Follow a Stranger (13 page)

understand Peter Hardy?” he asked her coolly. “Do you

realise what a selfish, irresponsible, coldblooded fish he

really is?”

She flushed and walked past him without answering.

She was still engaged to Peter. She would not be disloyal

to him now.

That afternoon, the other visitors arrived, and Marc

drove down to the airfield to meet them.

Pallas was sulky as she sat with her mother and Sam,

waiting for the black car to return. Mrs. Lillitos kept a

stern eye upon her and checked an attempt she made to

escape with Sam to play tennis, while Kate sat back,

watching, wondering why Pallas was in such a strange

mood.

The visitors arrived, talking in French which sounded

like machine guns rattling away, and Kate hoped that

they spoke some English, or the rest of the holiday was

going to become a nightmare.

Marc came in, ushering two women before him,

smiling down at one with great charm and courtesy.

She looked round and gave a little cry, “Madam!”

Mrs. Lillitos held out her arms, and the other woman

hugged her warmly.
“
Ma belle
Helene,” murmured Mrs.

Lillitos, smiling.

She was a tall, slender woman, with deep brown hair,

brown eyes and a look of quiet sophistication. Her coat

and dress were cut very plainly, but with exquisite taste,

in a striking violet. They looked superb on her.

Mrs. Lillitos looked past her to the other woman,

standing beside Marc, one hand clinging to his sleeve,

smiling up at him from wide brown eyes fringed by very

thick black lashes. Her eyes were too heavily made up,

giving her the appearance of a panda, with her thick

white skin and black hair. She wore a figure-hugging

black suit, very demure and yet very sexy. There was no

blouse beneath it and the deep v-lapels revealed the

white curve of her breasts and her slim white throat.

She was whispering to Marc and he bent his head,

seeming amused, his eyes flickering over her apprais-

ingly.

“Marie-Louise,
ma chere
,” said Mrs. Lillitos firmly,

and the other woman turned and walked over to her,

still holding Marc’s arm.

Kate stared at her. Was this, then, the French model

with whom Marc was in love? She could not understand

why he felt uncertain of her. She seemed madly in love

with him, if one judged by her practised arch looks, her

smiles and her air of possession.

She was very attractive, Kate had to admit. The silky

dark hair was sleek and straight, drawn back from her

face in a chignon. Her mouth was painted glistening red,

her chiselled cheeks almost classically perfect. Yet there

was a falseness, a coldness about her which made Kate

dislike her.

Mrs. Lillitos introduced Sam and Kate to them, and

Marie-Louise stared at her with insolence.

“A schoolteacher?” she repeated, then laughed, look-

ing at Marc. She turned her head aside and whispered to

him. Kate caught the words, “How irritating for you to

have to put up with them,
mon cher
.”

Marc did not reply. A man had come up the steps into

the house and stood, watching them all with a smile. He

was tall, dark and about twenty-four, with curly hair,

pleasant brown eyes and a relaxed air.

“Jean-Paul,” said Marc, “come and meet my sister’s

friends.”

Pallas sat like a frozen statue, staring at her feet. The

newcomer glanced at her, then at her brother, his brown

eyes enquiring.

Marc said Kate and Sam’s names. “This is Jean-Paul

Filbert,” he told them, “a cousin of ours.”

He smiled at them, but his eyes rested longest on

Sam, with curiosity and intentness. Sam was rather red,

Kate saw. She wondered, suddenly, if this could be the

man Pallas had told her about—the man Marc intended

her to marry when she left college. Surely not? she

thought. He’s much older than Pallas. But she knew

that, even these days, arranged marriages were common

enough in Greece. And families always liked to keep

their money in safe hands.

“Marc darling,” drawled Marie-Louise, “give me a

cigarette. I’ve run out.”

He brought out his cigarette case and held it out to

her. She took one and put it into her bright red mouth.

Marc flicked open his cigarette lighter and held it to her

cigarette, bending down. She took his hand in hers and

held it steady, gazing up at him with provocative eyes.

“Thanks, angel,” she murmured, leaning back. Marc

straightened. “Now you must excuse me. I am expecting

a phone call from New York.”

“Angel, you’ll kill yourself,” complained Marie-Louise.

“Work and no play, you know. You don’t want to be a dull

boy, do you?” Her lashes flickered teasingly. “Why don’t

you relax and enjoy life?”

“I cannot afford to,” he said, lifting his shoulders in a

shrug. “Money, like children, needs constant attention.”

“But so do I, my darling,” she said, opening her eyes

wide. “I am going to compete like mad, Marc. Business

must be prepared for a battle.”

“With me as the prize?” he asked lightly, grinning.

“Of course!” she said softly, “and a very valuable one. I

will not share your attention with anything, especially

not a telephone!”

Marc laughed. As he walked towards the door he

passed Kate. Their eyes met. Hers were deliberately

blank. He gave her a mocking, derisive flicker of a smile.

She understood what he meant without needing it put

into words. That is how a feminine woman behaves, he

was telling her. That is how a man wants his woman—

flirtatious, flattering, attentive.

Mrs. Lillitos rose soon after Marc had gone, and said

that she was going to her room to rest.

“I will come with you, Maman,” said Helene, slipping

an arm around her. “We have so much to talk about, you

and I.”

Marie-Louise yawned. “I might as well have a nap

myself. If Marc is going to be boring, I might as well not

have come.”

