Lark in an Alien Sky

by Rebecca Stratton

  Corinne still felt curiously awkward whenever she used the chauffeur-driven car, although Gregori had mocked her for it. `Kiria Corinne Kolianos rides in a limousine, my lark,' he had told her with a laugh. 'She does not need to use public transport.' Yet sometimes Corinne felt she would have felt more at home travelling by bus.

  `I'm off now,' she said as she got to her feet. 'Is there anything I can bring for anyone while I'm out?'

  The offer was declined with a murmur of thanks, but when she was only halfway across the hall she realised someone else had left the room after her and was trying to catch up. Turning curiously, she saw Iole and smiled, noticing how the girl glanced back over her shoulder before she spoke.

  `Are you driving into Piraeus, Corinne?' she asked, and

  made such an obvious effort to keep her voice inaudible to those left in the salon that Corinne felt vaguely uneasy. Nevertheless she nodded agreement.

  'I thought it would make a change from Athens,' she told her. 'Why, Iole? Is there something I can bring for you after all?'

  From the way she hesitated it was clear that Iole was in some doubt about the request she had to make and her eyes were too evasive for Corinne's peace of mind. Will you do a service for me?' she asked.

  Suspicious suddenly, Corinne eyed her doubtfully. A pulse in her throat fluttered warningly as she watched the defiant yet undeniably anxious young face, and she put her question with obvious caution. 'What is it you want me to do, Iole?'

  `To deliver a message, that is all.'

  Corinne's heart thudded at her ribs while she hesitated, and yet something in that young face appealed to her soft heart and she went on instead of refusing out of hand, as would probably have been wiser. 'To Takis Lemou?' she asked, and Iole nodded.

  `I would not ask it of you,' she promised, flicking a pointed tongue over her lips, 'but I cannot ask Zoe since Thios Gregori has discovered that she helped me before.'

  `Zoe did?' It should not have come as such a surprise, but somehow it did. Her sister-in law, it seemed, took a very active interest in all her family's love affairs. 'I didn't know that.' ,

  But she can no longer help me and I must send Takis a message! Please, Corinne!'

  The plea was in such earnest and the young voice so plaintively unsteady that Corinne found it much too hard to refuse. Heaven knew, the past few days had been nerve-racking enough for Iole and, although she had the

  comfort and solace of her home and family, her future still hung in the balance. A future without the man she loved, unless someone helped her. It was a sentimental situation that was bound to appeal to Corinne, and in all probability Iole was aware of it.

  'I should refuse outright,' she told Iole, and shook her head over her own weakness, 'but if I do take this message for you, I want you to promise that Gregori will never hear of it.'

  'Oh yes, yes, I promise!'

  Seeing herself as committed, Corinne sighed inwardly. 'Where do I find him?' she asked. `Do I have to go to his home? Or simply post a letter to him?'

  Iole's eyes were evasive again, sliding away when Corinne tried to look at her. 'His family do not know of our association,' she confessed with a hint of her usual defiance. She took an envelope from the pocket of her dress and handed it to her. 'You will find him in a cafenion just off the waterfront,' she said, and gave her such precise instructions how to get there that it was obvious she had been there herself. 'He meets there with his friends.'

  `I see.' Corinne recalled the exclusively masculine clientele of the average Greek coffee shop, and looked doubtful.

  'Oh, no one will take notice of a foreign woman going in there,' Iole assured her without for a moment sounding as if she used the term offensively. 'Please do this for me, Corinne. I have not seen or heard of Takis since I came from the hospital and I must—I must know '

  `Yes, of course you must!' Corinne concealed her misgivings and tried to put Iole's mind at rest. 'I promise not to let you down, Iole; the question is, how do I know this boy-friend of yours?'

  For a moment Iole's eyes had that oblique and slightly sly look of old. 'You saw him once; on your wedding day, do you not remember?' she asked, then had the grace to look ashamed because Corinne's expression reminded her of her deception on that occasion.

  'I remember the incident,' she said, 'but I'm afraid I can't remember what he looked like.'

