A Kiss From Satan

by Anne Hampson

  ‘That’s nice of her. Thank her when you write.’ His voice retained its crisp edge, but he seemed strangely tired, she thought. Tired ... well, that was to be expected!

  She said, on an impulse that could not be checked,

  ‘Daphne’s been away too.’

  His eyes widened and his regard became baffled.

  ‘Well?’

  She stared at him in disbelief. Not the glimmer of guilt in his eyes, no swift start of shame followed by the adoption of a guarded manner. How well he did it!

  ‘I believe she’s been in Paris.’

  Silence. At last Gale felt she had shaken him. And yet, deep within her, the longing for him was wildly clamouring to be heard and a warning voice telling her that, should she bring matters to a head now, she would never know his nearness again ... never feel the command of that lean body against hers, the complete mastery of those lips, persuading, demanding,

  conquering.... With all her heart she wanted him and as

  the battle raged within her she heard him say, the most odd inflection in his voice,

  ‘Is there any special reason why you’ve mentioned where Daphne’s been?’ A tentative question and a sort of anxious wait for her reply. The obvious answer flashed to her lips, only to be suppressed. She tried again with the same result. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, fighting for release, and she brought down her lids, for comfort. She knew her husband watched her closely and she was overwhelmingly grateful for the diminishing twilight that pervaded the vine-draped patio, clothing it with shadows.

  ‘No, Julius,’ she managed at last, a tremor in her voice. ‘There was no special reason.’ She stopped, panic seizing her in case he himself should carry the subject further - carry it to the point where there could be no retreat for either of them. If he had tired of her already then he would not mind in the least if exposure were to be his. He was regarding her with such an odd expression. He knew he’d been in Paris with Daphne, and the very fact of Gale’s mentioning that Daphne had been in Paris must strike him as pointed, which it was intended to be, with regret following swiftly. ‘I just mentioned it for — for interest - because I’ve always wanted to - to go there.’

  His eyes narrowed and for one frightened moment she

  felt he would come right out and make her explain the reason in a more credible way. But all at once he seemed to relax and she breathed freely again. Yet her relief was not the pure uncomplicated sensation she would have wished for. Julius had been as anxious as she not to lead the way to the point where finis must inevitably be written. This meant that he had not yet tired of her, that desire lingered still with him as it did with her. And so the reprieve, though welcome, afforded her scant satisfaction. She looked up at Julius, and wondered if the dampness on her lashes was visible. She thought not, because surely he could have commented. Instead he asked, softly and with interest,

  ‘How do you know that Daphne’s been in Paris?’

  She had known the question would come, and was prepared for it. But she averted her head as the lie left her lips.

  ‘Apollo mentioned it. It was he who told me Daphne was away on holiday.’

  ‘I see.... ’ The faint dropping of the voice left her a

  trifle worried in case he should question Apollo, who had never even mentioned Paris. But her anxiety soon faded;

  Julius was above talking in this way to his servants.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They had followed the path of the pilgrims, climbing up to the grotto where John the Apostle wrote the Apocalypse, and now they were standing in the courtyard of the Byzantine monastery, watching a black- bearded Greek Orthodox priest talking to a group of people who had come from the white cruise ship anchored just off Skala, the port of Patmos, so tiny that passengers from the liners had to be brought ashore by launch.

  ‘He’s happy - quite in his element.’ Julius spoke to his wife, his tones cool and impersonal, just as they had been for the past three days, ever since he returned from his

  business trip. ‘The tourists bring money to the monastic coffers.’

  Gale glanced at him. He wore a small but exquisite gold cross, she knew. Many Greek men wore such religious emblems, but with Julius it seemed oddly at variance with his character. He was so hard, so concerned with practicalities.

