The Legend of Lexandros

by Anne Mather

  Dallas half smiled, trying to relax, while the other woman looked on smilingly. ‘Stephanos can be very persuasive,’ she said. ‘But not always polite. He hasn’t introduced us, so let me introduce myself. I’m Athene Siametrou.’

  Dallas managed a faint greeting, while Stephanos Karantinos mixed her drink, and then handed her a long glass.

  ‘Athene needs no introduction,’ he remarked dryly. ‘She can be relied upon not to let herself be overlooked. ’ His tone was light, but with an undertone of sarcasm, and Dallas wondered why.

  To her surprise and relief, however, the drink was delicious— a mixture of lime and lemon and Advocaat, and something else which she couldn’t quite put a name to, it was very warming, and she sipped it gratefully.

  She was accepting a cigarette from a box which Stephanos Karantinos had offered her when a door to one side of the apartment opened, and she glanced up nervously to see a man entering the room. For a brief moment their eyes met, and then Dallas looked sharply away, trying to concentrate on lighting her cigarette. But in that split second she had registered everything about him and she wondered why she suddenly felt an intense feeling of dismay. He was certainly nothing like she had imagined, her idea being confused with vague pictures of successful businessmen sporting balding heads and overweight bodies, and unfeelingly predatory features.

  Alexander Stavros was none of these things. He was tall, and lean, and wore his clothes immaculately. He was intensely dark;

  dark-haired, dark-skinned, and dark-eyed, and although Dallas knew he must be forty or more, he certainly did not look it. She could imagine that he attracted women like a magnet; he presented so much of a challenge, for as well as his obvious physical attraction, he was wealthy, and she wondered whether his wife found it difficult to retain his interest when she had so much competition. Her own reactions were difficult to assimilate. She was so conscious of the insignificance of her own position, and she could not help but wonder what his relations were with Athene Siametrou, and whether a man like this could possibly care about the moral obligations of his son.

  He took out a slim platinum case, extracted a cheroot, and placing it between his teeth he lit it before speaking. Then he walked lazily across the room to where Dallas was sitting, feeling as though her knees were about to start knocking together. His eyes were appraising and she felt apprehensive.

  Athene Siametrou rose to her feet again. She had subsided on to the divan earlier, but with Alexander Stavros’s entrance she became animated once more. With a husky, entreating tone in her voice she said something swiftly in Greek, or so Dallas surmised, and gazed up into Alexander Stavros’s eyes.

  Stavros shook his head abruptly, and said: ‘Speak English, Athene. Our visitor cannot understand you.’ His expression was sardonic. ‘But I understand you very well, and you understand me, and therefore there will be no more talk of our engagement this evening. Yes?’ He looked down at Dallas thoughtfully, before continuing: ‘I had thought I mentioned that you should go. Why are you still here?’ Dallas shivered. She thought that if ever he spoke to her like that, in that cold, almost hateful voice, she would curl up inside. But Athene merely sighed herself, and said:

  ‘You are a pig, darling.’ She looked down at Dallas condescendingly. ‘Take it easy, Miss Collins. You are dealing with complete ruthlessness ... on occasion. On other occasions he can be quite ... charming.’ She laughed, and swept up the steps to the entrance where she lifted a dark-brown fur, and slung it carelessly about her shoulders. ‘Goodbye, darling! See you soon!’

  She went out, closing the door with a flourish, and causing a mild chuckle from Stephanos Karantinos’s direction.

  Dallas sipped her drink, avoiding Alexander Stavros’s eyes as he seated himself opposite her, legs apart, his hands hanging loosely between.

  ‘Now,’ he said, his eyes intent. ‘You are Miss Collins.’

  Dallas looked up. ‘Yes, I’m Dallas Collins.’

  Alexander Stavros nodded, and then glanced across at Stephanos. ‘Get me a drink! ’ he said. ‘You know what.’ Stephanos straightened up from his lounging position near the window and walked across to the cocktail cabinet which occupied one corner of the room.

  ‘And what is your objection to your sister going out with my son?’ Stavros asked, drawing on his cheroot.

