Where the Gods Dwell

by Celia Scott

  She waved back and dared a short Greek phrase. 'Ti kanete?'… How are you?'

  A grin wreathed his weather-beaten face. 'Kala efharisto.' He nodded approval of her attempt at Greek. 'Bravo! Bravo!'

  Slowing down to a walk she waved goodbye and headed for the taverna. She would have plenty of time for some breakfast before work. She willed herself not to look back in the direction of the villa to see if Jason was returning from his early ride.

  Vasily was mopping the floor of the indoor dining room when she arrived. He greeted her warmly and leaning his mop against the wall headed for the kitchen.

  'Ah! Miss Lorna you are the early owl this morning.'

  'I think you mean "early bird",' Lorna smiled.

  Unimpressed he shrugged. 'Owl is bird… no?' He put bread, butter, and marmalade on to a small tray, then busied himself with the coffee. 'But you are not the first to eat the fast… no. See… in the garden.' He nodded through the open door towards the plane tree, his usually good-natured face grim.

  Seated in solitary state was Nikos, a steaming pot of coffee before him. He looked distinctly the worse for wear.

  Lorna's heart sank, and she realised that for a wild moment she had hoped it would be Jason sitting there, waiting for her.

  'You wish to join him?' Vasily asked. 'Or would you better eat alone? I finish on the floor soon.'

  'No. I'll join him.' She took the tray, 'I'll take this. You go on with your work,' and over his protests she carried her breakfast into the garden.

  Nikos raised a bleary eye. 'Lorna! How nice,' his good-looking, dissipated face brightened. 'So you do not eat with the rich ones. You remember your humble friends.'

  'You'd better be very humble indeed,' Lorna said, 'I think you've got a fair bit of explaining to do up at the villa.' He looked at her glassily. 'About your disappearing act. Weren't you supposed to go to the party on Saturday night?'

  'Bah!' He lifted his coffee cup with both hands to keep it steady. 'I had much business on Saturday. I could not waste time with silly parties.'

  'It's nothing to do with me,' Lorna said, 'I just thought I'd warn you, that's all.' Privately she thought that whatever business he may have had it certainly included drinking. He reeked of stale wine fumes.

  Nikos fumbled in his jacket and brought out a wallet which he waved under Lorna's nose. It was bursting with drachma bank notes. 'See, Lorna! I now have money… and the chance to make much more. No longer is Jason the clever one, I too am clever.' Unsteadily he replaced the wallet, and Lorna realised he was still a little drunk.

  Diplomatically she tried to change the subject. 'I thought I was early this morning, Nikos,' she said chattily, 'but you've beaten me to it. You must be really keen to get to work.'

  'I have just come from Rethimnon… on the first bus. I have not been to my house at all.'

  That explained his unshaven face. 'That's a long way off, isn't it?' she said. For the little town of Rethimnon was about sixty miles west of Iraklion.

  'It was where my business took me,' he said portentously, then suddenly he became cautious. 'But do not tell anyone, Lorna. Do not tell Jason.'

  'Jason and I don't exchange confidences,' she said bitterly.

  'That is good,' he looked at her slyly, 'he is a hard man. With no kindness in him.'

  'I don't happen to agree with you,' she said, pushing back her chair and rising. 'And I make it a rule not to discuss people behind their backs. I'm going up to the site now. See you later.'

  All day she tried to find the hardest jobs she could. She thought if she could exhaust herself physically she might deaden the pain she felt whenever she thought of Jason… which was all the time! She took photographs from every difficult angle she could find. Then she got herself assigned on a team that was breaking ground in one of the 'grids'. She hauled buckets of earth and emptied them into a wheelbarrow, which she then wheeled away and dumped on a tarpaulin sheet where another member of the team sifted and searched for shards or other small finds.

  By noon her back and arms were aching and her hair was sticking to her head under her old sun-hat. Rivulets of sweat coursed down her dusty face. When the lunch break came she sank thankfully down under an olive tree. She was joined by Susan and Harvey, and to her annoyance by Nikos, who brought out a bottle of wine from his bag. A practice discouraged by Professor Spanakis, who wasn't keen about drinking on the job. When the others had refused his offer of a drink he took a long pull from the bottle and leaned moodily against the gnarled trunk.

