by Anne Mather
She was relieved, too, to find that Maya had made sure that Milos was seated between her and Sam, which negated any private conversation between her guests. Which suited Helen just fine.
Nevertheless, she was intensely conscious of Milos’s dark eyes resting on her frequently throughout the meal, and, although she wasn’t particularly hungry, she was grateful for the wineglass at her fingertips, which provided at least a fragile barrier between them.
Melissa, however, was another matter, and just when Helen was beginning to think she was out of danger the girl addressed Milos directly.
‘Did you come in your car?’ she asked eagerly. She pushed aside the plate of beef and lamb kebabs that Maya had served with rice and salad in favour of the loukoumades, or deep-fried doughnuts dipped in a honey syrup, which were much more to her liking. ‘How fast can it go?’
‘On this island?’ Milos spoke tolerantly. ‘Not very.’ His eyes flickered to Helen’s anxious face and away again. ‘Why don’t you ask your mother if she’ll let you come for a drive with me and I’ll show you?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Helen disliked him putting her on the spot again. ‘I—we couldn’t put you out like that.’
‘It’s no problem,’ he assured her smoothly, and Helen wanted to scream in frustration when Melissa said, ‘There you are, Mum. At least someone cares if I have some fun.’
‘Oh, Melissa.’ It was her grandfather who spoke now, and Helen saw the way the girl visibly wilted beneath his wounded gaze. ‘And I thought you were happy here. Was I wrong?’
Melissa’s pale skin turned a little pink. ‘Oh—no,’ she protested, and Helen realised in amazement that she genuinely wanted to please him. ‘I mean, going out in the Jeep’s okay, but it’s not a Mercedes!’
Her grandfather pulled a wry face. ‘Well, that’s put me in my place, hasn’t it?’
‘No.’ Melissa didn’t realise he was teasing her. ‘But Milos has offered.’
‘Mr Stephanides,’ corrected Helen shortly, but her nemesis merely shook his head.
‘Milos will do,’ he said, with annoying complacency. ‘So—what do you think, Sam? Um—Helen?’
Maya gave an impatient exclamation. ‘You surely can’t seriously be considering entertaining a child, Milos,’ she exclaimed. ‘Sam?’ She turned to her husband. ‘Am I not right?’
‘I suppose it’s up to Milos,’ declared her husband mildly. ‘Helen?’
How could she object? She could hardly say she didn’t want Milos anywhere near her daughter when she couldn’t offer an explanation why. They all thought her reservations were ones of politeness, when in fact she lived in fear of Milos discovering exactly who Melissa was.
‘I—well—’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Melissa triumphantly. She looked at Milos. ‘Can we do it today?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Milos frowned. Then he said, ‘I wonder if you’d like to come to Vassilios. That’s my house. There’s a pool there. And horses. And you’ll probably meet my sister, Rhea. She’s staying at my parents’ villa at the moment, but she spends more time at Vassilios because of the pool. She’s actually not that much older than you are.’
‘How old is she?’ asked Melissa at once, and Helen’s heart faltered in her chest.
‘Oh—eighteen, I think,’ said Milos carelessly, apparently unaware of Helen’s tension. Then, before Melissa could comment on her own age, he added, ‘Your mother’s welcome to join us.’
Helen’s relief at this reprieve was short-lived however. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m hoping Helen will spend the afternoon with me,’ said her father warmly. ‘We haven’t spent much time together since her arrival, and I’d like to show her our operation.’
In an ideal world, Helen would have been delighted to spend some time with Sam. As it was, her agreement was more obligatory than enthusiastic and Melissa went off with Milos, clearly excited at the prospect of his undiluted attention.
‘She’ll be all right,’ her father said, after the Mercedes had driven away, and even Maya added her endorsement of that statement.
‘She doesn’t know how lucky she is,’ she said, with the usual edge to her voice. ‘Milos is a busy man. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s my cousin, I doubt if he’d have put himself out.’
‘I think he likes Melissa,’ remarked her husband mildly, sharing a rueful smile with his daughter. ‘Why not? Despite the way she dresses, she is quite a character. And he must regret not having any children of his own.’
