by Anne Hampson
A silence fell on the room for one contemplative moment before Grace said quietly,
‘You don’t suppose he - he fell in love with you that day?’
‘In love?’ Liz stared wordlessly at her for several astounded seconds. ‘You must be crazy! What sort of an idea’s that to put forward? I thought you had something feasible in mind.’
Grace laughed, automatically glancing at the clock. Only ten minutes to dinner time.
‘The idea might not be what suits you, Liz, but it is feasible. Nigel wouldn’t be the first man to fall in love with you on sight, would he now?’ The way Grace cocked an eyebrow was so reminiscent of a similar mannerism of Nigel’s that a swift frown darkened Liz’s brow.
‘Don’t be silly!’
‘Naturally you’re modest,’ returned Grace mildly. ‘But what I’ve just said is true, nevertheless, and you know it.’
‘Well, Nigel didn’t fall in love with me on sight,’ rejoined Liz firmly. ‘He detests me as much as I detest him!’
Grace swivelled round again and took a lipstick from the glass shelf of her dressing-table.
‘You haven’t told me what he’s like to live with.’ Not much expression in Grace’s voice; she watched her friend through the mirror as she applied the lipstick.
‘We fight all the time.’
‘Fight?’ repeated Grace after dwelling on this for a second or two. ‘Who wins?’ she added curiously and, in Liz’s opinion, irrelevantly.
‘Who would you expect to win?’ she countered.
Grace laughed.
‘Now you’ve set me a poser. In the ordinary way - you. But Nigel ...’ Ruefully she shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t back you against a man like that even though I’ve seen so little of him.’
A compression of her friend’s lips brought another laugh from Grace.
‘He receives as good as he gives,’ flashed Liz, rising from the bed and taking a powder compact from her handbag. ‘And he always will.’ Brave words, born of her innate strength of character. But although she hoped to deceive Grace Liz could not deceive herself. She had had proof enough of her husband’s superiority even before his final act of mastery.
‘Do you enjoy fighting with him?’ Grace stood up and moved away so that Liz could use the mirror.
‘It relieves the monotony.’
‘You know,’ said Grace meditatively, ‘I ought to be feeling sorry for you - but I’m not.’
‘Pity’s the last thing I want from anyone.’ Liz applied a powder puff to her cheek.
‘Frankly, I believe it’s the last thing you need.’ Grace slipped out of the dress she wore and put another over her head.
Liz said at length, with difficulty,
‘I believe you’re half expecting us to - to make a go of the marriage?’
‘I’m still wondering why Nigel married you.’ Grace stretched over her shoulder and completed the fastening of her zip. ‘Were I in your place I’d be doing a little experimenting in order to find out.’
‘Experimenting?’
Grace looked squarely at her.
‘Could you love him? - if he happened to love you?’
Liz glanced away, wondering why she could not voice a swift and emphatic ‘no!’ to her friend’s forthright question. At length she spoke, taking cover once again in evasion.
‘Your question’s superfluous, because Nigel does not happen to love me.’
‘Liz,’ said Grace with released asperity, ‘Nigel married you for some reason, and that reason could very well be love. Why should he have chosen this way instead of the obvious one of contesting the wills? He must have wanted you, otherwise he’d have gone ahead with his original intention and discussed the contesting of those stupid wills.’ Liz had gone a little pale, but she could not speak and Grace continued, ‘Experiment, as I’ve advised. In other words, let him know that you’re very different from what you appear to be—’
‘Different?’
‘You are, Liz. The front you insist on showing to the world is not your real self. You deliberately hide the qualities which you know will appeal to a man - that’s because you’ve never been interested in marrying, of course, and so you haven’t wished to reveal any appealing characteristics. But you’re interested in Nigel ... and no matter how much you deny that I wouldn’t believe you.’
Strangely Liz made no protest to this outspoken pronouncement - because, at last, she was admitting it was true; she was accepting the pointers instead of obstinately denying them - instead of refusing to own to the real significance of those stirrings of emotion which had first become manifest on the day Nigel had taken her to the Sanctuary. Yes, she was interested in Nigel. But not for anything would she admit this to Grace and, with her inherent understanding and tact, Grace pursued the matter no further but instead made the prosaic remark that they ought to be going down to dinner, and opened the bedroom door, inviting Liz to precede her.
‘You know Daniel, don’t you?’ Mrs. Lunn looked from Liz to the smiling young man who had also been invited to dinner. Liz nodded but held out a hand. Daniel had been one of her admirers in the old days but, like the others, he had soon decided that Liz’s formidable character was something with which he had no desire to live. Nevertheless, he was perfectly affable to her during dinner, but later when they were sitting a little apart from the others he asked, not without a hint of amusement,
‘How’s marriage suiting you? I never ever expected you to fall in love.’
She smiled to herself.
‘Women are unpredictable,’ she merely answered, driving away the intrusion of her husband and of the question which naturally attracted in its wake Grace’s assertion, and her own secret admission that she was interested in Nigel. ‘Men are too,’ she found herself murmuring, rather to her surprise.
