by Anne Hampson
She looked at him; he seemed lost in unhappy brooding and his deep sigh drifted to her across the weather-bleached wicker table on the patio.
"So, were I going away tomorrow, you would be happy?"
"Certainly." The truth. .. but why this sudden twist of fear in her heart? Doneus maimed.... Speedily she switched her thoughts, her eyes on his long brown hands as he slipped the papers he had been perusing into a battered briefcase which had lain on the floor beside his chair. What were these papers he so often examined? Some were in Greek, she had noticed, and some in English.
Where did he keep them? He hid them somewhere ... not in the house, for one day, her curiosity having got the better of her, she had searched it thoroughly, and without difficulty since no drawer or cupboard was ever kept locked.
"It's a long while to Easter, Julie. Why don't you make some attempt to adapt?" Always he spoke to her like this, just as if it were his one abiding wish that she accept her fate, resigning herself to living in this three-roomed cubic house, with its sparse furnishings, its pump in the garden and its beehive earth oven standing some distance away, under the shade of a carob tree. Doneus had showed her how to make bread; he had lighted a fire under the oven, using wood that lay around, and then put the bread into it. Lovely brown loaves had come out, smelling delicious. They were round and crisp and Doneus had sprinkled sesame seeds all over them. Julie had watched merely as a diversion from the boredom which possessed her from morning until night. But although Doneus, smiling and encouraging, had urged her to try her hand at baking she had flatly refused, haughtily reminding him who she was.
"At home I did nothing! I do not intend to be your slave, Doneus." And Doneus had left it at that, turning swiftly from her as if afraid he might say something he would later come to regret.
Julie's eyes went to the oven now as she answered his question, saying she had neither the desire to adapt nor the intention of doing so. His eyes kindled, portraying one of his rare flashes of anger, but the next moment they had cleared. Always Doneus seemed to be on his guard, cautious, conciliatory, but never humble.
Watching him, Julie wondered, rather absently, just how strong a temper he possessed, and she also wondered if she would ever see it, and feel its barb.
"You consider yourself above me," he said gently, "and that is a barrier to contentment on your part. If you could come to regard me as an equal then you would converse with me, walk with me and eat with me." His voice was a mere whisper at the end and Julie bit her lip.
Why didn't she hate him? What was the spell under which he seemed to hold her despite the fact that she kept herself totally aloof from him? This conversation was unusual; normally when he appeared on the patio she would get up and go into the house, or take a walk along the cliffs. Today she had stayed; she did not know why.
"You seem to forget, Doneus, that I am here against my will -"
"You needn't have married me, Julie."
She looked at him, her lovely eyes wide and sad but, strangely, lacking any hint of accusation. She knew a return of that hurt and bitterness experienced when, outside the church, she had heard Doneus promise to keep his word. At that time its presence bewildered her, but now Julie had the answer. Doneus had disappointed her by his action in coming to England. She had, perhaps deep down in her subconscious, built up a picture of an honourable man, a man to whom blackmail would seem abhorrent because he was far above such things.
She had decided that whatever he had been at the age of twenty, he was now a vastly different person, a man whose ideas of justice and fair play matched her own. But they did not, as she had discovered to her cost. Mercilessly Doneus had made her pay for a wrong inflicted by someone else.
"Perhaps not, but I was given an ultimatum. I still maintain that I am here against my will, and it was only the promise of that five months' freedom that influenced me. For the rest of my days I shall be dead for seven months of the year -" Julie broke off as her husband suddenly winced, as if hurt unbearably. The scar seemed to rise as a nerve beneath it moved. Fascinatedly she watched it; Doneus raised a hand to cover it, concealing it from her gaze.
"So you live only for the five months you will be away from me?"
Something intangible yet impressive in his tone urged her to say, "Doneus, I have asked you this question several times - Why did you marry me?" and as before he refused to supply her with an answer, saying abruptly, "Let's talk about something else, Julie."
A brief silence as she looked at him, her eyes bewildered by his repeated evasions. There must have been some reason for his marrying her. A rustling of foliage away across the garden caught her attention; the massive leaves of the banana tree lifted and writhed, caught by the west wind coming in from the sea.
The leaves of the orange tree rustled too, dark and glossy against the ripe fruit clustering its branches. Below the tree oranges rotted on the ground; Doneus seemed to have no interest in collecting them - but then he received all the produce he required from the castle, where he worked as gardener and odd-job man. At present the owners - wealthy Americans - were away, having left the island a few days prior to Julie's arrival, so she had never seen them. They would be away a year, Doneus had said, impatient with her question regarding them. They were visiting relatives in Texas, and during their absence Doneus was to keep an eye on the castle itself, acting as caretaker.
That was as much as Julie knew - except that these Americans were paying Doneus extra for watching their property, and so he was not quite so poor as she imagined he would be. In fact, he had twice asked her if she would care to have a meal out with him, at an hotel in Pothaia, but Julie had refused.
"What have you and I to talk about?" she asked, and impatiently her husband shook his head.
