by Anne Hampson
However, he recovered and Liz received a smile as he said, in broken English,
‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Nigel. You are welcome.’
‘Thank you, Nikos.’ Transferring her gaze, Liz looked at her husband. His chiselled features were impassive as, with an imperious yet careless gesture, he indicated the car.
‘Unload our bags, Nikos. And show my wife to the White Room.’
Another strange glance and then,
‘Certainly, Mr. Nigel.’
The White Room was breathtaking. Walls and ceiling were white, also the paintwork, but the furniture was in a pastel shade of peach, as was the carpet and curtains. The bathroom off was a dream in peach and dove grey, with an enormous bath and separate shower.
‘Will there be anything you want, Mrs. Nigel?’
She shook her head, wondering what he was thinking, for there was only a single bed in the room, and no connecting door into any other apartment.
‘No, thank you, Nikos.’
‘Shall I send my wife up to unpack your cases?’
‘I’ll do that myself, thank you.’
He went out, softly closing the door, and Liz moved over to the window and stepped out on to the railed balcony on which was a small table and a comfortable armchair. Baskets of flowers hung from brackets fixed to the corner opposite and to the wall of the house. Flowers in earthenware pots stood at the ends of the balcony, and a vine twisted its way through the wrought-iron railings. She stood looking out over the grey sea of olives sweeping across the Plain of Amphissa to the Bay of Itea, and the blue waters of the Corinthian Gulf. It was an idyllic picture, with the tremendous cliffs of Parnassus shadowed now as the sun’s rays slanted low, bringing a softness to the eagle crags and the gorge, above which rose in sheer majesty the two great peaks of the Phaedriades.
Re-entering the room at last, Liz unpacked her suitcases and after taking a bath and changing into a cool cotton dress, sleeveless and short, she came out into the wide corridor and glanced uncertainly around.
‘Mrs. Nigel ...’ Nikos appeared and indicated she should follow him, which she did, and they entered the dining-room where Nigel was standing against the window, one hand resting on the frame, the other thrust into his pocket. He was gazing out over the same view as was seen from Liz’s bedroom, but he turned at her entry and his eyes swept from the shining mass of hair to the dainty sandals on her feet. ‘Shall I serve dinner now, Mr. Nigel?’
‘Please, Nikos.’ The servant disappeared and Nigel asked Liz what she would like to drink.
She asked for sherry, taking possession of the chair by the window which Nigel indicated. He sat down opposite to her, his eyes thoughtful, his lips pursed. Liz felt strange, caught in an unreal situation, and she fell to thinking of the wedding, so quiet and swift, with just her own family present, all except Great-Gran who could not make the journey to the church.
The day before the wedding Liz had questioned Nigel as to his attitude towards the eventual dissolving of the marriage. He was firm and inflexible in his pronouncement that the marriage was permanent. He was more Greek than English, he said, and in his country people did not enter into marriage with the idea that it could easily be dissolved.
She thought about this. It wasn’t really important. She would never require her freedom, so there was no point in starting off an argument at this late stage in the proceedings. If Nigel wished to remain tied for life, then that was all right with her.
‘The dinner, Mr. Nigel.’ Nikos waited until they sat down at the table and then served them, going first to Nigel, whose flick of a hand sent him, surprised, to Liz.
After dinner Nigel went out and Liz stayed on the patio reading until ten o’clock and then she went to bed. She was bored already, she realized, and wondered how on earth her future was going to be endured.
CHAPTER THREE
Nigel had business in Athens requiring his attention and three days after her arrival in Kastri Liz was on her own. This did not trouble her; on embarking on this marriage she had neither expected nor desired the company of her husband. In this house she had imagined herself rather in the position of a guest, and could she have had her way Liz would have chosen separate apartments altogether, but the house was comparatively small, and consequently not adaptable to the conversion Liz had in mind.