‘Your husband must be a brave man,’ laughed Daniel bluntly, and Liz responded to his laughter.
‘Braver than you, Daniel.’
‘Braver than a dozen I could mention.’ A small pause and then, ‘He’s a Greek, I believe, and Greeks are notorious for keeping their women under, yet I can’t for the life of me see you being kept under.’
‘Nor I,’ she promptly retorted, sparkling.
‘Well,’ sighed Daniel, ‘it’s obviously working, so one of you must be climbing down.’
A wry smile rose involuntarily to Liz’s mouth, but she merely said,
‘If you’re fishing for information, Daniel, then you’re wasting your time. I don’t discuss my marriage with other men.’
He shrugged.
‘Fair enough. Just thought it would be entertaining to hear about it. There has been much talk, as you can very well imagine.’
‘Am I so notorious, then?’ she asked carelessly.
‘Your formidableness is well-known; you’re fully aware of that.’
Liz glanced over to where Grace was sitting on the couch with Ray. They were two of a kind, she thought, neither would try to domineer over the other. So they would get along fine, the relationship being satisfactory to them both. Two of a kind. She and Nigel were two of a kind, but even if they fell in love with one another Liz could not see their marriage working. Both were too headstrong and as neither would climb down, as Daniel had termed it, there would not be even the remotest possibility of success.
‘When are you going back?’ Daniel interrupted her thoughts and she brought her eyes from the contemplation of her friend and looked at her companion. He was smoking a cigarette, and as she watched he drew on it and inhaled deeply.
‘A week on Friday; I came for a fortnight.’ She would stay as long as she liked, she had asserted, but five minutes before the taxi came to take her to the airport Nigel had said,
‘Don’t forget, a fortnight and no longer.’
His arrogant command naturally brought a fiery flush to her cheeks and she had said, even though she did wonder if she meant it,
‘I’ll stay away a month if it suits me!’
‘I don’t think so.
If you’re not back here in a fortnight I’ll come and fetch you - and,’ he added, a glint of warning in his eyes, ‘if you put me to that trouble you’ll regret it for a devil of a long while!’
‘You couldn’t drag me back,’ she flung at him even as the taxi-driver stood with the door in his hand, having already put her luggage into the cab.
‘No,’ admitted Nigel, amused now and faintly mocking. ‘That’s true, but somehow, Liz, I feel sure you’d come quite meekly.’ And then, laughing at her explosive expression, he said placatingly and, she thought, rather gently, ‘Enjoy yourself, my dear, and remember me to the deaf and dumb school.’ And he actually blew her a kiss as the taxi rounded the bend in the drive before disappearing from his vision.
He knew she would come back in the time he had stipulated, and Liz had known. If only she could be a little more pliable, she thought, she and Nigel might after all, get along. But pliability meant weakness, and where men were concerned any form of weakness on a wife’s part led automatically to subjection. No, that sort of existence was not for her. No man, not even one with the strength of character of Nigel, was going to subject her to his mastery.
‘I expect you find this country dull after the glamour of Greece?’ Daniel was saying, and Liz nodded absently.
‘I miss the sun, and the scenery. Delphi’s a marvellous place.’ Her dilatory tone livened to enthusiasm as she spoke and Daniel smiled.
‘I ought to come for a holiday,’ he said tentatively, and added, ‘Would you put me up?’
She looked at him, thinking of Nigel, and his attitude towards Spiros, right from the first. She could not see him agreeing to put Daniel up at his house. And yet why shouldn’t she have a friend over from England if she wished? With a swift return of her sense of superiority and independence she said yes, she would willingly put Daniel up if he decided to come over on a visit.
‘When would you be coming?’ she wanted to know, and he laughed then, and asked why she was so eager.
That somehow brought a glint to her eye and she found she no longer cared for the idea of his coming over to stay with her and Nigel in Delphi. But he was fired with the idea, it seemed, because he went on to say,
‘I have my holidays next month - at the end. I’d love to come; you and your husband could show me around. It would be far preferable to going on my own. One misses all the local colour on a package tour.’
He continued to talk about the holiday and although Liz was still far from being enamoured with the idea she did not now see how she could retract. However, she concluded in the end that he would forget all about it once she had left the country again and so she allowed him to enthuse until he himself became tired of the subject.
She leant back on the couch. Mr. and Mrs. Lunn were chatting together, and so were Grace and Ray. Liz gave a deep sigh. She was so bored and yet she did not know why. Daniel was quite good company; the wine was good and from a record player over in one corner drifted the soft and soothing strains of the Waltz of the Flowers from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite. The whole atmosphere and the company were conducive to a pleasant evening of contentment, so why should she be bored? The question was superfluous. Liz knew that it was Nigel’s company she wanted, so why pretend? Strangely the admission brought a softness to her features, a sort of tenderness never seen on her face before.
