Stormy the Way (12 page)

'Yes - he was a friend from home. Why did you invite him here without my permission?'

Slowly she turned, the brush idle in her hand.

'Do I have to ask your permission before inviting my friends here?'

'Men friends - yes.' His mouth had gone tight suddenly ; she felt a rising fear as memory once again swept in.

'As a matter of fact I didn't invite him. He decided to come over and see me.'

Leon's eyes glittered ominously and her fear mounted. Not another scene! She couldn't endure it.

'He must have been more than a friend—' Leon broke off as Tara looked straightly at him. 'All right,' in distinctly softer tones and with a touch of that sardonic amusement that had earlier edged his voice, 'I now admit he wasn't your lover. I apologize.'

Strangely, no blush rose to portray embarrassment.

'Thank you,' she said quietly and with dignity.

'You puzzle me,' he said again, and she wondered if the subject of Ricky was to be dropped. 'What sort of a girl are you?'

She began to brush her hair.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'You're so quiet, so resigned.'

'You mean, I haven't made any complaints?'

He nodded, hitching himself further up and propping the other pillow behind his head.

'And you haven't asked me for money.'

'I still have a little, that's why. Later, I shall have to ask you for some.'

Was she still fighting? A faint smile touched her lips and hovered there. Of course she was. Last night's experience had not weakened her love, it had strengthened it, for while her husband had taken her in anger and desire, she had given herself in love, and in the end her generosity had been her own fulfilment.

'I'll make you an allowance,' he decided, but just as she was about to thank him he added, 'A man must pay for his pleasures.'

The colour did then rush to her cheeks and, her hopes and desires forgotten in the surge of anger that enveloped her, she flung the hairbrush at him. Too late he moved his head, and a frightened hand was lifted to her cheek as she saw blood spurt from the injury to his temple.

Within a second she was there, at the side of the bed, but she made no effort to stem the blood, which was running down on to the pillow.

'Oh, dear... I'm sorry--'

'Sorry?' He looked oddly at her for a long moment and then, 'Well, don't just stand there, girl! Fetch me a towel! This damned blood's going to be everywhere if I move'

'Yes—' She ran to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. 'Shall I-?'

'Give it to me.' He cleaned up his face and then glanced at the pillow.

'You'll find plasters in the other bathroom - in mine. Bring me one.'

She obeyed, watching as he fixed the plaster while she held a small hand mirror in front of him.

'I'm very sorry,' she said again, staring, not at him, but at the huge red stain on the pillow. Leon was get-ting out of bed and automatically she handed him his dressing-gown. 'You shouldn't have provoked me,' die added defensively when all he did was to stand there, looking down at her from his towering height, his expressing a mingling of puzzlement and humour.

'Obviously I shouldn't have provoked you. I made a mistake when I said you were quiet and resigned.' She said nothing and he went on, 'I shall have to take care, it seems - a new experience for me.'

She frowned. Was he actually teasing her? It seemed very much like it.

'It wasn't a nice thing for you to say.'

'You're a puzzle to me,' he said for the third time, and left her. She stared at the closed door for a long while before, going into the bathroom, she ran the water, slipped out of her
neglige
, and got into the bath.

That same afternoon Tara felt the first small spasm of pain in her stomach and by evening she was almost doubled up as she tried to get changed for dinner. In the end she had to call out to Leon, who came instantly, stepping through the communicating door and then striding swiftly to the bed, where she now lay.

'The pain—' She put a hand to her stomach. 'It's - it's awful!'

His hand probed despite her effort to push it off.

'Can't feel anything.' He pulled down the skin beneath her eyes and gazed into them. 'What have you eaten?' he asked sharply.

'I haven't eaten anything unusual,' she answered tearfully. 'I - I can't remember.'

Dr. Antonakis arrived within ten minutes of Leon's phoning him and the first thing he said was, as he stood by the bed,

"Well, you're a nice one, Mrs. Leon! You go and get what your friend had - if you know what I mean? But you - I'm afraid you will take longer to get better. It is the bug, you see.'

'The bug? But you said my friend had food poisoning?' Her glance flickered to Leon, who was listening with keen interest, a slight frown creasing his brow.

'I did think this at the time - if you know what I mean? But now—' He threw out his hands. 'Many people on Poros, and on Hydra, they have this bug. I expect the tourists brought it, for we never have such bugs as these in Greece - if you—?'

'We, know what you mean,' interposed Leon quietly. 'So my wife will be laid up for some time? Are you saying she has something serious?'

Despite her pain Tara looked swiftly at him, wondering if she imagined it or if there really was a degree of anxiety in his voice.

'Serious? No, it is not serious, only painful. In five - six days it will go. The gentleman was better in three days, but men are stronger than women - if—?'

'Quite, doctor. You can prescribe some medicine for my wife?'

'But of course.' The beaming smile appeared as he bade Tara good day. 'I will write this medicine down for you,' he was saying to Leon as they left the room together.

'Why didn't you explain about this
Ricky?' demanded Leon on re-entering the room. 'You deliberately allowed me to misjudge you!'

He stopped, and, on approaching the bed, 'Forget it for the present.

You must get into bed.'

Her face was white and stiff with pain; she tried to sit up, but the pain was excruciating when she moved and she dropped back again.

'I c-can't ...'

He slid his hand under her shoulders and helped her to a sitting position.

'You'll have to get into bed,' he said firmly but with a new gentleness which only later, on recalling it, she was able to appreciate. 'Can you undress yourself now?'

She nodded vaguely, then looked at him.

'If - if you will go I'll try.'