Already she had made a tour of the Sanctuary, an experience she would never forget. It was true that Delphi was Greece’s most magnificent site - and she felt it was no exaggeration when people declared the setting to be one of the most spectacular in the world.
Liz was sitting at her dressing-table, manicuring her nails, when Maria, Nikos’s wife, knocked timidly and opened the door in response to Liz’s ‘come in’.
With a rather frightened expression on her face, the Greek woman said in very broken English,
‘Where is Mr. Nigel? My husband is out and I look everywhere for Mr. Nigel.’
‘He’s also out. What is it, Maria?’
‘Out? Ah ... alimono!’ The woman clasped her hands together. ‘There is a visitor, Mrs. Nigel - and she storms, you know, because she wants to see Mr. Nigel. My husband not tell me Mr. Nigel go out. Alimono! What are we to do?’
‘She storms?’ Liz stood up, and stared at the woman. Surely nothing less than a catastrophe could produce an expression like that. Liz’s eyes flickered past her; Nikos had appeared and on his face too there was the same half-scared expression.
‘What does ah, alimono mean?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Maria just said it,’ she explained as he threw her a questioning glance.
‘It means, oh, alas!’ Nikos pushed his wife out of the way. ‘Mrs. Nigel, there is someone to see your husband, and although I’ve told her he’s away from home she refuses to go. She wants to see you.’
‘Who is she?’ Liz was recalling Nikos’s startled manner on Nigel’s introducing his wife to him.
‘She - she—’ Nikos licked his lips. ‘What shall I do?’ he asked hastily, and Liz’s frown deepened.
‘I asked you who she is.’ Liz looked straight at him, very much in the manner she had looked at Vivien when trying to force her into marriage with Nigel’s brother. ‘Tell me immediately, if you please.’
The man darted a glance at his wife. She moved silently away, to disappear as she made hurriedly towards the region of the kitchen.
‘She’s - she’s— Her name’s Greta, and she’s Mr. Nigel’s ...’ The man tailed off, lowering his eyes.
‘His girl-friend?’ said Liz, recalling Nigel’s passionate, demanding kiss. It didn’t surprise her that he had a girlfriend. In fact, it would have very much surprised her if he had not.
Nikos glanced up, somewhat bewildered.
‘You’re not angry, Mrs. Nigel?’
She looked rather haughtily at him, having no intention of entering into this sort of conversation with a servant.
‘Take the lady into the salon. Tell her I’ll be with her in a few minutes.’
‘Yes, Mrs. Nigel, certainly.’ But at the door he turned. ‘I shall be in the kitchen - if you should want me.’
A faint smile touched her lips. Did he think she might need protection?
Thank you, Nikos, I’ll remember that.’
She dressed, brushed her hair and went out and along to the front hall, off which was the salon. The girl was standing with her back to the room, gazing through the window. Liz’s soft-soled shoes were noiseless on the marble mosaic floor and she coughed to reveal her presence. The girl turned slowly, her dark eyes full of hatred as they swept over Liz from head to foot.
‘Where’s Nigel?’ she rasped before Liz could speak. ‘Where is he, I say?’
‘I believe Nikos told you that Nigel’s away.’ Moving over to the sofa, Liz made a gesture with her hand. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
‘You asking me to sit down! Do you know who I am?’ ‘Perhaps you’ll enlighten me?’
The girl seethed. She came close to Liz, her eyes dark pools of wrath.
&nbs
p; ‘Nigel and I were practically engaged before he went to England just over a week ago! What’s happened? Who are you?’
‘Engaged?’ Liz glanced sceptically at her, recalling Nigel’s words when she, Liz, had said she always swore never to give up her freedom.
‘Strangely, so I did,’ had been the response ...
‘Yes - engaged! Who are you?’ the girl repeated aggressively. ‘What’s your name?’
Points of blue ice glittered in Liz’s eyes.
‘Mrs. Shapani,’ she murmured spitefully. ‘What’s yours?’
The girl gritted her teeth.