  'I'd go easy on that stuff if I were you,' Harvey told him, 'we've got a lot of work to do this afternoon remember.'

  'Ah! Spanakis makes us work like the mules!' Nikos said. 'Like peasants. Worse than peasants.'

  Susan glared at him. 'If you don't like the work you can always quit,' she said. Now that Harvey had come into her life she found it easier to stand up to Nikos. He no longer intimidated her.

  'It suits my purpose to work here for the moment. I… I need to be here,' Nikos replied. 'Not for the miserable pittance we are paid, believe me. I do not need that. I have money now.' He smiled mysteriously and took another swig of wine.

  Pulling her hat over her face Lorna lay back on the rough grass and tried to shut him out of her consciousness. He was like an annoying mosquito at a picnic. Besides, she had far too much to occupy her to bother about Nikos and his oblique references to money. The sun beat down like a hammer, so that even the insects were silenced. But here under the thick foliage of the olive tree it was cooler and gradually she drifted off to sleep.

  She was awakened by a prod in the ribs from Susan who was introducing Harvey to someone who had just come up to the group. Lorna shifted crossly and opened her eyes. From under the brim of her hat she could see a pair of highly polished black leather boots. Her heart started to race painfully. She pushed her hat up another inch and looked into a pair of brilliant green eyes as Jason leaned down to shake Harvey's outstretched hand.

  She wildly thought of pulling her hat back down over her face and feigning sleep, but realised he knew she was awake, and that such behaviour would be not only rude but childish. Slowly she pulled herself into a sitting position and pushed her hair out of her face. She kept her eyes down and stared at her feet, encased in grubby socks and hiking boots. Not the most glamorous footwear with shorts, but practical for shovelling earth.

  Jason welcomed Harvey to the village. 'We have little to offer you in the way of entertainment,' he said, 'but the wine is good and the people are hospitable.'

  'You're right there,' Harvey agreed scrambling to his feet, 'the people are great. And as for entertainment. I have all the entertainment I need just being part of this excavation. It's a real privilege being here Mr Peritakis.'

  'The privilege is ours,' Jason said, and Lorna could hear the smile in his voice. 'And please to call me by my Christian name… all of you… let us not be formal.' He turned again to Havey. 'I recently read a paper of yours… about the eruption on Santorini… which I much enjoyed. I would be most happy if you could find the time to visit me one evening. To discuss your theories.'

  Harvey stuttered with delight. 'Gee!… say, that'd be great…'

  'It will have to be after my sister's wedding,' Jason continued. 'As Lorna has no doubt told you we are very busy with the preparations for this great day.'

  It was the first time he had acknowledged her presence, and she stole a quick glance up at him through her thick lashes. His face was impassive, and when he caught her eye he looked away. No one would have guessed the flame of passion that had ignited them that early morning in the garden. But for Lorna the memory of his kiss stood firm between them, and she could not look at him without catching her breath. She carefully examined the toes of her boots again.

  'But I must not interrupt your siesta any more,' Jason said. 'I came to have a few words with my cousin.' He addressed Nikos, who was still lounging against the trunk of the tree, his bottle of wine nearly empty now. 'Could I see you for a momen
t in private, Nikos? There is something I wish to discuss with you.'

  Nikos said something in Greek, and it didn't require any knowledge of the language to know that he was objecting, but Jason firmly cut across his protestations, walked some distance away, then stood waiting for his cousin to join him.

  Sullenly Nikos swallowed the last of his wine, then with a great show of nonchalance he walked over to Jason. They started to talk, softly at first, but gradually Nikos's voice rose to a blustering shout. Jason was evidently trying to calm him, but Nikos's face grew redder and redder and with a final bellow he returned to the three others and flung himself down beside Lorna, saying loudly, 'Did I not tell you, Lorna, always he insults me.' Morosely he tried to drain a few more drops from his empty wine bottle, then flung it away in irritation.

