Runaway Sister (11 page)

“Next time I see you, I hope you're in a better humor.” This last remark was added accompanied by a wry twist of his lips.

Samantha was left sitting stunned at her desk as with one last mocking glance Adam turned and left her office. Her mouth was still trembling from his kiss, and against her will her heart was pounding an ecstatic rhythm.

She was infuriated with herself for letting him cast a spell over her with such ease, and even more furious with him for being so damned sure of himself, while at the same time he remained mockingly aloof.

Angrily she clenched the sides of the filing basket, her knuckles gleaming white against her skin, she held the basket so tightly. She was still staring angrily at the door he had just walked through when it opened and Miss MacKenzie came in.

“Is everything all right, my dear?” she asked, looking at Samantha with a puzzled expression.

Samantha was suddenly conscious that she was still gripping the filing basket as if she were about to hurl it, and hastily releasing her grip pushed it to one side.

“Yes, everything's fine,” she muttered. “I was just going through the case notes ready for my tutorials with the new bunch of midwives.”

“Yes…” Miss MacKenzie looked at the pile of notes and then back to Samantha, obviously not entirely convinced. Then she handed her a large folder full of papers.

“Here is your contract, your flight tickets to Corfu, and information about the island and the village where the villa belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Aftias is situated.”

Samantha took the folder from her. For the first time since she had given in her notice it really seemed real to her. She was actually leaving the Princess Mary Maternity Hospital after so many years, and she was actually going abroad!

Excitedly she smiled at Miss MacKenzie, flicking through the papers in the folder. “Only two weeks to go,” she remarked.

“Yes,” agreed Miss MacKenzie. “Everyone keeps asking me what you're going to do, and where you're going to work. I haven't mentioned it, because I wasn't sure whether you wanted people to know or not.”

Samantha smiled at her gratefully—trust Miss MacKenzie to be so diplomatic! “Actually,” she confided, “I'd rather you didn't tell everybody. I'll just tell the friends I'll be keeping in touch with, and I'd be most grateful if you didn't mention anything at all to Mr. Shaw.”

“Oh,” said Miss MacKenzie, looking very embarrassed.

“You haven't told him, have you?” asked Samantha, suddenly worried. What was the use of her going far away so that she could forget Adam Shaw, if he knew where she was? She remembered his last remark, about not thinking she had seen the last of him—surely, though, common sense told her, he wouldn't be bothered to follow her to Corfu. Even so she needed reassurance from Miss MacKenzie, so she repeated her remark.

“Oh no, I haven't told him. Certainly not,” said Miss MacKenzie, but there was something about her face that left Samantha feeling slightly uneasy. She was going to question her further when Miss MacKenzie's bleep went off; “3-7-4-2,” said the synthetic voice on the receiver.

“Oh, that's the call I've been waiting for,” said Miss MacKenzie hurriedly, and dashed out of the office and down the corridor. Samantha looked after her retreating figure mistrustfully. There had been something suspicious about the way Miss MacKenzie had taken the opportunity to disappear so quickly!

Chapter Six

In the forthcoming two weeks, however, there was simply no time at all for Samantha to reflect again on Miss MacKenzie's slightly odd behavior. The time went so quickly. Quite out of the blue her students gave her a surprise farewell party, which pleased and touched her, and of course Jennie had organized a huge party, getting together as many of Samantha's friends, both old and new, that she could rope together. Jennie being Jennie, the food she had organized was delicious, and so it seemed to Samantha that she had hardly time to draw breath before she found herself waiting at Heathrow Airport for the scheduled flight to Corfu.

On the flight she traveled first class, a novel experience for her; she had only ever managed to scrape together enough money to fly charter flights anywhere else before.

She sank back in her comfortable seat, stretching out her long legs before her, soaking up the unaccustomed luxury of her surroundings, a glass of sparkling champagne in her hand to top it off! The flight was quite long, three hours in fact, although to Samantha it all seemed too short. The in-flight meal was something to be savored and remembered, starting off with caviar, which she had never tried before. Then there were the breathtaking views to be seen from the window.

The sky was cloudless, and Samantha watched, fascinated, as Europe spread out beneath them like a map.

As they approached Corfu she looked eagerly out of the window, anxious for her first glimpse of the island. At last she saw it down below, and drew in her breath sharply at the sheer beauty of the scene. The sea was a startlingly clear blue, and the island was much greener than she had expected, scattered with white villas, and clusters of houses in the little villages, their walls bright purple with climbing flowers—bougainvillaea, she supposed, although from the plane she couldn't see clearly what sort of flowers they were. There was just time to see the landing strip, like an enormous tarmac lollipop, projecting out into the sea, then the plane banked and turned, and they were heading straight for the land as the plane began the steep descent.

