Aphrodite's Smile

by Stuart Harrison

  She looked tired and a little forlorn. I reached across and took her hand. Her eyes met mine and faint lines creased her brow. ‘I should go,’ she said, though she made no move to leave.

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  She shook her head as if to dislodge a persistent notion which had become stuck somewhere.

  I leaned toward her and kissed her. She didn’t respond at first, and then her hand touched my face. Abruptly she pulled away.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because … because I don’t know you. We don’t know each other. A few days ago when we met I believed that I was in love with Dimitri.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’

  She looked me in the eye and opened her mouth to respond, but then shook her head. ‘You see why I can’t do this? I can’t answer that question because I don’t know. It’s too soon. It doesn’t feel right.’

  There was, I knew, an undeniable strand of truth and common sense about what she said. We had only just met, and we were both emotionally exposed for different reasons. But that was also why we were sitting there together, why we felt the way we did.

  ‘I can’t help what I feel for you,’ I said simply. ‘Perhaps it is too soon, for both of us. Maybe it’s not a good idea. But that doesn’t change anything.’

  I leaned toward her again and she didn’t move away. Her eyes were riveted to me like an animal paralysed in the middle of the road at night. I kissed her. She didn’t respond. I pulled back and she moved her head, an infinitesimal movement of denial.

  I kissed her again, and a low sound escaped her. It was a moan of uncertainty but also of desire. I broke off and looked deep into her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek. I tasted its salty wetness then kissed her eyes. Something rose up inside me, an almost overpowering tenderness. I wanted to hold her and be held, to love and be loved.

  We kissed again and this time she responded. Her mouth was soft, pliant. Our kiss became urgent. She held my face in her hands. I kissed her neck, her throat. My senses brimmed with her scent, her taste, the heat of our bodies. She raised my face and we looked at one another for a long moment and then I led her to the bed where we undressed and lay down. When we made love she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tightly around me. She raised her hips and matched my rhythm with a slow rocking motion, and when she tensed and a shudder ran the length of her body, it was more like a shiver than a crescendo.

  Afterwards we held one another until eventually first Alex, and then I fell asleep.

  When I woke it was still dark. At first I was disoriented by the unfamiliar room, the open window through which a breath of air flowed to cool my skin. I realised that Alex was no longer in bed and sat up in alarm thinking that she had gone, or worse that it had all been a dream, but then I saw her standing in the shadows by the window. She was naked, her arms wrapped around her body, hugging herself.

  ‘Do you hear it?’ she asked quietly, seeing me stir.

  ‘Hear what?’ But then I did hear something. Music. The notes very faint, falling and rising on the breeze. I got up and went over to her. The music was clearer by the window. ‘It sounds as if it’s coming from the terrace.’

  ‘It’s beautiful. So sad.’

  ‘What is it?’ I vaguely recognised the sound of some unfamiliar stringed instrument. The music it produced had a haunting, mournful quality.

  ‘A bouzouki I think.’

  It was difficult to follow the cadence of the piece as it was so faint, which perhaps added to its romantic mystery. And then as we strained to hear, it faded and was gone. We waited for a little while longer but when it didn’t start again I put my arms around Alex. I felt a shadow of resistance, or perhaps uncertainty, and then she responded and turned towards me, lifting her face. We kissed and then we went back to bed.

  THIRTEEN

  Alex was still sleeping when I got up in the morning. She was lying on her side, one arm thrown around the pillow, the early light like warm honey on her naked back. I watched her, overwhelmed with unfamiliar feelings. Not least among them was an uncertainty which alarmed me. What happened now I wondered? Did we live happily ever after? I thought briefly of Alicia. I had believed that I loved her once, but that had all fallen apart. Alex had said herself that until a few days ago she’d been in love with Dimitri. I couldn’t help wondering if love was such a powerful emotion that any relationship based on it was doomed to failure. Hadn’t somebody once said love is blind? Did that mean it raised expectations which were so high they couldn’t be met? Did it mean the very faults which precluded lasting happiness became invisible?

  My doubtful philosophising didn’t make any difference however. As I watched Alex sleep I was consumed with feelings for her. There was already nothing I could do. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to go to sleep with her every night and wake to find her beside me in the mornings.

  Though I was tempted to wake her, I resisted the impulse and instead slipped quietly out of the room and went down to the cove for a swim. The water was fresh and cool. I swam hard out into the middle of the cove and then back to shore again and when I emerged, breathing heavily and dripping onto the stones, I felt renewed. After I’d towelled off and put a T-shirt on I walked back up to the house. When I got there I was surprised to see that Kounidis was already up. He was sitting on the terrace drinking coffee.

  ‘Ah Robert, you have been for a swim I see. I hope it was pleasant?’ He gestured to a chair. ‘Please, sit down. Eleni will come in a moment and fetch you coffee. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Very, thank you.’ I wondered if it was merely the light or was there a certain knowing flicker in his eyes?

  ‘I have always been an early riser myself. It is the best time of the day. When it is still, and one can think,’ he said. ‘I have been considering what you told me yesterday about your father. It concerns me greatly. This man who attacked you, you did not get even a glimpse of him?’

