by Anne Hampson
She heard Nigel’s quick indrawn breath; her excitement grew and she swivelled round and looked up at him. His eyes held hers before roving over her, from her head to her neck and beyond. And then, puzzled, she saw his eyes kindle strangely as if at some secret idea, and the glimmer of a smile suddenly played around his mouth.
‘We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ His face had become a mask of lazy boredom, but although Liz felt a strange prickling of her senses she was totally unprepared for what was to follow. ‘I’m tired and I’m sure you are too, so I’ll say good night. Sleep well.’
Liz started. Had he uttered words such as those? Could he really leave her? The revelation came as a shock.
‘Good night.’ She swallowed something hard and bitter in her throat. Never had disappointment swept over her in a deluge such as this. She picked up the brush, but it remained idle in her hand; her lip was caught between her teeth. She released it as she said, ‘You’re r-right. I am tired.’
Her voice was quivering and frayed; Nigel stepped back abruptly, as if he were pressed by the need for movement.
Stooping, he touched her forehead with his lips. Her eyes met his, but he straightened up and moved away. She had the conviction that not for anything in the world would he allow her to see his expression. A moment later Liz was staring at the closed door, amazed to discover that her eyes were filmed with moisture.
True to his threat Nigel had a word with their guest about the length of his stay. Liz was absent, being upstairs in her room, but when she came down the two men were sitting on the patio and it was clear from the snatch of conversation she heard as she approached them that Daniel had agreed to leave two days before the agreed date of his departure. Liz sent her husband a glinting look, but he merely flicked her an indifferent glance and went on talking to Daniel. Liz sat down, crossing one lovely slender leg over the other. Nigel’s attention strayed from Daniel for a space as his eyes roved. Liz flushed, wondering at the sanguine air about him; he seemed like a man who had been experimenting and was waiting to see if his experiment had proved successful. How unfathomable he was! Liz did wish she could probe that mind of his. The infuriating, provoking creature! She hated that smile which seemed to be more mocking than ever this morning, and his eyes laughed at her in a way that challenged even while they gleamed with a sort of gloating satisfaction.
‘Nigel’s been saying it’s not really convenient for me to stay for the full fortnight.’ Daniel spoke affably enough and Liz realized he was really rather glad, for this gave him the opportunity of having a couple of days in the capital. His next words confirmed this. ‘It would be a waste to come all this way and go back without visiting Athens. So I’ll leave here on Tuesday instead of Thursday.’
Meeting Nigel’s eyes, Liz saw again the hint of mocking triumph in his expression and her mouth went tight. But of course there could be no brick-slinging before Daniel, but Liz was more determined than ever to humiliate Nigel by flirting with their guest.
For several days Nigel did not seem to notice, and Liz wondered if his indifference was assumed. It was always impossible to read what went on inside that head of his, for he had the easy ability of drawing an impassive mask over his countenance.
During this time he kept to his own room, and this both angered Liz and hurt her. Perhaps he no longer wanted her, she thought, continuing to flirt with Daniel, hoping for some variation in Nigel’s reaction. But he remained indifferent, bored, even - certainly not in the least jealous. And then, when Daniel had been with them for just over a week, Nigel announced his intention of going to Athens for a couple of days.
‘Is Greta there?’ she asked, piqued both by Nigel’s keeping to his own room and by his indifference to her flirtations with Daniel.
‘As a matter of fact she is,’ Nigel replied, yawning. They were on the terrace, Daniel having gone off alone to the Sanctuary.
‘You’re meeting her?’ The question escaped. Liz hadn’t really wanted to ask it.
‘Undoubtedly we shall meet.’ He cocked her a glance of amusement not unmingled with mockery. Her eyes flamed with swiftly-ignited fury. Yet she was close to tears, even though scarcely aware of it herself. Nigel could not possibly know and yet his gaze was extremely odd as he waited for her to speak.
‘I hope you enjoy yourselves ...’ And she allowed her voice to fade somewhat before adding, with slow significance, ‘As I shall be enjoying myself with Daniel.’