What of Nigel, though? He could have married her for love, Grace had hinted. Then several incidents came flooding back to Liz’s mind - Nigel’s saying Spiros did not know what he was talking about, then those touches of advice when Nigel had told Liz to think, and she might guess at the truth ... This in reply to her question, why had he married her? If he did love her, could they make a go of the marriage? Theirs was no longer an unnatural relationship, for Liz felt convinced that that one night was only the beginning, not the end.
‘Can I take you home?’ Daniel asked later when Liz and he and Ray were preparing to go.
‘My car should be here at eleven o’clock,’ she smiled. ‘Thank you all the same, Daniel.’
‘Then let me have your address and I’ll write and let you know when I’m coming.’ He brought out a small diary and, turning to a page at the back, he waited, pen in hand. She had no alternative than to give her address to him, but she silently prayed he would change his mind. ‘Thanks. I’ll look forward to seeing you.’ His manner and his smile troubled her as she drove home through the storm that had broken as they all left Liz’s house. She should not have been so impulsive as to invite him, she concluded, for she had a strong suspicion that he would not change his mind about the suggested visit. However, the damage was done now, so there was nothing to be gained by teasing herself with it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
To Liz’s astonishment Nigel was at the airport to meet her when her plane landed. She had told him the time of her arrival, but had fully expected to have to take a taxi home.
The little thrill of pleasure his appearance afforded her was of course hidden, but the blush that rose to her cheeks as the result of recollection was there for him to see, and his eyes twinkled in amusement. She bristled. If only he would not be so infuriatingly superior, she thought, for it was patently clear that he guessed the reason for her swift rise of colour.
‘How is everyone at home?’ he inquired affably as he drove her from the airport. ‘Still in the pink of condition, I hope?’
‘Gran isn’t,’ answered Liz rather sadly. ‘But then it’s only to be expected. She had a fall and I had to call in the doctor.’
‘What did he say?’
‘It’s her heart - and she has rheumatism, of course. I’m afraid she’s going to be helpless quite soon.’ Again sadness entered her voice and Nigel turned swiftly.
‘You think a lot about her, don’t you?’
She nodded.
‘Old people worry me - and especially Great-Gran. We’ve always got on so well together.’
A small pause and then,
‘Well, Liz, you’ve done your duty by them all. They’d have been in a home but for you.’ She said nothing and after passing a slow vehicle he spoke again. ‘Do you still consider it a sacrifice?’ His lazy drawl was edged with amusement and although she tried to remain amicable and calm she found herself wanting to return him some scathing report. Why couldn’t he be a little more flexible and - humble, even? That thought led to a smile. The man would not understand the meaning of the word!
‘You yourself don’t appear to be perturbed by my sacrifice, as you call it.’
‘Why should I be? You made the decision, knowing what it entailed.’
‘Knowing what it entailed?’ she gasped, then wished she had held a rein on her tongue because of his sudden gust of laughter and the slanting glance of mockery he cast at her.
‘No, of course you didn’t, did you? All was to be nice and platonic - and would have been, Liz, had you not goaded me so often.’
‘Do you mind changing the subject?’ she snapped, adding, ‘I’m already beginning to wish I’d stayed at home a little longer!’
‘I wonder ...’ He changed gear and stayed behind a lorry. ‘Tell me about your visit. What did you do with your time?’ Nigel smiled at her as he asked the question.
‘I went out on several occasions, to friends. But for the most part I stayed in. I had a feeling I might never see Gran again.’
‘Did you miss me?’ he asked after a moment’s silence.
The pomposity of the man! How could she ever have contemplated being more friendly? She had even gone as far as to contemplate the possibility of trying to make a success of the marriage. She must have been out of her mind.
‘I did not! It was wonderful to get away from you for a while.’
‘Thanks,’ laconically. ‘I wish I hadn’t bothered to come and pick you up.’
‘If my company annoys you there’s a remedy. You can drop me just whenever you like. There are plenty of taxis available.’
He drew an exasperated breath.
‘Be caref
ul, Liz, for I might do just that.’ He cut out to pass the lorry and then increased his speed.
‘Do you derive pleasure from these arguments?’ she inquired coldly, her patience stretched to the limit.
‘A certain amount,’ he owned with humour. ‘You see, I’ve never met a girl like you before. You’re quite unique. Of course,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘had you not been, you’d have been married long before I met you.’
‘What exactly do you mean by that remark?’
‘Obviously you were too formidable for the local lads - a challenge none was willing to accept.’
‘You were, though.’ Curiosity took the place of the tang in her voice.
‘I felt myself capable of taming you.’ With a deft touch of the wheel he swerved to avoid a cyclist who was barely visible among the load he carried on his back and on the carrier and handlebars of the bicycle.
‘I wonder if you know just how pompous you are. It’s not difficult to see why you were not married before you met me!’
He laughed.
‘I could have been,’ he commented mildly. ‘Although you’ll never believe that.’
‘Yes, I will - in fact, I take it back. Greta would have been misguided enough to have you. I often wonder why you didn’t marry her.’