‘Sheldon!’ She paced about for a second or two and then sat down on the sofa. Liz herself took a chair and asked if she could get her visitor some refreshment.
‘I want nothing from you! When will Nigel be back?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
The admission was voiced before Liz realized what it meant. Greta looked up, an odd expression in her eyes.
‘You’ve no idea? And newly married? How very strange.’
‘I expect Nigel will phone me.’ There was no response from Greta, who had suddenly become lost in thought. ‘Why haven’t you called before?’ asked Liz curiously at length. ‘We came home on Tuesday.’
‘I was away myself. I arrived back only this morning and heard of Nigel’s marriage. My maid’s the sister of Nikos,’ she added with impatience as Liz looked interrogatingly at her. ‘She told me. I couldn’t believe it - I could not believe it!’ She glared at Liz with a black venom. ‘I don’t know what this is all about, or why he married you, but I know he can’t possibly love you!’
Colour spread over Liz’s cheeks and her impulse was to have her visitor shown out, but she was curious. This girl was beautiful, and from a man’s view, thought Liz, extremely desirable. She was very dark, with big alluring eyes and the sort of lips men like to kiss. Her shape too, was more rounded than that of Liz - and Liz had often heard the crude expression that men ‘prefer a little flesh on their women’.
‘You told Nikos you wished to see me,’ said Liz after a pause. ‘If you will come to the point ...?’
‘I just wanted to look at you, that’s all,’ returned Greta insolently. ‘I couldn’t believe in your existence, even though my maid has never lied to me.’ A small hesitation and then, ‘Why did he marry you?’
Liz was facing the window and her attention was caught by the sun glinting on the heights of Parnassus. Every hour the scene out there changed, even though the imperishable beauty of the mountain itself was ever the same.
‘There is usually only one reason for marriage,’ said Liz coldly at last.
‘Usually, yes.’ Greta’s lips pursed. ‘He went to England on other business altogether.’
Other business ... How much had he told this girl? Liz wondered and said with a hint of caution,
‘You know what that business was, apparently?’
The other girl flushed and Liz shot her a perceptive glance.
‘Nigel - er - he didn’t have time to tell me about it.’
A faint smile hovered on Liz’s mouth for a space. ‘Perhaps,’ she suggested quietly, ‘he didn’t wish to confide in you?’
Greta’s eyes flashed angrily.
‘I said he didn’t have time! Nigel always confides in me! We were almost engaged - I’ve already told you that!’ She stood up, and the hand holding her bag was tightly clenched about the handle. Liz surprised herself by feeling a strange pity for the girl. Nigel had obviously played about with her affections, and although Liz could never like the girl, feeling that this type asked for trouble, she at the same time found Nigel’s conduct thoroughly heartless and inexcusable. ‘I’ll ring every single day - to find out when he’ll be back!’ Greta strode to the door and opened it before Liz could do so. ‘I’ll know what this is all about! He’s not treating me like this and getting away with it!’ For a long while after the girl’s departure Liz dwelt on the conversation. Nigel had told Greta he was going to England on business - which Liz supposed was correct, and yet ... A frown settled on her brow. Business ... Somehow, that word was not quite the right one with which to describe the mission on which Nigel had gone to England.
‘I’m splitting hairs,’ said Liz to herself, and dismissed the matter from her mind.
With lunch over Liz decided to spend the afternoon in the shady courtyard, with a book. But the June day was hot and sultry and she stripped off, wearing only a brief pair of shorts and an even briefer covering at the top.
During the afternoon she had a visit from a distant cousin of Nigel’s. Nikos brought him into the courtyard, having informed him of Nigel’s absence, but saying Mrs. Nigel was in.
‘Mrs. Nigel!’ Liz heard him ejaculate as she glanced up from her book. ‘What did you say, Nikos!’
‘Mr. Nigel - he go to England, and return with a wife — Mrs. Nigel, this is your cousin, Mr. Spiros.’