  `Like this!' Once more Iole plunged a hand into the pocket of her dress and this time produced a photograph, slightly crumpled and with lipstick traces on the face of it. 'Only please,' she begged with touching anxiety, let me have it back, Corinne, because it is the only one I have of him. He is handsome, no?'

  `Very,' Corinne agreed, and wondered how anyone but a rather foolish and impulsive girl like Iole could be taken in by Takis Lemou's flashy good looks. If she could have done so without appearing completely heartless and breaking her promise, she would have changed her mind. As it was she kept her opinion to herself. 'I'll see what I can do, Iole,' she promised.

  'Oh, thank you!' For a moment Iole stood there, obviously with something on her mind that was not easy to put into words, and the look in her eyes was vaguely defensive when she eventually spoke. 'I am pleased that Tinos Gregori has married you!' she said in a light breathless voice, then turned and walked back to the salon.

  It was one of the times when Corinne wished she had learned to drive or that she could have taken a bus instead of the chauffeur-driven car that she was expected to use. As it was she took the precaution of leaving the car some distance from her eventual destination and walked through the maze of small streets behind the

  waterfront, looking for the cafinion that Iole had told her about.

  But finding it was the least of her problems. As she had feared, the customers were exclusively male and when she appeared in the doorway the buzz of conversation almost ceased and several games of backgammon were suspended while the participants eyed her curiously. Then someone said something that evidently amused the rest, for there was a spontaneous burst of laughter that was the final straw as far as Corinne was concerned.

  She had already turned to go, her courage failing her, when she caught sight of the man she sought and hesitated. Of medium height and with curling black hair, he sat at one of the small tables in the company of four other young men, the inevitable cups of thick black coffee and accompanying glasses of water in front of them. Corinne had no need of the photograph to identify him, but for the first time she could understand the seemingly heartless ban on Iole's association with him.

  For a reputedly wealthy young man he appeared to have remarkably poor taste both in his choice of companions and his surroundings. He registered her recognition of him with a swiftly arched brow and got to his feet, slowly and with an insolent awareness of his own virility, coming across the crowded café to her with a kind of lazy swagger, his eyes on her the whole time.

  Feeling slightly mesmerised by the situation she found herself in. Corinne fumbled for the envelope she had brought, anxious to have it delivered and take her departure. 'I've brought a letter from Iole,' she said, speaking quickly and breathlessly, and only then stopped to wonder if he spoke English.

  `So?' He drawled the word while glancing back at his companions, who grinned broadly, drawing their atten-

  tion to the fact that it was he that the pretty foreigner had sought out. 'Do not go,' he begged, when Corinne would have turned away, and put a hand on her arm. 'What is your name?'

  'My name doesn't matter, Mr Lemou.' Her voice was as firm as she could make it and Corinne pulled back her arm from the touch of an unpleasantly moist palm. 'I'm simply delivering Iole's letter. She's much better,' she added, for despite appearances he might be a little concerned about her.

  But he laughed. 'Of course,' he said in a strong accent that was probably very popular with most foreign girls. He turned the letter over in his hand but made no attempt to open it. 'What is this about, eh?'

  Thinking to shame him into being more conc
erned, Corinne looked him in the eye and spoke far more boldly than she would normally have done in such circumstances. 'I imagine it's about your future,' she told him. 'Yours and Iole's—why don't you read it?'

  'No need!' He thrust the envelope carelessly into a pocket and fixed her with his bold eyes once more. 'I know my future well enough, thespinis.' He noticed the ring on her finger then and pursed his lips in a mock moue of disappointment before he laughed. 'Kirk'? he corrected himself. 'Perhaps you are the bride of Gregori Kolianos—ah, ne, I remember! You were the beautiful bride I saw on your wedding day when I was leaving Iole's room, 'Ne?' Once more his harsh laughter mocked her and he stood with his hands in his pockets, eyeing her boldly. 'You may tell your husband, Kiria Kolianos, that he need fear my intentions no longer. My friends are here to wish me kalo taksithi—I am flying to my uncle in America tonight!'

