South from Sounion

by Anne Weale

  Cathy dozed for the greater part of the flight, as did most of the other passengers. But although she was physically tired, Lucia found it impossible to sleep with the knowledge that, thousands of feet beneath them, lay the towns and villages of Europe.

  People accustomed to air travel might say it was boring and debilitating. For her, it was a magical experience. To fly through the night in a great, sealed cone of light... to soar above the mighty Alps ... to be heading south to the shores of the blue Mediterranean . . . how could anyone sleep at such a time?

  About half an hour before they were due to arrive, Cathy roused, and went to the powder room. By the time she returned, other people were beginning to stir. Several heads craned to watch her pass along the aisle. For, in spite of the fact that Lucia's parsimony had forced her to travel in last summer's yellow wool suit, she looked enchantingly pretty.

  The aircraft touched down at a quarter past three in the morning and, after the close atmosphere in the plane, the outer air seemed almost as chilly as the cold April night they had left far behind in London.

  "Where's Nico?" said Cathy anxiously, when they had passed through the Customs.

  Although there were several people waiting to meet other passengers, there was no sign of Nicholas Curzon.

  They stood looking about for some minutes. Then Lucia said, "There's an enquiry desk over there. If he's been delayed for some reason, he's sure to have telephoned through. They probably have a message for us."

  But there was no message and, ten minutes later, they were still waiting for their host to put in an appearance.

  After they had been waiting for half an hour, and the man at the desk still had no news for them, she said, "There's no point in hanging about here. Let's go to the restaurant, and have some coffee."

  "I want to spend a penny," said Cathy, in the restaurant.

  She went off to the ladies' room, leaving Lucia wondering what was the best thing to do if Nicholas failed to turn up in the next thirty minutes.

  "Miss Gresham?" asked a male voice.

  "Yes." Eagerly, she looked up. But the man who had approached while she was pondering was not a member of the airport staff bringing news. He was a stranger in whipcord slacks and a dark blue sweater.

  "I am Yannis Tyropoulos. Nico sent me to meet you. Unfortunately, there was a small accident on the way, and so I am late. I am very sorry. It is not pleasant to arrive in a strange city, and have no one to make you welcome. You have been distressed. I can see it in your face. Please accept my most humble apologies."

  "Yes ... of course," said Lucia, rather overwhelmed.

  For, apart from the fact that he had seized both her hands, and delivered his speech very fast, and with a great deal of dramatic emphasis, Yannis Tyropoulos was the most handsome young man she had ever laid eyes on.

  Still holding her hands, he sat down at the table, and beamed at her. "So you are the beautiful Cathy. But where is your sister... Lucia, is it?"

  "I'm Lucia," she explained. "Cathy will be back in a moment."

  "You are Lucia?" he said, pulled. "But Nico said Cathy was the pretty sister, and Lucia was the clever sister."

  "Or did he actually say the plain sister?" she thought dryly.

  "That's right," she said, smiling. "Cathy is very pretty."

  Still he looked puzzled. "How can this be? You are lovely." He pressed her fingers, and gave her such an enamoured look that, for one crazy moment, she almost believed he meant it. "If your sister is more lovely than you she must be a goddess."

  "Well, see for yourself," said Lucia, as she spotted Cathy coming back. Yannis turned to look, and she quickly withdrew her hands, and tucked them out of sight on her lap.

  As Cathy approached, Yannis rose to his feet. But with his head turned away from her, Lucia could not see whether there was now an even more ardent look in his long-lashed black eyes.

  Cathy was plainly as startled by his extraordinary looks as her sister had been.

  Lucia said, "This is Mr. Tyropoulos, Cathy. Nicholas sent him to meet us, but he was delayed."

  "How do you do?" Cathy murmured. It was the first time Lucia had ever seen her greet a man with a disconcerted stare on her face. Indeed, for a second or two, she looked almost shy of him.

  Yannis shook hands. "Welcome to Greece, Miss Cathy. I am sorry your arrival in my country has been spoiled by the stupidity of the driver who hit my taxi."

  "It's quite all right." Cathy sat down. "Why couldn't Nico come to meet us?"