"You just don't want to talk, Julie! " He turned as Jason came bounding across the garden, his tail wagging, his tongue hanging out. "Thirsty?" Doneus's face had softened miraculously; his hand dropped on to the dog's golden head.
"You needn't look at me with that expression. I've told you you'll have to learn English. Come, I'll get you a drink."
Julie's eyes followed Doneus into the house. He passed through the sittingroom into a small lean-to at the back, a dirt-floored shack containing a shallow brown sink and some peculiar wooden implements which, Doneus said, were used when washing clothes. One banged or slapped, it seemed, and there was a great hollow in the stone slop-stone to prove that generations of Lucian females had been thus engaged for many
precious hours of their lives. She was still looking into the sitting-room when he came through, carrying Jason's water bowl. Their eyes met for a moment while Doneus was crossing the tiny width of the patio and then he was striding away to the pump. Julie felt guilty and hurt when he looked at her like that, but she never could figure out why she should.
CHAPTER FIVE
A MOMENT or two later, with Jason lapping gratefully at the sparkling water in his bowl, which Doneus had placed on the ground in front of the patio, Doneus said regretfully, "Sorry I snapped at you, Julie."
She averted her head, feeling more guilty than ever, and more hurt too. Why was he so obliging and gentle? Why did he seem determined to go to any lengths not to antagonize her?
"It isn't that I won't talk, Doneus," she said quietly at last. "But you always refuse to talk about the things that interest me." He shot her a shrewd glance, but she added determinedly, "This house, for instance."
A faint twist of his lips and then, "Material things?" He seemed to swallow convulsively. "Are those all that interest you?" A certain inflexibility in his voice caused her spirits to sink. "No, Julie, I shall not accept money from you to renovate this place. I said, on the occasion of your first visit here, that a man's home is usually good enough for his wife. You will get used to my home, and perhaps even come to see something attractive in its humbleness." He paused, affording her an opportunity to comment, but Julie remained silent and he continued, "Happiness and contentment come once we have our valu
es right, Julie. The only things that really matter are those that live. Inanimate objects, whether they be treasured for their aesthetic value or their usefulness, should never be regarded as indispensable. Living things, on the other hand, are indispensable."
She raised her head, wonderment mingling with perplexity in the blue eyes that sought his. Her lips quivered slightly, evidence of the emotion he had awakened within her. Doneus seemed unable to take his eyes off her, eyes that had softened all at once as if, despite his inflexibility, he fully understood how she was feeling.
"My uncle believed that it was my money you were interested in," she murmured, and a contemptuous smile touched his lips before he said,
"Such a conclusion was to be expected from Edwin Veltrovers, who himself sets such a high value on money. No, Julie, your fortune does not interest me in the least. Spend your money when you go home - enjoy it in the way to which you are used by all means, but while you are here you must be content with what I can give you."
"Tell me why you wanted to marry me," she pleaded.
Doneus smiled at her and said, "The same old question, Julie?"
He glanced away, his attention caught by a delightful little gecko darting about at his feet, catching insects with incredible swiftness by the use of its long dark tongue. Jason also saw it, but immediately lost interest and flopped down on the dusty ground, stretching out his front legs and resting his nose on them. He had been off somewhere on a long run and was obviously ready for a sleep.
Presently Doneus returned his attention to his wife and she reminded him that just a moment ago she had told him she had asked the question many times, then she added, "You always evade an answer." Her voice was gentle because she was thinking of that other girl he should have married, and of what he had suffered as a consequence of her cousin's heartlessness. "You didn't marry me for my money, nor was it for - for ..." She stopped, lowering her head, partly because of the sudden rise of colour in her cheeks, which brought an unexpected twitch to her husband's lips, but mainly because she was recalling with startling clarity a little scene between Doneus and herself on the day he had brought her, as a bride, to his lowly cottage.
He had said, his rich deep voice tinged with emotion, "I shall never go back on my word, Julie, but should you ever be tempted to come to me willingly I shall be human, I assure you. I shall accept what is offered ... even though I may know in my mind that you have come in a moment of weakness and that on the morrow you will surely regret that weakness." He had paused then, but Julie had been too staggered to speak. He smiled faintly as he continued, "And once you've come to me it will be for always. I'm not the man to be given nectar and then have the cup taken out of reach."
Julie had flared then, and it was the only time she had done so.
"I shall never come to you willingly! You're pompous even to imagine such a possibility!" All her innate haughtiness, that veneer covering so tender a heart, had come to the fore and Doneus's manner changed. His eyes hardened and his smile vanished as he said, "You do not consider me good enough to touch your body?"
Julie had frowned darkly at that and an arrogant retort had risen to her lips, only to be bitten back as she felt again his touch - the clasping of her hand at their first meeting, then his fingers tilting her chin; and the last time had been outside the cathedral, when even thoughts of her terrible dilemma had been suspended for a fractional moment of time by the stimulation of her senses at his touch.
Julie's reflections were brought to an end by her husband's voice, finishing what she herself had begun to say.
