing more was said for the rest of the drive. Mr and Mrs Damon Everett, each wrapped in their secret thoughts, rode through the brilliant Athenian streets, the silence between them lying like a double-edged sword.
The dinner party was an elegant affair for twenty guests. Philippa was aware that she looked as well groomed as the other women, and she was pleasantly conscious of the discreet admiration in the dark eyes of the men when they were introduced to the new Mrs Everett.
It was the custom, she discovered, for the males and females to separate at such gatherings, the men presumably to discuss business, their wives to gossip about children and household affairs. Philippa found this old-fashioned and tedious, and resolved to try and prevent it happening at any parties she would be giving.
However, her hostess spoke quite good English, and the other women, using her as interpreter, asked so many questions about England and her life there… 'Have you ever met the Queen? Do you chase foxes?' … that the segregation policy of Grecian entertaining was soon forgotten.
At dinner she was seated between her host and a grey-haired gentleman who also spoke English, and whose frank approval of her was flattering, and an unusual situation for Philippa, who was used to Martha being the centre of male attention.
The dinner was very good, and a number of the dishes were new to her. She decided to start collecting Greek recipes to use when she got back to England and started working again. She mustn't let herself forget that reality, no matter how much she might be lulled in
to feeling this new life with Damon was for ever. She glanced across the candlelit table at him. He was leaning towards his right-hand companion, a sophisticated brunette, sleek as polished ebony. Damon and this woman, whose name she couldn't remember from the flurry of introductions, but who, judging from the warmth of her greeting, had known Damon for some time, were deep in intimate conversation. Her dark eyes never left his face. Then she said something in a low voice and lightly touched his wrist. He tilted his head back and laughed appreciatively, then raised his glass in a private toast to the dark-eyed beauty. He was obviously having a lovely time. A stab of jealousy cut through Philippa like a knife. At that moment he caught her eye, his brows raised quizzically, and she hastily turned her attention back to her grey-haired dinner partner.
After dinner, when the men were left to enjoy their brandy, Philippa tried to approach Damon's lovely table companion, but discovered she did not speak any English. The two women eyed each other curiously, and Philippa wondered if she imagined hostility in the other woman's gaze.
Damon seemed in splendid spirits on the drive home. He turned the car radio on and hummed along with the Greek bouzouki music, sometimes singing a snatch of the words.
'You're very silent, Pippa,' he observed between songs. 'Didn't you enjoy the party?'
'Yes. I'm not sure about the segregation of the sexes, though. That seems a bit archaic.'
His eloquent brows arched into their characteristic question mark. 'Segregation?'
'Before dinner. All the men herded together in one end of the room, and we poor women left to fend for ourselves and talk about… about babies, I suppose.' She was feeling unaccountably cross with him.
'So that's what you talk about!' His mouth curled in amusement. 'I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing Pippa?'
'I'm not… I mean… I like children, of course… that's not what I mean at all, Damon.'
'No?' She was silent. 'What do you mean, then?'
'Nothing. Forget it.' The music filled the leather-scented interior of the car. They started to climb towards the city. It was Philippa who spoke first now. 'The dinner was very good. I must start taking notes for recipes I want to try.'
'You miss cooking already?'
'I don't miss it exactly. But I need some authentic Greek dishes to offer my clients when I get… when I get home.'
'Ah—Philippa's Catering. Your business, of course.' He switched the radio off.
After a few minutes she asked, 'Did you enjoy the dinner, Damon?'
'I enjoyed the whole evening. Although I must agree with you that we have a dreadful habit of separating men and women at parties in this country.'
'At least we get to eat together,' said Philippa. 'I mean, it was nice to talk to… Mr Caravias?… Am I pronouncing his name right?'
'Quite right. You have a nice accent, Pippa. I'm delighted you think it worth your while to try to learn a little of the language during your short stay.' That hurt her as much as his flirtation with the dark beauty.
'I missed a lot of names, though,' she told him. 'There seemed to be so many people. The name of that gorgeous woman you were sitting next to at dinner, for instance. I didn't catch her name.'
'Which particular gorgeous woman do you mean, Pippa? I was seated between two.' There was laughter in his voice, and she could cheerfully have strangled him.
'Damon, honestly! You know the one I mean. You were talking to her exclusively through dinner. You didn't say a word to anyone else!' She was horrified at the aggrieved note that had crept into her voice. It didn't seem to upset Damon however, he sounded positively gleeful.
'Oh, you mean Thalia,' he replied, 'Thalia Speroudakis. I've known her for years. She is gorgeous, isn't she?' he added unnecessarily.
Philippa agreed, gloomily, that she was. Then she said, 'Is it Miss Speroudakis?'
'No. She was married.'
'Was?'
'She's recently widowed.'
'She seemed very merry, if you don't mind me saying so.'
'I don't mind at all, Pippa,' she could have sworn he repressed a chuckle, 'there's no reason for her to be otherwise. Her husband was much older. And while they respected each other, I know it wasn't a love match.'
'How do you know that?'
'Thalia confided in me. We're very close friends.' He turned on the radio again and so terminated the conversation.