  Yannis also sat down. Now Lucia saw his eyes again. To her amazement, she realized that, far from gazing at her sister with rapt admiration, there was nothing in his expression but civil interest in a foreign visitor.

  "Unfortunately there was another small accident at Marina this afternoon - that is, yesterday afternoon," he corrected. "It happened only a few minutes before Nico was to catch the steamer. So, as he must stay to bandage Ariadne, I am sent in his place."

  "Who is Ariadne?" asked Cathy.

  "She is the youngest child of my cousin Sofia. She is only six years old, so naturally she was very frightened when the scissors pierced her arm, and there was much blood."

  Lucia remembered Nicholas mentioning that his grandfather's name was Tyropoulos. "Is Nicholas also your cousin?" she asked.

  He turned to her so eagerly that, once more, she was taken aback. "Yes, that is so," he confirmed, with his melting smile. "My father and Nico's mother were brother and sister. Now, you are tired, and must rest before the crossing to Marina. I will take you into Athens."

  The drive from the airport to the centre of the city took about twenty minutes. Yannis sat in front with the driver, and chatted in rapid Greek. The two girls sat behind in silence," both of them rather dazed by the unexpected advent of this real-life Adonis into their lives.

  When the taxi stopped, Lucia saw with dismay that they were at the entrance to a very de luxe-looking hotel.

  "In ten minutes, you will be in a comfortable bed - fast asleep," said Yannis, helping her to step out.

  "Oh, but is that necessary - to go to bed, I mean? What time does the steamer leave for Marina? Couldn't we just rest in the lounge?" she suggested anxiously.

  Unwisely, perhaps, considering the hour of their arrival, she had not budgeted for spending what was left of the night in a hotel.

  "The steamer departs from Piraeus at twelve o'clock," he told her. "So there is plenty of time for you and Miss Cathy to recover yourselves. Don't worry - everything is arranged. You will be called at nine, and we will have breakfast together, and perhaps a little walk round the city."

  Lucia was too tired to argue. The problem of paying for these arrangements would have to wait until tomorrow. Without further objection, she let him shepherd her into the imposing foyer.

  As soon as she had signed the register at the night porter's desk, they were taken upstairs by lift, and shown into a large, well-furnished double room, with a lobby and private bathroom.

  Yannis tipped the baggage boy for bringing up their suitcases, and bade them goodnight.

  As Lucia went with him to lock the outer door, he smiled down at her, and said softly, "Until tomorrow. Sleep well ... beautiful Lucia." Then he passed into the corridor, and was gone.

  When Lucia woke up, chinks of light were showing through the curtains. Peering at the luminous hands of her watch, she found that it was seven o'clock. Yet, although she had been asleep for little more than two hours, she felt wide awake, and eager to begin her first day in Greece.

  Quietly, so as not to disturb Cathy, she slid out of bed and crept to the window. As she poked her head between the curtains, she saw that already the city was bathed in brilliant sunlight. There was a good deal of traffic passing in the street below, but the sound of it was muted by the double-paned window. At present the hotel's central heating was still functioning, but no doubt this would shortly be replaced by the coolness of air-conditioning.

  Deciding that she could not possibly lie in bed until
nine, she padded to the bathroom, where she had a hot shower followed by a cold one. Then she made up her face, and dressed, and scribbled a note to Cathy, who was still deeply asleep.

  There was no one about in the corridor as she made her way to the lift. But there were pairs of glossy-clean shoes outside most of the other bedroom doors.

  "Kalimera, Kyrie," she said experimentally, to the liftman, when the door slid open.

  A broad smile split his face. "Kalimera, Thespoinis. Ti kanete?" And then, in case she had not understood this last - "How are you?"

  Ever since she had made the decision to come on this holiday, Lucia had been at pains to roaster the Greek alphabet, and to teach herself a little of the language.

  So, instead of saying "Very well, thank you", she ventured to reply in his own tongue. "Kala - ke sis?" she asked, hoping her pronunciation was correct.

  Evidently it was not too bad. He laughed, and nodded approvingly. "Very good . .. very good."

