Greek Wedding (30 page)

‘Time to go down and tidy ourselves.' Jenny's cheerful voice roused her from her abstraction. ‘I rather like the idea of going out to dinner in trousers.' She looked with amusement at the Turkish tunics and trousers they were both wearing.

‘Jenny?'

‘Yes?'

‘You'll be gentle with him?'

‘If he is with me.'

*          *          *

The
Philip's
main cabin might be cramped, but there was, apparently, no shortage of food on board. Caviare and champagne were followed by chicken and the mildly resinated wine they had all got used to drinking, and then by fresh fruit, something that had been unobtainable in Nauplia. Best of all, Alex was simply the charming host—and how well he could do it. Sitting between them he divided his attentions equally between Phyllida and Jenny, and Phyllida thought with relief that he really had forgiven, or better still, forgotten the way she had treated him. By the time they were drinking delicious coffee, she was beginning to feel that, so long as nothing went too wrong between Jenny and Peter, she would be glad they had come. It was good, and more than she deserved, to be back on the old easy terms with Alex. And Peter looked wonderfully better for his day at sea, and was cheerfully letting Alex tease him about having degenerated into a lazy, good-for-nothing landsman.

‘But we'll turn you back into a sailor yet.' Alex turned to Phyllida. ‘I've even got him obeying the captain's orders. No mutiny on my ship. I'll show you.
Petros mou
, don't you think the wind's come round a point?'

Peter was on his feet at once. ‘I'll make sure,' he said. ‘If it's getting up, I'm afraid we must speed you back to the
Helena
, however regretfully.' He looked down at Jenny, ‘Would you fancy a breath of air, Miss Renshaw?'

Jenny coloured, drank coffee, caught first Phyllida's anxious eye and then Brett's, and rose to her feet. ‘Why, yes, I believe I would, Mr. Vannick.'

‘Delicious coffee, Alex.' Phyllida spoke into the little silence left by their going.

‘A delicious dinner altogether.' Something faintly puzzling in Brett's tone. But then, she was all on edge tonight, and doubtless imagining things.

‘Thank you,' said Alex. ‘I will say for the islanders, they see to it that we ship's captains lack for nothing.'

*          *          *

On deck, Peter led Jenny to the farthest point from the lookout. ‘Not that he understands a word of English. Jenny!'

‘Yes?' She felt extraordinarily alone with him, up here where moonlight silvered the sea and played strange tricks with the mountains beyond. Surely she was not frightened? She, Jenny Renshaw?

‘It's good of you to see me.' He began reassuringly enough. ‘I gave up in despair, back there in Nauplia. Talk about a houseful of women! Cassandra bobbing about with that everlasting mending of hers, and Phyllida scribble, scribble, scribble in the saloon all day. I thought I'd go mad.'

‘Was that why you were so short-tempered?' She found she was not frightened after all.

‘Did I seem so? Forgive me. I'm not a patient man, I suppose. But then, no more is your brother. You must be used to it; know how to manage. Well, I've watched you; seen you soothe us down, the two of us. Mind you, if you'd not been his sister, I'd have killed him, long since, for some of the things he's said about the Greeks.'

‘Oh? Should I thank you for that?' And then, incorrigibly. ‘It had not occurred to you, Mr. Vannick, that he might have killed you?'

‘Jenny!' He took both her hands. Here it came. ‘Don't trifle with me. We've so little time. Your brother's told you what I want. As if he needed to! Your own intuition must have told you long since that I adore you, worship you, want nothing in the world but you.' He pulled her towards him. ‘Say, “yes”, Jenny, and make me the happiest of men.'

‘No.' The bleak monosyllable surprised him so much that he let her go. ‘I'm sorry, Peter.' Be gentle with him, Phyllida had begged. ‘I truly am; but I can't marry you.'

‘Why not?' He was making himself speak reasonably, but she could feel the effort it took. ‘Jenny, have I gone too fast for you? I know there's not been much scope for a wooing, but surely you must have seen how I've borne with your brother for your sake. Or is it my prospects that worry you? I suppose I should have spoken to your brother about them, but you must know that when we reach Zante I'll come into my own. What do you want, Jen? A castle in England? Or in Spain if you'd rather! I rather fancy England myself. I thought, once we're married, I'd approach my government for a diplomatic posting.
My experience here will be invaluable of course, but I think the Greek cause itself's a dead duck.' He laughed. ‘Don't tell Alex I said so! Let's be married in Zante, Jen, and then the world's our oyster.'