  Corinne stared at him, leaning carelessly against the

  wall and regarding her dismay with obvious amusement, but with no sign of regret or concern about Iole. 'But you —you can't!' She found her voice eventually, but it was small and very unsteady. 'What about Iole—and the baby? Your baby?'

  `So?' The maddening brows kicked upward yet again and he was still smiling as if the whole situation afforded him nothing but amusement. 'There is always Costas Menelus—there is always Costas Mencius!'

  With his laughter, Corinne realised bitterly, went the last shred of hope for Iole's precious love affair; the affair she had risked so much for, and her anger almost boiled over into verbal abuse. It was only the certain knowledge that Takis Lemou would find that also a cause for laughter that kept her silent, although she shook with anger.

  The place seemed unbearably hot suddenly. She felt prickly with the heat and her head was swimming; all she could think of was finding Gregori and telling him, for she could not face Iole herself with the news that her precious Takis was about to abandon her as callously as if she was a worn-out shoe. Turning quickly, she walked once more out into the shadowy narrowness of the street, and headed back to where she had left the car.

  The chauffeur looked at her curiously when she asked to be taken to the offices of the Kolianos Shipping Company, but only minutes later he stopped the car outside a tall block of offices and opened the door for her. She refused his offer to enquire if Kirios Kolianos was free, and made her own way into the small reception hall.

  It was not until she was inside that she realised she would first have to confess to acting as Iole's messenger. Gregori would be angry, she had no doubt of it, but it was a risk she had to take if she was not to be the one to

  carry the news that Iole's whole world was about to collapse about her.

  There was a lift immediately facing her as she came in the door, and a flight of stairs disappeared out of her sight to the right. Just inside the door were one or two chairs, apparently for 'waiting interviewees, and she could just see the corner of a desk around the right-hand corner which presumably was where she would find a receptionist. She was still getting her bearings when she heard a familiar deep, soft voice speaking in Greek, and stepped forward into the main part of the reception hall.

  Gregori was coming from one of a row of doors beyond the receptionist's desk and he was for the moment unaware of her. He walked with a hand under the arm of a tall, dark woman and his head was bent slightly, as though to catch what she was saying. He was smiling, and the moment Corinne caught sight of the smoothly beautiful face of his companion she had no doubt who she was looking at.

  Her first instinct was one of stunned surprise, of shock almost, because the morning's events had dimmed and diminished the importance of Persephone Chambi. To see Gregori with this undeniably lovely woman whom she had no doubt at all was the woman who had caused her such unhappiness recently was like being struck a physical blow.

  Rooted to the spot with her heart thudding like the slow hard beat of a drum, she watched them come nearer, and could do nothing but watch as if she was mesmerised. Gregori's whole attention was concentrated on the oval face with its smiling mouth and lustrous dark eyes, and yet it was only a matter of seconds before he seemed to sense Corinne's presence and looked up suddenly.

  She caught her breath and only just managed to keep

  back the tears that threatened to blot out the sight of the two of them together. She had already been shocked enough by the prospect of Iole's heartbreak, but she had not foreseen herself being in the same position when she came to seek Gregori's help.

  `Corinne! Agapiménos! What are you doing here?'

  He was just as he always was, smiling and pleased to see her, his hands outstretched to take hers, his strong fingers caressing and soothing as he bent to kiss her. It was as if the whispered anger and violent passion of that night had never been. As if it did not matter to him that she had seen him engrossed in the company of the woman who had caused it. But that suggested a man without thought or sensitivity, and she knew that wasn't so.

  `What has brought you here to see me, eh?' he asked, then put a hand beneath her chin and raised her face, looking down into it for a moment. 'Oh, my love, what has happened that you run to me with tears in your eyes?'

  Reminding herself that her immediate concern was Iole, Corinne still tried to cope with her own emotions. So far she had avoided looking at the-woman with him and instead kept her eyes downcast, her heavy lashes hiding the threatening tears; except from Gregori.