  Dallas stubbed out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, playing for time. Now that it had come to the point she felt bereft of reasons.

  ‘I ... well ... Jane is an impressionable child. Paris’s attentions are destroying all her girlish ways. She has become avaricious and discontented. ’

  ‘Oh, come now!’ Stavros’s face mirrored his amusement. ‘You can’t possibly blame this on my son! ’

  ‘But I do!’ Dallas’s confidence returned at his attitude. ‘Jane was quite contented to live the kind of life she has always lived until she started dating your son. Naturally, he moves in a different circle from her, the girls have more clothes, more money, they can do as they like, they don’t have jobs to do all day like Jane.’

  Alexander Stavros shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Surely your sister is quite capable of seeing these things for herself.’

  ‘Jane takes Paris seriously! She really believes that people from different walks of life, different backgrounds, can meet on equal terms if they love one another!’

  ‘And I take it you do not.’ Stavros’s tone was derisive.

  Dallas flushed. ‘Do you?’

  Stavros rose to his feet before replying. When he did he ignored her question. ‘Tell me, Miss Collins, have you ever been in love?’

  ‘I ... of course!’

  ‘So it is not a question of jealousy, so far as your sister is concerned?’

  ‘Jealousy?? Dallas stood up now. ‘How dare you?’ Stephanos Karantinos handed Stavros his drink, and at his employer’s nod left the room.

  Dallas walked to the steps, standing down her half-empty glass.

  ‘It seems I’m wasting my time,’ she said, coldly, fortified by her own anger at his words. ‘Goodbye, Mr. Stavros!’

  ‘Wait!’ Stavros swallowed half his drink, and turned away. ‘It was only a thought, one which I didn’t place any faith in, anyway.’ He seemed preoccupied for a moment. ‘Have you asked your sister to stop meeting Paris?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And she refuses?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Stavros shook his head. ‘And what do you expect me to do?’

  ‘Well, obviously, you are his father. Your control over him must be practically absolute.’

  ‘Not necessarily, although I will admit that I control his income, and without his income Paris is less ... shall we say ... effective.’ He smiled, rather sardonically, Dallas thought. ‘It is certainly an original experience for me to meet someone with apparently such little regard for money. Most of my acquaintances judge everything by the price for which it can be bought. This applies to people as well as things. A less, shall I say, conscientious person than yourself might see in this situation a chance to inveigle money out of it. ’

  Dallas stiffened. ‘As you say, I am not that kind of person!’ Stavros walked lazily across to the apartment windows, and looked down on the fairyland of lights that was London spread out below him.

  ‘Don’t be so quick to sense offence, Miss Collins,’ he said dryly. ‘You created this situation, I did not.’ He leaned back against the window frame. ‘Tell me about your background. What do you do?’

  Dallas’s cheeks burned again. ‘What I do is not important.’

  ‘No, but I am interested.’

  Dallas sighed. ‘Well, I’m a teacher.’

  ‘Is that so?’ His expression resumed its amused appearance. ‘You do not look like any schoolteacher of my acquaintance.’

  ‘Appearances can be deceptive,’ said Dallas shortly.

  ‘Yes, I’ll accept that. And is that your whole ambition? To be a teacher, I mean. ’

  Dallas resented this questioning, but co
uld see no way to avoid it if she wanted Alexander Stavros to use his influence on her behalf. She felt certain he was aware of this, too, and was merely amusing himself by seeing how far she was prepared to go to answer his queries.

  Now she said: ‘Naturally, I want to get married. Have a family. ’

  ‘So? And there is a man in your scheme of things, who you have met already, who will provide these things for you?’ The sarcasm was evident in his voice. ‘One, of course, who is from your own small sphere!’

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ retorted Dallas coldly. ‘I am engaged to be married. ’

  ‘I see. And your sister, what will she do when you get married?’

  ‘She will live with Charles and myself, naturally.’

  ‘And does she want to?’

  Dallas was tired. ‘Whether she wants to or not is not important. We can give her a home, and security, and that’s all she needs.’

