Moon of Aphrodite (10 page)

future now, Eleni, if only because the doctors tel me I have so little of it left.'

'That's very hard to believe,' she said honestly.

'Yet you must believe it. I am only thankful that you have come, that you are with me

to share it—until the end.' His voice deepened slightly, and he leaned back against the

pil ows as if the effort he had made so far had wearied him. Helen studied his face with

concern. In spite of the strength and apparent power, the dominance she had noticed

when she had entered the room, there was at the same time an underlying frailty, she

now realised, a frailty which for obvious reasons he preferred to conceal. She swal owed

against the rising surge of unexpected
emotion which threatened suddenly to

overwhelm her. She wasn't sure what had prompted it, but Michael Korialis might

interpret it as pity, which she knew it wasn't. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed,

her fingers stil clasped in his, watching some of the harshness and strain relax from the

swarthy autocracy of his features.

When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, and she had to bend her

head close to his mouth to catch his words.

'Don't leave me, pedhi mou. Promise me that.'

'Of course I won't leave,' she protested. 'I've only just got here.' She cast him an

anxious look, wishing the nurse would return. He seemed quiet enough, his colour was

normal as far as she could judge, but she knew so little about grave il ness. Supposing

he were to suffer another attack now? Panic closed up her throat at the prospect, and a

kind of grief as wel . This first contact had been brief, and there would be problems

ahead, she knew, but she wanted the relationship to continue, to grow as far as it

could, considering their differences in age and culture. It was too soon to talk about

love, but there were the stirrings of sympathy within her, a desire to understand this

fierce proud old man.

His breathing was deep and steady, and she thought he was fal ing asleep. Her hand

was stil held in his and she was afraid that if she tried to withdraw it he would waken,

so she sat stil , waiting for his grip to relax.

But it did not relax, and after a while the strain of sitting in one position without moving

began to tel on her in cramped muscles. She was weary too with the long journey, and

emotional y tired as wel after everything she had been cal ed on to endure.

She bit her lip. She hadn't mentioned Damon Leandros to her grandfather. It had

simply not been right or appropriate to do so, and there would be time enough,

although perhaps she would have to temper the bald truth a little out of consideration

for Michael Korialis' health. But obtaining his dismissal was simply a pleasure deferred,

she told herself defiantly.

Her eyelids were becoming impossibly heavy, and it was an effort to hold her head

upright. She hesitated for a moment, then slipped her feet noiselessly out of her

sandals and moving cautiously, swung her legs up on to the bed, curling herself into a

bal . The silky luxurious-ness of the quilt was coolly comforting under her cheek, as she

settled herself as comfortably as possible. She wouldn't real y go to sleep, she assured

herself as waves of drowsiness assailed her. She would just doze a little until someone

came. After al , she couldn't leave her grandfather alone.

It was to be her last coherent thought. Later she was dimly aware that she was being

carried, and that there was an odd familiarity about the arms which held her, but

perhaps that was al part of some strange, disturbed dream. There was a woman's

voice, almost cooing in its affection and concern, and warm, gentle hands ridding her of

her dress and underclothes. Her attempt to speak, to ask where she was and what was

happening was instantly hushed, and she capitulated without a struggle. There was a

pil ow beneath her head, and the touch of fine linen bleached with the sun and scented

with wild thyme. She turned her face into its caress with a little muffled sound of

pleasure and slept like the dead.

It was broad daylight when she final y awoke, and the sun was slanting fiercely across

the bedroom floor between the slats of the shuttered windows.

Helen stretched slowly, pushing back the sheet which covered her, looking down at her

lawn-nightgowned figure in some astonishment. She propped herself up on one elbow

and looked around her, assimilating her surroundings.

It was a large room, simply furnished, which was in some way a reassurance; she had

found the opulence at the hotel somewhat oppressive. The floor was tiled in an

attractive mosaic pattern, and. there were several rugs woven in shades
of cream. The

wal s of the room were washed in a colour somewhere between gold and pale apricot,

and curtains and drapes in a vivid blue provided an attractive contrast. The bed on

which she lay was a simple divan, rather lower than she had been used to in England,

and the table beside it was large and square and highly polished. It held a tal ceramic

lamp with a cream shade, and a covered glass jug, with a matching beaker, containing

fresh fruit juice. She drank thirstily, wiping her mouth like a child when she had

finished.

Then she climbed from the bed and went across to the shutters, pul ing them back.

Directly ahead of her sparkled the Aegean, a deep and radiant blue paling to turquoise

where it merged imperceptibly with the sky on the
horizon. She could see a strip of

creamy beach bordering, as far as she could judge, the gardens of the vil a itself.

Everywhere she looked there was colour—-the vivid green of grass where sprinklers

turned to counteract the prevailing aridity, the paler, silvery colour of dumps of olive

trees, the rainbow shades of flowers and shrubs, including the bril iant mauve of the

unknown climbing plant which festooned the balcony outside her room.

She took a deep breath
.
The air was like crystal, and fragrant with blossom and citrus.

She thought suddenly of her mother, and wondered whether Maria had ever, amidst

the grime, fumes and pollution of London, ached for one breath of this beauty and

clarity and fragrance.

A knock at the door behind her startled her back to the present, and she turned hastily

as the door opened and Josephina entered smilingly.

'So you are awake— that is good. The kyrios said you should be al owed to sleep for as

long as you wished.'

'That was thoughtful of him,' Helen tried to smile in response.

'Thoughtful?' Josephina cast up her hands. 'When you return as a blessing to us?

Because of you, Kyrios Michaelis has spent his most peaceful night for many weeks, and

the doctor is most pleased. Now, he wishes to see you.'