Sam and Pallas stood up, too, as Mrs. Lillitos walked

slowly out of the room. Pallas said, “A game of tennis,

Sam?” and Sam nodded.

Kate was taken back to find herself thus left alone

with Jean-Paul.

“You are also going to sleep?” he asked her, as she rose

instinctively.

She shook her head, smiling. “I think I’ll take a stroll

in the garden. I’ve been ill for a few days and I need the

fresh air ”

“May I come, too?” he asked, head to one side,

scrutinising her.

“Why not?” she returned politely, and they went out

into the garden.

They walked beneath an arched trellis, hanging with

vines, out on to the lawn. The cypress trees and flower

beds gave a quiet grace to the little garden, which was

framed in a close-set hedge.

“Tell me about yourself,” said Jean-Paul. “A

schoolteacher, Marc said—how did you come to meet

him?”

“I teach Pallas,” she explained. “I teach music at her

school, Cheddall.”

He shot her a sidelong look. “Ah, yes, Pallas. And do

you get on with her?”

“Very well,” Kate said. “That’s why I am here.”

“And ... the young man? He is your brother? Is that

why he is here? Because of Pallas?”

“They’re friends,” she said carefully.

Jean-Paul lit a cigarette, after offering them to her.

For a while he smoked in silence. Then he said, “Pallas

thinks herself in love with him, perhaps?” His tone was

diffident, almost embarrassed.

She shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. I don’t have her

confidence in this matter.”

He looked sharply at her. Kate met his gaze directly

and frankly.

He sighed. “I see. But perhaps you have your

brother’s?”

“No,” said Kate firmly, “I’ve never discussed her with

Sam. After all, it’s a very private subject.”

He laughed incredulously. “Love is never private,

Miss Caulfield. It is, above all else, a family matter. That

is why, as soon as I knew I loved Pallas, I spoke to her

brother upon the subject.”

She came to a halt and stared at him, with total

disbelief. “You love Pallas? But she’s only sixteen; years

younger than you. Almost a child, still.”

“She will be seventeen in two months,” he said. “My

mother was married when she was sixteen. I was born

when she was seventeen.”

“You are Marie-Louise’s brother, though, aren’t you?”

she asked, puzzled. She had been sure Marie-Louise was

older than him.

“I am her half-brother,” he said. “My mother was

Greek, a Lillitos. Her mother was French. Marie-Louise

is five years older than me.”

“Oh.” Kate considered the information for a moment,

then went back to Pallas. “Does Pallas know you love

her?”

“She knows I wish to marry her,” he said quietly. “I

have not, of course, approached her alone. It would not

be fitting.”

Kate almost reeled with hilarious incredulity. “I can’t

believe it!” she exclaimed. “You talk like a Victorian

novel!”

He flushed. “You are laughing at me,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. No wonder Pallas was

so awkward when you arrived!”

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You think

she does not like me? Finds me unattractive?”

She looked at him, embarrassed, and saw the hurt

look in his brown eyes., “Look,” she said frankly, “Pallas

is a modern girl. She doesn’t want to be married off like

a prize cow. She wants to ...” she gestured vaguely, “live

her own life.”

“And I am not part of the life she wants?” he asked

quietly.

“How do I know? How does she know, when she’s

never given the chance to choose freely? Perhaps you

may be the man for her. But if you marry her against

her will you’ll never know if you are.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “You think I should back out

now? Tell Marc I have changed my mind?”

“I shouldn’t really advise you,” she said. “You may

think me prejudiced on my brother’s behalf. To be

honest, I don’t believe that he and Pallas are in love. I

don’t believe they will ever be in love. But I think that if

Pallas feels under pressure from you and Marc, she may

convince herself she does love Sam, and that will be a

disaster for everybody, including my brother, because I

think Sam is the wrong man for Pallas. They’re good

friends, but they are too far apart for anything more

intimate.”

“O wise young judge,” he said gently, taking her hand

between both his and kissing it. “Thank you. I will speak

to Marc tonight.”

“And make sure he passes the word to Pallas,” she

said. “Insist on that being done immediately. Marc is

capable of playing it by ear, and that might push Pallas

too far.”

He nodded. “I will be firm with him. And I am grateful

to you for your advice. Several things Marc had said to

me in his letters had made me suspicious of some other

intervention. I was not surprised to see a young man

here.”

“Marc didn’t tell you?”

“He never mentioned Sam to me,” he said. Then, by

common consent, they dropped the subject, and walked

round, talking of the weather, Kate’s sunburn, the world

situation and other very natural subjects.

Dinner that evening was a far more lively occasion.

The two new arrivals, Helene and Marie-Louise, talked

to Marc throughout the meal, ignoring everybody else.

Pallas and Sam ate silently, and Jean-Paul devoted

himself to Kate.

Their frank discussion had left them on a compara-

tively intimate level of friendship. He had discovered a

shared love of Bach, and discussed various recordings

with her, with almost professional enthusiasm and

knowledge.

Kate felt Marc’s eyes upon them from time to time,

probing, curious, watchful. He was flirting lazily with

Marie-Louise most of the time, fencing easily with her

when she tried to provoke a show of jealousy by referring

to her many admirers in Paris.

Her boasts of her conquests made Kate wonder if Marc

were wise in not marrying her quickly. She could not

believe that Marie-Louise did not desire to marry him.

Everything she said, every look, said that she was ready

and eager to be his wife. But was Marc not content,