by Iris Danbury
On Friday morning Jacynth was up earlier than usual, for it would be a bad start to the week-end if she kept Mallory waiting. She had showered, breakfasted and dressed by half-past seven. She gave a final glance to her new outfit, a dress and jacket of strawberry pink. Matching trousers to wear with the jacket were already packed in her small week-end case, so that she could ring the changes with one or two tops. At home in England she rarely wore hats, but here in Rhodes the spring sun was powerful and now she had a natural colour straw hat with a gracefully curving wide brim to shade her face and prevent her hair from drying and bleaching.
When she went down to the hall, Nikon took her case out to the car. Mallory was already standing by the bonnet. In casual clothes, pale sand-coloured slacks and jacket with cream shirt and a dark green silk tie, he looked younger, and Jacynth had to repress her feelings of delighted excitement at the prospect of this week-end jaunt in his company.
“New dress?” he queried as she approached the car.
“Yes. I bought it here in Rhodes.”
Then he spoke in Greek and smiled. “That means ‘wear it in good health’. You must always say that when someone appears in new clothes.”
“A nice thought,” commented Jacynth, wondering if she would ever be able to return that compliment. How would she know when he was wearing anything new? That was something that usually only wives knew.
Sitting next to him in the car was enchanting, but not relaxing, for his nearness troubled her. She was sure that sooner or later he would notice that she was trembling and then ask her for the reason. She controlled herself by gazing out of the window and concentrating on the scenery.
The countryside after they had left the town of Rhodes was a revelation to Jacynth. The road wound through gentle slopes covered with wild flowers. Vast stretches of golden yellow, sheets of mauve, and clusters of blue flowers made a multi-coloured pattern of the fields.
“It’s like a flower carpet,” she murmured, and was aware of Mallory’s quick sideways glance.
“Rhodes is famous for its wild flowers.” He slowed the car to a halt where the road was wide enough. “Would you like to see some of the flowers? Are you a good botanist?”
“Not very good,” she laughed. She was grateful for any little interlude that indicated Mallory’s inclination to forget business problems for a day or two.
In the next few minutes it appeared that Mallory was extremely knowledgeable about flowers, for as he strolled about and picked specimens at random, he identified them for her. “Anemones, marigolds, vetch. Poppies, but not the ordinary English variety. This cyclamen is a local Rhodes special. We have several varieties of flowers that are unique here in Rhodes and grow nowhere else. There’s one that comes later, not unlike a clover, but it grows only in a very small area, and then it covers whole fields with its flowers.”
When she and Mallory returned to the car, Jacynth carefully wrapped the little posy in a paper tissue and laid it on the back seat. The flowers would quickly wilt and she must try not to read into this insignificant little cluster any deeper meaning because Mallory had taken the trouble to pick the bunch.
Her first view of Lindos was of a village of sparkling white houses nestling at the foot of a rocky promontory crowned by the ruins of the acropolis. To the left lay the deep sapphire of the Aegean Sea and, sheltered by an arm of purple and brown rock, a lagoon of smooth silky water edged with a crescent of sand.
“Before we go up to the Perandopoulos villa,” Mallory said, “I want to go the other way and see what progress is being made on the new hotel.”
Jacynth hid the smile which curved her lips. Naturally, Mallory would never be able to take a day off without attending to some aspect of business wherever possible.
The new hotel was barely half completed and situated on the curve of the bay where it would have direct access to the beach. It had not yet been given a name, but was known to Jacynth as “Project L.201” meaning that it would have two hundred rooms and that it was the first part of a complex that would include blocks of apartments, restaurants, and the indispensable swimming pool.
Mallory had already explained to her that in his opinion the enormous multi-storey blocks of hotels were no longer popular.
“Tourists are beginning to realise that they feel insignificant in the colossal structures. Oh, at first, they liked the immense size, the huge restaurants and all that, but now the trend is towards smaller hotels linked together in the same grounds, everything spread out, more elbow room.”