'I'l get dressed at once,' said Helen.

'It is the doctor who wishes to see you, little one. You were il yesterday, ne?' He

wishes to assure himself and Kyrios Michaelis that you are recovered.'

'But there's no need,' Helen protested. 'I'm perfectly al right. I just overdid the sun

rather, that's al .'

But for al her smiling amiability, Josephina was implacable. The Kyrios had ordered that

Thespinis Eleni should see the doctor, therefore if she would get back into bed, the

doctor would be summoned. Helen found herself obeying with no very good grace.

The doctor was a stout middle-aged man with
a thick moustache, and deceptively

mournful dark eyes. He was punctilious in welcoming her to Phoros, and took her pulse,

temperature and blood pressure while keeping up a gentle flow of inconsequential chat

about the contrasts between England, where he had studied for some time, and Phoros

itself. He was courteous and thorough, and Helen found herself answering his questions

with equal politeness. He tutted reprovingly over her escapade in Athens.

'You must take more care, thespinis, especial y in the middle of the day. It is best to

rest then in the shade. Were you not told this?'

'Yes,' Helen admitted reluctantly. 'But I wanted to do some sightseeing and it was the

only opportunity.'

He smiled, the dark eyes stil lugubrious. 'Wel , you have learned your lesson, ne? And

now you wil wish to bathe and lie in the sun. Wel , you may do so, but by degrees, if

you please. Ten minutes, no more, the first time, thespinis. Your skin is pale and fair; to

burn and blister it would be a crime as wel as most painful for you.'

'I'l remember,' Helen promised, slightly amused.

He raised a knowing eyebrow. 'You think I fuss, perhaps. If I do, thespinis, it is not,

forgive me, altogether for your own sake. Your grandfather must not be made anxious

in any way—that is most important. I think your coming here wil do nothing but good,

if you can remember that. Humour him, thespinis. Later today he speaks of getting up

from his bed. He wishes to eat with you upon the terrace.'

'Is that wise?' Helen felt a stir of alarm.

The melancholy eyes held a sudden twinkle. 'I think, thespinis, that to agree wil cause

less harm than to oppose him You wil not, of course, al ow him to tire himself or

become agitated.' He saw her nod a little hesitantly, and began to close his bag with a

satisfied manner. 'That is good.’

She said, 'Thank you, doctor, for al the good advice.

I'l try and stay out of trouble from now on. But I feel I've wasted your time, although it

was kind of my grandfather to think of it.'

On his way to the door, he shot her a surprised look. 'But Kyrios Michaelis knows

nothing of it, thespinis. It was Kyrios Leandros who requested me to cal on you.'

Helen stared at the dosing door, aware that her jaw had dropped. The nerve, she raged

inwardly, gazing unseeingly into space, the unmitigated gal of the man I She supposed

it was intended as a conciliatory gesture of some sort. Wel , he was mistaken if he

thought she could be so easily won over after the way he had degraded and humiliated

her.

But probably it wasn't that at al , she thought contemptuously. He was just pretending

concern, in the hope it would reach her grandfather's ears.

She sat bolt upright suddenly as an unwelcome memory returned to her. Josephina had

put her to bed, she knew, as if she were a child, but who had carried her from her

grandfather's room? She found herself hoping with al her heart that it had been Kostas,

but deep within her was a nagging suspicion that she hoped in vain. The man who

carried her had been no stranger, she thought, swamped by helpless anger.

She schooled her features as Josephina came bustling back.

'You wish to take your shower now? See, the bathroom is here, and there are towels

and soap, and lotions for your skin.'

There most certainly were. Helen's eyes widened incredulously. The appointments of

the bedroom might be simple, but the bathroom was lavish in the extreme, even to the

extent of having a sunken tub as wel as the tiled shower cubicle. Nor had she ever

seen such an array of essences, perfumes and dusting powders, al bearing the names

of famous French houses.

The shower was wonderful, not too hot, but just warm enough to be refreshing as wel

as cleansing, but Helen was a little taken aback when she pushed open the glass door

to find Josephina waiting to envelop her in one of the huge fluffy bath sheets. Flushing,

she began an awkward protest which
got nowhere, because she was being towel ed so

vigorously she found speech impossible. Then she was enfolded sarong-wise in another

huge towel, and told that her coffee awaited her in the bedroom.

There was a plump dark-eyed maid there, making the bed with deft
efficiency.

Josephina poured out the coffee and handed Helen a cup. As she took it, Helen was

startled to see a glimmer of a tear on the older woman's cheek, and was immediately

seized with compunction. Had she hurt Josephina by her obvious embarrassment at the

personal services which the woman was clearly accustomed to offer?

She said gently, 'Josephina, you'l have to be patient with me. I'm just not used to

being waited on in quite that way.'

'Ah, no, thespinis. It is just—when your mother was a tiny baby, I became her

nursemaid. As she grew up, it was my joy to serve her—so kind, so sweet, so beautiful.

When she left, I grieved for her. Now that you are here it is as if ray little Maria had

returned to me. I am a foolish old woman. Forgive me.'

'There's nothing Lo forgive.' Helen put down her cup and hugged the plump little figure,

her own eyes suddenly moist. She managed a chuckle. 'But I warn you I could get used

to being waited on!'

The maid, who had been following the conversation with a puzzled frown, now broke in

with a flood of giggling Greek, as her eyes moved with frank admiration over the

creamy skin of Helen's bare shoulders, and the damp tendrils of honey hair clustering

round her neck.

'Po, po, po.' Josephina wagged an admonitory finger at her, but she smiled indulgently

just the same. 'Yannina is right, thespinis. She tel s me that my presence here wil not