performed that peculiar, inexplicable flip. Climbing out with
dignity, she said good night and then shot away as though
the devil were after her.
Sam was waiting up for her, a flask of cocoa on the
kitchen table at his elbow, his sketch pad open under his
hand. She paused, looking over his shoulder, and felt a shiver
of the nerves as she recognised the arrogant dark face he was
drawing.
“Is it like?” Sam asked without looking up.
“Very,” she said, offhandedly.
He leaned back, smiling at her so that his face was
inverted and unfamiliar.
“What did he want? Or was it just a cover for wolfish
advances? Did he offer you a pad in Monte Carlo? Or a mink
coat with diamond buttons?”'
“Fool,” she said, flushing. “He wanted you and me to visit
their home during the Easter holidays.”
“Wow!” yelled Sam, throwing up his charcoal and catching
it. “Kianthos! Sounds great.”
“I told him I couldn’t go, of course,” she said, pouring
herself some cocoa and sitting down at the table.
Sam looked at her closely. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”
“You know I’ve fixed my holiday,” she answered. “I’m
going with Peter to this Anglo-Saxon burial site.”
“Peter was round this evening,” Sam said, irrelevantly.
“He wanted to borrow some glue. He made like a gundog
after a pheasant when I mentioned Kianthos—seems there’s
an early Mycenean temple there that has never been
properly excavated. The Lillitos family own the whole island
and they won’t let strangers land.”
“Typical!” exploded Kate. “What right do they have to
prevent people from seeing a thing like that, an important
historical site ...”
“Keep your wig on,” Sam advised with kindly superiority.
“You know, I bet if you mentioned this idea of going there for
Easter to Peter he’d jump at it. He would really love to see
that temple.”
She drew a quick breath. He was right. Peter would
certainly want to go there.
Sam yawned. “I’m off to bed now. Goodnight, Sis.”
When he had gone Kate sat staring at the charcoal
drawing he had made. It really was very like Marc Lillitos.
Some obscure, buried instinct warned her against seeing
too much of that man. They were like people from different
planets. Their lives had touched by chance, and he had
already had a disturbing effect upon her. Her life had been
running smoothly for the past year. She had buried the
yearning for a musical career, had settled down quietly at
home, teaching and planning her life with Peter. And now, in
one day, the smooth threads of her life were tangled and
knotted.
She picked up the pad and tore the sketch off, holding it
up to the light. The arrogant face seemed to smile at her.
Angrily she crunched it into a ball and flung it across the
room, then went up to bed.
She decided, guiltily, not to mention the projected visit to
Kianthos to Peter. She had never practised deceit before,
even by omission, and it upset her. But the thought of
spending two weeks with Marc Lillitos disturbed her even
more.
She was abstracted and dreamy at school next day. Even
Pallas, during her daily singing lesson, commented upon it,
teasingly. Kate was relieved to find the girl still friendly, and
decided that perhaps Marc had not spoken to her of his idea
for the holiday, after all.
When she reached home that evening she was in a more
cheerful mood. She flung her coat over its hook and walked
into the kitchen where, to her amazement, she found Peter
and Marc Lillitos seated at the kitchen table, eating hot
buttered scones.
There was something so odd about seeing Marc in that
homely setting that her lips twitched with unguarded
amusement, and, looking back at her, his grey eyes smiled in
response. She looked away at once, thinking that it was
irritating, the way he read her mind so easily.
“Hi, Kate!” Peter leaned back, offering his cheek, and she
bent and kissed him, deliberately, on his mouth. He looked
Mrs. Caulfield was getting another batch of scones out of
the oven and Kate exchanged a wry, enquiring glance with
her, but her mother only smiled and shook her head, as
though totally at a loss to explain the presence of the two
men.
Peter took another scone, and said, through a buttery
mouthful, “I’d be eternally grateful, Lillitos. I’ve wanted to
see that temple for years. I understand some of it is still
standing in situ.”
“Yes, it is partially restored,” Marc said calmly, his gaze on
Kate’s flushed and angry face.
“I can’t wait to see it,” Peter said excitedly. “I could map
out the general area of the site, then a full team could come
in and do the serious work. I wouldn’t disturb the site at all.
Just work around, determining the limits of the building, if I
could, and estimating the size of team needed for the job.”
“Then that is settled,” Marc said, still watching Kate with
bland amusement.
“Peter!” Kate began, in a quiet voice. “We’re going to
Sussex for Easter.”
He looked vaguely at her. “Oh, that doesn’t matter!