  ‘Is the monastery very rich?’ Her own tones were cool, matched to his. But it hurt now to speak like this. She yearned for tenderness to creep into their relationship. It never would, of course; even desire seemed to have died -at least on Julius’s part, as he had not come to her since his return. Strangely, her great longing for him troubled her far less than her unrequited love, the strength of which was causing her to question her self professed conviction that she had married him for desire alone. At the time, love had not even occurred to her, but now she was beginning to wonder if his deep and potent attraction had awakened in her something far more powerful than desire. Often she would think of Daphne, and jealousy would surge with such force that she felt she must come out with her knowledge -just to discover her husband’s reaction, and to endeavour to find out just how much Daphne meant to him.

  ‘Very rich indeed,’ Julius was saying in answer to her question. ‘It owns land in several Greek islands and also in Cyprus.’ He suggested they go on to the terrace and admire the magnificent view - the island of Leros and the tiny islands of Arki and Lipsi could be seen from there, he told her. He sounded bored, she thought, and bit her lip till it hurt. It seemed impossible that her attraction for him had waned so swiftly. Was be lost in the memory of Paris, and Daphne? It was very plain to Gale that the other girl could give him much more than his wife could ... and yet, if this were so, Gale was thinking a moment later, then why hadn’t he married her? It could of course be the old reason — that a Greek never married a woman he had already made love to. Yes, that appeared to be the feasible explanation. Sighing, Gale shook her head, for a dart of memory had brought back her conviction that some mystery attached to the events leading up to the marriage.

  ‘What was the sigh for?’ Her husband’s deep and pleasing voice intruded and she glanced up. She might have known he would not miss that little outward sign of her frustration. ‘You appear to be troubled about something?’ ‘No, I’m not,’ she began, then stopped, aware of the curious expression on Julius’s face. He was more than ordinarily interested in her reply; he also appeared rather satisfied with himself, she suddenly noticed.

  ‘Why are you looking so pleased?’ The question was out before she could check it and he frowned as if annoyed by it. But his tone was affable enough when he spoke.

  ‘I wasn’t aware I did look pleased. You haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘Your question?’

  Again he frowned. It was clear that all that interested him at the moment was the nature of her response to his inquiry.

  ‘I asked if you were troubled about something?’

  They had reached the terrace and Gale stared out, away to the north where the Foumi Islands shone in the bright sunlight and the larger outline of Ikaria appeared like some tranquil vessel riding at anchor.

  Gale moved restlessly, conscious of her husband’s sustained interest and his slight impatience at the delay in her reply. He would insist on hearing it, she knew, and evasion seemed imperative, for her present mood was such that she was very close to confessing that she knew he had been with Daphne in Paris - or, more correctly, reminding him that she knew. And this would occasion the sort of scene that could very well lead to the end of the marriage, since Julius would be forced to admit that Daphne still held a profound attraction for him. In these circumstances Gale would - if she had any pride at all - have no alternative than to make as dignified an exit as possible. She would have to return to England, to her home. Her father would jeer, while her mother would be heartbroken, for there was no doubt at all in Gale’s mind that her mother desired above all things that her daughter should be happy. No, Gale could not force such a situati
on and she said, with haste now, as if she must make up for the time lost, and in so doing allay any suspicions Julius might have that she was searching for a plausible lie with which to answer his question and so satisfy him.

  ‘I am troubled, yes - about Mother.’

  ‘Your mother?’ Was it imagination, Gale wondered, or had her reply really disappointed him? Most certainly it had erased that satisfied look from his face. Was it possible that he had assumed she had been troubled about them - her husband and herself? If so, he had been right, of course, and as Gale dwelt for a time on this new idea, she found her heartbeats increasing rapidly, as it would seem that he wanted to bring their marriage into discussion. Did he want to talk about a separation ... or about trying to make something of the marriage? Of the two possibilities Gale could think only of the former, because of what she had learned about his being in Paris with Daphne. Her heartbeats raced as fear mounted. To lose him....

  ‘I told you all about her - and the holiday - and that we all met.’ Gale spoke huskily, fighting tears which were striving for release. ‘I’m - I’m worried because she isn’t happy.’

