PAGAN ADVERSARY (5 page)

He said softly, 'You were saying something about your immunity, I

think.'

Hot colour flooded her face, and she lifted her hands, pressing them

almost helplessly to her burning cheeks. Then, as Nicky's whimper

threatened to develop into a wail, she walked across the room and

lifted him out of his cot. Thumb in his mouth, still half asleep, he

hitched a chubby arm round her neck as she carried him towards the

centre of the room. Alex Marcos stood waiting, hands on hips. Nicky

lifted his head and stared at him.

Harriet said gently, 'This is your uncle Alex, Nicky. Say hello.'

He wasn't good with strangers. He didn't always oblige. Perhaps in

her secret heart, Harriet hoped this would be one of those times, and

that he would either become silent and clinging or—which was more

likely— roar with temper.

But he did neither. He summoned a shy engaging smile and said,

"Lo,' before burying his. face in Harriet's shoulder.

Alex spoke to him in Greek, and Harriet felt the little body in her

arms stiffen as if the soft words had parked off an association, an

elusive memory he was trying to recapture. Eventually a small

muffled voice said uncertainly, 'Papa?'

Harriet felt tears prick at her eyes.

'Did you have to do that?' she demanded.

'He is half Greek,' Alex said flatly. 'It is right he should remember and

learn to speak his father's tongue.'

'You heard what he said. He thinks you're his father.' Harriet spoke

fiercely.

'As far as he is concerned, that is what I shall be. Explanations can

wait until he is old enough to understand.'

'And the succession of surrogate "mothers" in his life? How old will

he be before you explain them?'

He said silkily, 'Guard your tongue, my little English wasp, or you

may have cause to regret it. Yes, I enjoy the company of women, in

bed and out of it. Why should I deny it? Perhaps you have forgotten

that if Nicos had not woken when he did I might well have persuaded

you to share some of that—enjoyment.'

Harriet's lips parted in impetuous denial—and closed again in silence.

Alex smiled faintly. 'Very wise,' he approved. 'I hope you behave

with equal wisdom during the rest of our dealings together.'

Harriet stared at the floor. She said, 'I would prefer to deal with Mr

Philippides.'

'I'm sure you would,' he said sardonically. 'Now, I wish to get to know

my nephew, and preferably without your sheltering arms around him.

Would it be convenient for him to spend the weekend with me?'

She glanced up. 'You have a house in London?'

'I have a hotel suite.'

'And you're going to look after him?' Harriet shook her head. 'He—he

still wears nappies a lot of the time --' -

'I've brought a nursemaid with me from Greece,' he said impatiently.

'She will deal with such matters, not I.'

'I see.' She did see too. She saw his power, and the certainty and

arrogance which that power bestowed, and she hated it. So sure of his

ultimate victory that he'd even brought a nanny, she thought. 'And if I

refuse?'

He lifted his brows. 'Are you sure that you can? You may resist my

claim to total rights, but as his uncle surely I can demand rights that

are equal to yours at least.' He paused. 'I give you my word I will not

attempt to take the boy out of the country. Will that satisfy you?'

Harriet moved her shoulders wearily. 'I doubt if I could stop you,

whatever you wanted to do,' she said. 'When would you want to

collect him? Tomorrow afternoon? If you give me a time, I'll have his

things ready.'

'Shall we say three o'clock? And I'll return him to you on Sunday

evening.'

'Very well,' she agreed dully. It was the beginning of the end, she

knew. He wouldn't snatch Nicky away as she'd first thought, but

detach the child from her by degrees. And there wasn't a thing she

could do about it.

He said, 'Until tomorrow, then.' He put out a hand and ruffled Nicky's

curls, then ran a finger down his cheek. For a shocked moment,

Harriet wondered if he was going to try the same caress on her,

because she wasn't at all confident that her reaction would have the

necessary cool, but he made no attempt to touch her again.

He said, '
Herete,'
and walked out of the room, closing the door behind

him.

Harriet stood holding Nicky, her arms tightening round him until he

wriggled in protest, demanding to be set down and given his tea.

Toast, he wanted, and Marmite and 'ronge'.

'Yes, darling,' she promised penitently, because usually he'd been fed

by now at Manda's. But she didn't put him down at once. She carried

him over to the window and pulled back the shrouding net curtain,

looking into the street below.

Alex Marcos was just about to get into the car. As she watched, he

turned and looked up at the window, lifting a hand in mocking

acknowledgment of her presence. Furious with herself, Harriet let the

curtain fall hurriedly into place, and moved away, wishing that she'd

been strong-minded enough to ignore his departure—and wondering

why she had failed.. ..

Friday was a miserable day. Harriet had phoned the personnel officer

at work first thing and received a sympathetic response when she

gave family troubles as the reason for her hasty departure the

previous day, and for her continued absence. Then she phoned Manda

and told her what had happened, or at least an edited version.

She still found it hard to believe that she had behaved as she did. She

had let a man who was almost a stranger, and certainly her enemy,

kiss her and arouse feelings within her which had kept her awake and

restless most of the night. The warm, airless atmosphere of the room

hadn't helped either, and more than once Harriet had found herself

wishing wryly for the cliche comfort of a cold shower. But it was only

people with money and private bathrooms who could afford such

luxuries, she thought regretfully. The bathroom she shared had

nothing so sophisticated as a shower in any temperature, and the

old-fashioned plumbing made such an infernal din that except in

cases of emergency the residents tried to use it as little as possible at

night.

