Follow a Stranger (12 page)

my fault, I’m afraid. Marc offended me and I insulted

him to ... to get my own back.” The words sounded

childish and stupid as she said them, and she flushed

hotly.

His mother threw up a protesting hand. “I am at a

loss for words! But I am too relieved to see you both to

be angry. Come, my son, kiss me!”

Marc obeyed, and she clung to him.

“I hope you were not too anxious, Mama,” he said

gently. “We were quite safe once we reached land, but I

had no means of letting you know.”

Sam tumbled down the stairs, dressed in a sweater

and jeans. “Glad to see you, Sis,” he muttered, hugging

her clumsily. “We began to think you were in Davy

Jones’s locker.” Then he threw a nervous look at Mrs.

Lillitos and bit his lip.

She held out a hand to Kate. “My dear, I hope your

holiday has not been totally ruined by such an

unpleasant accident. I am so sorry this happened.”

Kate smiled, shaking her head. “I’m pretty tough,

Mrs. Lillitos. I was frightened at the time, but I’m fine

now.”

“But there is a bruise on your forehead. How did that

happen? It looks very painful.”

“I’ll ring the doctor,” Marc said brusquely.

“There’s no need,” Kate protested.

He turned on her, his dark face savage. “You’ll see

him! Even if you pay him yourself!”

There was an astounded silence as he slammed out of

the room. Kate forced a laugh, conscious of her burning

cheeks.

“I’m afraid he’s cross this morning. The boat is a total

write-off, you know.” She looked at his mother

nervously.

Mrs. Lillitos watched her thoughtfully. “Don’t worry

about it, my dear. Marc is a man of great depths of

emotion. He is quickly angry, quickly calm. Next time

you see him he will be his usual self, I’m sure.”

Kate doubted that. After what she had said to him,

Marc would dislike her intensely. His expression had

been dangerously violent when he turned on her just

now. She had had the impression that he could almost

have killed her.

She went to her room, meeting Pallas on the way, had

a short chat with her, and then, with relief, had a long,

hot bath. She lay soaking in the water, thinking back

over the events of the last few hours. She must try to

keep her temper. Marc couldn’t help treating everything

as a commodity to be paid for, could he? It was the way

he had grown up, in a mercenary world.

I must see Peter again, she thought. Already the day

she had spent with him seemed an eternity ago, as

though she had travelled hundreds of miles and changed

totally in the meantime.

She must reassure herself. She got out of the bath,

dripping wet, and stared at herself in the full length

mirror on the wall. She even looked different. She could

not be sure what it was, but her eyes had a new

expression. They were more alive, more secretive, as

though concealing something, even from herself. That

look of youth was beginning to go. Her mouth had an

adult bitterness in its curves.

She shivered, and began to dry herself vigorously.

Slipping into her new dressing-gown, she padded

towards her own room, and met Marc coming out of his.

He still wore his jeans and sailing shirt. They looked at

each other in silence for a moment.

“I’ve rung the doctor,” he said curtly. “He’ll be here in

four hours. He has to come over from Epilison and this

is not his usual day for visiting Kianthos.”

Kate shrugged, “There’s no hurry.” She went past

him, in a cloud of perfumed talcum, and he caught her

arm.

“Kate,” he said huskily, “why do you fight me all the

time?”

She couldn’t look up at him. She was too painfully

aware of him, big and dark and dominating, standing

very close to her. He waited for a moment, then dropped

her arm and stalked away down the stairs.

He did not appear at lunch, nor did his mother, who

was recovering from the shock of believing them both

drowned yesterday. Sam, Pallas and Kate lunched

quietly together. Then the doctor arrived, examined her

and pronounced her perfectly fit, but slightly shocked.

“No more excitement,” he ordered. “Rest, relaxation.”

He spoke little English, but Pallas translated for him,

while also acting as chaperone.

Kate spent the afternoon on the stone patio, with

Sam and Pallas, lying on well-sprung canvas loungers

enjoying the sunshine.

The storm seemed to have blown quite away, leaving

the island calm and peaceful. Out of the wind the air

was warm and still. The sun seemed almost hot on her

bare back and legs.

She wore her new bikini, two delicate scraps of black

cotton which emphasised her slender waist. Sam rubbed

sun lotion into her skin, offering to perform the same

task for Pallas.

“My complexion is intended for this climate,” she

claimed triumphantly. “The sun is kind to me. I never

use those things.”

Kate was very tired this afternoon. Her experiences

of yesterday had left her weary, and she drifted into

sleep as she lay on the lounger. She did not hear Sam

and Pallas get up and go off to play tennis, and they,

considering her, decided it would be kinder to leave her.

She slept on for several hours, her skin beginning to

redden as the sun poured down upon it, then woke with

a stifled cry of pain as a hand touched her red shoulder.

Marc was crouching beside her, his face set grimly.

“Now look at you!” he said furiously. “You have given

yourself sunburn! I can’t take my eyes off you for five

seconds without you getting into some scrape or other!”

She turned and sat upright, wincing at the agony of

her reddened back and shoulders. It felt as though red-

hot needles were stinging along her skin. Her head

swam dizzyingly. She looked at Marc, her eyes filling

with tears.

“Oh, good God!” he groaned, and the next minute had

picked her up into his arms and was carrying her, like a

child, into the house.