The warmth of the afternoon sun hit her almost physically as she stepped from the plane onto the tarmac, used as she was to the early summer of England, alternating cool, warm and wet. Samantha drank in the sunshine appreciatively, and looked around her as she walked with the other passengers to the airport terminal. No buses here to transport the passengers, just a short walk across the tarmac in the sunshine to the white steps of the airport terminal building. Quite a difference, she reflected, from the frenetic pace of Heathrow, with its thousands of people, the ever-present noise of aircraft landing and taking off, and the all-pervading smell of fuel.

The Customs procedure too was pleasantly informal and short, and to Samantha's surprise the immigration official smiled at her as he stamped her passport.

“You must be the nurse for Mrs. Aftias,” he said in perfect English. “Mr. Aftias is waiting for you over there,” he pointed to a tall dark man in an immaculate white summer suit, standing at the back of the hall.

“How on earth did you know that?” asked Samantha, extremely surprised.

The man gave a big wide grin, his teeth gleaming white against his tanned face. “Corfu is a very small island,” he said, “we know everything about everyone.”

Samantha raised her eyebrows. “I must remember that,” she said, taking her passport and putting it back into her handbag, “and be careful what I do!”

The man laughed infectiously and gestured expansively to Mr. Aftias, who started to walk across to Samantha.

“I hope you enjoy your stay on the island,” said her friend the immigration man.

“I'm sure I shall,” she replied, smiling, as she went across to meet her new employer.

Mr. Aftias turned out to be a very quietly spoken man. He seemed almost shy as he kissed Samantha's hand with old-world charm, then escorted her outside where a gleaming white estate car was waiting. After helping her load her suitcases into the back of the car, he started the car and they drove out of the airport.

“As you probably saw from the map we sent you,” he said, “we live in the north of the island, near Paleokastritsa, and our villa has a small private rocky beach from which it is possible to swim.”

“It sounds lovely, Mr. Aftias,” replied Samantha, looking eagerly around at the passing scenery. “I noticed from the map that there seem to be quite a few interesting things to see on Corfu.”

He laughed “Yes, most people come here just for swimming and sunbathing, but Corfu has a history going back a thousand years or more.” He turned to her. “And please call me Dennis—I know Valerie would be most upset to hear you call me Mr. Aftias.”

“Thank you,” said Samantha shyly, “I'm looking forward to caring for Mrs. Af…I mean, Valerie.”

“That's better,” said Dennis, smiling. “Valerie is looking forward to your stay, because she needs a friend from England as well as a nurse. In fact,” he turned to her briefly, “she's so healthy she doesn't really need a nurse, but I already feel happier now that I know you are here. I know you will care for her and the baby. This is a very important baby for us, you know.”

Samantha smiled back at him, thinking that in spite of all his money, he was just the same as all the other anxious fathers she had seen in her time as a midwife.

“Every baby is important,” she said firmly, “and every baby deserves the best care in the world.” Her face darkened momentarily. “It's just sad,” she added, “that they don't all get it.”

“That is true,” rejoined Dennis. “I do realize how very lucky we are that we can afford to give our baby the best.”

As they were speaking they had turned away from the road, which had been running parallel to the sea, and had started to climb up inland towards the mountains. The sound of cicadas was everywhere as they threaded their way through the twisting road, enclosed on either side by huge olive groves. The trees were huge, their enormous gnarled trunks full of holes; sometimes the trunks split into two parts and then joined together again. Samantha remarked upon their strange formation to Dennis.

“They are said to be a thousand years old, many of them,” he said. Then he laughed. “Everyone from other places says that Corfiots are lazy because they don't pick their olives, we just spread nets beneath the trees and wait for them to fall. But what they don't realize is that we Corfiots have the fattest, juiciest, blackest olives—the best olives in the world.”

Samantha smiled. He was very proud of being a Greek Corfiot, she could see that, and could understand why he wanted his baby born on the island of his own birth.

After some miles of twisting and turning on the tortuous road through the mountains they started to descend, and once more Samantha began to catch glimpses of the sparkling, amazingly blue sea.

“The village of Paleokastritsa is over there,” said Dennis, waving his hand to the right as they turned off the main road down onto a small dirt track. “It's about five minutes' walk through the olive groves from the villa.”

The road was very rocky and dust flew everywhere as the car bumped its way down the steep hillside. Dennis swore softly under his breath as they hit a particularly large bump.

“I'm waiting for permission from the planning authorities,” he said, “to tarmac this road. I am trying very hard to be patient, but I'm sorry to say that Greek bureaucracy is very slow-moving!”

Samantha laughed. “It's the same the world over,” she said. “People are always grumbling at the mountains of paper they have to wade through to get anything done, and the fact that you can never find anyone in the system who'll give a definitive answer.”

Dennis nodded grimly. “Well, I'll give them one more week, then I shall go to someone I know in government who is high-ranking. I'll pay for this road myself, because I'm not having my son brought up here, bumping about in a car.”

“Oh, you know for certain that it will be a boy?” queried Samantha, gently teasing him.

He pulled a wry face. “That slipped out,” he said. “The trouble is I always think of the baby as a boy.”

