by Anne Hampson
‘No, my dear, certainly not omniscient,’ he denied with faint satire. ‘Had I been that I should have known what I was in for.’
‘And you didn’t?’ she asked, diverted and surprised.
He shook his head, and the laughter lines at the sides of his eyes deepened until they were etchings of attractiveness which brought unwanted flutterings to her breast.
‘I didn’t,’ was Nigel’s mock grim rejoinder.
‘And if you had,’ she challenged, ‘would you have acted differently?’ Having anticipated the question Nigel was shaking his head long before she had finished speaking.
‘You know very well I wouldn’t, Liz,’ he chided gently. ‘You are the one for me and I knew it the moment I set eyes on you ... Two of a kind, remember what I said?’ He was laughing at her, as he so often laughed at her.
‘What a pity I didn’t have the sense to know about those wills, as you did,’ she murmured, but only because she was interested in his reaction - certainly not because she regretted the marriage. Nigel was right, they were two of a kind, and although it looked very much as if they were to spend the rest of their lives fighting, they would remain together. Liz had no doubts about that, not now that she had accepted the fact that her own need of Nigel was as great as his need of her.
‘What a lot we’d both have missed. No, my dear, don’t go wishing that you’d been wiser - not that it would do any good now,’ he added with an amused smile.
‘You would have continued that peaceful well-organized life you once mentioned,’ she returned with the merest hint of mischief.
Nigel frowned in thought.
‘Peaceful and well-organized ... Is that how I described it?’ he asked her curiously, and she nodded.
‘Those were your very words.’
‘I did say, more recently, that life must have been dull until you came into it. Odd how we consider ourselves to be content, to possess all that goes to make life comfortable and full - and then suddenly something happens and the astounding truth is flashed at you and you discover that life is merely a dull and aimless round after all.’ He was reflecting, musing to himself as if he had forgotten Liz’s presence altogether.
‘Surely your life was no dull and aimless round.’ Deliberately she broke in on his reverie and he glanced up. ‘You had your money and your friends... and Greta,’ she could not help adding, brought to that particular piece of malice by some irritating, compelling force within her. His gaze became penetrating; his half stifled intake of breath was in itself a tacit reproach even before he admonished,
‘You’re what other women would call a bitch, Liz. Why don’t you make some effort at control?’
She reddened but, strangely, found no withering retort ready to fly to her lips.
‘There’s no need to become personal, Nigel.’ And although she endeavoured to inject some sort of protest into her voice she found to her disgust that, on the contrary, she was subdued and in fact faintly apologetic. What had this man done to her? Was it his aim to break her spirit? The idea should by rights have set her temper alight, but she was beginning to wonder if, at some distant date, Nigel would in fact break her spirit. If he did it would be only because of the way she was now feeling about him, and should this feeling grow and grow how could she continue to combat both her husband’s superior strength and his inordinate attraction for her?
‘You brought the personal angle into it,’ he reminded her, his eyes glinting, hard as obsidian, if not quite as dark. ‘Greta is of the past. You and I are concerned only with the present and the future.’
‘You’re sure she’s of the past?’ Swift the query and Nigel faintly smiled.
‘Jealous, maybe?’ he quizzed, and her flush deepened and fluctuated and her beautiful lashes swept down to throw shadows that concealed her expression.
‘What an excessive amount of self-conceit you possess! Why should I be jealous of your mistress!’
‘My one-time mistress,’ he corrected, and she winced at the admission even though she had no illusions about the role Greta had played in her husband’s life. And Greta wouldn’t have been the only one, Liz surmised, for Nigel was no different from any other man.
Liz looked down at her hands, feeling unhappy and, oddly, quite alone. They had finished their tea and she rose from her chair.
‘I’m going to sit outside and read,’ she said a trifle huskily. ‘It’s a shame to be in; I expect the rains will be coming soon.’ Her change of the subject at this crucial point spoke for itself and with unexpected perception and gentleness Nigel reached out and took her hand in his.
‘Greta is of the past, Liz,’ he repeated softly and, rising, tilted her face and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.
CHAPTER NINE
To Liz’s dismay Daniel wrote a week later to say he was coming over for a fortnight.
‘I’ll be leaving on the fifteenth,’ he ended, and told Liz not to bother writing back. He was leaving England in a couple of days as he intended spending a few days in Venice before coming on to them.
Liz was annoyed, but with herself. In a sudden fit of defiance she had said Daniel could come over and stay with her. She had thought at the time that Nigel might not be home anyway, but she now felt convinced that from now on her husband would be away from home only when it was absolutely necessary. Well, he’d have to be told, she supposed, and as there seemed nothing to be gained by a delay she went along to his study door and knocked.
‘Come in.’ He was absorbed in work, perusing some papers on his desk, a pen in one hand. But he smiled on seeing who had entered and gestured towards a chair. ‘What is it, Liz?’
How to begin? Liz cursed herself for her stupid act of defiance.
‘When I was at home I invited a friend over to stay,’ she began, then stopped on seeing her husband’s expression.
‘You never mentioned this. When is she coming?’
Liz coughed to clear her throat.
‘It’s Daniel Westcliffe - an old friend.’