‘Don't call me Jen!'

‘Your brother does.'

‘He's my brother!'

‘And mine, too, I hope, when we get to Zante. Be a little realistic. Jenny.' His use of her full name was a concession. ‘Your goods aren't for every market. Penniless, cast off by your family, drifting around the Mediterranean with a brother everyone knows is no better than he should be.'

‘And what, pray, do you mean by that?'

‘What do I mean? My dear girl, you must know! Of course, we've all put as good a face upon it as possible, but he's not at all the thing, that brother of yours. Jilting his fiancée in church, and then indulging in drunken orgies all over the Mediterranean! You hadn't heard, I suppose, about the scene he made at Zante before you arrived? Oh, shameful … But I'll spare you the details. Don't you see, that's why we must be married as soon as we get there. Then you, as a married woman, will be able to cast some slight veil of respectability over poor Phyl. Perhaps, by the time we get her back to England the worst of the gossip will have died down.'

Now she was too angry for thought. ‘You're speaking of Phyllida, on whose charity you mean to live for the rest of your days?'

‘Oh!' This was a new light to him. ‘That's your trouble, is it? You want to be sure of the cash before you give your word. I always knew you British were a hard-headed people. Never mind, I respect you for it. It's all right, Jen, I have her promise. The half of the estate, absolutely, as soon as we reach Zante. But, don't you see, so much prettier to announce the engagement now, when I'm still penniless?'

‘There's nothing pretty about this conversation. Mr. Vannick, do I have to spell it out for you? I wouldn't marry you, sir, if you were the last man on earth.'

‘Strong words!' She had expected him to be angry, and was relieved that he took it so calmly. ‘I've annoyed you, of course, by what I've said about your brother. I'm sorry. But you've had your revenge now. Next time I speak to you, I'm sure we'll
come to a better understanding.'

‘But there's not going to be a next time, Mr. Vannick.'

‘I wish you'd call me Peter. Am I really in such disgrace?'

‘Of course not.' She was at once surprised, and grateful to him for taking it so well. ‘We're to continue friends, Peter, are we not?'

‘More than that, I hope.'

‘Oh, please!' She had promised Phyllida to try not to make him angry. ‘Don't you see? I can't… There's someone else.'

‘Someone else?' Now she really had surprised him.

‘Yes. In England. Nobody knows but you.'

‘And he, no doubt?'

‘No!' It was almost a sob. ‘That's just it, don't you understand? I'm paying you an immense compliment, Peter, in telling you this. It's hopeless. It's all over. Or rather, it never began.'

‘In that case, you can hardly blame me if I refuse to give up hope.'

‘Oh,' she flared up. ‘You're impossible!' And hurried down to join the others. To her relief, Peter did not follow her, and Brett took her appearance as the signal to leave.

When they got up on deck, Peter was nowhere to be seen, and as Alex apologised for his absence, Phyllida had a curious feeling that he was pleased about what had so obviously happened. But why in the world?

‘Well, that's over,' said Jenny, when they were well out of earshot of the
Philip
. ‘I think!'

‘And well over, I hope,' said Phyllida. ‘You didn't make him angry, Jenny?'

‘He made
me
angry, I'm afraid.' She would not tell Phyllida how deplorably he seemed to take her generosity for granted. ‘He's one who won't take no for an answer. But he'll get over it, never fear. He doesn't care a straw for me, and you know it.'

‘I don't think he cares for anyone but himself,' said Phyllida sadly. It was painful to remember how, after her father's death, she had longed for the comfort of Peter's company. And now she was actually glad that he was on the
Philip
rather than the
Helena
.

They rounded Cape Matapan without incident this time, the
Philip
in the lead and the
Helena
, engines damped well down, keeping close behind her. Jenny claimed to be disappointed. ‘Not even a sniff of a pirate. You have all the luck, Phyllida. I was so hoping for a romantic rescue by Alex and Peter. But I suppose they are all Alex's cousins round here. No wonder he keeps them at bay so easily.'