The doctor was back next day and tut-tutted over her,

waving his small hands and talking rapidly in Greek to

Pallas.

“He says you have been very silly,” Pallas translated,

smiling sympathetically.

Kate had had a bad night. She had tossed restlessly,

her whole body apparently on fire. “I didn’t realise the

sun was so hot,” she said wearily, on the point of tears

again. She could not understand why she felt so

emotionally disturbed. The slightest thing made her

burst out crying.

The doctor bent over, shaking his head and spoke

again.

Pallas translated again. “He says that the sun was

unusually hot yesterday, but you should never go to

sleep in the sun at any time. And he says,” she paused,

listening, “he says that the lotion should help, but the

pain will be bad for another day or two. And you are to

stay in bed and do absolutely nothing until he comes

again. It is an illness which makes you depressed, like

influenza, so try not to cry.”

Kate looked up at the doctor and smiled faintly.

“Thank him for me,” she told Pallas.

The doctor nodded, as Pallas spoke and smiled back.

Then he left, and Pallas tucked her up again, gently.

“Would you like to sleep now, or shall I stay and talk?”

“I think I’ll try to sleep,” Kate said. “This lotion has

made me more comfortable. I didn’t sleep at all last

night.”

“Poor Kate,” sympathised Pallas.

When she had gone Kate lay, in the semi-darkness of

her room, gazing at the white shutters which Pallas had

closed. Faint beams of light struggled through them and

lay in bars across the floor. Her headache was better

now, but her eyes felt hot and dry, and she was grateful

for the cool shadows around her.

Marc had carried her up here yesterday and laid her

gently on the bed. Through the hazy mist of pain she had

stared up at him, wondering why he looked so savagely

angry. She couldn’t help getting sunburn. Then she had

been suddenly, violently sick, and when she came back

from her desperate race to the bathroom, she had found

him gone, and Sophia waiting with cool water and

gentle, soothing hands.

Her eyes closed. She preferred to forget what had

happened yesterday. It had been a traumatic experience.

The next few days were quiet and peaceful. Pallas and

Sam came in every morning. Sometimes they played

cards with her, or just sat and talked. Sometimes she

slept for most of the day. The burning sensation had

lessened gradually. Her skin was now merely hot and

dry. In places it was beginning to peel, and she watched

it discontentedly. She was going to look a sight when it

flaked off on her back. She would not be able to wear her

bikini for the rest of the holiday.

On the Friday morning the doctor said she could now

get up. “But,” he warned sternly, “no more sunbathing.

No exertion.”

She promised eagerly. “It’s been such a waste of a

holiday,” she said to Sam.

He was looking pleasantly tanned, his freckles

merging with his healthy brown skin.

He gave her his hand. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll help

you downstairs.”

“I’m not an invalid,” she protested.

Sam grinned at her. “You’ve been acting the part jolly

well, then!”

To give herself confidence Kate had put on one of her

new dresses, a cool white voile, very feminine and

delicate, with a full skirt which reached half-way down

her calf, soft frills which left her throat bare, and tight-

fitting sleeves.

She met Mrs. Lillitos as she and Sam were going

down, and the older woman smiled delightedly.

“My dear child, how enchanting you look! A vision

from the past. But you need a hat.” She smiled. “I have

just the hat you need,
ma chere
.” She walked stiffly

back to her room, leaning on her cane, and returned in a

short time with a large picture hat of white straw,

trimmed with one very floppy pink rose.

Kate stood still while Mrs. Lillitos adjusted it. Sam

watched, smiling.

“Great, kid,” he enthused. “You look ...” he hesitated,

lost for words.

“Beautiful?” Mrs. Lillitos suggested teasingly.

Sam grinned. “You took the word out of my mouth,

Mrs. Lillitos.”

“And it covers up my sunburn,” Kate told them

confidentially. “My back and arms are still very un-

sightly. I wanted to hide them.”

They sat on the verandah, out of the treacherous sun,

until lunchtime. There was no sign of Marc, and Kate did

not dare to ask after him, but she gathered later that he

had been engrossed in business during her illness, and

had rarely emerged from his office, which was at the far

side of the house.

They were about to move in for lunch when Marc came

out on to the verandah. He stopped dead, catching sight

of Kate, and stared at her in silence for a moment, then

said politely, “You look much better. How do you feel?”

She murmured a vague reply. Sam and Pallas dis-

creetly wandered into the house, leaving them alone.

Kate stood up, feeling ridiculously overdressed. Marc

was wearing a light blue shirt and casual grey slacks.

“I went up to the temple and told your fiancé about

your illness,” he said abruptly.

“That was very kind of you,” she said stiffly.

“He would have come down to see you, but he had to

finish his survey, and as sunburn is hardly a dangerous

illness ...”

“I see his point,” she said, quickly breaking in. “Of

course he wouldn’t come until he had finished.”

Marc’s lip curled. “You don’t mind?” he asked. “You

lack the usual feminine vanity, then. Doesn’t it worry

you that he couldn’t care less whether you are ill or not?”

“You don’t understand Peter,” she said hurriedly. During

her illness she had had plenty of time in which to think

about herself, and she had come to a decision about

Peter. She had made up her mind to

ask him if he would release her from their engagement.

But she had no intention of letting Marc Lillitos know

that. She did not want to discuss the subject with him.

Marc was watching her, with narrowed eyes. “Do you