Stormy the Way (14 page)

'I haven't had sufficient time to decide.'

'Oh!...'

'I have an idea you're wanting something, Tara. It would be much simpler to say just what it is?'

She blushed and stooped again, acclaiming as a thorn pierced her finger.

'Leon, it's Paul. I feel that he might do something rash if he's kept short of money.' She stopped, straightening up; he did likewise and she tilted her head to note his expression.

'Rash?' he echoed crisply. 'What gives you that idea?'

She hesitated, floundering, because words of diplomacy eluded her.

'I g-guessed - from his last letter.'

'Paul writes to you?'

'Of course. There's nothing wrong in that.'

But Leon's black eyes smouldered. He bent down and the secateurs snipped viciously at a thick side- shopfry.

'And what has he been saying to cause you to form the impression that he might do something rash?'

She could not tell him, of course, and so she said,

'Nothing definite, Leon—' She averted her head swiftly, because of the searching depths of those black eyes, and the look in them that frightened her. Why had she ever wanted him to love her? she wondered. ' life would so often be unpleasant with a man who could change his mood so quickly - change from a most attractive one to one so fiendishly formidable that it terrified Not that she was terrified just now, but she had been, and it was not an experience she would wish to go through again. 'I know how it is at a university, though. If a young man is short of money, he might be tempted to - to - well, go to a moneylender, for instance.'

Leon stared at her bent head for a space, then tilted it up, not very gently.

'Has my brother actually hinted that he will go to a moneylender?' he asked in tones of soft but dangerous intensity.

'No - no, of course not,' she answered nervously and with haste. 'No, it was just that—' She broke off, and he prompted softly,

'Yes, Tara?'

'Nothing,' she replied desperately, vowing never again to broach the subject. Paul would just have to manage his own affairs. 'Forget it, please.'

His eyes narrowed. She felt her heart thud most unnaturally, and it was a relief when at last he took his hand away.

'In your opinion,' he said, ignoring her plea to let the matter drop, 'I should give Paul complete control of his money?'

She coughed to clear her throat.

'He
is
twenty-one,' she ventured. 'That's considered a quite mature age in my country.'

'Mature?' for the moment diverted. 'His infatuation for you and his eagerness to marry you is illustrative enough of Ins maturity, or, I should say, his immaturity. Five minutes after he had lost you he'd got Over it. Do you consider such conduct consistent with maturity?'

She stared at him, wanting to laugh, as she had wanted to on another occasion. She supposed the time would come when she really would laugh, would consider the whole situation as comical, not ironical, as she did at this present moment, ironical because the act which was supposed to prove Paul capable of handling his own money, was the very one which, in Leon's opinion, proved him still to be immature.

And indeed Tara in all fairness could not blame Leon, since what he said was true. Paul had got over his infatuation immediately - but what Leon didn't know was that there had never been any infatuation.

Perhaps it would have been more strategic if Paul had adopted the attitude of broken-hearted lover.

'I suppose, on the surface, he did seem immature,' she said at last, aware that Leon was waiting for some comment from her.

'And yet you're of the opinion that he can handle a very large fortune?'

She shook her head.

'I don't know - please let's not talk about it!'

'You brought it up,' he reminded her curtly.

'There seems to be a great deal I don't understand.'

'There is,' was Leon's swift retort. 'And therefore you should keep out of the affair.' This was final; she bent again and began gathering up the shoots which Leon had snipped off.

This attitude of Leon's let her out, she decided in all fairness to herself. She had done her best and could do no more. She wrote and told Paul this and by return of post received the information that Paul had in fact started going to moneylenders again - or financiers, as he now called them - and that he was being threatened with court proceedings unless he paid the interest immediately. Tara's first suspicions were then born. Was Paul gambling? If so, and if Leon suspected this, then his adamant attitude would be explained. She sent off to Paul all the money she had, which was not an inconsiderable sum, as Leon had been more than generous with the allowance. However, she had had only the one up till now as he had arranged for her to have it at the end of each month. She warned Paul to be careful with the money as she could not give him any more.

Unfortunately for her she needed to have her hair done, and a manicure, as Leon was inviting a few friends over to dine with them.

'I'm going into Athens that day,' he told Tara, 'and you can come with me and go off and have your hair done while I see to the business I'm going for.'

Filled with consternation, for she had received her allowance only a week previously, she had to confess that it was all gone, and ask him to lend her some money until the end of the month. He looked questioningly at her, which was understandable, since he knew very well she hadn't been anywhere to spend the money.

'You've got through all that?' he said disbelievingly. 'It isn't possible.'

'I'm afraid it is,' she faltered, furious with Paul, but more furious with herself for sending him the whole lot. It had been sheer stupidity, but at that time she could not foresee herself requiring any money.

Leon eyed her with suspicion and she felt her colour deepening.

'It's none of my business, I know,' he said quietly, 'but do you mind telling me what you've spent it on?'

She shook her head distractedly. His eyes fell on her hands and she stopped twisting them about.

'I c-can't remember....'