Flint and fire looked out of those grey-green eyes and in spite of her bravado Liz felt her pulse jerk with apprehension. One of these days she would go just that one little step too far, she felt sure. But Nigel did goad her so! His heavy lids drooped as she watched him, and presently he drawled, his change of manner startling her,
‘It’s fashionable these days for married couples to enjoy themselves with other partners. And so sensible, don’t you agree? It obviates the possibility of boredom. One returns to one’s spouse refreshed by the change—’ He broke off, laughing at her explosive expression, his eyes on her clenched fists. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, still amused. ‘The practice is agreeable to you ... judging by what you’ve just said.’ The low-toned inference was sufficiently plain for Liz to guess at once that Nigel trusted her implicitly. He was just playing with her, knowing full well that she had no intention of indulging in a sordid affair with Daniel. Hadn’t she once declared she would never be any man’s mistress? And hadn’t Nigel also stated emphatically that he trusted her? So her veiled threat about having an affair with Daniel had inevitably misfired, Nigel being totally untouched by it - after that first fiery moment, of course. It was she herself who was affected, Nigel having turned the tables on her - although she had paved the way by introducing the subject of Greta. Liz looked squarely at her husband, sitting back in his chair, one hand on the cane arm, the other stroking his chin thoughtfully. Behind him a bougainvillea smouldered against its pillared support, stirring in the breeze so that strange shadows were cast and Nigel’s face became obscured. But as the shadows swung with the caprices in the wind his features would again be revealed in all their pagan aspects - the lined and lowering brow, the high cheekbones and thrusting jaw. The crystalline hardness of his eyes was tempered now by a glimmer of boredom, the obdurate set of his lips faintly softened as, moving his hand from his cheek to his mouth, Nigel stifled a yawn. This action inflamed her.
‘If you’re so bored,’ she quivered, ‘then why do you trouble to sit here with me?’
A brittle pause before he said, with sudden icy precision,
‘You might belong to the British aristocracy, Liz, but your manners leave a great deal to be desired.’
Hot colour flooded her cheeks. That she had asked for the admonition Liz freely admitted. She ought to apologize, she also admitted, but she was suddenly filled with hurt, hurt that gradually overflowed above her anger and desire to say she was sorry. For Nigel to be meeting Greta after what there was between him and his wife ... Liz couldn’t believe it, even of a Greek. She switched her thoughts, and found herself with the idea that Nigel might just be playing her at her own game. This possibility infuriated her, for it seemed once again to bring him out as the victor.
‘You’re the last one from whom I should have expected to hear a complaint concerning the manners of anyone else,’ she just had to retort, lifting her chin abruptly. ‘Up till now your own manners have been pretty appalling!’
He jerked his head, his eyes alight and mocking; her shaft had left him cool and imperturbed as ever.
‘That was a childish response, Liz,’ he chided gently, his lips twitching as he saw her fists clench again. ‘Can’t you find something more original than that?’ She said nothing, her whole mind being occupied with Greta - and with the picture of her and Nigel together in Athens. ‘How soon, I wonder,’ Nigel was saying, ‘will you lose the habit of retaliation? It’s so wearisome ... and so wasteful of time.’
She twisted her head, aware of the underlying subtlety in both words a
nd tone. Did he mean that, if only she could desist from these thrusts and be feminine and pliable, they could be happy together? If so, it would mean that he loved her. But if he loved her why had he kept away these last few nights? - and why was he intending to see Greta in Athens?
‘Are you really going to see Greta?’ she blurted out, unable to control the urgency of her heart - and it was her heart that called, she owned freely, looking at him and almost willing him to say no, he wasn’t seeing Greta. But he merely scrutinized her for a long moment before he replied, in that lazy drawl which had at first so infuriated her but which, inconsistently, she now found most attractive.
‘I’ve already said that Greta and I shall meet in Athens.’ A small pause and then, ‘You should be delighted that I’m going away, my dear, for my presence here must surely restrict your activities with your friend Daniel.’