Manda heard her explanation of why Nicky would not be spending

the day with her without much comment. When Harriet had finished

she merely asked, 'And what's he like—Alex Marcos?'

Even in her own ears, Harriet's laugh sounded artificial and she hoped

fervently that Manda would assume it was some distortion on the

line. 'Oh—just as you'd imagine, I suppose. The answer to the

maiden's prayer.'

'Depending, of course,' Manda said gravely, 'on what the maiden

happened to be praying for. See you, love. Take care now.'

As she replaced the receiver, Harriet pondered on the real note of

warning in Manda's voice, and reflected rather despondently that it

was no use trying to fool her, even at a distance.

She tidied and cleaned the flat again almost compulsively, then

tucked Nicky into the buggy and took him to the nearby shops which

he loved. The sun was shining, and the Italian greengrocer gave him

an orange, and Harriet, in a moment of weakness, bought him some

sweets. While she was in the newsagents' she treated herself to a daily

paper, and some magazines, because she had a whole weekend to fill

for once.

Of course she didn't have to stay in the flat, she told herself robustly.

She had always promised herself that one day she would do the whole

tourist bit—go to the British Museum, or the Zoo, or take a boat down

to Greenwich—but she had always put the idea to the back of her

mind, telling herself it could wait till Nicky was older and could enjoy

it with her. Well, there seemed little point in delaying any longer, she

thought, with a kind of unhappy resolution.

She cooked Nicky's favourite food for lunch—fish fingers, baked

beans and oven chips. Manda, who believed in wholefoods and a

balanced diet, would have frowned a little, but Nicky was jubilant and

ate every scrap, including the ice cream which followed.

Harriet tried to explain to him that he was going to have a little

holiday with his uncle, but wasn't sure how much she'd got through to

him, because he seemed far more interested in his toy cars than in the

fact that she was packing his night things and the best of his clothes in

a small case.

He's only a baby, she thought as she watched him play, quite

oblivious to her own mental and emotional turmoil. He's too little to

be taken from all the security he knows, and be made to speak Greek,

and all the other things he'll have .to learn.

Yet on the other hand there was the very real danger that out of love

and inexperience she might keep him a baby too long, might try too

hard to protect him from the world which he was as much a part of as

she was herself. A man's influence in his life was probably essential,

Harriet thought—but what would be the effect of someone like Alex

Marcos, wealthy, cynical and amoral, on the mind of an

impressionable child?

It was inevitable that when she sat down with the newspaper and a

cup of coffee while Nicky played on the carpet at her feet, Alex's

picture should be the first to leap out at her. And, again, inevitably, it

was the gossip column, and he wasn't alone. He was sitting at a table

in a restaurant or a night club—Harriet didn't recognise the name

anyway—and the girl beside him, smiling radiantly at the camera had

her arm through his and her head on his shoulder.

Her red head on his shoulder, Harriet discovered asshe read through

the piece that accompanied the photograph. Alex, it said, was in

London on business and lovely model Vicky Hanlon was just the girl

to help him unwind from his busy schedule.

After an unctuous dwelling on Vicky Hanlon's physical attributes

which would have had even the mildest Women's Libber spitting

carpet tacks and reaching for the telephone, the columnist quoted her

as saying, 'Poor Alex leads such a hectic life. I just want to help him

relax as much as possible.'

'Yuck!' said Harriet violently, dropping the paper as if it had bitten

her. She marched down the passage to the bathroom and washed her

face and cleaned her teeth thoroughly which, while a relatively futile

gesture, nevertheless made her feel better.

She was increasingly on edge as three o'clock approached. Nicky had

grown tired of his toys and demanded a story, and she was just

following The Little Gingerbread Man with the Three Billy Goats

Gruff when she heard the sound of a car door slam in the street below.

Her voice hesitated and died away right in the middle of the troll's

threat, and her whole body tensed. Nicky bounced plaintively and

said, 'Troll.'

She hugged him fiercely. 'Another time, darling. Your—your uncle's

come to fetch you, and you're going to have a wonderful time.'

She remembered what Alex had said the previous day about her

sheltering arms and was careful to let Nicky walk beside her to the

door as the buzzer sounded imperatively.

Her palms were damp, and her mouth was dry. She had brushed her

hair until it shone, and the dress she was wearing, although simple

and sleeveless, was the most becoming in her wardrobe, its cool blues

and greens accentuating her fairness, and the very fact that she had

chosen to wear it was evidence enough that she was on the verge of

making a complete and utter fool of herself.

She made herself reach out and release the Yale knob and turn the

handle.

There was a man outside, stockily built and swarthy in a chauffeur's

uniform, his cap under one arm, and accompanied by a middle-aged

woman with greying black hair who looked nervous.

It was the woman who spoke. 'Thespinis Masters—I am Yannina. I

have come from Kyrios Marcos to fetch his nephew, the little Nicos.'

Her anxious expression splintered into a broad smile as she spied

Nicky, who had relapsed into instant shyness at the sight of strangers

and who was peering at them from behind Harriet's skirt.

She crouched down, holding out her arms and' murmuring

encouragingly in Greek, and slowly Nicky edged towards her.

Harriet picked up his case and handed it to the chauffeur, who nodded

respectfully to her.

'Kyrios Marcos wishes to assure you that the boy will be returned to

you on Sunday evening, not later than six o'clock,' he said in careful

heavily accented English.

'Thank you.' Harriet hesitated. 'I—I thought he would be coming to

fetch Nicky himself.'

The chauffeur looked surprised. 'He is waiting below in the car,