  'I—I had to see you about something,' she said, and despaired of the way her voice trembled. 'It's rather important or I wouldn't have come. That is, I thought, if I came to you—'

  `But of course you would come to me, my love, when you are so distressed! Who else would you turn to?' His fingers stroking her cheek sought to soothe her misery without knowing he was the cause of it, while dark eyes searched her face anxiously. 'Come, we will talk in my office, eh?'

  Corinne made herself look at the other woman at last. Tall and elegantly coiffured, wearing clothes that flattered her somewhat full figure, she stood by, obviously interested, yet discreetly apart. Dark eyes between thick lashes looked quite unexpectedly kind and friendly as well as curious. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do, but Corinne managed to control her feelings sufficiently to offer a conventional way out.

  'If you're busy, Gregori, I could

  'No, no, no! You will come with me now,' Gregori insisted, and was apparently still unperturbed by the situation. 'You will tell me what it is that troubles you so much, my little one.' He placed a comforting arm about her shoulders and lightly kissed her brow. 'But first I would like you to meet—'

  'Persephone Chambi—who else!'

  The name was out, sharp and angry, before she could stop it and the woman's fine dark brow registered surprise, while Gregori's frowned. It was a second or two before she realised that she was being offered a long slim hand to shake, and she hastily made the appropriate response, with Gregori's eyes on her, slightly narrowed in the way she knew so well.

  'Persephone, as you know, is an old friend,' he said, coolly ignoring that impulsive remark. 'Persephone, I would like to introduce my wife, Corinne.'

  'I am most pleased to meet you, Kiria Kolianos.' The soft smooth voice was yet another attractive feature of this secret love of her husband's, Corinne noted, and swallowed hard on the bitterness that rose in her throat like gall. 'Do you like our country—your new country?' The hasty correction was smoothly glossed over. 'I am sure you will be happy here.'

  'She is already happy, are you not, my, lark?' Gregori

  asked, and bent to kiss her lowered lids. 'Although perhaps not at this moment, hmm?'

  'But of course,' Persephone Chambi interposed smoothly. 'I will not keep you any longer, Gregori, when your wife has such need of you.' The dark eyes glanced at him meaningly. 'You will tell your wife about—'

  'I will tell her in time,' Gregori interrupted her swiftly, and was obviously anxious that she should not give away whatever she had been going to mention.
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  Corinne looked up in time to see him shaking his head at her, and Persephone pulled a rueful face. 'Yes, of course, I am sorry.' Once more a hand was proffered for her to shake, and Corinne steeled herself to take it. 'Goodbye, Kiria Kolianos, I hope we may meet again in happier circumstances. Hdrika poll.'

  'Goodbye, Persephone.' He leaned across and kissed the round smooth cheek, and Corinne squirmed inwardly at the look the two of them exchanged. A small secret smile and a slight nod, as if of reassurance. 'Efharisto,' he murmured, and she dared not think what he could be thanking her for.

  Hugging Corinne close to his side with his arm still around her shoulders, he took her across the reception hall and into the office he had just left with Persephone. Her perfume still lingered faintly and Corinne wrinkled her nose in dislike at the reminder. The room was sparsely furnished but had the same air of simple luxury as the salon at home, and he saw her seated in a huge armchair before perching on the edge of the desk.

  'That is most comfortable,' he assured her with a half-smile, then reached for a cigarette.

  His hands, she noticed when he applied the flame, were perfectly steady. Apparently even being caught with his lover could not disturb that perfect self-control of his,

  and for a moment Corinne almost hated him. Looking down at her through the drift of smoke, he spoke quietly and coolly, holding one of her hands as he did so; a comfort she accepted gladly even feeling as she did. Somehow her own emotions had become tangled with Iole's, and she was no longer sure which of them she felt sorriest for.

  `You must be very upset about whatever it is, my love,' he said, `to show that extraordinary display of temperament just now.' He did not raise his voice, nor did he accuse, but the set of his mouth was familiar enough to her now not to be in any doubt how he felt. 'What has happened, agapitikos, eh? What makes you so—disturbed that you are rude to my friends?'