There’ll be plenty of other workers there. But Kianthos—
what a chance! I’ll be in on the ground floor with this one. I’ll
get in touch with various people tonight, get them interested
...”
“I think that that should wait,” said Marc firmly. “I would
prefer you to keep the whole thing to yourself until you’ve
seen the temple. Then we can discuss it in the light of what
you decide should be done.”
“Right,” said Peter amiably. “It might be better to have a
definite plan in hand.” He jumped up, wiping his buttery
fingers on his handkerchief. “I’ll be off now. I want to do
some research on the temple.” He offered Marc his hand.
“Thanks very much. I am really grateful for this chance.”
Kate looked at him, seething, and, suddenly noticing her
again, Peter lightly kissed her cheek. “See you, sweetie,” he
observed vaguely. Then he was gone, banging the front door
behind him.
Unable to trust herself to speak, Kate went into the
sitting-room where she flung herself down into a chair and
brooded furiously. She might have guessed that Marc Lillitos
would get his own way. She could cheerfully have strangled
Peter at that moment. All he thought of was broken pots and
ancient bones. He didn’t care that she was in emotional
danger from this tank masquerading as a man!
The door opened again, and the human tank came in, and
stood, watching her.
She glared at him. “Well, you’ve got what you wanted.
Now go away!”
He flipped his eyebrow. “Have I?” he retorted
mockingly.
“Do you know what I want, I wonder?”
She did not stop to examine this question too closely, but
replied to it as though it were quite straightforward. “You
wanted us to come to Kianthos. We’re coming. You always
get what you want, I suppose?”
He grinned, his hands in his pockets lazily. “Quite often. I
am taking the night flight to Greece, but I will see you at
Kianthos in two weeks. Give my regards to Sam.” He smiled
again and left.
Kate walked restlessly round the familiar room, feeling
most unfamiliar to herself.
It was ridiculous to be so nervous about a fort night’s
holiday. She loved Peter, didn’t she? Of course she did. So
why should she be anxious about spending time with Marc
Lillitos?
I’m behaving irrationally, she told herself crossly The
truth is that I’ve been influenced by the aura of glamour
which surrounds him. He’s rich, good-looking, charming, and
I’ve never met anyone like him before. But those are surface
things. Underneath I’m still the same person. I still feel as I
always did about Peter.
She halted, staring out of the window. A blackbird was
singing his evening challenge from the top of the garden
shed The lilac trees were already showing fat green buds. It
would soon be full spring. Daffodils were breaking out of
their sheaths into frilly yellow under the hedge and there
was a flurry of pink blossom on the almond trees in the next
garden.
She looked out for a long time, her face absorbed. It was all
very real, very beautiful, very reassuring.
Of course I love Peter, she thought, with a surge of relief.
She thought of him with warmth. He was a darling—absent-
minded, thoughtless, vague—but basically kind and generous
if only one could penetrate the mists of antiquity which filled
his brain. He might not be dynamic or dangerously
attractive, but he was real. She knew him, understood him
and cared about him.
She swung on her heel and walked out of the room,
mentally snapping her fingers at Marc Lillitos.
CHAPTER THREE
As the plane landed on the small airfield at Kianthos Kate
peered nervously out of the window, wondering if Marc
were waiting for them, but there was no sign of him as
they climbed down into clear, cool sunlight.
She and Pallas had gone shopping together a few days
before they were due to leave, and had returned laden
with bags and parcels. Kate had felt guilty, squandering
money on clothes for herself, but her mother had firmly
insisted that she renew her wardrobe. “Think of yourself
for once,” she smiled, patting Kate’s cheek. “You’ve done
so much for us all since you started work. I don’t know
what I would have done without you. But it’s time you had
some really nice clothes.”
Kate had suggested she made what she needed, as she
normally did, but Mrs. Caulfield had shaken her head.
“No, dear. You may never have the chance of a holiday
like this again. Buy them.”
Kate was a competent needlewoman, but she had to
admit, as she gazed at diminutive bikinis and smart,
multi-hued trousers, that she could never have produced
anything half as professional.
Pallas was chattering to Sam, as they walked towards
the sleek black car which had come to meet them, and
Kate had time to look around her.
The airfield ran along beside the beach, the only
flat part of the island, as far as she could see. Above it rose
green hills and rugged crags of stone, their peaks swathed
in a lavender mist shot through with pink.
A man approached them, taking the bags from the
airport manager while saluting Pallas with a grin. The
airport manager slid away politely and began locking up
the one building visible, a small modern pavilion built of
wood.