‘Did he and his wife not have any children?’ asked Helen, unable to resist the question, and Maya gave a scornful snort.
‘Eleni?’ she said contemptuously. ‘That woman wouldn’t risk her figure by having children.’ She shook her head. ‘Milos would never have married her if it hadn’t been for his father.’
‘It—it wasn’t a love match, then?’ ventured Helen, aware that she was chancing Maya’s suspicions by showing so much interest in Milos’s personal affairs.
But Maya didn’t seem to notice. She was enjoying herself too much. ‘A love match,’ she echoed. ‘How naïve you are, Helen. Aristotle—that’s Milos’s father—wanted a business alliance with Andreas Costas. Having his son marry Eleni Costas was just the lever he needed.’
Helen absorbed this in silence, and Sam, seeing his chance, took her arm. ‘Come along, my dear,’ he said. ‘Unless you think it will be too hot for you. I’m afraid the Jeep doesn’t have air conditioning,’ he added, pulling a wry face. ‘But I’m willing to leave all the windows open.’
They drove first to the winery and Sam introduced her to some of the people who worked there. He also showed her how he’d used a couple of caves, one of the natural features of the island, for storing the bottled vintage. It was deliciously cool walking along the aisles of racks filled with the vineyards’ product, and Helen appreciated it.
‘Right now this is a comparatively small operation,’ Sam said. ‘Most of the wineries on the islands only bottle their wines for local consumption. We do that, of course, but at present we’re involved in talks with a supermarket chain. As yet it’s not all cut and dried, but it should give us a foothold on the mainland. If it comes off, it should make a great difference to our business.’
Helen looked at him. ‘You love it, don’t you?’
‘Being my own boss?’ Sam grimaced. ‘Who wouldn’t? But the best part of it all is knowing that this is my achievement. Maya’s father was an alcoholic, you know, and when we came here the whole place was in a state of decay.’
‘So—it wasn’t a question of marrying Maya for her money?’ suggested Helen carefully, and her father turned to give her a resigned look.
‘Is that what your mother said?’
Helen shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
‘Well, it isn’t true. When we got together, Maya didn’t have a penny, and this place was ankle-deep in debt.’
Helen nodded, and, as if needing to explain himself, Sam went on, ‘I don’t know what she’s told you, but Sheila and I were having problems long before Maya came on the scene. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have walked out on my family, but God knows, Helen, I never intended for us to be estranged.’
Helen said nothing, but there was too much emotion in her father’s voice for her to disregard his sincerity. Divorce was an ugly word, and it often generated bitterness between the partners. She wanted to believe him. She wanted him to understand how betrayed she’d felt, too. Maybe in time they would come to a complete understanding. At least coming here had been a beginning.
As they were leaving the bottling plant they ran into Alex. Helen had met Maya’s son the night before, when he’d joined the family for the evening meal, and she’d been struck by the differences between him and his mother. Whereas Maya obviously resented them coming here, making little attempt to hide the fact that she didn’t approve of the deception her husband had perpetrated by pretending he was ill, Alex was easygoing and friendly. Helen had liked him at once.
> ‘I see you’re being given the grand tour,’ he remarked now, exchanging a humorous look with her father. ‘Is he trying to persuade you that growing grapes is a rewarding occupation?’
‘You and I both know it can be the most frustrating occupation there is,’ retorted Sam with some feeling. He turned to his daughter. ‘Alex is grumbling because I recruited him as soon as he left college. He’s become my right-hand man in recent years. I don’t know what I’d do without him.’
‘You’d manage,’ said Alex drily, but Helen sensed there was a genuine understanding between the two men. He was the son her father had never had, she thought, wondering if that had been one of the reasons for her parents’ break-up. There was no doubt that Sheila hadn’t wanted any more children. Helen had heard her say as much many times.
They continued on, paying a brief call at the mill where the grapes were crushed, before entering Sam’s office where the commercial arm of the business was conducted. A young computer operator brought them a bottle of wine and two glasses, and Helen was quite glad to sit down for a while. The heat really was quite intense.