  Lorna would have been happy if the sun-baked earth had opened up and swallowed her. From where Jason was standing he could not hear what Nikos had said, but it must have looked to him as if his cousin and Lorna were discussing that brief unpleasant scene like old buddies.

  She looked over to Jason but he was too far away to see the mute appeal in her eyes. If she could have seen his expression clearly she might have been surprised, for it was anxiety rather than anger that etched his fine features. He stood irresolutely for a second, then turned and walked away. Every instinct urged her to get to her feet and follow him. Explain that the situation between herself and Nikos was not the way it must appear, that the charade had gone on too long. But fear, craven fear of another rejection from Jason, stopped her.

  She waited until they saw him galloping away across the open hillside, then she excused herself and went to the storage hut, ostensibly for a drink of water, but really to be alone to lick her wounds, and to prepare a happy face for the rest of her working day.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lorna decided to stay out of Jason's way, then she would avoid any more misunderstandings or unnecessary hurt. So each morning when she woke to the sound of his horse's hooves on the flagstoned path she would slip out of bed and hurriedly wash and dress. Flinging her cameras and film in her knapsack she would tear off across-country in time for breakfast at the taverna before Jason returned from his ride. After work she would race back to the villa to shower and change, then using the back stairs she would rush off again for her Greek lesson with Maria before dinner with her colleagues at Vasily's. By the time she came back to work in her dark-room the Peritakis family were usually out at some function or other connected with the coming wedding, and she would creep up to bed either before they were home, or when the lights had finally been turned off for the night. It was a tiring routine but it worked.

  Jason did not come to the dig again. She told herself he was probably too busy. But she really believed he was staying away deliberately, and even though she was doing the same, the thought that he was shunning her depressed her.

  Her lessons with Maria were fun though. They would sit at the table in the tiny kitchen facing a dresser hung with chipped crockery and a framed photograph of Maria's late husband. It was evident that Maria and her child lived in grinding poverty. Everything they owned—and they owned precious little—was threadbare, but scrupulously clean. The little table seemed to have a warp in it from incessant scrubbing, and the patterned edge on the stone floor had faded to a few indistinct lines from years of washing.

  Maria, like all the village women, wore shabby black, a black kerchief tied over her head. Irene's two dresses were mended with such skill it was hard to see where the real material finished and the patch started, but her sandals were falling apart. To save them she went barefoot in the vicinity of the house. And she and her mother were very thin.

  Lorna knew Maria would be deeply offended if she offered to pay for the lessons, so she had to content herself by bringing small presents for Irene. Presents for a child she knew were acceptable. She would bring chocolate bars and fruit. And sometimes she would buy cheese and olives, and the three of them would sit round the table sharing this meagre feast while Lorna struggled with a child's reader supplied by Irene.

  Within a couple of days she found out that Maria had been a widow for three years. Her husband had been a shepherd and had died in an accident in the mountains. Her eyes filled whenever she talked of this, and always the Peritakis family was mentioned, and Lorna could sense, although she couldn't make out all the words, that they had been particularly supportive to Maria during that time. That she loved and admired them was without question. That she despised Nikos was equally clear. With the aid of Lorna's phrase book, Irene's reader, and a lot of eloquent hand gestures, she gathered that Nikos had always been unpopular and a trouble-maker, and that as far as Maria was concerned the sooner he left the village the happier everybody would be. 'He is not good… not ombros,' Maria said, and Lorna was inclined to agree.

  Towards the end of the week, when she was exhausted from racing around in order to avoid the one person she actually longed to see, Susan approached her and suggested they take a half-day off to go shopping in Iraklion. She wanted to buy a dress for the wedding. 'I'm due some extra time,' said Susan, 'and as for you! You've been going full tilt all week. I'm sure old Spanakis won't begrudge you an afternoon.' Lorna was delighted to have a chance to break her hectic routine, so Professor Spanakis was approached and grudgingly gave his consent.