A small silence; Nigel stared darkly at her through half-closed eyes.
‘Friend - or flame?’ he inquired mildly at last.
A rush of anger sped through her.
‘He’s my friend! And I’ve invited him to stay here. I hope you’ve no objections!’
Another silence followed. Nigel’s face became engraved with suppressed anger.
‘And if I have?’ he queried gently.
‘It’ll be too bad, because there’s no way of putting him off. He’s having a stay in Venice before coming on here. I received his letter only a few minutes ago.’
‘You would have put him off?’ Nigel watched her oddly.
‘No,’ she returned promptly, and Nigel’s eyes darkened. ‘I invited him to come - and I’m looking forward to his visit.’
‘When is he arriving?’
‘On Thursday.’
‘How long is he staying?’
‘A fortnight—’
‘A fortnight? Have you forgotten we’re leaving here in a fortnight’s time?’
‘Daniel will leave the day before we do.’
Nigel looked at her, his eyes like steel, his mouth set in a firm inflexible line which troubled Liz in spite of her determination to make a firm stand.
‘Why didn’t you mention this - er - friend of yours?’ he demanded, dropping the pen on the desk and leaning back in his chair. ‘What’s the idea of springing it on me at the last moment?’
‘I haven’t sprung it on you—’ She broke off as he raised his eyebrows, but as he made no comment she continued, ‘I thought he might not come - people say these things and often don’t mean them.’
‘But if you invite someone over, and they accept - and obviously this Daniel did accept - then it’s to be expected that he’ll come. Are you sure you can’t put him off?’ Nigel asked with suspicion.
On the point of saying that a letter would not arrive in time Liz stopped herself. Such a statement would be tantamount to admitting tha
t she had regretted her invitation and that she was not now keen on Daniel’s coming to stay with them.
‘I don’t want to put him off. I’m looking forward to having him here.’
A deep sigh escaped Nigel. He said curtly,
‘I suppose you have every right to invite your friends — as this is your home,’ he remarked, surprising her by his reasonable manner, for she felt certain he was still furious. ‘However, he can’t stay the full fortnight—’
‘I’m not sending him off to an hotel!’
Her husband’s eyes glinted.
‘He’s not staying here until the very moment of our departure. You’ll explain, and he’ll understand.’
Liz shook her head determinedly.
‘He’s staying here,’ she said obstinately. ‘It would be the height of ill manners to ask him, as I have done, and then send him to an hotel.’
‘It would be for a couple of days only.’ Soft tones but inflexible. Liz drew an angry breath and said,
‘There’s no necessity for that. I can’t see any reason for your attitude.’
‘You’ll require time to organize yourself. You have shopping to do, the hairdresser to visit—’ He shook his head. ‘No, Liz, your friend may stay about ten days and that’s all.’ Nigel came forward in his chair and took up his pen again. ‘And now, if you’ll leave me, I have work to do.’
His quiet authoritative way, the very act of picking up the pen ... Liz fumed, but stood up and turned to the door.
‘He’s staying a fortnight,’ she said over her shoulder, and would have left the room before Nigel could retort, but he was on his feet and even as she put out a hand to open the door he had caught it and she was roughly swung around to face him.
‘If you’re not damned careful,’ he almost snarled, ‘this Daniel will get no further than the doorstep! Think yourself lucky I’m agreeable to his coming at all ... and leave it at that.’ His face drew close, dark and menacing and etched in granite. ‘My patience, Liz,’ he murmured, scarcely above a whisper. ‘For your own sake don’t try it too far.’
‘If you’re threatening me with violence—’ she began, but a little shake cut her short.
‘There’s no “if” about it. I once promised you a bruise or two and by God you’ll be lucky if you manage to escape them! Heed my warnings, Liz, or you’ll feel my strength in a very different way from what you’ve ever felt it before.’ He released her, noting her white face and the convulsive movement of her lips. ‘Anger or fear?’ he asked, amused now and faintly mocking. ‘You probably don’t know it, but you’re as white as a sheet.’
In addition she was inwardly trembling, but naturally Liz kept this to herself. With a final act of defiance she tilted her chin and flashed,
‘Lay a finger on me and I’ll seek protection!’
To her surprise he laughed and said,
‘From whom, might I ask?’
‘The police.’
Another laugh.
‘So confident! My dear, you’re in Greece now. The police don’t trouble themselves with domestic affairs. If a man wants to beat his wife he gets on with it, and no one interferes. So be advised by me and watch your step.’ And with a little shove he had sent her through the door. It closed and she stood glaring at it, her fury a burning vapour suffusing her entire body. If only she could retaliate - and to some effect. For what retaliation she had hitherto put up had proved entirely ineffective. Daniel ... She could humiliate Nigel by flirting with her visitor ... That should bring her imperious, self- opinionated husband down a peg - a few pegs, in fact!
Daniel duly arrived two days later and was introduced to Nigel, who spoke to him with the sort of polite courtesy Liz had expected of him. No warmth, no smile, but that did not surprise Liz. However, these things registered with Daniel and later, on finding herself alone with Liz, he remarked on her husband’s lack of enthusiasm, adding,
‘He didn’t mind my coming? I mean, he isn’t the jealous sort, is he?’