  ‘It was dark. He was tall and strong, that’s about all I can say.’

  ‘He did not say anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When I saw you go down to the beach earlier I telephoned Miros Theonas. He has been unable to find anybody who saw anything unusual at the time you were attacked.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Theonas doesn’t believe there’s anything suspicious about my father’s death. Or he doesn’t want to believe it.’

  ‘Do you still think that the person you disturbed on the Swallow was searching for one of your father’s journals?’

  ‘I’m fairly certain he was looking for something. Do you think it’s possible that there could be something of value on the Antounnetta?’

  ‘Anything is possible,’ Kounidis said. ‘And the Germans are known to have removed a great many of our national treasures before they were driven from Greece.’

  I detected a doubtful note in Kounidis’s tone however, and I asked him why.

  ‘Your father spent many years trying to find the wreck of the Antounnetta.’ He gestured towards the sea beyond the cliff. ‘There are many miles of open sea where the ship might have gone down. I cannot help wondering how likely it is that after all this time he finally found her. But if you are right there is also the question of why this year he began his search early. He was certainly not aware that there might be anything of value on board.’

  I couldn’t answer either point.

  ‘What will you do now?’ Kounidis asked.

  ‘Look for his journal,’ I said. I couldn’t think of much else that I could do.

  ‘If there is any way in which I can help you, please let me know.’

  I thanked him and just then Alex appeared. ‘Good morning. I heard voices.’

  We both stood up as she joined us. She looked radiant, and as she sat down again she caught my eye and smiled.

  ‘I hope you slept well,’ Kounidis said to her.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she answered, faint colour rising in her cheeks.

&
nbsp; Just in time Eleni appeared carrying a tray with coffee and pastries.

  We spent the morning with Kounidis. Later he had his driver take us all to Kioni where we had lunch at a restaurant by the harbour. The tiny town was pretty and busy with tourists from the many visiting boats in the harbour. After lunch Alex and I went for a walk, wandering the alleys and steps which wound among the houses perched on the hillside. At a look-out point near the top of a steep climb we paused to admire the view.

  ‘You seem quiet,’ I ventured. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Am I? I’m sorry.’ She sighed suddenly and turned to face me. ‘I keep wondering how this happened. You and me.’

  ‘Are you sorry it has?’

  ‘No. Of course not. I’m not sorry we met, and I’m not sorry about last night. It’s the timing. It’s everything.’

  ‘You mean Dimitri?’

  ‘I suppose partly, yes. I’m confused. I thought I loved Dimitri, but now I feel this for you. It’s different. It’s something special I know. I want the same as you do, to be with you, to get to know one another. I just need some time. Please try to understand.’

  I told her that I did, and she seemed reassured, but when she turned away the smile I wore faded. After that, whenever she was quiet or thoughtful, I found myself wondering what was on her mind. She would stop to admire a house and I would sense that her thoughts had slipped elsewhere. I’d imagine she was thinking of Dimitri. Once, when we reached the wharf, she stopped suddenly and the blood drained from her face. When I asked her what was wrong she smiled weakly and said it was nothing, she had remembered something she had to do later, that was all. It was a hasty and transparent improvisation. When I looked back I saw a man among a group of people who I thought resembled Dimitri. I began to get the feeling he was with us all the time, like an invisible presence.

  Later that afternoon when we said goodbye to Kounidis, he shook Alex’s hand.

  ‘I am very sorry if the things that you have learned while you were here have been upsetting,’ he said.

  ‘Please don’t be,’ she assured him. ‘I’m very grateful to you for telling me what happened.’

  When I shook his hand, Kounidis again urged me to let him know if there was any way at all in which he could help with regards to my father. After we’d left Alex said, ‘Does that mean you’re not planning to go back to England yet?’

  ‘Not immediately. What about you?’

  ‘I don’t have to be back until September,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s the perk of teaching at a private school.’

  I wondered whether she was thinking about spending the entire summer there. Although there was nobody in London to question my absence, I had a business to run. I had to go back soon and I wanted Alex to go with me. The fact that I didn’t ask and she didn’t volunteer seemed to yawn like a chasm between us.

  When we reached Frikes, Alex asked if we could stop and look at the plaque commemorating the attack on the Antounnetta again. As we walked back to the Jeep I noticed a car further back parked by the side of the road.

  ‘What is it?’ Alex asked when she noticed my interest.

  ‘Probably nothing. It’s just that car there. I’m sure it was behind us on the way from Kioni.’

  I’d slowed to let it pass because I was taking in the views, but each time I had, the car had dropped back to remain the same distance behind. I could see someone sitting behind the wheel, though it was too far away to make out any detail.

  When we left Frikes I watched in the mirror. It was a nondescript blue Fiat which had seen better days. It pulled out and followed, keeping about a hundred yards back. At Stavros, rather than follow the coast, I turned off to take the longer mountain road. Before long I saw the Fiat again. I exchanged glances with Alex and she swivelled in her seat.