  He was still beaming at her when they stopped at another floor. As the door opened, Lucia was surprised to see Yannis waiting outside.

  "Lucia, what are you doing up so early?" he exclaimed, equally surprised.

  "Good morning. I was too excited to sleep, so I thought I'd have a stroll round on my own," she explained.

  He stepped into the lift. "You certainly do not look as if you have been up here most of the night. What of your sister? Does she sleep still?"

  "Yes, I shouldn't think she'll wake up for some time yet."

  The lift reached the ground floor. Before she walked out of it, Lucia smiled at the liftman. "Efharisto."

  He bowed. "Parakalo." Then, turning to Yannis, he said something which Lucia could not follow, but which was obviously about her.

  "What did that mean?" she asked, when the lift door had closed upon him.

  Yannis smiled, and slipped his hand under her elbow. "He said it is unusual for an English visitor to speak our language - particularly someone as young and lovely as yourself."

  Lucia laughed. "I think you made the last bit up."

  "No, I did not," he assured her. "You must understand that Greek men are not like English men. We are not stiff ... afraid to show what we feel. We ask questions which, in England, would be 'bad form', as you say. While you are here, many men will show with their eyes that they would like to make love to you. You mustn't be annoyed. No harm is intended. It is our way."

  By now they were at the entrance to the hotel restaurant. A waiter ushered them to a table, and Yannis ordered breakfast.

  "How is it that you speak such excellent English, Mr. Tyropoulos?" Lucia asked.

  "Not Mr. Tyropoulos ... Yannis, please."

  "All right - Yannis, then."

  "I learnt English from Nico," he explained. "And also for one year I worked in England. It was useful experience, but I do not like your English climate. For me, there is one place to live - Marina. Thanks to Nico, it is possible for me to stay there now."

  "Why thanks to Nico'?"

  "The people of my island have always been very poor," he told her. "It is the same with most of the islands. Hydra and Mykonos have many summer visitors, but still there is much poverty elsewhere. For a man to make his way in the world, it has been necessary to leave home, and work in some richer country. England, perhaps, or as far away as America. First, Nico paid for me to have a good education. Now he has lent me the money to build a small hotel at Marina. This is not only a chance for me to be prosperous, but also it gives work to many others."

  "I see," said Lucia thoughtfully. She should have been pleased to learn that Nicholas had a philanthropic side to his nature. Yet, obscurely, the discovery troubled her.

  Their breakfast arrived - crisp French rolls, honey from Mount Hymettos, and coffee with hot milk added. This, Yannis explained, was known as ghaliko kafe, and was served only on request. But he had guessed that she would not enjoy Greek coffee, similar to the Turkish kind, so early in the day.

  For Lucia, those first two hours of her first sunlit morning in Greece were an unforgettable, golden interval between her often unhappy past life, and the worrying uncertainties of the future.

  As soon as they had finished breakfast, Yannis took her out into the city. She did not need to fetch her coat for, even at this early hour, the air was gloriously warm. Indeed she would have been more comfortable in a cotton shirt than in her silky flamingo sweater.

  By half past eight, all the shops were open, and the streets surging with traffic. To an experienced traveller, the heart of Athens might have seemed little different from that of any capital city. But, to Lucia's unjaded eyes, it was utterly different. For one thing, the sky above it was brilliantly blue - a sight which no English person could ever be blasé about.

  And, even in the London street markets, she had never seen people chatting, and arguing, and gesticulating as animatedly as the citizens of Athens. Everywhere she looked, there were Greeks talking ten to the dozen. The sound of noises was almost as loud as the noise of the traffic.

  "I suppose there isn't time to visit the Parthenon before we leave?" she said, strolling along with her hand in his.

  He had possessed himself of it as they left the hotel, and was holding it too firmly for her to free it casually.

  "No - but I think Nico has a plan to bring you to see the antiquities," said Yannis.

  Lucia stopped dead. "Oh, look - what a lovely thing to see!" she exclaimed delightedly.

  For trotting towards them, led by an old man with a grizzled moustache, was a donkey laden with baskets brimming with flowers.

  Yannis let go of her hand and, before she realized his intention, went striding forward to intercept the flower- seller, and buy from him. A few moments later, her arms were full of carnations.