"For your body?" Brutal frankness, but spoken in the gentlest of tones.
"Then why, Doneus?" She forced herself to look up. "There must have been some reason?"
Doneus glanced at the briefcase which was lying on the table at his elbow, and absently fingered the small brass clasp.
"There was a very good reason -" Doneus broke off as Julie looked expectantly at him. His black lashes were lowered, masking his expression. "You're the reparation I was promised ten years ago."
"So it was solely for revenge? You demanded me all those years ago and you've been thinking about it ever since?"
Did he give a little start? Bewildering, conflicting sensations!
This man had Pluto's name ... and his mind was as unfathomable as that of the dark god of the underworld.
"I haven't given up every single moment of my time to thinking about it," he returned gently after a pause. "One is occupied with the essentials of living, and with earning one's livelihood."
He spoke slowly, as if using only carefully-selected words. "With the passing of time, however, my mind did naturally turn to the girl who had been promised to me."
Julie looked squarely at him, her eyes faintly narrowed, more against the sun than anything else.
"There's a great deal I don't understand, Doneus, and I have the conviction that you will never enlighten me. All I do know is that our relationship doesn't make sense -"
"You'd like it altered?" Swift the interruption, and Doneus's eyes were suddenly lit with amusement, which increased as
Julie's colour deepened.
Naturally she ignored his question, murmuring almost to herself,
"It doesn't make sense because you're getting nothing out of it."
Doneus's eyes had found the gecko lizard again and they followed its graceful darting movements as it attacked its prey.
"I'm deriving satisfaction, Julie. I've received restitution for a wrong done me as a boy." She stirred impatiently.
"You're enigmatical, and I really don't know why I should take the trouble to try to understand you."
He smiled at her; it did things to her nerves and her senses, because it seemed to be a lonely smile, the smile of a man whose life was spent in isolation, and yet this was not true. For five months of every year he was with other men like himself, brave men who dived fearlessly into the ocean depths, aware of danger while flaunting it, each convinced, perhaps, that he would remain unscathed right until, too old for so demanding a job, he would retire and live with his memories.
"It would appear that you are endeavouring to understand me, nevertheless?"
"It's natural. I've little else to do." Her gentle tones, and the way she clasped her hands in her lap, in a manner of resignation, had an odd effect on him. His eyes clouded and he seemed to be frowning inwardly.
"What would you like to do, Julie?"
A wan smile and a helpless flip of her hand.
"I wish I knew!" The exclamation surprised her, and yet had not this new and insistent feeling of restlessness something to do with it?
She thought of Belcliffe House, and the five months she would spend there, but somehow she knew that this restive sensation had nothing at all to do with her home in England. "I think I'll go for a walk," she said, looking at Doneus with faint apology, much to her own surprise.
Why should she feel apologetic? Julie realized that during this past quarter of an hour or so Doneus had been happy to be with her, that he had seemed - though not by any means transparently - grateful for her company. This idea was strengthened by his expression which, now that she was about to leave him, was a mingling of disappointment and resignation. And then, his eyes falling on Jason, who had now moved to the shade of the carob tree, Doneus murmured, an odd inflection in his voice,
"Take Jason with you."
She stared. What a strange thing to suggest; he knew Jason would not go with her - not if he himself were here.
"He'll not come with me - not while you are about." She stood up and moved from the patio on to the bare hard ground which fronted it.
"Call him."
Julie turned, shaking her head and looking at her husband with a puzzled expression.
"You know very well he won't leave you."
"Call him," Doneus repeated, and with a little shrug she did so.
Jason rose instantly, but remained under the tree, glancing from one to the other.
&n
bsp; "Come on, Jason - ela!"
The dog took a couple of steps towards her and stopped uncertainly, turning to look at his master.
"You see." Julie was still extremely puzzled by her husband's behaviour. "He'll not leave you."
Doneus rose and a moment later he was standing close to Julie.
"It seems that I shall have to come with you, for I'm sure Jason would like a walk."
The manoeuvre became apparent and Julie's heart seemed to twist. Doneus was loath to let her go, having had a little of her company. She recalled the tremor in his voice as he had said, just a short while back, "If you could come to regard me as an equal then you would converse with me, walk with me and eat with me." He had been pleading, in a way, for her to give him a little of her company.
Julie swallowed something hard in her throat. Doneus was lonely - desperately lonely. And she thought of what his life might have been had he married his fiancee all those years ago. He would have had his wife and children round him now.
Julie lifted her face; a smile rose to her lips and trembled there.
"I think you're right, Doneus. Jason would like a walk." A huskiness edged her voice; Doneus heard it and his eyes looked deeply into hers, probing, searching.... For what? He continued to stare; his emotions were tangible ... gratitude, thankfulness, pleasure. And as the silent moments passed a profound and haunting emotion entered into Julie herself, an emotion which seemed automatically to demand from her a moment of introspection, but Julie dared not examine her thoughts, and so she broke the spell by saying to Jason, who was standing beside them both,