“As long as the land is cheap?” queried Jacynth.
“Certainly, the site must be comparatively inexpensive, although that’s the least of our problems.”
Now, as he and Jacynth toured the site, stepping over planks and skirting piles of drainpipes, she saw the value of his argument. A vast bulk of masonry would have spoilt the proportion of the surroundings, a “blot on the landscape”, it would probably have been termed, but this four-storey hotel with its curved facades would fit into the background, making use of the pines and cypress trees left undisturbed.
The swimming pool had already been excavated and constructed, but was not yet tiled. Mallory spoke to several men whom Jacynth took to be foremen or supervisors and sometimes they unrolled plans or diagrams smudged with thumb-marks, grease-spots or even wine stains.
“Everything seems to be going according to plan,” was Mallory’s comment when he and Jacynth returned to his car and were on their way to their destination.
She speculated if that phrase “according to plan” would also apply to the whole week-end.
Hermione greeted her guests in the courtyard of a white villa situated on a small rise of land so that it overlooked the lagoon and the sea beyond. She was wearing a brilliant emerald silk trouser suit, the tunic in Chinese mandarin style richly embroidered and open in the front down to the waist where it was held by a large brooch of twisted gold.
“How late you are!” she greeted Mallory, extending both hands towards him. To Jacynth she gave a mere nod of acknowledgment, and the girl wondered if Hermione had been aware that Mallory was not coming alone.
“I see you’ve brought your new secretary with you,” Hermione said icily. “I hope that doesn’t mean you intend to work all the time you’re here.”
“No, indeed,” Mallory hastened to assure her. “I’ve brought Jacynth to enjoy a glimpse of part of the island. She’s had little chance to go exploring.”
“Jacynth?” echoed Hermione. “An unusual name.”
Jacynth suspected that Hermione’s remark was triggered off not by an unusual Christian name, but because Mallory had used it so casually and the knowledge had a curiously warming effect on her.
“Besides, who knows?” continued Mallory with a malicious gleam in his eyes, “I might have sudden inspirations that will rock the world of finance and then I should need my secretary at the ready.”
“Then we shall all hope that your brain will not function at all during the week-end more than to let you swim in the pool or lounge about the garden and eat the meals cooked by our new French chef.” Hermione linked her arm in Mallory’s and began to stroll towards the house. “Incidentally, my father is away and may not be back for a few days, so you’ll have no excuse to talk to him.”
Jacynth was shown to a room with a breathtaking view of azure sea and lighter blue sky and between the house and sea edge the multi-colour rocks, purple, grey, green and yellow as the sun caught the rough surfaces.
From here she could see the narrow entrance to the lagoon from the sea between a cliff that rose sheer on one side and a sharp point of rock on the other. Only comparatively small vessels could negotiate that inlet, yachts, small boats, but certainly no steamers.
Lunch was served on a shady verandah and the attendants outnumbered those eating, for so far Mallory and Jacynth appeared to be the sole guests. The food was deliciously French, beginning with Vichyssoise and ending with fairy light mille-feuilles, so evidently the new che
f promised success.
In reply to Mallory’s query as to who else was expected, Hermione gave a little laugh, lowered her eyelids and then smartly snapped wide-open eyes at the man opposite. “I’m sorry if you expected a party of guests here,” she said demurely. “No one else is coming—unless, of course, someone drops in.”
Jacynth kept her attention fixed on her plate. So Hermione had been expecting Mallory alone. Naturally, she was disappointed now not to have him entirely to herself for the next couple of days, but no doubt Jacynth could make herself scarce when the occasion demanded.
“Suits me,” agreed Mallory. “I dislike having to make small talk to people I hardly know.” He paused and his next sentence jerked Jacynth not only to awareness, but to alarm. “Then I’ll be able to take Jacynth around and show her the sights of Lindos.”
Jacynth’s fleeting glance at Hermione caught the fiery gleam of anger in the latter’s hazel eyes, quickly veiled, but the pout still lingered on that luscious mouth.