'Try now.' He tilted his head sideways; it was a sceptical gesture. 'I rather think you're going to need my help—'

'Oh, no, it isn't at all necessary—'

'—distasteful though it might be,' he continued, bypassing the interruption. "This isn't the time for worrying about modesty, my dear, and in any case, it
is
a little late.' No mockery or satire in that last remark, simply a quietly spoken statement as he began to unfasten the neck of her dress. She made no demur, so utterly exhausted did she feel. She was biting her lip hard when at last Leon pulled up the bedclothes, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She looked up into his dark face and a weak smile fluttered.

'Thank you, Leon. You were right; I couldn't have managed alone.'

The firm mouth relaxed.

'Your medicine will be here directly; Savvas has gone for it. Perhaps you'll get some relief then, and go to sleep.'

She nodded, and her eyes became fixed on the plaster on his temple.

'I'm sorry about throwing the brush at you,' she said, and his response came roughly.

'Forget it; the incident's over and done with. Are you comfortable -

apart from the pain? Is your pillow all right?'

Faintly she nodded and he went out, snapping off the main light and leaving only the bedside lamp. She felt oddly happy in spite of her pain.

Leon came up often during the next five days and when on the sixth day she was able to get up he actually carried her downstairs and laid her gently on the couch in the sitting-room. His manner during her illness had awakened a measure of hope within her. He might never ever come to care as deeply as she, Tara thought, but he could just reach the stage where he had a small amount of affection for her.

Such a lot she had learned about him recently, things that pointed to the prospect of a happy life, if only she
could
make him care a little.

She had learned that although he possessed those savage pagan traits which had so terrified her, he also possessed traits of sympathy and gentleness; he had been anxious about her, especially on the third day when he had been so ill as to be scarcely conscious. Never a word had he spoken that could hurt; the matter of Ricky might never have occurred.

'Yes,' he said with a satisfied glance as he made her comfortable on the couch, 'you're more yourself today.'

'I feel fine.'

'I wouldn't go as far as to say you look fine,' he observed unsmilingly.

'You've lost a lot of weight for one thing. You're as light as a doll.'

And she had felt like a doll as he carried her carefully down the stairs.

She had felt helpless, too ... and she had liked the feeling enormously.

It was now late September and often she would wonder if Paul had been given control of his money. Not that she now had any intention of leaving her husband. But she would like to know how Paul was faring. And one day, when Leon had taken her out to lunch at the Sirena Island Hotel, after they had sunbathed on the beach, she plucked up sufficient courage to ask,

'Paul .. . did you decide to let him have control of his money?'

Immediately she had spoken she regretted it. For the first frown she had seen for over a fortnight appeared, to darken Leon's forehead.

During the past week he had given her practically all his attention, making her eat, taking her to the beach, or across the water to Galata or Troezen. He had kept her company when she was in the garden during the mornings; he had never gone off to dine with friends. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being with her and the happiness which this produced was often reflected in her expression, and on these occasions a strange flickering of her husband's eyes would tell her of his puzzlement and she would open her mouth to blurt out the truth, then close it again, thinking of the harm she could do to Paul.

'Why should you be interested in Paul and his money?' he inquired softly, and she bit her lip.

'I shouldn't have asked you, Leon. Please forget it.'

'That doesn't answer me, Tara,' he rejoined with a slight tightening of his mouth.

She went a trifle pale. How easily his change of mood could affect her! She was dejected all at once.

'Paul was - was so short of money—' She broke off as his brows shot up. Then, shrugging, she went on, 'He told me this, and said he was hoping to have his money when he was twenty-one. I did mention this to you at first, if you remember?'

Leon toyed with his consomme. Tara was more concerned with getting rid of the blockage in her throat caused by dismay.

'I don't recall your mentioning that he was short of money,' he commented softly at last, and she remembered her own anger at his saying that Paul had a more than adequate allowance. 'Paul told you this?'

After a snail hesitation she had to admit that Paul had done so. Of course, she refrained from mentioning the fact that she
knew
Paul had been short of money; otherwise he would never have been driven to answering her advertisement.

'In my opinion Paul had a generous allowance,' Leon said stiffly at length. 'As for the question of his having control of his money - I haven't yet made up my mind.'

Tara left it at that, changing the subject in an attempt to bring her husband back to his more friendly mood. She succeeded, but somehow she knew die had lost ground by her impulsive decision to ask about Paul's money. She felt flat and her appetite had gone, despite the excellence of the lobster Thermidor and Gruyere cheese and the delicious Greek
rose
they drank with their lunch.

But that night Leon came into her room, this being the first occasion since her illness, and only the second occasion since their marriage.

He was in black again, but this time she knew no fear, only pleasurable excitement, and her smile told him he was welcome. His kisses were deliriously masterful while at the same time being thrillingly gentle; his arms were strong around her yet lacking the ruthlessness of that previous occasion.

And once again her generosity proved to be her own fulfilment.

A week later he had to go to Athens; she had hoped he would invite her to go with him, but was disappointed. He would be away a week, he said - and dropped a light kiss on her cheek as she stood on the step to see him off.

'Take care.' he said a little sternly. 'I don't want to come -back and find you've been catching a bug again.'

For all her disappointment at not being asked to accompany her husband to the capital, Tara was inordinately happy, and frequently she found herself dreaming of the time when a reasonably pleasant state of companionship would develop between Leon and herself. It never dawned on her that, being a Greek, he would be almost sure to have a pillow friend; she sublimely imagined herself to be the only woman in his life - at least, at the present time. It had occurred to her that he must have had women; after he had made love to her she had no doubts about this at all, for one could not learn an art like that without practice.

The girl was Greek, and beautiful in a rather worldly sort of way in that she appeared to have just emerged from the most exclusive - and expensive - beauty salon in Paris or London. She was sitting in the lounge when Tara returned from a stroll on the beach. Savvas had met Tara half-way along the path, looking decidedly put out and agitated.