  He made no comment for a while, but stared down into her eyes, probing as if he would discover whether or not she was lying about the reason for her troubled sigh of a few moments ago. At length he shrugged as if accepting her words as the truth.

  ‘She never appeared particularly unhappy to me,’ he said at last. ‘She seemed resigned that they could never marry,

  and grateful that she had Jack at all.’

  This was true; Gale had reached the same conclusion herself, but of course she could not now inform her husband of this.

  ‘It’s all very sad,’ she murmured, absorbed in her own thoughts now, and for the moment forgetting about personal problems as she saw her mother going on and on, living apart from the man she loved. Would Jack remain faithful, and satisfied with such an arrangement? With a little catch of fear Gale wondered if he would ever let her mother down ‘In a way it’s sad,’ agreed Julius, but added, ‘At least they have love to help them along.’ He sounded bitter, she thought, glancing, swiftly at him. Could it be possible that he wanted love in his life? — he who had always given her the impression that his needs could be satisfied by physical attraction alone?

  He turned from her and gazed out at the view. Moments later he was pointing towards Leros, and the two tiny islands of Arki and Lipsi. The conversation became impersonal and even cool. A great rift had come between them by the time they returned to the villa.

  ‘For you, Mrs. Julius.’ Kate looked a trifle worried as she handed Gale the cable. ‘It come one minute after you go out, but I can’t find you when I run along the road.’

  Gale and Julius were in the hall; he stood watching as with trembling hands Gale opened out the paper and read the brief message.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked on noting the colour leave her face. ‘Your mother...?’

  ‘Father. He’s had a stroke.’ Automatically she held out the cable to him. ‘I must go home.’ She felt lost and alone, just as on the occasion when she was in the house on her own, after having looked forward so eagerly to seeing her mother again. If only Julius would offer to go to England with her ... but he would not. He would most probably welcome her absence. It gave him the opportunity to be with Daphne.... Dejection had been engulfing Gale all the way home and now, despite her efforts at control, she put her face in her hands and wept.

  ‘You may go, Kate.’ Gale heard her husband’s voice, low and strangely tight. ‘Come,’ he said gently, ‘crying won’t help.’ Unexpectedly he put an arm around her shoulders and guided her into the living-room. ‘Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.’

  She shook her head, looking urgently at him.

  ‘I must make inquiries about a flight. You read - read the message. Father’s dangerously ill—’

  ‘Do as you’re told, Gale,’ he interrupted quietly but firmly. ‘I shall make all the necessary arrangements for our flight.’

  Unbelievingly she stared at him, blinking away the tears. ‘You’re coming with me?’

  He raised his brows, in censure.

  ‘Surely you expected me to come with you?’

  Gale moved her head, in a bewildered gesture. But words would not come. She was too full to speak just now, not only because of the news she had received from home, but also because of the flood of relief that swept through her.

  Contrary to her conclusions, Julius had not grasped this opportunity of being with Daphne.

  After bringing her a drink and making her sit down on the couch with it, he went off to telephone. There was a flight from Piraeus the following day, he told her on his return. They would have to catch the ferry which was leaving in a couple of hours’ time.

  ‘We’ll be on board through part of the night, but I’ve managed to get a cabin.’

  ‘Thank you, Julius.’ She had not touched the brandy he had brought her and now he sternly ordered her to drink it.

  ‘You’ll feel better,’ he assured her, and in fact she did realize she needed a drink. Would her father live to be a burden on her mother for the rest of her life? Or would he...? Gale shivered violently.

  ‘I don’t want him to die,’ she whispered almost to herself. ‘He’s been wicked, but—’ She glanced up to Julius’s face, tears springing to her eyes again. ‘He’s my father, and — and - when Edward and I were young he did sometimes play games with us.’

  Julius said nothing, but as she watched his changing expression she knew he was considering that her father had never really done what a father should do for his children. And for a fleeting moment Gale forgot everything as she saw, in imagination, her husband with children. He would be a good father, and kind - but then Greek men had a reputation for being inordinately fond of children.

