The Windmill of Kalakos

by Iris Danbury

  Jacynth wished that she could as easily expunge Mallory from her immediate memory as he had evidently been able to do regarding herself. The slate was wiped clean.

  She asked Nikon to order her a taxi, for she would not humble herself to ask Mallory to telephone for her. As the taxi drew away from the Villa Kalakos, Jacynth imagined that she saw Mallory’s figure outside the windmill, but of course, that was merely wishful thinking playing tricks.

  She instructed the taxi driver to take her to a small hotel along the coast road, one she had seen on her walks around. She checked in for two nights, saying she would stay longer if necessary and they had a room available.

  Next she must see Ray and explain some of the situation. Out of bravado, she had told Mallory that she could easily work for Ray, but that would not be possible. She did not want to be employed by him and in close contact, nor could he yet afford her salary. At the same time, she must prevent him from trying to telephone her at the Villa Kalakos.

  She went to a small cafe along the promenade and while she ate a light meal, worked out her finances. She calculated that her funds would cover moderate expenses for the next four weeks, but that would leave nothing for her air fare home. Alternatively, she could fly back to England within the next day or two and use the money that way. As a last resort, she could probably ask the company in London to send her an air ticket and she would repay them later. Even if Mallory was able to put in his side of the story first, the company would certainly not leave her stranded.

  She knew the shop in the old town where Ray lodged and used the address for business transactions and it was late afternoon when she called. The owner, a young Greek, said that he believed Ray was in his room upstairs.

  Jacynth paused outside the door indicated, for she heard the murmur of voices in the room. She knocked and waited, then knocked a second time. “Ray,” she called. After a long pause, Ray opened the door. He was wearing a pair of shorts, the upper half of his body was bare and his hair stood up untidily.

  Behind him through the open doorway, she caught a glimpse of a girl with long dark hair.

  “Oh—er—Jacynth,” murmured Ray, not exactly at ease. “I—I didn’t expect you.”

  The girl edged through the doorway and hurried along the passage to another room.

  “Oh, come in, Jacynth,” Ray invited. “I’m all at sixes and sevens—taking a day off yesterday. By the way, how did your boss—?”

  “Who was that girl?” Jacynth interrupted.

  Ray stared back boldly. “That was Margarita. She’s the sister of the fellow downstairs who owns the shop. She helps me a bit with typing and sorting out the orders and so on.”

  Jacynth gave him a level look, and he turned his head away. “Very lightly clad, even for hot weather?” The girl had plainly been wearing only a dressing wrap and nothing underneath.

  “Look here, Jacynth, I’m not going to be bullied about what girl-friends I have.”

  “I’ve no intention of doing so,” she answered crisply. “I only came to tell you that I’ve left the Villa Kalakos, so don’t ring me there. I’m probably going home in a couple of days’ time. Goodbye, Ray.”

  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard his voice. “Jacynth I Don’t go, I can explain—!”

  But she needed no explanations. She had done the wisest thing by saying that she might leave Rhodes in a couple of days. She hoped she could keep out of his way for at least the next week. All that she had wanted now was any help he could give her in recommending a room where she could lodge cheaply, instead of paying hotel prices.

  She went through the old town, paused to watch the colony of cats near one of the gates, and chose a waterfront cafe to drink coffee while she reflected on her next move.

  The alternatives were clear. Go home while she still had enough money for the air fare. Stay in Rhodes and try to find another job. She still had her work permit, but it would be difficult to explain leaving the employ of Mr. Mallory Brendon. Naturally, any prospective employer would demand a reference from him.

  Her idle glance fell on a Greek newspaper left on a chair at another table. The headline mentioned “Kriti” and she picked up the paper. By now she could roughly follow the gist of the news and she read of the arrival of a French naval vessel at Heraklion and a Greek admiral paying a courtesy visit.

  Crete! She could try her luck there, she supposed, and certainly she would be out of the way of both Ray and Mallory. Probably the cheapest method of travel would be by steamer. The Tourist Information Office was not far away and she walked along the street Alexandrou Papagou to the corner. The clerk gave her useful information about times of sailings and fares and she jotted down the particulars.

  It was later that evening when in her hotel bedroom she was checking her available money that she discovered her work permit was missing. She hunted through her handbag and suitcases without success. She was sure that she had tucked the document inside her passport, but it was no longer there.

  She bit her lip in vexation. She was not sure if the same document would be valid in Crete, but she would probably have to produce the old one from Rhodes if she wanted a job.

  The only solution was to return to the Villa Kalakos, but she shrank from this prospect. She remembered that tomorrow Mallory had an appointment at Lindos in connection with the hotel there, so he would be away all day. If she could quietly ask Caterina to allow her to search for the permit, perhaps she could avoid another meeting with Mallory.

  Jacynth chose about noon next day, and Caterina seemed delighted to see her. The housekeeper was only too ready to accompany the girl from room to room in the search for the missing permit. There was no trace in any of the dressing-table drawers, not anywhere in the office-sitting room which Jacynth had used.

