by Anne Hampson
"Yes, you'll come now, won't you? - now that your master's coming too?"
Doneus smiled and, encouraged by this unexpected change in her manner towards him, he held out his hand. It was the first time he had done such a thing and Julie looked hard at it - at the strength portrayed in the very veins that stood out above the long tapering fingers. The hands of a spongediver had to be strong, since they must slash and drag at the sponges in order to separate them from the rocks to which they clung like limpets.
"Shall we go?" he asked as if anxious to put an end to her hesitation.
She still stared at his hand, one half of her wanting nothing more than to lay her own small hand in it, and the other half despising herself for some desire which seemed unnatural and even faintly disgusting. She made a little sideways movement; her husband's hand dropped and he said something in Greek to Jason. Julie listened, wondering how many lonely hours of Doneus's life had been spent in talking to his dog. Tears pricked her eyes; she would have done anything to recapture the moment of Doneus's holding out his hand to her.
"Which way?" They had begun walking towards the opening which led from the garden to the track. outside, and Julie stopped on asking the question.
"It's for you to choose, my dear." Doneus stood looking down at her, waiting for her to decide. She gestured towards the most northerly point of the island, a point from which it would seem possible to throw a stone on to the island of Leros. Julie often went there, wandering along the rocky coast, the ochre-coloured earth beneath her feet strewn with boulders. It was a wild and lonely landscape supporting a few courageous little plants clinging tenaciously to the minute particles of soil which had formed in the crevices of the rocks.
They left Doneus's small neglected garden with its overgrown hedges of purple bougainvillea and its sprawling oleanders, and strolled towards the sea. On a distant hillside a woman shepherded her goats, and swept down on the breeze came the sound of their bells, spreading music through the pure crystal air.
At the end of the cart track which Julie so vividly remembered from the occasion of her first visit when Stamati had brought her to Doneus's cottage, she and Doneus turned right, following the coastline and proceeding in the direction of the castle, the last sign of habitation be-fore they would enter into the strange deserted landscape where the only evidence of man's activity was a life-size bronze siren perched high on a cliff, holding a lyre in her outstretched hand.
"I had such a shock the first time I saw it," Julie was saying over half an hour later when she and Doneus were looking up at the lovely nude figure of the siren. "It was so unexpected." She laughed and spread her hands. "In such a desolate, deserted place - nothing but mountains and bare earth and the island of Leros over there." She stopped, lowering her lashes as she noticed her husband's expression.
He seemed fascinated by her and she suddenly realized that she had just laughed for the first time since coming to Kalymnos. He said something in Greek, before, softly, as if he wanted her to hear yet feared she would assume her haughty cloak when she did,
"You are the loveliest girl I have ever known, Julie."
She stared, remembering that he had once told her she was beautiful, but at the time she was too distracted to take much notice. But now she absorbed what he said, and a tenseness gripped her. To deny the power of this man was wholly dishonest. He affected her in a way no other man ever had.
Edward, of whom Doneus's mother had spoken, seemed insignificant by comparison to this dark Greek with his vibrant personality and air of good breeding.
How could he have a mother like that? Julie wondered, a moment's reflection bringing back the day, just a week after she had come to Kalymnos, when Doneus had asked if he could take her to see his mother. At that time Julie had no desire ever to set eyes on the woman again, and she told her husband so.
"The - the siren," she murmured, avoiding his gaze, "she looks so lonely, sitting there with only the sea and the mountains surrounding her."
Doneus laughed and said, "You've already remarked on her lonely situation, my dear."
She lifted her eyes, saw the amusement in his and, driven by some compulsion, she responded, allowing the light of humour to enter into her own expression.
"Shall we turn back?" she suggested at length. "If you wish. I could go on."
"You love this part of the island too?" Her swift response portrayed her enthusiasm.
"I do, Julie, yes."
"Let's go on, then."
They continued in silence for a while, Jason bounding away and running back, his tongue beginning to hang as thirst overcame him. To Julie's surprise she was happy for the first time since coming to Kalymnos. The peace which this lonesome region always lent her seemed different today and she knew that the sole reason for it was the companionship of her husband.
"I wonder if you experience the same sensations as I when I walk here?" Doneus stopped and gazed around him The tortured lava cliffs on which they stood dropped sheer into the sea; above them the mountains of Kalymnos gleamed in the sunshine, naked and wild. Just out from the shore was the tiny island that had been cut off from Kalymnos and belonged to it.
Dolls' houses sprinkled the hillsides, with scattered trees in between; the graceful campanile of the church shone like alabaster in the sunshine, while to the north the heights of Leros gleamed through an incredible series of colours from deep purple to the palest lilac as the sunlight played tricks with the hollows and spurs.
"Peace, Doneus? Is that what you feel?"
He nodded, bringing his gaze from the island across the sea to glance down at his wife. She noted the complete serenity of his features; it was the first time she had seen him wholly relaxed since she came to live with him - relaxed and strangely happy.