“And I suppose I am to stay at home and while away my time as best I can.” She leaned her elbows on the table and the opening of her mandarin tunic fell apart to reveal the curves of her full breasts. Jacynth saw Mallory’s gaze dwell on Hermione’s seductive charms, then he turned his head sharply away.
“Or I could provide you with picnic lunches,” Hermione continued smoothly, but with a definitely cutting edge to her voice. “Or would it be more discreet if I acted as chaperone?”
Jacynth’s face flamed at the innuendo and now she was resentful of Mallory’s carelessly-chosen words. Why had he brought her here if she was to be the target of Hermione’s spiteful remarks?
But in the next instant she suspected that Mallory was teasing and baiting the beautiful Greek girl just the same as he provoked every other woman. She decided that it was not her place to take part in this kind of conversation and was thankful when Mallory started a different topic.
All the same, as she and Mallory were the only guests, Jacynth felt keenly that she was the intruder. Later in the afternoon, Mallory suggested he would swim in the pool.
“What about you, Jacynth? Brought your bikini?”
“No. I wasn’t sure if anywhere would be warm enough to swim.”
“Our pool is heated to any temperature we want,” put in Hermione.
“No doubt Hermione can find you something to swim in,” suggested Mallory, turning towards Jacynth. “You do swim, I suppose?”
“Yes, adequately, but not expertly.”
As one would probably expect, by the side of the swimming pool there were elaborate changing cabins with showers, dressing tables provided with cosmetics and perfumed sprays. Jacynth found a selection of bikinis and a towelling wrap waiting for her when she tentatively chose one of the cabins.
She chose a flowered blue and white bikini, donned the wrap and emerged to find that Mallory was already in the water while Hermione stood on the steps, adopting a pose that she must have known enhanced her lovely figure. She wore a petunia colour one-piece suit and Jacynth thought with a touch of mild envy that Hermione certainly knew how to magnify her own charms. Not for her the two-piece that cut a feminine body in half, but the single garment, low-cut and almost backless, that hugged the flowing lines of her body.
Jacynth entered the water with a slightly ungainly, splashing jump and swam to the end of the pool which was shaped roughly like a figure eight with a narrow part in the middle. She turned and swam on her back, but when she reached the narrow section, she felt two hands placed on either side of her head.
“Please not to struggle or you will drown,” Mallory had adopted a ludicrous accent in a high-pitched voice.
Jacynth was so unnerved by this unexpected contact which sent her heart thudding wildly that she let her body double like a jack-knife and promptly sank. After a moment’s floundering she came up gasping and laughing, but now Mallory was innocently sitting on the edge of the pool, his arms folded across his chest, his legs dangling in the water.
“You are in difficulties?” he asked politely in his normal voice.
“Not at all!” she answered. “Someone seemed to think I was in need of life-saving, but he pushed me under.”
“I’m told that in this pool there lurks an evil spirit fond of horseplay, especially with girl swimmers.”
Jacynth laughed, but the little scene was immediately interrupted by the arrival of Hermione, who had walked along the tiled rim of the pool.
“You promised to teach me to dive better,” she said now to Mallory. “Come, we must practise.”
For the next quarter of an hour, Jacynth watched the diving lesson. Mallory, a lean figure in black trunks, would swoop into the water like a diving bird, then Hermione would advance to the end of the platform, apparently summon up her courage and launch herself into the water. Then Mallory would next time adjust the girl’s arm position or clasp her waist to alter her balance. The sight of this handsome couple, Mallory, tanned no doubt from previous summers, and Hermione, a contrast with her creamy skin against his darker one, eventually became more than Jacynth could bear and she strolled away to the opposite end of the pool. But she could not shut out from her inner vision the picture of Mallory embracing Hermione in a variety of ways.
Jacynth plunged into the water for a final swim, then climbed out and ran to the changing cabin for a towel to dry her hair.