With keen perception she looked at him, her face pale, her lovely eyes dark and yet soft all at once with unconscious pleading.
‘You know very well there’s nothing between Daniel and me - and never could be.’
‘It irks you that I’m not displaying the jealousy you had hoped for?’ he queried, lifting his brow.
She said quietly,
‘There can be no jealousy without love.’
At his swift agreement portrayed by the quick inclination of his head her mouth quivered. What did she want of this man? Love? Yes, indeed she knew that now. And subservience? - humility? Did she want to override him with her own indefatigable strength of character? Liz shook her head, smiling at her thoughts. Neither man nor woman would ever override Nigel. He was like an ancient warrior, dauntless and imbued with a strength that the most formidable foe could not penetrate. And Liz knew that she would not have him otherwise. She admitted at last that she wanted Nigel just as he was, that if in this partnership there was to be a master, then it must be he.
‘You are quite right, Liz, there can be no jealousy without love.’ The edge of mocking raillery could not be missed and Liz caught her breath. Was he teasing her? Could it be that he did love her but meant to bring her to her knees before declaring that love? This was too much for Liz, who, forgetful of her thoughts of only a moment ago, lifted her lovely head and sent him a sparkling glance.
‘So we thoroughly understand one another. You go to your Greta - and after all, I think I might indulge in an affair with Daniel. As you yourself remarked, we shall both be refreshed by the change!’ She rose from her chair and stalked into the house. Behind her, Nigel’s soft laugh echoed through the still air, mingling with the shrill chirping of the cicadas. And Liz could have sworn it was a happy laugh - a laugh of triumph and satisfaction.
Despite Nigel’s apparent indifference, however, he almost always accompanied Liz and Daniel on their outings. This conduct could of course be merely the courtesy to which a guest was entitled, and yet Liz felt that Nigel did not care a damn for courtesy - at least, not where Daniel was concerned. No, there was another reason why Nigel accompanied them, and Liz began to convince herself that despite his nonchalant attitude Nigel could in fact be jealous.
Previous to Daniel’s visit Nigel and Liz had received invitations to a wedding in a small village below Delphi; the preparations went on for two days before the actual ceremony, and guests often took part in these. But Nigel and Liz decided to attend on the day of the ceremony only and of course they took it for granted that Daniel would go with them.
‘But I haven’t been invited,’ he protested instantly. ‘No, you two go; I’ll enjoy myself around here until you come back.’
Nigel smiled.
‘As there will be about five or six hundred guests at this wedding I don’t expect another one will make any difference,’ he said mildly.
‘Five or six hundred?’ Daniel stared unbelievingly.
‘The whole village is always invited.’
‘I couldn’t gatecrash, all the same.’ Daniel shook his head determinedly.
‘The bride’s people will be delighted by your appearance. They’d have invited you anyway had you been here at the time they were sending out the invitations. They love to have as many guests as possible at their weddings.’
Daniel could not understand this.
‘Surely they think of the expense?’
‘They never think of expense at weddings. Besides, it doesn’t cost all that much to cater, because the food’s prepared by the villagers - if you went today you’d see the bread being baked in the ovens, which are outside the houses. The piglets and the chickens are also cooked outside. No, you needn’t worry that your presence will make the slightest difference. There’ll be food over, and in plenty. There always is.’
Daniel agreed to go then, but said he had no present to take.
‘Then pin some money on the bride’s dress,’ suggested Nigel.
‘Will that be in order?’ Daniel gasped, and Nigel smiled and nodded.
‘The bride will probably prefer to have the money.’
‘Do you know the bride and groom?’ asked Daniel curiously as the thought suddenly occurred to him. Both Nigel and Liz shook their heads.
‘Never even heard of them.’ Nigel laughed at Daniel’s expression. ‘It’s customary for everyone to be invited, and as I said, had you been here when the invitations were sent out you would have received one.’