“And if it's a girl,” asked Samantha, “will you be disappointed?”

Dennis turned to her after he had negotiated a particularly bumpy piece of track. “Don't worry, Samantha,” he said. “I can detect the anxiety in your voice. I shall be pleased whatever sex the baby is, boy or girl. All I want is a healthy child.”

As he was speaking large iron gates came into view at the bottom of the slope, and as they came down the incline towards them a gardener came forward and pulled the huge gates open to let them through.

“That's Spiros,” said Dennis briefly. “He's the gardener and general handyman. If you ever need anything done, just ask him, he's a very willing worker. We also have a maid named Maria whom you can call upon at any time.”

He pulled the car up in front of a large white villa, its walls covered with dark purple bougainvillaea. Terracotta urns stood everywhere, overflowing with geraniums of every shade and hue.

“Come and meet Valerie first,” he said, helping Samantha out of the car. “We'll get Spiros to take your cases up to your room later.” Samantha followed him as he strode through the large doorway into the cool interior of the villa. Everything inside was white, the furniture was plain scrubbed pine and the only decoration on the smooth white walls was the occasional tapestry woven in a traditional Greek design. Dennis continued through the villa and led the way outside onto a terrace overlooking the sea. Samantha was conscious of a wonderful panoramic scene spread out before her as she found herself being introduced to her patient for the next few months, Valerie Aftias.

Valerie was small and dark, and Samantha felt that the lines and shape of her face were somehow vaguely familiar, but she couldn't think why. However, there was no time to puzzle over that point, as Valerie grasped her by the hand and was obviously pleased to see her.

“We can have a pleasant time while Dennis is away,” she said. “We can go into Corfu Town and look around the shops—do you like shopping?—and then we can go out on the boat sometimes. Would you like that?” she continued, not giving Samantha time to reply.

Samantha took an immediate liking to her. She had been uncertain of what to expect. After all, she was being employed by a very rich woman, and had half expected her to be perhaps a little spoilt, but Valerie was just an unassuming, ordinary young woman.

“Of course, I don't really need a nurse,” she said to Samantha later, as they were sitting on the terrace sipping iced tea. “But my brother insisted, and I didn't object when Dennis agreed with him, because sometimes I get a little lonely when Dennis is away. I've been looking forward to your company. I feel I almost know you already, I've heard so much about you.”

Samantha smiled, wondering what on earth Miss MacKenzie had said in her references, but there was no time to ask, as Valerie announced that now was the best time to go swimming.

They went together down to the beach, Dennis preferring to stay behind in his study to do some business telephoning. The path from the house down to the beach was terraced and well surfaced, unlike the track leading from the road to the villa, and the rocky promontory had a small wooden jetty which was ideal for sunbathing, or for diving from into the clear turquoise water. There was also a motorboat moored at the end of the jetty with water skis stacked in it.

“Of course, I'm not water-skiing at the moment,” said Valerie, “but you can if you want to.”

“I'd love to learn,” said Samantha, “I've never tried it.”

“Oh, I'll get my brother to teach you,” said Valerie. “He's coming to stay for a short holiday soon, in about three weeks' time.”

The next three weeks passed very pleasantly indeed; sometimes Samantha felt guilty because she felt she was being paid for being on holiday. The days were spent swimming, and snorkeling, or sometimes visiting Corfu Town and wandering up and down the maze of tiny streets, Valerie haggling with all the shopkeepers over every purchase, as if she hadn't a penny to her name. She caught a glimpse of Samantha's surprised look one day.

“They love it, the shopkeepers,” she said. “They never expect to get the price they ask, and they're disappointed if you don't put up a good fight over the price.”

Samantha laughed. “I don't think I'll ever be any good at haggling,” she said. “It's easier just to pay the asking price.”

“You're typically English,” said Valerie, “just like my brother. Sometimes I think he's quite embarrassed when he's with me. He says I'm more Greek than the Greeks!”

In spite of the pleasant days and equally pleasant evenings, which were often spent in long dinner parties, everyone talking into the small hours of the morning, Samantha did manage to keep a check on Valerie's progress, and insisted that she monitor her blood pressure, regularly check her weight and test her urine for glucose. She also occasionally put her foot down at the evening dinner parties, and tactfully suggested to Dennis that even if they did have visitors, which was often, Valerie should have an adequate amount of sleep. Gradually she managed to establish a pattern which she felt was satisfactory, and she made sure Valerie caught up with her rest during the day, if they had guests for dinner which would mean another late night.

She began to see that in fact her presence was necessary, and that Valerie would have exhausted herself had she, Samantha, not been there, because she was so anxious to please Dennis and to be the perfect wife to him in every way. However, both Dennis and Valerie respected Samantha's views, and Valerie was a model patient.

Samantha knew Valerie's brother was coming soon, but until Dennis came out onto the terrace from his study cursing one evening, she didn't know exactly when.