Follow a Stranger (18 page)

she had married him and only then discovered their total

indifference to each other. Marc had been so right when he

said that Peter did not love her, nor she Peter. But,

believing that, why had he brought Peter here now?

A flash of intuition came to her and she bit her lip. Of

course! He was trying to protect his sister. He thought that

she was interested in Jean-Paul and he had brought Peter

here in order to put a stop to all that.

Dully, she dressed in her plain green linen dress and

went downstairs. She found the lounge empty. Sophia

bustled past and stopped to tell her that Peter was in

Marc’s office and the others all down at the beach.

The storm had again left the weather golden and sunny.

Kate stood on the verandah staring up at the bright blue

sky. It seemed cruel that the world should be in such a

holiday mood when she was so miserable and depressed. It

ought to be raining all day.

Then she laughed at herself. What a conceited, self-

obsessed thought! As if she was the only person in the

world!

Peter erupted on to the verandah beside her, his fair hair

wildly standing on end, his eyes furious.

“Kate,” he began hotly, “you must go and talk some sense

into Lillitos!”

She looked at him in startled amazement. “What?”

“He says there’s to be no expedition,” Peter shouted. “He

just said he’s changed his mind. He won’t allow anyone else

to dig up there. He doesn’t want strangers on the island.

The man’s insane. It mustn’t be allowed!”

Kate looked at him silently for a moment. He had not

seen her for over a week, she thought with wry resignation,

and in that time she had been very ill with sunburn, been

involved in a disaster, and for all he knew, was still weary.

Yet he did not even greet her. No kiss, no word of pleasure

in seeing her again. All that interested him was the temple

up there on To Angkistri.

“I can’t interfere,” she said quietly, at last. “You must

cope with it on your own, Peter.”

He glared at her. “Kate, this is vitally important. The

temple is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to

me in my life. It shows clear signs of a number of periods, so

it’s been in continuous occupation for generations. It was

first founded in Mycenean times, but the pillars and roof

were obviously much later. Oh, Kate, for God’s sake—can’t

you see what it means?”

“Peter, I want to ask you a question,” she said clearly.

He shut his mouth on what he had been about to say.

Impatiently he waited, fidgeting.

“Do you love me?”

He gave her an incredulous look, running his fingers

through his hair. “What? My God, Kate, don’t drag in

irrelevancies at this time! I have too many important things

to think about!”

“Aren’t I important, then?” she asked.

He looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m very fond of you, of

course, you know that! We’re engaged, aren’t we? What’s

the point of these questions, Kate?”

“Never mind your damned temple,” she snapped,

suddenly angry. “Listen to me for a moment. You don’t love

me, Peter. You are, as you said, mildly fond of me, but if I

vanished tomorrow, I doubt if you would even notice.”

“Oh, really,” he said crossly, “how like a woman to try to

put everything on a personal level! Can’t you think of

anything but yourself? This is a crisis in my life. I need your

help, and you’re trying to make me pay for it with

declarations of undying passion, I suppose.”

Kate was so angry she could hardly speak for a moment.

“I’m doing nothing of the kind! I only want a little honesty

between us. I’m trying to be honest with you.”

He looked at her, then, with more awareness. “Oh, I get

it! You want to break off our engagement? You’ve found

someone else?”

“No!” she said roughly, “I haven’t found anyone. I just ...

want to sort things out honestly.”

“You do want to end things, though?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Oh, yes,” she said on a quick breath.

“Yes, I do. I don’t love you. I’m fond of you, but I don’t really

love you.”

He shrugged. “Well, now that’s settled, can we talk about

the temple?”

She glared at him. “You don’t give a damn, do you,

Peter?” She pulled off her ring and threw it at him. He

caught it awkwardly, looked at it with amazement and

stuffed it into his pocket. “The temple—” he began, but Kate

had fled.

Peter stared after her, grimacing. “Women! Really!”

Marc came out on to the verandah, smiling gaily, and

Peter grabbed at his arm.

“Look, Lillitos, about this expedition ...”

Marc grinned at him, eyes dancing, “Try again next

year,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll change my mind again. By the

way, if you wish to leave right away, my plane is waiting on

the airfield. I have had all your gear put aboard. When you

have drawn up all your plans for the expedition, write to my

office in Athens, to my personal secretary, Achille Danelos.

He will get in touch with you and make the necessary

arrangements. If there is an expedition, it must be a small

one, and for the summer months. Right?”

Peter let out a long relieved sigh and grinned. “Thank

you very much. I’m very grateful.”

“Jake will drive you to the airfield,” said Marc. “Off you

go.”

Peter looked a little startled. “Now? But I wanted to see

Kate ...”

“I think she has said all she wants to say,” Marc said

politely. “If you do not leave now it will soon be too dark. My

plane will take you to Athens. I have booked a flight for you

tomorrow at noon. You can pick up the ticket at the airport.

It is in your name. Goodbye.”

Stunned, Peter obediently walked towards where

Jake was waiting with the car. Suddenly he stopped,

holding out the little ring. “Will you give this to Kate

for me?” he asked Marc.

Marc looked at it, lying sparkling on his palm, and

his lip curled scornfully. “I do not think so,” he said,

with hauteur. “Keep it for your next fiancée.”