The stocky young man just stared and stared, and Liz flushed, wishing she’d had time to go indoors for a more adequate covering. She did not mind this attire in her own country, but during her previous visit to Greece she had learned that a good deal of embarrassment could be avoided by concealing most of her body from the interested eyes of the Greek male.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ she invited calmly at last, but Spiros still stood there, amazement on his handsome brown face. Nikos grinned and went off. He at least was deriving entertainment from these odd circumstances.
‘Are you Nigel’s wife?’ inquired Spiros, sitting down in a dazed sort of way on the wicker chair opposite to Liz. ‘Am I dreaming?’
She had to laugh, so comical he looked.
‘I’m Nigel’s wife, yes. We’ve been married almost a week now.’
‘But - but—’ He stared again - and she re-opened her book and spread it on her lap. ‘Nigel - married! He’ll never get married—I mean - are you sure?’ he then asked, regarding her with extreme suspicion.
‘Would Nikos lie?’
‘No ... but— I still can’t take it in! I mean, who are you? I’ve never even heard of you. Have you and Nigel known each other long? And where did you meet? He hasn’t visited England for years until last week.’
She hesitated. How much did Nigel intend telling his relatives?
‘Nigel and I haven’t known each other very long,’ she began, when rather to her relief Spiros interrupted her, suddenly becoming aware of his lack of grace and courtesy, characteristics which as a Greek he considered of prime importance.
‘I say, I’m awfully sorry, but I haven’t welcomed you to Kastri, nor even asked your name. I’m Spiros, as you’ve heard. Spiros Loukia.’
‘How do you do,’ she smiled. ‘My name’s Elizabeth. I’m afraid I always get called Liz.’
‘Liz ...’ He thought about it. ‘I like it. Liz, you are welcome to Kastri!’
‘Thank you. ’ Liz smiled again, taking in the dark hair and eyes, the fleshy mouth, and the typical high cheekbones of the Greek. ‘What refreshment can I offer you?’ She wasn’t yet able to clap her hands for Nikos and as she had no intention of getting up she merely looked around, hoping he might be somewhere about.
‘A long drink. Lemonade or something.’
‘I’ll have the same. I don’t see Nikos. Would you mind going into the house and telling him what we want?’
Spiros looked questioningly at her and clapped his hands. Nikos appeared at once and the drinks were brought out, Nikos placing a small table between Liz and her companion.
‘Will you tell Maria to bring me out a wrap?’ asked Liz as Nikos moved away.
‘Certainly, Mrs. Nigel.’
‘And now,’ said Spiros as he took up his glass, ‘how about satisfying your new cousin’s curiosity and telling him all about it?’ Having accepted the fact of her marriage Spiros now evinced no further surprise and added, before she could speak, ‘I never thought Nigel would fall like that - all of a rush, as you might say - but, Liz, looking at you I can see he hadn’t a
chance!’
She took that unsmilingly. Flattery was neither desired nor appreciated by Liz. Men’s opinions of her were of no consequence. In fact, she would prefer them to keep those opinions to themselves, no matter how complimentary they might be. Nevertheless, after a moment she talked to him in a friendly way, saying it was a whirlwind courtship and that she and Nigel had married in haste because he had his business to attend to and it would have been inconvenient for him to make another trip to England. Liz stopped to take the wrap from Maria and put it on. She felt more at ease now she was covered.
‘Well,’ said Spiros, ‘it’s certainly romantic.’ An odd little pause and then, hesitantly, ‘You haven’t met - er - a girl called Greta yet?’
She had to smile then.
‘As a matter of fact, I have.’ She went on to tell Spiros about the visit, her smile broadening as she watched his changing expression.
‘There’ll be trouble with that one,’ he declared when she stopped speaking. ‘She became so possessive, and it was clear that she expected the affair to develop into something permanent, but she’s lived here long enough to know that Greeks never marry their pillow friends.’ He stopped then, and flushed, and a little laugh escaped Liz as she perceived his consternation.