Once round the Cape, the wind was against them, and it was maddening to have to keep the
Helena's
engines slowed down to mark time with the
Philip's
snailspace as they beat their slow way up the desolate coast of the Mani, keeping as close together as they could safely manage. ‘Every village is a pirate stronghold,' Brett told Jenny. ‘And when they have no strangers to plunder, they fight each other. You see those square towers?'

‘Yes?' Jenny could see the village clearly, its huddle of houses clustered round three high, square towers.

‘They're not only for defence against the Turk. This is a terrible district for blood feuds. They arise out of anything, a trifle, a nonsense like who goes first in the
Romaika
. And once started, there's no ending them. The men of one family are in honour bound to wipe out those of the other.'

‘And the women?'

‘Aren't involved. In fact, their company can actually give protection.'

‘Yes,' Phyllida looked up from her writing. ‘So the poor women get left with the task of wresting some kind of a miserable livelihood out of that bleak mountainside, while the men build their towers higher and higher, or spend days ambushing each other. Will it be like that at Kitries, do you think?' It had long since become obvious that they would have to stop there for provisions.

‘Alex says not, but I know one thing. You're none of you going ashore.'

Jenny laughed and protested: ‘But darling, ridiculous B, by what you've just said, we're the only ones who would be safe. How do you know, if you go, that you won't get mixed up in some feud of Alex's?'

‘Yes. I must confess I'm not sure I ought to go. It's not just
the feuding. Kitries is at the very north of the Mani, quite close to Kalamata. Well, the Turks have been down as far as that already. I can't afford to get involved in any trouble while I'm responsible for you three.'

‘Oh, poor B. Do you long to go?'

‘I do rather,' he admitted. ‘To see Alex at home, in his castle, living the life of a feudal chieftain. It would be the very thing for my book. Oh well, there's time still to think it over. At this rate goodness knows when we'll get there.'

*          *          *

It was golden evening when they finally sailed into the dark water of the steep, mountain-ringed harbour at Kitries. ‘There's deep water right up to the cliff,' said Brett. ‘You can see, Alex is going right in to tie up, but I think we'll lie-to out here. Safer so.'

Alex had himself rowed over to them as soon as the
Philip
was moored. ‘Welcome to Kitries.' He was in the gayest possible mood. ‘Peter and I are going ashore at once to begin organising supplies. It will take us a couple of days or so at least, I'm afraid. Can we persuade you to come with us, milord? I won't, alas, invite the ladies. I've been away too long to be sure that my castle is fit for their reception.'

‘Which is your castle, Alex?' Jenny pointed to the turreted medieval fortress at the top of the little town that climbed from ledge to ledge above the harbour. ‘That one?'

‘No. That belongs to my uncle, Petro Bey. Mine is a little farther inland; you can't see it from here. But it's only a couple of hours away.' Like all Greeks, he measured distance by the time it took.

‘Six miles or so?' Brett looked tempted, but then: ‘Thank you, Alex. I should dearly like to come, but I think I should not leave the ladies alone on board.'

‘I was afraid you would say that.' As on a previous occasion, Phyllida was puzzled to feel that Alex was pleased at this rebuff. ‘And I'm afraid I can't offer Peter as a guard for the ladies, since I will need his help on shore. Oh well, another time, let us hope … I'll try and send off fresh meat and fruit for your dinner tonight, ladies.'

Price took advantage of next day's inactivity to give the
saloon a badly needed spring-clean, so the three women settled themselves under the awning on the deck to watch the apparently peaceful life of the village. Black-garbed women were at work, here and there, in tiny plots terraced out of the cliff; a boy blew on a reed pipe as he watched a few scrawny goats.

‘Not a man in sight,' said Jenny. ‘Do you think they really are off stalking each other through the underbrush—what there is of it?'

‘I suppose so.' Phyllida felt amazingly cheerful this morning. ‘Rather them than me. From the look of it it's all thorn, and prickly pear and cactus … Those poor women, trying to grow anything! Where on earth do you think Alex got the fruit and salad he sent yesterday?'