  ‘Who do you think it can be?’

  ‘You don’t recognise the car?’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Why should I?’

  ‘I just thought it might be somebody you know.’ I’d been turning the possibilities over in my mind and one that I’d come up with was Dimitri. I think she guessed what I was getting at and afterwards she kept looking back with a worried expression.

  As we climbed the mountain I alternately sped up and slowed down, but the Fiat always maintained its distance. The road was steep and twisty, sometimes partly blocked by rockfalls. The small village of Anoghi near the summit looked abandoned. There was a central square that was little more than the confluence of two roads beside which stood a small shop which also served as a kefenio. On the other side was a church. I pulled over and went back to the corner to wait for the Fiat to appear. I heard it approaching, the engine pitch changing as the driver changed down for the corner, and then I stepped out into the road.

  The driver braked, though I couldn’t see who it was because of the sun’s glare on the windscreen. As I made to step around the front the engine suddenly revved and the car shot forward. Taken completely by surprise I jumped out of the way, spinning into a wall. By the time I’d run back to the Jeep it had vanished around the corner on the other side of the square.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Alex asked in alarm.

  ‘I’m fine. Did you get a look at the driver?’

  ‘A man I think. It was too fast.’

  I shoved the Jeep into gear and followed. We passed several small lanes at speed and then we were clear of the houses and the road twisted in a series of hairpin bends for a couple of miles, before we came to a turning signposted to the monastery at Kathara. I pulled over. The road above was empty and from where we sat we could see all the way down to the coast. The Fiat had vanished.

  ‘He must have turned off in the village somewhere,’ I guessed. ‘He’s probably half-way back to Stavros by now.’

  ‘Who was it do you think?’

  I thought again of Dimitri, but I was less sure. I also thought about the man who’d attacked me, but out loud I only expressed bewilderment. ‘I don’t suppose you got the licence number?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  I thought about the car all the way back to Vathy. By then Alex was urging me to report the incident to the police, but I could imagine how Theonas would react.

  ‘What am I going to tell him? A car followed us from Kioni, and then vanished. I don’t think he’s going to get excited about that.’

  ‘It almost ran you down.’

  I shook my head. ‘If that was his intention, he had plenty of opportunity before then. He could have done it in Frikes.’

  ‘What if it was the same man who attacked you?’ Alex asked.

  Even if it was, I still couldn’t give Theonas any kind of description.

  When we arrived in Vathy I drove Alex to the place where she was staying and walked her to the door.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘For everything.’

  ‘What happens now?’ I wondered aloud as we faced each other awkwardly.

  ‘I need some time to think. And to be honest I’m quite tired. Can we meet in the morning?’

  I smiled to hide my disappointment. ‘Of course.’

  She hesitated, then leaned forward to kiss my cheek quickly and turned to go inside.

  When I arrived back at the house Irene wanted to know if Alex had found the answers to her questions. I told her about the weekend, and then almost casually she asked if I was going to be seeing Alex again. There was a slight knowing edge to her probing and though I parried with as much vagueness as I could manage, I guessed that she had been speaking with Kounidis. Either way, once I had managed to change the subject, she told me that she had spent most of her own weekend searching the house from one end to the other. There was no sign of the missing journal. The only other place that she could suggest was my dad’s museum in Vathy. Though it had been closed since my father’s death, Irene had a key so I decided to go right away.

  The museum occupied a squat, single-level building next to a vacant overgrown lot on a narrow street away from the
waterfront. A rusting iron fence enclosed a patch of brown earth which supported a few patches of dry grass and some dusty flowers. The door was painted green, but the paint, like the plaster on the building façade, was peeling and faded. Bars guarded the windows and a sign over the door mirrored the one at the front announcing in several languages that this was the archaeological museum. Compared with the official museum of Vathy located a few streets away the one my father ran looked distinctly shabby.

  I turned the key in the lock and went inside. The entrance hall was flanked on one side by a counter where somebody sat during opening hours to run the place and behind that was a door leading to my dad’s office. Two arched entrances led to the display halls on the left and right. The display cases were arranged in rows, each filled with the kind of figurines and drinking vessels I had become used to seeing as a child. In one room there were some large amphorae which would once have been used to transport olive oil. Neatly printed cards explained that they came from the sunken city in Polis Bay which Alkimos Kounidis had mentioned. Until proper regulations had been imposed it had not been uncommon for people to dive from visiting boats and plunder the seabed of its treasure. I read that ironically there were artefacts from Polis Bay in museums and private collections all over the world.

  When I went back to the office I found the door unlocked. As soon as I stepped inside I knew somebody had searched it thoroughly. Nothing looked obviously out of place, but I could see the dust marks where things had been picked up and put back again, though not exactly in the same position. A desk diary had been moved, as had a stack of file boxes.

  Even though I knew I was probably wasting my time, I went through every file drawer and cupboard, all the time with the feeling that I was repeating what somebody before me had already done. It would have been easy enough to visit during opening hours and wait until the attendant was engaged with another visitor and then slip into the office.