They talked for a while about wine-growing and the different qualities of various grapes, and then Sam said with sudden fierceness, ‘You don’t know how glad I am to see you here, Helen. Can you ever forgive me for the methods I used to achieve it?’
Helen studied the wine in her glass for a moment. Then she looked up at him with rueful eyes. ‘We’ve both been at fault,’ she said. ‘Me, for not being prepared to listen to reason. And you for giving up on me far too soon.’
‘I sent Milos to see you,’ protested her father, and Helen thought how fatalistic that had been. That one action had changed her life for ever and systematically destroyed any hopes of their reconciliation.
‘Anyway, that’s all in the past now,’ she said, not wanting to remember the frightened child she had been. Finding herself pregnant at seventeen had been terrifying enough without her mother threatening to throw her out if she refused to marry the baby’s father …
‘But I want to know about your past,’ persisted her father. ‘I want to know about this man you married: Richard Shaw. Didn’t your mother think you were too young to make such a life-changing decision?’
Helen’s lips twisted. ‘Not really.’
‘So she was all for it?’
‘She didn’t object,’ said Helen obliquely. ‘And then, when Melissa came along …’
‘Of course. Melissa.’ Her father smiled. ‘I think I understand now. You were going to have a baby and the decision was taken for you. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that that was how she and I got together?’
‘No!’
Helen was stunned. But it explained so much. Not least, the struggle her mother and father had had to make their marriage work.
‘Were you happy?’
Sam’s question was well-meant, she knew, but he deserved to know at least a little of the truth. ‘Melissa—isn’t Richard’s child,’ she said. ‘He knew that, but he wanted to marry me anyway.’
‘And why not?’ Sam was endearingly defensive, and Helen thought how different her life might have been if he’d been there to support her. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, my dear. Any man would be proud to call you his wife.’
‘Do you think so?’
Helen wasn’t so sure about that, but Sam had other things on his mind. ‘You didn’t answer my earlier question,’ he reminded her. ‘Were you happy together?’
‘To begin with,’ replied Helen honestly. ‘Well, Richard seemed happy, anyway. When Melissa was a baby, it was good. It was only as she got older and more—uncontrollable—that she went from being our child to my child almost overnight.’
Her father looked distressed. ‘Oh, my dear. If only I’d known.’ He reached out to squeeze the hand that was lying in her lap. ‘Tell me about him. What did he do for a living?’
‘Oh, this and that.’ Helen didn’t want to have to tell her father that Richard hadn’t held down a steady job in all the time she’d known him. That was why she’d had to become the breadwinner, and he’d resented her for it. ‘He was working as a courier when he died.’
‘A courier?’ Sam frowned. ‘Not exactly the most suitable job for someone who spent most of his evenings in a pub, I’d have said.’
Helen stared at him. ‘How do you—I mean …?’
Sam looked slightly shamefaced now. ‘Melissa told me,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Oh—believe me, I wasn’t questioning her. She just came right out with it.’
‘She would,’ muttered Helen unhappily. ‘I’m sorry if she embarrassed you.’
‘She didn’t embarrass me.’ Her father shook his head. ‘But I can easily see that she’s quite a handful for you.’
‘And the rest.’ Helen took another sip of her wine. ‘Mmm, this is nice.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised.’ Sam pretended to be offended, but then he frowned again. ‘So does Melissa know that Richard wasn’t her father?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Helen was emphatic. ‘That was the one thing Richard insisted on. That no one—including my mother—ever suspected that she wasn’t his child.’
‘I see.’ Sam was thoughtful. Then, getting to his feet, he moved to stand at his office window. ‘Did he know who her real father was?’
‘No.’ Helen’s answer was clipped. Then, rather bitterly, she said, ‘I notice you don’t ask me if I know who he was.’
‘But, of course, you knew.’ Sam swung round then, staring at her with angry eyes. ‘Who suggested you didn’t?’
Helen shook her head, but her father had connected the dots. ‘He did,’ he exclaimed harshly. ‘Oh, Helen, why didn’t you write and tell me?’
