Follow a Stranger (6 page)

morning. She knew that dreamy, abstracted expression. It

meant that he was unaware of anything around him.

Including her.

They stopped 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.

Kate flushed. “I’m afraid that’s almost the whole of my

Greek vocabulary!”

Sophia laughed. “You will learn more, yes?”

“I hope I shall,” said Kate. “I would like to be able to

speak Greek. I only speak French, and a little German.”

“I speak fluent English,” Sophia said proudly. “Marc

taught me to speak it! I was his nurse. He learnt at school,

and I learn from him.”

Kate stared in amazement. “His nurse? But you can’t be

old enough!” Then she flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t

mean to be rude.”

Sophia was not at all cross, though. She beamed, “Why

rude? It is very big compliment. I was fourteen when I first

come to work for the family. Marc was little baby, just

born. I help the nurse, then nurse leave when Marc is two,

and I carry on.” She looked wistful. “He was very pretty

baby. When he was eight, he went away to school. I stayed

on as maid.” She counted on her fingers, muttering under

her breath. “You guess? I am forty-five now.”

“You don’t look it,” Kate said sincerely. “Your

complexion is so good!”

Sophia smiled, very pleased, and after another moment

or two went off, leaving Kate to change for dinner. She

slipped into her new dressing-gown and lay down on the

bed for a while. The flight had been more tiring than she

had expected. Half an hour later she got up and put on a

turquoise dress which she had bought in Greyford. Then

she went downstairs and found Peter and Marc in a wood-

panelled lounge, talking quietly.

She stood by the door, watching them, feeling a surge of

resentment against Marc Lillitos for the bored expression

on his dark face. She forgot the number of times she had

been irritated by Peter’s passion for the past. It never

entered his head that not everyone shared his interest, and

even Sam had been known to ask him to shut up about

ancient civilisation. But now it was just another crime to

chalk up against the name of Lillitos, and she illogically

felt pleased to be able to do so.

Marc turned his head and saw her. Her heart did that

annoying backward flip which she had only begun to notice

since meeting him. There was something about the look in

the grey eyes which bothered her a good deal—a lazy,

mocking intimacy, as though he not only knew and

understood her, but could read her mind with a glance. It

was alarming to feel so transparent.

She came forward and Peter turned to smile at her.

“Oh, there you are, Kate! I’ve made all the arrangements

with Lillitos. He’s kindly offered me camping equipment—

a tent, blankets, sleeping bag, even cooking facilities.”

“You’re going to sleep on the site?” Kate interrupted.

“But, Peter, this is a holiday!”

He stared, in mild bewilderment. “Well, I couldn’t make

the journey every day, you know, there and back. The

temple is up there,” pointing out of the long window,

which looked up at a green expanse of mountainous

country, “on that hooked peak. Mr. Lillitos says you can

see the whole of the island from the top—a good strategic

position for a fortress. There must be more than a temple

up there.” His face glowed passionately. “Who knows what

I’ll find?”

“You’re going to leave me here and spend the whole

fortnight alone on that mountain?” she asked incred-

ulously.

“You’ll have Pallas and Sam to keep you company,” he

answered vaguely. “I thought the idea was that you should

have fun with Pallas while I work on the site? You know

you’re never very keen on site work, Kate.”

Angrily conscious of Marc’s amused gaze, she was

silent, and Peter took her agreement for granted. “Well,

I’m very grateful,” he told Marc. “I’ll be off now, then.’' He

shook hands with him, kissed Kate absently and was gone

before she had time to think.

She looked at Marc coldly. He was leaning back in his

chair, his face sardonic.

“You do not look too happy, Miss Caulfield. Your fiancé

will be quite safe, I promise you. My car is taking him as

far as the road goes. We do not have too many roads on

Kianthos. Jake will help him carry up the camping

equipment, and see the camp set up. He has plenty of food

with him. And the goatherds will visit the Peak once a day,

as they always do, with their goats. If anything went

wrong, they would let me know.”

“Goatherds?” she asked curiously.

“There’s a village on the other side of the peak. They

keep goats and have some olive trees. Cheese and olives

are the staple diet, you know. Goat’s cheese and goat’s

milk, and fish, in season. They call the peak To Angkistri.