  “I must give it up and trust to luck,” she said at last. Caterina begged her to stay to lunch if she would agree to eating in the kitchen, but before accepting, Jacynth asked casually if Mr. Brendon would be home to lunch.

  “Not all day,” muttered Caterina. “Not even to dinner.”

  So Jacynth was safe for an hour or two anyway. After lunch she wandered around the garden which Nikon now kept very tidy and then, on impulse, went into the old windmill. The door was still stiff and she had to ask Nikon to push it for her.

  She perched herself on the millstone and pondered about the young Italian boy who had evidently used the mill as a refuge and a secret hiding place. Here were remnants of his possessions, the bagatelle board thick with dust, part of a tennis racket, a collapsed football and a bicycle pump rusty and broken.

  She wondered what was in the locked room that his mother had preserved for so many years, but she would never know now, for even if Mallory bought the villa, Jacynth would be far away.

  She now found an old exercise book with pages torn out, but what remained were covered in elegant Italian writing. A tender smile curved her lips, for she saw that the lines were verse.

  A sudden noise caused her to look up sharply and she saw the vague outline of a man’s figure silhouetted against the doorway. Nikon wanted her to leave so that he could shut the door. The figure advanced and she saw with consternation that it was Mallory.

  The exercise book fell from her grasp as she backed away from him, her heart thudding in dismay. What unlucky chance had brought him here when he should have been far away in another part of the island?

  “So you came back,” he said quietly.

  “Yes. I’ve mislaid my work permit and I had to come today, to try to find it.”

  “And did you expect to find the permit here in the windmill?”

  “Of course not. Caterina helped me to search my bedroom and the office—but—”

  “With no result?”

  “No. It seems to have disappeared. I came in here out of curiosity.” She was feeling slightly calmer now, but she could not see his face, for he was against the light. Yet there was menace in his attitude and in his voice.

  “And y
ou need that work permit if you’re going to your boy-friend.” He had taken a couple of steps towards her and she backed still farther against the wall. Suddenly he was holding her shoulders in an iron grip and his face was only inches from her own. “Did you really think I would let you go and work for that worthless go-getter?”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she managed to whisper. “I’m going to Crete to try for a job there.”

  “You’re not going to Crete or anywhere else,” Mallory said emphatically. He shook her shoulders angrily so that her head was thrust to and fro. Then she was held against him and his lips were on hers, crushing her into a wild surrender that was ecstasy itself.

  “I can’t let you go, Jacynth,” he whispered. “I thought I could, but—it’s impossible—you’ve become essential to me.” Now he held her more gently, cradling her head against his shoulder, murmuring endearments in Greek which she longed to have translated, but which she feared to ask at this blissful moment in case the magic spell were broken. He kissed her hair, her cheekbones, her neck and again her lips.

  He pulled her down on to the millstone and sat with her held close to his side. “I’ve had no time for marriage and if I may say so, there have been one or two women who would have willingly said ‘yes’ if I asked them.”

  Jacynth’s thoughts flew to Hermione who was surely one of those women.

  “But I prided myself on being invulnerable. Maybe, at some later date, I’d find a woman whom I’d want to spend my remaining years.”

  “And have you found her?” asked Jacynth softly.

  “No.”

  She pulled away from him in shock, but he drew her closer to him and kissed her. “No. I couldn’t wait that length of time. You came—the English girl—”

  “The wrong one, you said,” she reminded him.

  “And you were!” Again the shock of puzzlement assailed her. “You upset all my normal plans, you just sailed through my defences. At first, I worked you to death, hoping you’d give up and go home of your own accord and leave me in peace. But you were tough. I think I began to fall in love with you when you answered back. Oh, I told myself I was merely an impressionable fool, but that morning when the boat hit you when I was skiing, I knew then that I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

  For a moment Jacynth sat in silent enchantment. Never in her wildest imagination had she been able to conjure up such rapturous moments as these.

  “I was told before I came that you were quite irresistible.” she murmured.

  “And did you resist?”

  She laughed softly. “Not very much. I’d lost my willpower very soon.”

  “Yet you allowed that English fellow to take you out and about and make love to you—” he accused.

  “Never. No more than a kiss or two that meant nothing.”

  “I hated the sound of him. The only time I met him I wanted to knock him down, boot him out of my house.”

  “Poor Ray. He wouldn’t have deserved that,” she smiled.

  “Why not? He was an intruder. Then I began to wonder how many other English or Greek men you’d met on the island.”

  “As you admitted, you kept my nose to the grindstone too much for me to make many other friends.”

  “That was intentional. I made extra work for you, so that I could keep you under my eye—or at least know that you were slaving away at the typewriter in my absence.”

  “Tyrant!” she gibed.

  After a pause he said, “I really don’t know why I should love you so distractedly. You have none of the qualities I’d look for in a wife.”

  “Thank you,” she said, bridling.

  He laughed delightedly and hugged her. “That’s it I You’re fiery and peppery instead of being gracious and composed.”

  “Is that what you wanted?”

  “I thought I did—but you changed all my priorities. I’d been imagining a kind of etiquette-book hostess to entertain my guests, someone impossibly elegant to take to receptions. And here you are, with your tousled blonde hair and scuffing about in a windmill and—”

  When he paused she twisted to look up at him and try to see his eyes. “Say it, Mallory.”