Dinner was served in an elegantly furnished room with ornate mirrors reflecting the candelabra on the table. Jacynth felt that Mallory should not have brought her here where she was so obviously de trop, unless he had some secret purpose of his own. After dinner when Mallory and Hermione played backgammon, Jacynth knew that this game had been deliberately chosen by Hermione, for backgammon is not a game that three can share.
As soon as she could do so, she excused herself and retired to her bedroom, to read for a while, but not to relax in peace, for she was tortured by her own imagination. Mallory and Hermione in each other’s arms? Mallory kissing Hermione with infinite tenderness and murmuring words of love?
When at last she went to bed, Jacynth wished heartily that Mallory had left her behind at the Villa Kalakos with only Caterina and Nikon for company. The long dreary week-end stretched before her like a desert.
When she appeared next morning after breakfasting on her balcony, Mallory came towards her. “Are you ready to come exploring in Lindos?”
“Why, yes, of course,” she replied. “Now?”
“Naturally.”
“I think I should change my shoes,” she suggested, regarding her white sandals. “Something stronger, perhaps.”
“Then don’t be half an hour,” he warned her.
She raced up to her room, kicked off the sandals, put on a pair of beige suede shoes with thick soles, decided that the strawberry pink trousers and white polo-neck jumper would be suitable, and was down in the hall inside five minutes. She had no idea if Hermione was to accompany Mallory, but Jacynth was not going to dally and lose the chance of a morning sightseeing with him.
To her delight, she and Mallory set off alone. There was no sign of Hermione, but when Jacynth turned to look back at the villa, she believed she could see her hostess standing on a balcony.
“We could easily take a shorter way up to the Acropolis,” Mallory explained as she walked beside him along a path that led downwards instead of ascending to the top of the hill, “but I think you should see the village nearer sea level. That way you’ll get a better impression of how the Acropolis dominates the place, and it’s always more interesting to walk about at street level than to look down on a medley of houses from above.”
“Oh, yes, I quite agree,” she returned happily.
“Are you strong? It’s a fair climb right up to the top.”
“I’m not an old lady who needs a walking stick,” she retorted mildly.
She was aware of his quick sideways glance. “Not yet,” was his sardonic rejoinder. “Although, of course, for the lame and the infirm,
there are donkeys to take you to the top.”
“Poor donkeys,” she murmured. “I’ve already seen the loads the poor animals have to carry.” Along the track to the left half a dozen donkeys were burdened with fat women and heavyweight men.
“Don’t be so intolerant of old age,” he rebuked her. “How would you relish it if you were seventy instead of twenty and deprived of the pleasures of seeing antiquities unless some simple form of transport were available?”
Jacynth laughed. “I suppose it’s because at my age it’s practically, impossible to imagine what one would be like in old age. Even fifty seems very elderly.”
“Thank you,” he said, bridling. “I have less than twenty years then before I become a doddering old man crippled with rheumatism and—”
“Please, Mr. Brendon!” She had nearly called him “Mallory” because that was the way she thought of him. “Don’t twist all my words every time. I’m sure that when you are long past fifty you’ll still be as energetic and vigorous as you are now.”
And probably even more arrogant and self-willed, she added in her mind.
“Where have you learned the art of flattery?” he demanded.
She hesitated a moment or two before replying. “I wasn’t trying to flatter you, just correcting a wrong impression.”
He gave a little grunt. “You’ve probably had quite a lot of practice on your previous bosses or chiefs, but I assure you that I’m totally allergic to honeyed words.”
“I understand,” she said quietly. Unless the “honeyed words” were spoken by Hermione, perhaps?
“You’ve probably noticed that all the houses in the village are similar.” He stopped in a tiny square to point out to her the uncompromising square houses with flat roofs. “All must be whitewashed and the shutters painted brown. So if someone picks up some tins of mauve or pink paint, it’s no use trying to be individual. And no skyscrapers, as you see. In fact, there’s very strict supervision on the buildings here. All plans must be passed by the town architectural society.”
“But you have the new hotel being built farther along the bay.”