Philippa's thoughts were in turmoil. Was Damon telling her, in his own oblique way, that he was in love with this Thalia Speroudakis? And if he was in love with her why hadn't he asked her to marry him, rather than Philippa? Perhaps, she reasoned, perhaps he hadn't known she was widowed. Maybe her husband had only recently died, and tonight was the first time Damon discovered Thalia was free. If so he was being remarkably cheerful about it, considering he was married himself. But of course he wasn't really married, and he would have explained that to Thalia during dinner—told her to be patient until he could rid himself of this redundant, fake wife, and tomorrow he would ask Philippa to release him before the contract expired. Pay her off, and that would be that.
But of course he couldn't do that, they'd only been married a couple of days! How would it look if he dumped his bride so quickly for another? No, most likely he had explained the situation to Thalia, and she had promised to wait. She certainly hadn't seemed downcast, flirting with Damon so shamelessly. This time next year she and Damon will be living 'happily ever after', Philippa thought, and Athens and Crete will be just a memory for me. The prospect did not please, and so it was a very subdued Philippa who meekly said goodnight after his customary peck on the cheek. And in her lonely bed the image of Damon and Thalia continued to haunt her dreams.
The following morning she was awakened by Athena bearing the breakfast tray. It was again set for two, but it was soon apparent that Philippa's breakfast companion this morning was not to be Damon, but his niece. Athena perched herself on the bed and poured orange juice for both of them. This morning she was very different from the sullen girl of yesterday. She fairly bubbled with enthusiasm, and asked questions a mile a minute. She noticed the framed photograph of Martha on the bedside table and was immediately all curiosity. Philippa told her it was of her younger sister.
'You have a sister, Pippa?' Athena said. 'You are so lucky! I always longed for a sister—and brothers too. But soon I shall have some little cousins to love, won't I?'
'Wha-what do you mean?' asked the bewildered Philippa.
'Why, when you and Uncle Damon have babies. They will be like sisters and brothers to me. Oh, Pippa, won't it be lovely?' She bounced up and down with pleasure. 'Can't you just picture them? Little girls, blonde like you. And dear little dark-haired boys with blue eyes.' Philippa was dumb with embarrassment. 'Why Pippa, you're blushing! You must not be shy. I am quite grown-up. I know where babies come from,' Athena giggled.
'I'm sure you do,' said Philippa, attempting nonchalance, 'but I… that is… we don't necessarily plan to have… a family. I mean, it doesn't follow that because one's married one will automatically have children…' She was interrupted by Athena's laughter.
'Do not worry about that, Pippa! The men in our family have always been very virile. Of course you and Uncle Damon will have children. You just see!'
'Yes… well, at the moment I'm still on my honeymoon Athena,' Philippa smiled feebly, willing Athena to shut up. 'I think it's a bit early to be thinking of babies while I'm still a bride.'
'Of course it is early, Pippa,' Athena agreed, 'but this time next year?' She gave a knowing look and mercifully changed the subject. 'Now hurry and get dressed. I want to take you to the museum, and then to eat galaktobouriko.'
Philippa dressed hurriedly, half hoping Damon would knock on her door to say good morning. But when she joined Athena, who was waiting impatiently with Spiro, she learned he had left hours before, and, although she knew it was irrational, she was hurt.
Later, when the two girls had walked their feet off exploring the ground floor of the
splendid Athens museum, and Philippa had fallen in love with the bronze Poseidon (he reminded her slightly of Damon), and marvelled that the statue of the god of the sea had indeed been found in the sea near the cape of Artemision, they went to one of the elegant restaurants in the main square. Seated at an outdoor table, they ate galaktobouriko, which turned out to be filo pastry filled with custard and drizzled with thick amber syrup, so that even Philippa's sweet tooth was satiated. She sat, dazed with a surfeit of sugar, while the cacophony of the Athenian traffic, which seemed either hurtling along at breakneck speed, or jammed to a halt, swirled around her.
'Did you enjoy the galaktobouriko, Pippa?' Athena's voice broke in.
'Mmmm, it was as good as anything I've eaten since I arrived in Greece.' This was true.
'As good as the food at the party last night?'
Philippa realised she couldn't remember much about the food last night. Her attention had been focused on Damon and Thalia. She could have been eating sawdust for all she remembered. 'Quite as good,' she agreed.
'Didn't you enjoy the party?'
Not wanting to give herself away, Philippa answered hastily, 'Of course. It was… more formal… than parties in England. But I had a good time. And Damon had a chance to talk to an old friend of his, a very beautiful lady called Thalia Speroudakis. Do you know her, Athena?' she asked offhandedly.
'Yes, I know her very well. She was a friend of my mother's.'
'She and Damon seemed to have a lot to talk over. I guess they haven't met for a long time?' Philippa prayed she wasn't being obvious, but she had to find out all she could, even if it hurt her.
'My mother once thought Uncle Damon and Madame Speroudakis might marry. But he always had so many ladies, we could never tell if he was serious or not.' This was an unsettling piece of information.
With elaborate casualness Philippa said, 'It's funny, somehow I can't see Damon as a ladies' man.'
'The ladies always seemed to be pursuing him. My mother used to tease him about it.'
'Madame Speroudakis… did she pursue him?'