  “Say what?”

  “That you love me. I want to hear the words.”

  “I’ve yet to hear you say the words.”

  “Of course I love you, Mallory. I ached for you, and when you sent me away, I was desolate.”

  “I watched you go,” he said sombrely, “and wondered if I’d ever see you again. I hoped you’d come back within a day or two asking for your work permit—unless you were stupid enough to send for it by post.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I hid it. I took it out of your drawer. Even then, I couldn’t be sure if you were really going to work for someone else. You might not have needed it.”

  As the realisation slowly dawned on her that he had contrived in a gloriously underhand way to ensure her return if he could, she lifted her face and kissed him. “A diabolical scheme,” she whispered, “but it worked.”

  “And now you’ll never need the work permit again. Now, let’s go somewhere less dusty than this place.”

  He lifted her down from the millstone and she clung to him for a moment, as he kissed her with tenderness.

  When they emerged into the sunlight, she asked about Hermione. “I thought you would marry her.”

  Mallory smiled. “Hermione is very attractive, but not to me. She’ll always be surrounded by a cluster of men, of whom one will possibly be her husband. I couldn’t have played that role. I want to be unique—in my wife’s eyes.”

  Jacynth saw that his dark jacket was smeared with dust from the mill and she dusted some of it away with her hand—as a wife might do. “How did you know I was in the windmill to-day?”

  “I asked Caterina to telephone me if you came back at any time and then Nikon told me where you were.”

  “But you were supposed to be in Lindos today,” she pointed out.

  “Mercy! Am I to be bullied already because I choose to change my mind? What have I let myself in for?”

  She linked her arm in his and skipped happily alongside him towards the villa.

  A few yards from the terrace outside the drawing-room he paused and gazed critically at the villa. “Will you like living here, Jacynth? Or will you want something more stylish, imposing?”

  She shook her head. “Anywhere with you will always suit me, but actually I like the villa.”

  “We could make a few alterations when I buy it. We shall have all the rooms available, for the Italian woman won’t expect me to keep her son’s room intact.”

  “There’s also that other little room across the hall where there’s so much furniture you can hardly get in.”

  “Oh, yes, I had that done as soon as I came here, stored all the furniture we didn’t particularly want in that one room.” “M’m,” mused Jacynth. “That was where I came in—that first day.”

  “Came in?” he echoed. “I wonder there wasn’t a thunderclap when you charged in!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Later that afternoon Mallory drove her to the hotel where she had engaged a room, so that she could repack her belongings and return with them to the villa. As she unpacked in her old room, stowing her clothes in the wardrobe her glance fell on the double bed which she had always occupied and she wondered—But that was all far ahead, and although she felt dizzy with joy, she must really bring herself down to earth.

  Caterina cooked a special dinner which Mallory had ordered and which was served in the formal dining room by candlelight. There was champagne and at one juncture, Mallory rang for Caterina and Nikon to come and join in a toast on the engagement of the master and the English secretary. Caterina was all beams and smiles and whispered something to Jacynth that was undoubtedly uncomplimentary to Miss Perandopoulos.

  After dinner Mallory asked Jacynth to play the piano in the drawing-room. “But not Chopin’s Revolutionary, I hope,” he added.

 
She laughed. “No, something more gentle. Perhaps I’ll play the Revolutionary only if I’m boiling over with anger.”

  “When you do, I shall clear out of the house,” he warned her.

  She played Debussy and a Spanish dance by Granados, and Mallory came behind her and leaned her head against him, so that she lost the thread of the composition and he picked up her fingers and kissed them one by one.

  She asked him later about his secretarial work. “There’s no reason why I can’t continue to do it, is there?”

  “For the time being, of course. Then I shall have to get a new secretary.”

  “One sent out from England?” she queried.

  “Why?” His eyes danced with the light that she had always hoped to see in them. “Jealous?”

  “You seem rather susceptible to girls from England. There was Diana—”

  He looked smug. “I was wondering when you’d mention her.”

  “Did you like her?”

  “As a girl—or a secretary?”

  “Both. You were anxious to have her sent out again.”

  Mallory grinned. “I thought I might make you jealous of her, so I pretended she was quite my ideal. I asked for her because she was reasonably satisfactory and efficient and I didn’t want to be burdened with a nitwit.”

  “Was that how I appeared to you at first? A nitwit?”

  “You know perfectly well that I was entirely thrown off my balance.”

  So for the next few days Jacynth continued working for Mallory as before. Yet, of course, the situation was now quite different, for he had brought a selection of engagement rings for her choice and now she wore a handsome sapphire and diamond cluster on her third finger. But it was not only the wearing of a ring. The whole atmosphere had changed, and Jacynth had never realised how young and boyish Mallory could be.

  Once or twice he took her out to dinner and on one occasion the American business man. Mr. Carlyon, had come up to congratulate Mallory.

  “I said this was the year when you’d give up your bachelor life and settle down,” he said, glancing genially at Jacynth, who remembered that he had prophesied a different partnership for Mallory.