They set off early the following day, so that Daniel could witness some of the preliminaries going on in the village, the whole of which was a hive of activity with the ovens still working, some sending off delicious smells of newly-baked bread and cakes while from others came the smell of roast chicken or pork.
Outside the bride’s house the ceremony of the mattress was going on amid laughter and song and dance. The mattress had already been decorated by the bride’s maidens and just as Liz and the two men arrived a baby boy was being bounced gently up and down on it.
‘To ensure fertility,’ explained Nigel, grinning at his wife.
‘Why a boy?’ Daniel wanted to know. ‘Is there any special significance?’
‘Most certainly. The couple will be praying that all their children will be boys, because boys don’t require dowries.’
Daniel blinked.
‘They still have dowries in Greece?’
‘Not only in Greece, but in most Eastern countries.’
‘It’s incredible!’
‘Not at all. It’s custom.’ Nigel’s voice was suddenly crisp. ‘The East hasn’t progressed as the West—’ He spread his hands, his eyes on the mattress on to which people were now throwing coins. This was to ensure that the couple would never be in want. ‘But what is progress? One wonders sometimes where progress will eventually lead us.’
A small and rather uncomfortable silence followed this and at length Liz decided to break it.
‘I delight in these customs. They savour of such nice simplicity, with all the participants seeming to be so naive and - and - gentle.’ Her voice had smoothed away into a soft musical undertone and, with a sharp twist of his head Nigel looked at her, an odd expression in his eyes.
‘The simplicity is very different from what you have been used to,’ he murmured, and his words were half statement, half question. Liz lifted her head, and he noticed the dreamy, tranquil expression in her gaze.
‘And most refreshing in consequence. I love your customs, Nigel. And your people, who are so sincere and so very hospitable.’
‘My people ...’ His voice could be heard, but only just. Liz was left wondering if he would have preferred to be all Greek instead of only ‘half and half,’ as Grace had once put it.
The mattress was now covered with dainty garments - the bride’s trousseau - and then her father appeared, and when the mattress was rolled up he took it on his back and walked into the house with it, followed by the best men - all twenty of them. A short while later they emerged and later still these best men - the koumbouri - were watching the bearded priest shaving the bridegroom, out in the garden of his father’s h
ouse. Meanwhile the bride’s maidens were dressing her and making her pretty for the ceremony.
At last the procession was ready. The bride’s maidens and many small girls, carrying enormous candles decorated with wide ribbon bows, walked laughingly up to the church. The ceremony began regardless of the clamour going on. A long ribbon was being passed round as the ceremony progressed, and each of the best men signed his name on it. Then snapshots were taken of the bride and groom with the priest smilingly standing between them — smiling because of course a wedding provided a nice little sum for the priest’s coffers.
On the return of the procession to the sunlit village the wedding feast began, the tables being laid out in the grounds of the bride’s newly-built dowry house.
The three were invited over and over again to stay the night, and could have chosen from at least a dozen hosts, but Nigel smilingly refused.
‘We live so close,’ he said, but still he was urged to stay. However, at last they drove off, to take the tortuous mountain road up to Kastri. And behind them the whole village shouted and waved, their happy voices mingling with the strains of the bouzouki music blaring forth from the laughing band of musicians grouped under a huge tree in the village square.
CHAPTER TEN
With the departure of her husband Liz found life more flat than she would ever have believed possible. At home in England she had come to admit that she missed him; here at her home in Greece she missed him even more. What was to become of her? she wondered, looking down from her bedroom window at Daniel, lying on the grass, staring up at the blue sky from behind dark glasses. That Nigel should have gone to Athens surprised her, for he did seem to be watching her, rarely leaving her alone with Daniel. Yet quite carelessly this morning he had said goodbye, those lines at the sides of his eyes fanning out with a sort of mocking amusement because of her expression, which was one of surprise not unmingled with dejection. She knew he would read her mind, but did not care, for the idea of his going to Greta was like a knife twisting in her heart. Liz felt she could not bear it - and instinctively she knew she would not have to should she only lower her pride sufficiently to ask Nigel not to go to Athens.