"It's the numerous subtleties of nature, with their colour and sounds and smells, and something far less palpable that grips the senses nevertheless." At his low solemn words and tone Julie was inescapably caught by his mood, swept by some intangible force. Her heart beat rapidly, its restlessness disturbing to her nerves. She moved from her husband's side and leant against the sun-warmed rocks, gazing dreamily out over the tranquil waters, glittering blue-green beneath a sapphire sky, and her mind interpreted Doneus's words. The sheen of iridescent colour, the sharp aroma of a mountain herb, the rhapsody of waves caressing the rocks.
Her eyes moved; Doneus stood gazing into the dark depths. Of what was he thinking as he peered down there? Danger ...? She tried to imagine what her life would be like were he to come home maimed. He would never go away again, and she ... ? But he had promised her five months' freedom a year and he could not go back on his word. But Doneus? How would he manage?
Who would tend him and help him along, as that boy had been helped along -?
"It's so wild, so absolute; one has no sense of time; there is no urgency." Turning his head as he spoke, Doneus stared at her, arrested by the expression on her face. "Is something wrong?"
he inquired anxiously.
She shook her head, then averted it, recalling that he had once told her her eyes were all-revealing. He must not learn of her fears.
"No, there's nothing wrong." She managed a shaky laugh and he frowned.
"What were you thinking about, over there all by yourself?"
"It was nothing," she said again, and although by the way he regarded her it would seem he meant to pursue the question, he thought better of it, suggesting that they turn back.
With an honest examination of her feelings Julie had to admit that she had thoroughly enjoyed her husband's company. On a deeper examination of her emotions she decided that what she felt for Doneus was a strong and abiding pity - pity for his loss and his loneliness, for the poverty which necessitated his being forced into so perilous an occupation. But he must never guess she pitied him. With the acceptance of her feelings for her husband came a desire to make his lot easier if she could. No more would she be haughty with him, or refuse to eat with him or in fact avoid him
in any way whatsoever. Inferior to her he might be, but he was a gentleman, having kept his word about not molesting her.
Hitherto, for her own comfort, she had washed her bed linen, but left his. She refused to cook or clean - in fact, she had done nothing except read and walk, and occasionally go into the sea.
She was marking time, writing off each succeeding day as a loss - until that one glorious moment when she could fly home, back to her own kind and to the luxury she had known from birth.
But now that she had determined to make her husband's lot easier she tried hard to do those things which had always been done for her by servants. She cleaned the tiny living-room - though she felt it did not look a scrap better, for what could she do with bare floors and peeling walls? She went into Doneus's room and changed his bed and later washed the soiled sheets.
She swept the floor and dusted the furniture, while Jason, having for some reason come home on his own, looked on, wagging his tail every time Julie glanced at him.
"No wonder you're looking surprised. But I've decided to be kind to your master." Having finished in Doneus's room she went out, followed by the dog. "If only you could talk, Jason. What would you tell me about that strange master of yours? - the man who seemed at first to be so frightening? Perhaps you could tell me why he married me - because I still can't accept that it was for reparation." She spread her hands and Jason barked at her. "What good am I to him? And it isn't as if he adopts an air of satisfaction at his victory. Oh, well, as you can't talk, the mystery must remain. Come - ela, we'll go and meet him."
But Doneus was already winding along the earthy track on his bicycle. He saw Jason and grimaced.
"So I must share him, it seems." Jumping from the bicycle, Doneus propped it against the wall of the lean-to.
"Why did he come home?" Jason always stayed at the castle with Doneus, returning to the cottage only when Doneus himself came home.
"Must have wanted to see you." Doneus had been away at the castle all day and looked rather tired, she thought - but it seemed to be a mental fatigue rather than a physical one, but although this registered, it did not make any lasting impression on Julie.
On seeing her husband's eyes open as he entered the tiny sitting-room Julie decided that her work had not been wasted after all. She couldn't see a difference, but he apparently could.
"What's been happening?" He sniffled and added before she could reply, "I haven't smelled cooking in this place for years."
"I've made a dinner." She spoke hesitantly, hoping he would not spoil everything by assuming that he himself was in some way responsible for the change. But he was too wise, too cautious, and he merely smiled at her and said gravely, "That will be nice, Julie. What did you do?"
She gave a little grimace then and murmured deprecatingly, "Something very simple, Doneus. I saw a butcher's van when I was out walking and bought some meat - I've no idea what it is because I've never had anything to do with cooking. I think it's probably beef -"
He laughed and said, "It's probably goat."
"Oh, no! Do you eat goat?"
"Yes, and very tasty it is - er - cooked in the right way, of course." He was teasing her and instead of being indignant she could only stare, and think how attractive he was.
"Well," she said, still a trifle deprecatingly, "it's cooked. But I'm not sure about the 'properly'."
He laughed and went into the lean-to to wash his hands before sitting down at the table. Julie had tried to make it as attractive as she could with what was available, but the cutlery was old and tarnished, the dinner plates chipped and almost robbed of their original pattern. But Julie had put flowers on the table - marigolds and geraniums from the garden. And on a tray was the pretty crockery which, she recalled, she had initially assumed to have been procured just for her visit. She watched his face as he tasted the meat and vegetables. His expression was a mask, but on seeing her anxious eyes fixed upon him he smiled and nodded approvingly.