“Hallo, Jake,” Pallas greeted the newcomer. “How are
you?”
“Fine, Miss Pallas, just fine.” He was a rugged Greek of
middle years, with swarthy skin and a broken nose which
gave him a slightly pugnacious expression. Stowing their
bags into the boot of the car, he helped Pallas into the
back.
All the details of the journey had been handled by the
Lillitos family. Kate felt quite dazed as she sat back on the
smooth upholstery of the limousine, next to Pallas, staring
out of the window. Everything had been so trouble-free
that she almost doubted that she had really left England.
Money certainly oiled the wheels when one was travelling.
“How is my mother, Jake?” Pallas asked, leaning
forward.
The driver turned his head to smile reassuringly at her.
“Oh, she’s okay! Just dandy, Miss Pallas—you know she
always gets better in the spring!”
Pallas looked relieved and sat back with a sigh. The car
glided along the beach, on a winding road, and mounted
beneath dark cypress trees. Below them the airfield
spread out like a green handkerchief beside the beach, and
the air was filled with a fresh, salty tang.
“Is it far to your home?” Sam asked. He was rather
pale. Kate suspected that the flight had left him feeling a
little sick, but he had not mentioned it.
“A ten-minute drive,” Pallas told him. “Our house is at
the top of a cove, but we have to go up before we can reach
it, as the cliffs cut it off from the airfield. My brother
intended to build a large hotel near the airfield, but he
hasn’t got round to it yet. We don’t really want strangers
on Kianthos at all.” She was looking rather strained
herself, today, and Kate guessed that she was nervous
about the family reaction when she got home.
“Will it be just your mother and your brother who are
at home?” she asked her.
Pallas shrugged. “Perhaps, but then Helene might be
there—she often comes for Easter, with some friends. Or
Marc may have business friends of his at the villa. He
uses it often, you see, to put them into a good mood before
concluding a deal.”
“Nice work if you can get it,” Sam said, a little gruffly.
Pallas flushed and looked hurt, but Kate could see that
her brother was feeling worse with each minute of the
journey. His freckles stood out on his nose like micro-dots
under a microscope. His mouth was thinned and taut and
his cheeks white. She hoped he would not be sick before
they reached the villa.
But at that moment the car lurched downwards again,
throwing Peter against the door. He rubbed his forehead
resentfully, then bent to pick up the vast tome he had
been reading ever since they left London. Kate watched
him crossly. He had not spoken to any of them all
morning. She knew that dreamy, abstracted expression. It
meant that he was unaware of anything around him.
Including her.
They sto
pped in a gully between dark rocky cliffs, grass
clinging perilously to little clefts, wild yellow flowers
blowing in the sea wind. The path was rough with lumps
of stone, but the car reversed slowly, wheels churning up
pebbles, and turned down a grassy track which ended on a
paved patio.
Kate got out and stood with Sam and Peter, like herded
sheep, gazing in amazement at the view spread before
them.
The Villa Lillitos was modern, but built on classical
lines, a two-storey house, with flat, wide windows, a
terrace running along the front on which stood basket
chairs and several small tables. The terrace was
supported on smooth white pillars of stone, and in the
centre of it stood a portico, beneath which Marc Lillitos
stood watching their arrival.
It reminded Kate of a colonial American house,
somewhere in the deep South, and the shady cypresses
which surrounded it did nothing to dispel the illusion The
house stood on a sloping hill, below it a rough path which
presumably led to the sea, for she could glimpse golden
sands and curling blue waves some way below them.
Behind the house she could see green lawns, spring
flowers and the nets of a tennis court.
Before she had time to take more in, Marc was with
them, giving a quiet order to the driver, taking Pallas’s
elbow.
“I am sure you would all like to rest before dinner,” he
said, politely smiling.
A short woman with smooth olive skin, dark hair and
black eyes met them in the entrance hall and took charge
of the visitors.
Peter hung back and Kate heard him say eagerly, “How
soon can I see the temple, do you think?”
She did not wait to hear Marc’s reply. Cross and
flushed, she went up behind Sam to the room prepared for
her.
“My name is Sophia,” said the maid politely. “Please do
not hesitate to ask me for anything you need.” Her English
was so good that Kate was quite taken aback. She had
been wishing that she had had time to learn some Greek
before her trip, but it was becoming clear that she was
unlikely to need it. Everyone in the Lillitos household
seemed to speak very good English.
She hesitantly tried out one of her few hastily learnt
phrases, “Efharisto!” which meant thank you.
Sophia smiled, with sudden real warmth, and spoke in
reply, in her own language.