  ‘Don’t think about his dying,’ Julius said gently. ‘We don’t know just how serious his condition is—’

  ‘Mother would never exaggerate,’ she cut in.

  ‘I agree, but nevertheless, we mustn’t look on the black side.’ Although he spoke gravely his voice had a firm edge as he added, ‘You’re not to let your imagination run away with you, Gale. I shall be angry if you make yourself ill. Do you understand?’

  She nodded, wondering at the meek way in which she received this stern injunction. Yet it was pleasant to be managed, she was secretly admitting as, taking her empty glass, Julius gave her a gentle push so that she rested against the soft cushions at her back. So strange it was, this gentleness in one so superior and arrogant. And deep concern was there, on that stern set countenance. Gale did not get round to asking herself the reason for that concern, for her thoughts switched back to her father, and she was wishing with all her heart

  that she had not been so unfriendly with him on her recent visit. She told herself she should have been more conscious of that gasping for breath which she had noticed -not once, but twice. Filled with remorse she told Julius of this, tears springing to her eyes as she spoke. His mouth set for a moment before he said,

  ‘You have nothing to blame yourself for, Gale, so stop doing so! There was nothing you could have done—’

  ‘I could have advised him to see a doctor.’

  ‘Would he have taken that advice?’

  Reluctantly she admitted that in all probability he would not have done so.

  ‘I could have warned Mother, though,’ she added, and heard an impatient sigh issue from her husband’s lips. His tone was rather dangerously quiet as he said,

  ‘That’s enough, Gale. Invariably there is self-blame when tragedies like this occur - and more often than not there isn’t the least need for that self-blame. I’ve just told you, I shall be angry with you if you make yourself ill.’

  Gale kept her thoughts to herself after that; and she was forced to eat some lunch because Julius’s stern eye was on her the whole time. When lunch was over they had only a few minutes to spare before being driven by Apollo to Skala, where they boarded the ferry.
It was only when they were being taken to their cabin that she remembered he had ordered only one - not two, as she would have expected. At the time of his mentioning it she had not been in a fit state of mind for it to register properly. She looked up at him as they entered and he closed the door.

  ‘Do you mind?’ He slanted her a look, but it was one she could not read.

  ‘I’d rather be with you,’ she admitted after a slight pause during which she formed the hope that he would not misunderstand her meaning. ‘For comfort,’ she decided to add, just to make sure.

  He smiled faintly then but made no comment. And much later, when she was in her bunk, he tucked the rug around her and after dropping a light kiss on her forehead slipped into his own bunk and snapped off' the light.

  Mr. Davis was lying in the bed, his eyes glazed, his mouth unmoving. Gale stood looking down at him and wondered at the change in his appearance. One side of his face was drawn up in an ugly, grotesque way that made her shudder inwardly.

  ‘The doctor should be here directly,’ Mrs. Davis’s voice was scarcely audible; her face was white, her eyes shaded with guilt. Earlier she had claimed that this was all her fault, that it was brought on by her going out, and not telling her husband where she went. ‘He’s been fretting,’ she said, but Gale could not agree.

  ‘Had he been fretting he just couldn’t have continued to go out himself,’ she had to say, for it was wrong that her mother should shoulder the blame.

  ‘I’ll never forgive myself.’ Mrs. Davis spoke as if her daughter’s words had not been uttered. ‘I should have given Jack up.’

  Julius, who was also in the room, became almost as stern with Mrs. Davis as he had with Gale the previous afternoon when she too had fallen to blaming herself.

  ‘No guilt attaches to either of you,’ he said, his glance moving to Gale and then back to her mother. ‘If I might speak frankly, it’s my firm opinion that this present condition of your husband has been brought about entirely through the life he has led. Our bodies must inevitably succumb if we strain their resources past the limit to which they are meant to go.’