"Very tasty," he commented, and helped himself to more.
Julie felt pleased that she had tried. He looked less fatigued already and she vowed to continue in her endeavours to make him happy, and these endeavours extended to giving him all her time - when he was in, that was, and in the evenings after dinner they would set out in the purple twilight and walk to the end of the island, to the place they both loved so much. And as they walked the fleeting dusk would melt into the thistledown softness of a Grecian night. The moon would spread its translucent glory over the drowsy landscape, while the sea became dappled with starlight. All would be hushed and still, and often Julie and Doneus would stop on the very edge of the cliffs and gaze across the purple distance to the vague shapes of the little islands, from whose hillsides spangles of light would twinkle like stars that had floated down from above to settle among the trees. Gradually, as the weeks passed, Julie became enfolded in the magic of this paradise island and her home in England seemed a world away ... almost too far to reach.
"Doneus, if you would only let me spend some of my money -"
"Julie, not again, please." Doneus's gentle tones of censure brought a frown to Julie's face. Once or twice lately she had heard him speak like this to her and she had the odd conviction that he now felt more confident of himself - and of her. He was becoming more assertive, although always in this gentle way.
Never once had he spoken a sharp word to her, or cast her an angry glance.
"What is money for if not to provide comfort?" Her voice pleaded. She had not told him so, but over a week ago she had seen a builder in Pothaia, the capital of the island, and after coming to the house at her invitation, he had given her an estimate for the extensive renovations she had in mind. "We could have another sitting-room built on - modern, and furnish it to our own taste." They were on the patio, in the flaring saffron light of sunset, drinking their after-dinner coffee, and Doneus looked at his wife searchingly, as if expecting to see some sign of discontent. But her lovely eyes were clear and warm, her lips parted in a smile, persuasively. He glanced away, seeming to be battling with something inside him and, following the direction of his gaze, Julie saw the outline of the castle, lights shining from several windows. The Americans had kept on a full staff, Doneus had told her, hence the reason for the lights.
Julie's gaze returned to her husband. "Doneus...." she murmured, and he turned his head.
"Yes, Julie?"
"If you're thinking I'm yearning for luxury, and the comforts of my home in England, then you're wrong. I'm resigned to living here, but I would like to have the house done up. Wouldn't it be nice to have a bathroom?"
"So you're not yearning for luxury?" His eyes came back to hers, searching again. He seemed still to be in a state of indecision and her expression became puzzled.
"What are you thinking about, Doneus?"
He smiled then, as if considerably amused.
"I wonder how you would react if you knew? If only I dared tell you...." The last words were a mere whisper, not really meant for Julie's ears at all, but she caught them and frowned in puzzlement.
"I wish I understood you," she said, and again he smiled.
"Someday, my dear, you will."
"You're always evasive like this." Slight petulance in her tone and a tiny pout to her lips. Doneus's eyes flickered strangely. It did not occur to Julie that her attitude and indeed the whole situation was reminiscent of that which might have occurred between a normal married couple. "Why are you so uncommunicative - and so cryptic?"
His eyes lit with humour.
"I puzzle you greatly, do I?"
"You know you do. You're so different from what we expected - from what I expected when I first came to see you."
Cold glints touched his eyes. Julie did not like what she saw.
"Your uncle gave you to understand you'd have a poor Greek peasant to deal with." Half statement, half question, and Julie waited for him to continue. "Someone you could browbeat -"
"Not browbeat," she cut in indigna
ntly. "I never intended to browbeat you. I wanted only an amicable settlement."
"You yourself, yes, that is what you would have liked. I should not class you with those two. Your uncle, however, had decided from the first that he had an uneducated peasant with whom to deal - a man who would be almost on his knees with gratitude at the idea of owning five hundred English pounds." Still Julie remained silent, wondering what Doneus would say were he to know that her uncle had fully expected two hundred pounds to be sufficient to keep him happy.
"What your uncle did not know was that I, unlike him and his kind, have no real interest in money. It procures luxuries, which are pleasant to enjoy. I would never deny that, Julie, but they are in the end superficialities, embellishments to the business of living but certainly not the fundamentals." He looked straight at her and continued, an odd inflection in his deep rich voice, "I've been happier in this cottage than ever I could have been in, say, a castle like Santa Elena over there."
Julie stared at him, convinced that his words held a far deeper meaning than she realized, but although she pondered on them, endeavouring to analyse them, she failed utterly and, with an exasperated little sigh, she once again asked if he would let her spend some of her money on the house. Firmly he shook his head.
"My home will have to suffice as it is, Julie. I'm sorry."
She flared then, tears of frustration springing to her eyes.
"Why are you so stubborn?"
"It's not stubbornness, Julie, it's pride. I shan't have my wife providing me with a home."
"I wouldn't be providing you with a home. I'd merely be making a contribution to our home." He frowned his dismissal of the matter and she snapped, "Were I a Greek girl you'd have accepted a dowry from me!"
His dark eyes opened very wide; he seemed surprised by her statement and hurt by her sharp words. Watching him, Julie was pierced by a sudden pang of contrition even while anger fought against this finer feeling.