  The room echoed with the sound of his laughter. ‘My dear Miss Collins,’ he exclaimed, sobering, ‘you can’t be serious! Do you honestly believe that so long as a person is fed and watered, and given a place to sleep, life goes on its natural course?’

  ‘No ... that is ...’ Dallas bent her head. ‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me, Mr. Stavros. Jane was perfectly happy before she met Paris. Once his influence is lifted, she will be happy again. ’

  ‘And you, Miss Collins, are too naive to be true!’ His tone was harsh and angry now. ‘There are people who live ecstatically happy lives and yet, by so doing, do not conform to any of your petty little rules! Just because you are prepared to accept less than complete contentment, do not expect everyone to be the same.’ He stubbed out his cheroot savagely, and Dallas felt her spirits sink to their lowest ebb. If she had really angered him, then her hopes that he might help her were doomed from the outset.

  She climbed the shallow steps and walked to the door slowly. When she reached the door, she turned and looked back. Alexander Stavros was standing moodily in the centre of the room, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his dark eyes brooding. Dallas felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him, and she found herself wondering again what his wife was like. For the first time in her life, she found herself confronted by a situation she couldn’t control. She had always considered herself sane and sensible, and certainly not the type of person to ever be attracted to a man like this, and yet Stavros could not help his attraction, any more than she, as a woman, could help being aware of it, and she thought it was as well that she would never meet him again. Perhaps Jane’s involvement with Paris Stavros fitted into the same category. And as Paris had shown an immediate interest in Jane, her sister could not help but feel flattered.

  ‘So,’ he said slowly, ‘you are leaving, Miss Collins. I have ... enjoyed our little conversation. It has been quite enlightening,

  believe me!’

  Dallas did not reply. There seemed nothing more to be said. She merely opened the door, and closing it felt a feeling of depression sweep over her.

  CHAPTER TWO AT the weekend Dallas was astonished to find that Jane was not seeing Paris. After her conversation with Alexander Stavros, Dallas had thought that her intervention could only have had an adverse effect on the whole affair, and she could hardly believe that he had actually spoken to Paris. But whatever he had said, it was obvious that Jane knew nothing about her actions, and for this she was grateful.

  Charles arrived on Saturday afternoon to take her down to Maidenhead for the rest of the day, and Dallas impulsively suggested that Jane might go with them.

  But Jane was not so keen, and merely declined politely in favour of staying at home and washing her hair. Dallas left her with some misgivings. If Paris had finished with her, she would be better with company than moping at home alone. However, there was nothing she could say, so she had to agree and go with Charles reluctantly.

  Mrs. Jennings was waiting for them impatiently, and Dallas was forced to spend the afternoon talking to her while Charles went out to do some gardening. Mrs. Jennings was not the best of conversationalists, and consequently Dallas was prodded into doing most of the talking. It was apparent that Charles had been unable to contain the information about Dallas wanting them to have a home of their own, for the first thing Mrs. Jennings said was:

  ‘Charles tells me that he is thinking of converting this house into two flats.’

  Dallas felt her cheeks burn. ‘Oh, is he?’ she temporised.

  ‘You know he is. It was your suggestion, wasn’t it?’

  ‘No, not exactly. I thought we ought to have a place of our own.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Mrs. Jennings rudely, ‘Charles and I get along very well together. I wouldn’t care to have anyone else about the place.’

  ‘But I’m going to be about the place,’ replied Dallas firmly. ‘And Charles is going to be my husband. I think I ought to have some say in the matter. ’

  Mrs. Jennings looked annoyed. ‘All these new-fangled ideas! When I was a young girl, I would have been delighted to have a roof over my head, let alone anything else. A big house like this, going to waste! ’

  ‘I know, I know, but naturally I want to buy the things we will use; our furniture, our curtains, our own home! ’

  ‘You’re an ungrateful girl,’ exclaimed Mrs. Jennings. ‘I expect it’s that flighty young sister of yours putting ideas into your head!’

  ‘Let’s leave Jane out of this,’ began Dallas hotly.