Peter reddened, looked angry, then drew himself up

and walked away. He did not dare to antagonise the

man, he thought. The expedition depended on the

whims of this rude, spoilt millionaire. And anyway,

Kate was right. They had not been suited. She had

never really been interested in his work. And if a man

couldn’t depend upon his wife to share his interests,

what point in marrying? He looked forward to the

excitement there would be in archaeological circles

when he dropped his bombshell. And he broke into

happy whistling, forgetting Kate and everything else.

Kate wandered for a long time around the cliffs,

then turned back and found herself in myrtle grove.

She stood, breathing in the fragrance of the cooling

air. The heat of the sun was slackening and the moths

had begun to flit over the thyme, their dusty wings

glowing.

She thought back over the six years of her relation-

ship with Peter. How had she come to think herself in

love with him? She remembered how different he had

seemed, when she was a young girl, with his blond

beard and vague professor-like air. The boys she had

known then had all been crazy, half-grown lads. Peter

had seemed so mature. And from a girlish crush she

had let herself drift into a long-term relationship with

no solid base.

She knew now that she had never been in love with him.

He had never made her heart stop, as Marc did. His kiss

had never exalted and petrified her. She could not blame

Peter. It had been her own fault for allowing herself to be

fooled by such a vague response. He had been too amiable to

hurt her, and she had never seriously thought about his

feelings.

Well, they were both free now, to find real love. At least,

Peter was—she was not free. She knew that she would

never love anyone as she loved Marc.

She heard a twig crackle nearby and turned to see Jean-

Paul, looking lost and fed up, wandering towards her.

He smiled politely. “How are you today, Kate? You look

pale. Marc told us how brave and good you were last night. I

admire your courage.”

She shrugged his compliments away. “Thank you, but

really, it was only a little thing. You’re looking rather cross

yourself.”

He grimaced. “Pallas barely speaks to me. How can I woo

her when she will not let me near her?”

“She is jealous,” Kate explained, “and uncertain of

herself. After all, she isn’t seventeen yet. Give her a chance.

You’re in too much of a hurry. Wait a while.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said forcefully, “but hard for me

to follow your advice. Do you really think she is jealous?”

“I’m certain of it. She’s been very offhand with me since

you arrived.”

Jean-Paul looked delighted. “Then you think she cares

something for me, after all?”

“I’m almost sure she does. It might only be pique, of

course. But time will show you the truth.”

He took her hand, stopped and held it up to stare. “Your

ring? You have lost your engagement ring!”

“I’m no longer engaged,” she said, flushing.

He looked appalled. “
Ma chere,
I hope this is not my

doing! I would not have done that for the world ...”

“It has nothing to do with you. My fiancé did not even

know of your existence. It was a mutual agreement. We just

did not suit.”

He looked a little embarrassed. “I see ...”

She looked up at him and laughed. “Really, Jean-Paul,

you are quite irrelevant, I assure you. I am not in the least

attracted to you, which is what you are afraid of, I think?”

Very red, he met her teasing eyes. He laughed, a little

shamefaced and embarrassed. “Pardon! I was nervous for a

moment. The freedom of English girls astounds me. You are

so ... forthright!”

She grinned. “Well, it clears the air to know how you

stand, doesn’t it? Shall we go in to dinner?”

Dinner was, oddly, a very gay occasion at first. Marc was

in volatile spirits, keeping up a barrage of teasing humour,

his eyes constantly dancing.

But as the meal went on his mood seemed to deflate a

little. Kate, who was quietly talking to Jean-Paul most of

the time, was curiously aware that Marc’s smile came less

and less, and that he was more and more silent. She

wondered if he were feeling the effect of his very late night.

Had he slept at all since?

When she glanced furtively at him she saw shadows

beneath his eyes and tension lines around his mouth

which seemed to show that he had not.

Jean-Paul poured her another glass of retsina, his

fingers touching hers as she held her glass towards him.

He smiled at her gravely and she smiled back with

warmth, liking him very much.

It was comforting to feel that she need not be

stretched nervously, on edge against the probing

intelligence Marc always aimed at her. With Jean-Paul

she could relax, be herself, unselfconscious. He was a

very quiet, steady young man, without Marc’s vitality

and tension.

She saw Pallas sullenly pushing her unfinished meal

away, pouting, her small dark face all angles and frowns.

What Pallas needed, she thought, was the sort of calm

background Jean-Paul would give her.

“Shall we dance,
cherie
?” Marie-Louise asked Marc,

as they drank their coffee in the lounge later. “Put some

records on and let us dance!”

Marc shrugged, “Why not?”

He crossed to the cabinet and selected some records.

As the music swirled out, sweet and soft, Marie-Louise

archly turned out most of the wall lights around the

room.

“Dancing in the dark is more romantic,” she said to Marc,

her thick lashes fluttering invitingly.

The room was shadowy now, the only lights left on

being one at each end. Marc and Jean-Paul cleared a

central space, moving the furniture back against the

walls. Then Marc turned to Marie-Louise, with a

brilliant smile, and she glided into his arms. Pallas

looked up at Sam, her face urgent.

“Shall we dance, too?”

“What? This is music for the oldies,” Sam said scornfully.

“I don’t know how to dance to it.”

Kate laughed. “Just put your arms round Pallas and let

your feet move in time to the music,” she advised, and