  "Oh, Yannis, they're lovely - but how extravagant," she protested, torn between pleasure and dismay.

  "Ena penindari - a few pence," he replied, with a shrug. "It is worth much more to see you smile, beautiful Lucia."

  She laughed, and blushed, and buried her nose in the flowers. She knew very well he was only flirting. He himself had warned her that his countrymen were uninhibitedly amorous. Nevertheless, she could not help feeling rather exalted at being treated with such delightful gallantry by this gay, and so good-looking, young Greek.

  It was a few minutes after nine when they returned to the hotel. Hardly had they entered the foyer than Cathy came hurrying towards them, looking very put out indeed.

  "Where have you been?" she demanded, staring at Lucia's bouquet.

  "For a walk," her sister explained. "I woke up early and came downstairs, and met Yannis. Have you been up long?"

  "Since eight," Cathy said tartly.

  "Good morning, Miss Cathy. Did you sleep well?" Yannis asked politely.

  For the second time, Lucia noticed that there was nothing in his manner to suggest he was addressing an exceptionally attractive girl. Cathy might have been a child or an elderly woman. His attitude was one of well-bred courtesy superimposed on indifference.

  "Yes, thanks," said Cathy, rather huffily.

  She had not yet had breakfast and, as the restaurant was now rather crowded, Yannis suggested that it would be best for her to have it in their room.

  "I will see you later - when it is time for us to leave," he said to Lucia. "Excuse me now, if you please." And he went away to attend to some business of his own.

  Cathy said nothing on the way upstairs, but Lucia sensed there would be an explosion as soon as they were alone.

  There was. No sooner had Lucia closed the inner door than Cathy whirled round and said furiously, "Thanks very much! There's nothing I like better than hanging about in a strange hotel, being leered at by greasy little men!"

  "I didn't notice anyone greasy downstairs," Lucia said mildly. "As far as I could see, they were mostly middle- aged businessmen and American tourists. I'm sorry, Cathy," she added quickly, to avert another outburst. "I didn't think you'd wake up until you were called -
and I did leave a note."

  "You didn't say you were going out with Yannis."

  "I didn't know it then. We met as I was going down in the lift."

  "Why on earth did he give you all those flowers? You can't take them on the boat."

  "No, I suppose not," Lucia agreed regretfully. "I'll give them to the chambermaid, and just keep one to pin on my coat. Aren't they lovely? Would you like one?"

  "No, thanks," her sister said tersely.

  "Don't be cross, Cathy. You've really no reason to be. Don't let's spoil our first day here by rowing."

  "Oh, so you've changed your mind, have you? You're glad you've come - now you've met him."

  Lucia ignored this. "Hadn't you better ring for breakfast?"

  "I never thought you could be such a fool," Cathy said spitefully. "You've fallen for him, haven't you? You came in all flushed and starry-eyed. Well, well. . . who would have thought it? After all the lectures you've given me, about looks not being important and all that jazz, you've lost your heart to the first decent-looking man who's ever noticed you."

  If she had hoped to make her sister angry, she did not succeed. For this outburst struck Lucia as being very much the kind of tantrum thrown by a spoilt little girl who had been left out of a treat. An over-indulged six-year-old would have stamped her feet, and yelled "I hate you". Cathy vented her feelings by saying the most hurtful thing she could think of.

  "Well, what if I have?" Lucia said lightly. "You don't want me tagging round with you and Nicholas all the time, do you? I should have thought you'd be pleased that I've found someone to keep me company."

  The younger girl's jaw dropped. It was true that Lucia had come into the hotel with a smile on her lips, and a pleased-with-life air about her. But Cathy had not really believed the accusation which she had just flung at her.

  "You haven't really fallen for him, have you?" she asked, in undefined alarm.

  Lucia repressed a smile. "Gracious, I only met him last night," she said cheerfully. "But he is rather fabulous, don't you think? And he does seem to like me."

  She paused, and began to poke the stalks of the carnations into a vase of roses on the writing desk. "I might fall in love with him," she said reflectively. "Yes, I think it could happen quite easily."