A fleeting image of what might have happened if she had briefly crossed her mind. But it had never been an option. She’d believed Milos was married, and flying out to Santoros to confront a married man with his actions would have been quite beyond her. She’d been too young, too scared, and too proud to ask for anyone’s help.
CHAPTER FIVE
MILOS drove Melissa back to the vineyard in the late afternoon.
He was still shaken, however, and he gripped the wheel with sweating fingers in a futile attempt to control his emotions. But, God help him, he was staggered by what he’d just discovered.
His original intention had been to spend only a short time at Vassilios. Despite his willingness to entertain the girl, he hadn’t really expected Melissa and his sister to hit it off so well.
As he’d anticipated, Rhea had been waiting for him when they had arrived at the villa and, although at eighteen she was scarcely a contemporary of the younger girl, she’d been delighted to meet Melissa.
He acknowledged it was probably because she was so different from the girls Rhea was used to associating with. Girls from wealthy families, like her own, who were generally in awe of their parents. No one could accuse Melissa of that, however, and Rhea, who had always been a bit of a rebel herself, seemed fascinated by her.
From Melissa’s point of view, the visit had been a complete success. Rhea had prevailed upon her brother to let the girl stay long enough to have a swim, and, initially, he’d been happy enough to indulge her. After all, he’d had the agenda of an upcoming conference in Athens to study, and it had been quite pleasant hearing the shrieks of girlish laughter coming from the pool.
It wasn’t until Rhea had come to find him and ask if Melissa could stay for supper that things had changed. ‘We want to practise applying eye make-up,’ she said appealingly. ‘You know I’m no good at it and Melissa says she is. Her mother probably doesn’t stop her from reading women’s magazines like Mama does me.’
‘Trashy magazines, you mean?’ Milos taunted drily. ‘Come on, Rhea, Melissa is—what? Twelve? Thirteen years of age at most? I grant you she acts older, but are you seriously telling me—?’
‘She’s almost fourteen, actually,’ Rhea broke in defensively. ‘Her birthday’s next month, like mine. We’re both Geminis.�
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Milos’s sense of shock was staggering. A sick feeling invaded his stomach, filling his mouth with bile, and a nerve in his temple started to throb. It couldn’t be true, he told himself. Rhea must have got it wrong. Melissa couldn’t be almost fourteen. If she were …
‘Are you all right?’
Rhea noticed his sudden pallor and the knowledge that his sister couldn’t be allowed to suspect his thoughts brought a spurious wave of colour back into his cheeks.
‘I—yes, I mean—no.’ He was at a loss to explain his reaction and it was easier to pretend a momentary giddiness than admit how ill he suddenly felt. ‘I’m a little dizzy, that’s all.’
‘You’ve been working too hard,’ Rhea said at once, evidently relieved it wasn’t anything more serious. ‘It’s so hot today. Perhaps you’ll feel better after supper.’
‘Perhaps,’ Milos agreed, wishing she would just go and leave him alone for a few minutes. ‘I’ll be all right.’
‘So may Melissa stay for supper?’ Rhea persisted. ‘I’d like her to and it will give you more time to—’
‘No!’ On that score, Milos knew he had to refuse her. ‘I’m sorry, Rhea, but her mother’s expecting her back.’
‘There are phones,’ Rhea said sulkily, and if he hadn’t felt so numb he might have wondered if Melissa’s influence was already having an effect.
‘Another fifteen minutes, that’s all,’ he said. And, gripping the arms of his chair with a fierceness that bordered on desperation, ‘You’ve already had over an hour.’
‘You’re no fun, do you know that?’ Rhea muttered, apparently already forgetting all about his sudden weakness, and Milos thought that was just as well. ‘I don’t know what Melissa’s going to say.’
But that was the least of his worries. As Rhea flounced out, he was glad she had no idea of the bombshell she’d just delivered. Could what he was thinking possibly be true? he wondered. Surely not. Melissa must have exaggerated her age just as she tended to exaggerate everything else.