  ‘Why? She has to do with it, hasn’t she? Running around with that Stavros boy! Well, she needn’t think she’ll get away with that kind of behaviour once she’s living here!’

  It was one thing for Dallas to find fault with Jane, but quite another for a comparative stranger like Mrs. Jennings, and Dallas felt her blood boiling at her prudish remarks.

  ‘I doubt whether Jane will want to live here,’ she said, controlling her temper with difficulty. ‘In any case, the wedding is still four months away. There’s plenty of time for more discussions nearer the date.’

  Mrs. Jennings granted, but was forced to change the subject when Dallas refused to say any more. But Dallas herself felt a rising sense of frustration. Were she and Charles always going to have to adhere to rules made by his mother? And did Charles want things differently, anyway?

  In the week that followed Dallas was tempted many times to question Jane as to the reason for her not meeting Paris, but she knew she could not do this. She had to wait until Jane was ready to tell her herself. The only time Jane did go out was to the cinema with a girl-friend, and she was home soon after ten as expected.

  Dallas was relieved, and yet she could not believe it could be as easy as all that. Jane had been too adamant before to give Paris up without a fight, and Paris himself, from what she had heard, did not sound like the kind of boy to be intimidated by threats.

  She was concerned, too, about Jane, in another way. Her sister did not look well, and her appetite was practically non-existent. At first Dallas had put it down to the enforced separation from Paris, but after a while she began to wonder whether that was all it was. Jane looked so tired in the mornings, and seemed to have lost the vitality she had possessed in such abundance.

  Dallas was worried, and could not hide her feelings entirely from Charles, but when he managed to gain her confidence sufficiently to be told the reasons for her concern, he scoffed at her.

  ‘Heavens, Dallas, what do you want? A couple of weeks ago you were worried because she was going out with Paris Stavros. Now you’re worried because she’s not! You don’t make sense!’

  ‘I know, I know. It’s just ... oh, Charles, I have a premonition. Things aren’t as simple as you’d have me believe.’

  ‘Rubbish! The child has been brought to her senses, that’s all. Your talks to her must have borne fruit. I must confess I was surprised at first, but now I can accept it, why can’t you?’

  Dallas flushed. She had told no one of her visit to Alexander Stavro
s, not even Charles, for she feared his anger about her intervention.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, now. ‘Maybe it just seems too good to be true!’

  The following weekend Dallas was awakened early on Sunday morning by a loud knocking on the door of the flat. Drowsy with sleep, she slid out of bed and as she did so she saw that Jane’s bed was empty. She frowned. That was strange. Jane never rose first on a Sunday morning.

  Pulling on a turquoise quilted housecoat, she brushed back the tumbled cloud of her hair and walked through the lounge to the front door, trying as she did so to register the events of the previous evening.

  She had gone to Maidenhead with Charles as usual, and when she came home Jane was in bed again, as she had been the previous week. She had thought nothing of it and respecting Jane’s silence assumed she was asleep. So where was she now? Had she got up early and gone out and forgotten her key?

  She pulled open the door and blinked at the man who stood on the threshold. He was tall and dark, like Alexander Stavros, she thought unwillingly, but there the resemblance ended. This man had a black moustache and beard, and was typically Greek in appearance. He was dressed in a thick fur-lined coat, and looked broad and muscular.

  Dallas shivered involuntarily. ‘Yes? What do you want?’

  ‘You are Miss Dallas Collins?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Will you get dressed and come with me, please. Mr. Stavros wishes to see you. Mr. Alexander Stavros!’

  Dallas swallowed hard. ‘I ... I don’t understand. Why should Mr. Stavros want to see me?’

  ‘That is for him to tell you,’ replied the man solemnly. ‘I will wait.’

  ‘Now look here,’ began Dallas hotly. ‘I want to know what all this is about. You can’t expect me to walk out of here with you without

  any kind of explanation whatsoever. ’

  The man half smiled. ‘Mr. Stavros thought you might say that. Very well. I am Myron Saravanos, secretary to Mr. Stavros. He wishes to speak to you concerning your sister and his son Paris. They ran away together last night.’

  ‘What!’ Dallas was horrified.