She shook her head, but felt it would be most interesting to see how Nigel reacted to her flirting with Daniel.
‘No, he isn’t jealous. And as for his manner - Nigel isn’t the demonstrative sort, Daniel, so you’ll have to take him as you find him. He’s quite sociable, but that aloofness is there - practically all the time. It’s part of his character.’
Daniel shrugged. He and Liz were in the garden, sitting on deck chairs, while Nigel was in his study, having gone there within a few moments of Daniel’s arrival.
‘This sort of life’s a complete change for you.’ Daniel looked curiously at Liz. ‘Don’t you find it quiet?’
She glanced up, and across the garden - which was in itself a paradise of tropical trees and shrubs - to the scene beyond - the gorge and sheer walls of the mountain, the naked peaks where eagles soared and nested, the Sanctuary of Apollo down there below, drowsy in the sunshine. Olive trees, their silver grey leaves fluttering in the breeze, stretched away across the great Plain of Amphissa towards the Gulf of Corinth, its shimmering waters blue and lazy under a sapphire Grecian sky. Liz shook her head. Peace reigned in these mountains, and silence deep and profound. Where, these days, could one find such seclusion? No crowds now because the season was ending, and during the winter months there would scarcely be a soul on the site.
‘I do find it quiet,’ Liz replied at length, but added, ‘I like it, though. One can have too much of the other kind of pleasure - the round of parties and visits.’
‘If I remember you never cared for those very much,’ Daniel said reflectively. ‘But on the other hand you didn’t bury yourself as you appear to be doing here.’
She lay back and put her hands behind her, supporting her head.
‘I’m not buried, exactly, Daniel. For example, in a couple of weeks’ time Nigel and I are going off to Rhodes to stay on a yacht. It belongs to a friend of Nigel’s.’
‘In a fortnight?’ Daniel looked swiftly at her.
‘We go the day after you leave, so it’s all right,’ she assured him. Nigel had asked for it and now he would get it. Had he adopted a more tolerant attitude she would perhaps have explained the position to Daniel, but she now had no intention of doing so, although she did wonder how she would make all her preparations while they had a guest in the house. She could hardly leave him alone, and Nigel would certainly not entertain him.
‘Are you sure, Liz?’ Daniel seemed a trifle anxious. ‘I could leave a couple of days earlier. I wouldn’t mind in the least; it would give me a chance to see Athens.’
She hesitated. The problem could be solved - and yet should she accept this offer of Daniel’s then Nigel would be sure to conclude that she had bowed meekly to his will. And that Liz could not bear.
‘You must stay the full fortnight,’ she smiled. ‘I shan’t be inconvenienced in any way.’
During dinner Nigel exhibited the courtesy which good manners demanded, but later, when he came to Liz’s room, he broached the subject of Daniel’s departure.
‘Did you tell him it wasn’t convenient for him to stay the full fortnight?’
Nigel was in his dressing-gown, Liz in her nightdress. She sat at the dressing-table, brushing her hair while Nigel sat on the chair by the window watching her.
‘I did not.’ She turned as she spoke, interested in his reaction. The brevity of her reply and its swift delivery brought a glint to his eyes, as she fully expected it would.
‘We’ll see about that, Liz,’ was the quiet reply. ‘You’re just being deliberately awkward,’ he added in the same soft inflexible tones. ‘You know as well as I that you need some time — a couple of days at least — to prepare for the party.’
‘I’ll do it while Daniel’s here. He won’t mind if I leave him to his own devices for a day.’
Nigel stood up, and came towards her. He seemed icily cold and Liz felt a thread of uneasiness run through her body.
‘You leave me no alternative than to tell him, straight out, that it’s not conven
ient for him to stay. I expect he’ll understand, when I’ve explained the position.’
Her face flushed with anger.
‘He’s my guest, so you can keep out of it. It would be downright rude to tell him to go.’
Nigel’s brow darkened ominously. He was very close and Liz felt her nerves tingle. In another moment, she thought, he would jerk her to her feet and shake her, or bruise her mouth, or give her some other display of his mastery. What a life! And yet ... Liz knew she would not change it even if she could. Something held her to Nigel, something strong and durable, and, strangely, there was an aura of romance about their relationship in spite of all their arguments. For Nigel remained the perfect lover, tender and gentle ... and confidently persuasive. With a deep expressive gaze she watched him through the mirror, breathless and expectant because for some quite unbelievable reason she felt pliable and receptive ... and very feminine. She looked it too, sitting there in an enchanting film of white transparent nylon, her lovely hair in a shining cascade of gold falling on to her golden, naked shoulders. Daniel and any arguments pertaining to him were forgotten; only she and Nigel existed. Through the window night sounds drifted - goat bells and donkeys in the far distance and the droning of nocturnal insects closer to. The floating air transported exotic perfumes into the room, and the subtle illumination from a single rose-shaded lamp lent its contribution to the spell of romance. Liz’s eyes shone, and smiled at her husband; her lips quivered and parted, her hands trembled a little and she placed the hairbrush aside, surrender hovering on the edge of her mind...