It means The Hook. There is a local legend about it which I

must tell you some time.”

“How long have your family lived here?” she asked.

“Off and on for generations, I believe. My great-

grandfather was a fisherman who left the island for the

mainland when there was bad fishing for several years. My

grandfather was successful enough to build up a good

business and my father bought the island thirty years ago.

He built this house.”

“Sophia said you learnt your English at school,” she

said. “Was that in England?”

He nodded. “My mother is French, but English schools

are famous all over the world, so they decided to send me

to England, and then to a French university.”

She was startled. “Oh, you were at university?”

His dark face was suddenly alight with laughter. “That

surprises you? You thought I was illiterate, I suppose?”

Kate flushed. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said

offhandedly.

“Well, I left without taking a degree, in fact, because my

father was ill, and I had to take over the business. Then

he died, so I carried on. I have often regretted it, but that

is fate!”

She watched him curiously. His face had a fatalistic look

as he said the last words. “Do you believe that?”

His brows rose. “In fate? Of course.” His tone was

suddenly brusque, as though he disliked the subject.

“Why have you never allowed anyone to visit the temple

before?” she asked him after a long silence.

“My father would never have strangers on Kianthos. He

felt that they would spoil it. There are so few roads that it

would be impossible to bring many cars here, anyway,

and modern tourists love to go everywhere by car. The life

of our people would change if we allowed too many

outsiders on to the island.”

“It’s such a beautiful place,” she said. “Isn’t that a selfish

attitude?”

“The villagers all agree with me. They are happy as they

are.”

“Are they? Living on goat’s cheese and olives, with

occasionally a little fish?”

“Does the technological society make men any happier?”

he countered coolly.

“I think your attitude is too possessive,” she said.

His eyes flashed across the room at her and she felt oddly

breathless, as though he had touched her. “But I am

possessive,” he said softly. “Any man worth his salt must

be—the desire to possess is the root of love.”

She was angrily aware of a weakness spreading through

her body, a trembling and fluttering of the nerves. “That’s

a very old-fashioned idea,” she said, trying to laugh, but

too conscious of his masculine presence to be able to carry

it off. “Nowadays we believe that to love is to be ready to

let go. People have to be free.”

“Hence divorce?” he said sarcastically. “And the high

abortion rate in your country, not to mention the appalling

tragedies of drug addiction.”

She was grateful when, at that moment, Sam and Pallas

came into the room. Sam was still very pale, but the blue

line around his mouth had vanished, and some of his

normal cheerfulness had returned.

“I am afraid you will not meet my mother this evening,”

Marc said to him. “She has a headache. But I hope she will

get up for lunch tomorrow.” He looked sharply at Sam’s

face. “You look ill. Was it a bad flight?”

Sam grimaced. “I’m the world’s worst traveller. Don’t

worry, though, I’ll be fine now I’m back on terra firma.”

They dined quietly, in a very modern room with mosaic

tiling on the floor and pleasant, yellow walls. Kate ate

steak and salad, followed by a very sweet dessert made of

figs and cream, after which black coffee seemed very

appropriate.

Sam excused himself early, pleading a headache, and

Pallas went up to sit and talk to her mother for a while.

Kate was intending to go to bed early, too, but Marc said

that she would feel more like sleep when she had walked

around the garden for a while.

“The air is so pure here,” he said, draping her cardigan

around her shoulders, his fingers lingering on the nape of

her neck for a second longer than was necessary. She

shivered at his touch, and he glanced down at her, grey

eyes narrowed.

They walked round the garden without talking,

listening to the cicadas and feeling the cool dusk stealing

over the trees and flowers. The air was, as he had said,

fresh and sweet, with a faint scent of spring permeating it.

One tree was covered with purple flowers which Marc said

were called Judas flowers. High up on the hills the

mountain furze was in golden bloom and a final shaft from

the setting sun made the slopes glow like molten gold, then

the light died and a purple shadow crept over them.

She was reminded of Peter and felt a pang of disloyalty.

He had only been gone a short time and already she was

forgetting she was engaged to him. Marc was far too

experienced in the small art of flirtation for her. She was

not sure whether he was deliberately flirting with her, or if

it was merely a reflex action, but from time to time she