  After lunch on the day of their planned expedition Lorna did her usual sprint back to the villa for a quick shower, and changed into a strapless apple-green sundress. She combed her wet, freshly washed hair into shape and applied a trace of lip gloss. She stared at her reflection for a moment. She was deeply tanned now, and her flesh looked like burnished satin against the crisp cotton of her dress, but a second glance revealed smudges of fatigue under her eyes. Her regime of relentless hard work was taking its toll. She dabbed a trace of pale make-up on the offending shadows to disguise them and impatiently flicked a wing of damp hair away from her cheek. It had grown longer, but because it had been expertly blunt-cut it had kept its shape and now swung bell-like well below her jaw line.

  She picked up a white cotton beach-bag, thrust her wallet and the inevitable camera in it, and on impulse rammed her bikini and a towel in as well. If the shopping went well they might have time for a swim before catching the bus home.

  She could hear voices behind the house when she stepped out on to the patio, so she decided to take the road down to the village rather than walk down the now familiar track through the orange groves.

  Her sandals made no noise on the hot tarmac, and the sun poured over her in a beneficent flood, drying her hair to the colour of lustrous platinum. She was within sight of the village when Jason's white Mercedes shot round the curve, screeched to a stop, and reversed to where she was standing.

  He leaned across the passenger seat. 'Lorna! What do you do here?'

  It was the first time they had spoken since the morning after the party, when he had escorted her to her bedroom door. Her mouth was dry and she had difficulty answering casually. 'I'm on my way to the village… to meet Susan,' she was astounded that she sounded quite normal for her blood was beating till it nearly deafened her.

  'Not to go to the dig surely? Not in that dress.' His sea-green eyes flickered over her, taking in the sheen of her skin and her freshly shampooed hair.

  'No. We're going to Iraklion for some shopping. We've got the afternoon off.'

  'I too go to Iraklion. Come! I will drive you.' He opened the car door and waited for her to get in. Her first impulse was to refuse. To say coolly that she preferred to take the bus, but that seemed so crass she mumbled, 'Thank you,' instead and climbed into the car.

  He did not drive off immediately but sat leaning back in his seat looking at her thoughtfully. He was wearing blue jeans this afternoon, not the scruffy variety they wore on the dig, but immaculate designer jeans that clung to his lean thighs, emphasising the hardness of his muscular legs. And his white T-shirt made his broad shoulders look more powerful than ever.<
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  'It is fortunate that we meet like this,' he said, 'I have been wanting to speak alone with you for some time.'

  'Oh?' There seemed to be a large stone lodged in her throat that made speech difficult.

  'Have you been avoiding me, Lorna?' he asked.

  'Well… er…' She dared to dart a glance at him, but when her blue eyes met his green ones she hastily looked down into her lap again and her glossy wings of hair slipped forward and covered her cheeks.

  'Yes… you have been avoiding me. It is because of the other night, ne? Because of what passed between us. I wanted to tell you…' He paused and she finished for him.

  'To forget it?'

  He sat upright and gave her a long hard stare. 'Could you do that,' he said, 'could you forget it?'

  Lorna tried to swallow the stone in her throat. 'No,' she whispered at last, 'I'm afraid I couldn't.'

  'Afraid?' He leaned in closer towards her and she could smell the heady male fragrance of his skin. 'What is there to be afraid of?'

  'Well… making a fool of myself, I suppose. No woman enjoys that.' She tried to sound light-hearted but failed dismally.

  'You did not make a fool of yourself,' he said, 'the other night I wanted you, Lorna… and you wanted me. You will not deny that. You wanted me as much as I wanted you.'

  Her face flamed and she was grateful for her obscuring curtain of hair. 'I don't deny it,' she said.

  He reached out and gently turned her chin so that she was forced to look at him, then he stroked the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers. She was unable to repress the shiver of pleasure his touch gave her. 'You wanted me,' he repeated.

  There was a ring of self-satisfaction in this and it annoyed her. 'I'd had a lot of champagne,' she reminded him tartly.