'Can't remember?' he echoed in amazement. 'You've had your money only a week and you can't remember what you've done with it? What sort of a fool do you take me for?'

She sagged and owned at last that she had sent it to Paul. The information would infuriate him, she thought, and she was right.

'You—' His teeth snapped together. 'You sent the whole lot to Paul?'

'Yes - don't be angry, Leon - I - I didn't expect to b-be needing it.'

Tears of mortification sprang to her eyes. Why didn't she stand up to this man? she asked herself angrily. If she went on like this he'd have her in complete submission in no time at all.

He came close, and towered above her; she thought he would shake her, for undoubtedly he was in one of his furies, and she steeled herself for the onslaught. To her relief it did not come. But he gave her such a lecture that in the end she found herself brushing tears from her cheeks.

'Dare to do it again,' he thundered, glowering at her. 'Just you dare send him money and by God you'll wish you hadn't. What I give him is adequate -
adequate
! Do I have to repeat that even yet again - or shall I knock it into you!'

Automatically she stepped back, shaking her head vigorously.

'I won't ever send him money again,' she promised, white to the lips. 'I didn't kn-know he - he had enough.'

'I've told you he has enough - more than once! And while we're about it you can show me the letters he's sent to you!'

'I've destroyed them!' she cried, not daring to look at him while she voiced the deliberate untruth. 'I always do destroy letters once I've read them.'

His swift sceptical intake of breath was sufficient to inform her that he knew she had lied, but he obviously knew also that he was unable to force her to give him the letters, so he allowed the matter to drop.

Drained and exhausted by the scene, she went up to her bedroom and remained there until the evening. When she came down to dinner Leon was already at the table. He had obviously been going to start without her, a circumstance that hurt out of all proportion. And yet why should she allow herself to be hurt? She had made plans, plans which would take her a long way from her husband, and from Greece, and this tiny island in the sun, enchanting Poros with its hills and forests, its lovely little harbour that was in effect its own private sea.

She would miss it, and everything she had come to love about it; she would miss Leon, and the tempestuous nature of his that could both thrill and terrify. But she meant to go; she knew she must go, now that she had learned of his staying with Helena since his marriage.

Feeling that she might never visit Athens again - apart from going there to get the plane for home - Tara decided not to allow her dejection to mar her visit. She enjoyed it all, right from boarding the
Marina
with Leon very early in the morning, up till the time when she stepped off it again in the early evening.

The boat docked at Piraeus from where they took a taxi to the city.

Leon left her then, arranging to meet her at three o'clock in Piraeus.

She had made an appointment and she was out of the hairdressers by half- past twelve. The first person she saw on emerging into the busy thoroughfare was Androula who, having no lectures that day, was doing some shopping. She was loaded with parcels and exciting-looking carrier bags, and after the two girls had greeted each other, having got over their surprise, Tara couldn't help saying,

'You must be well off. You look as if you've spent a fortune.'

Androula grimaced.

'I have, as a matter of fact. Good thing Leon doesn't see what my allowance goes on. He'd be sure to say it was all rubbish - you know how stuffy he is—' She stopped, looking decidedly comical in her dismay. 'Forgive me, Tara; I quite forgot for the moment that you're his wife.' She stopped again and then, 'You know what I mean, don't you?'

'Of course,' laughed Tara, happy at meeting her sister-in-law like this.

She tentatively asked if Androula had had her lunch and on receiving a negative reply invited her to lunch with her.

T know of a good place where you get Greek food/ said Androula, and instantly called a taxi.

Tara was still wondering about the allowance and she was just pondering how to broach the subject again when she was saved the trouble by Androula's bringing a very expensive evening bag from one of the carriers and saying,

'Do you think it's worth nine hundred drachmae? Leon wouldn't mind, I think. He doesn't like me to buy inferior things - not things like this. I've bought shoes to match - there's a dance at the university on Saturday, you see. I haven't been able to find a dress yet, but if we don't take too long over lunch then you can help me choose one. You haven't to meet Leon until three, you said?'

That's right.' She hesitated a minute. 'Paul - does he get as large an allowance as you?'

'He gets more, and it's not fair! Leon says it's because he's older, but I say it's because he's a
male!
Males are treated differently from females here!'

'No one would really notice this where you are concerned,' declared Tara with a laugh. 'You're very different from the meek little village girls.'

'I'm fortunate in my birth,' Androula admitted. 'Those little things you mention have a pretty grim life: early marriage, babies, work, premature ageing - it's not like your country, Tara.' She was bringing out a dainty hand-embroidered blouse, holding it up for Tara to see.

The price ticket was still on it and Tara gave an involuntary gasp.

Androula laughed delightedly and the next moment had told Tara the amount of her monthly allowance. 'Paul gets half as much again. Now do you think that's fair?'

'You get all that?' breathed Tara, 'and Paul receives even more?'

Androula shrugged carelessly.

'Paul must have told you that we're disgustingly rich? - or perhaps Leon has - no, he won't have, because he never mentions money if he can help it.'

'Paul seems not to be as good a manager as you.'

'Good!' Androula stopped to bang on the window, indicating to the taxi-driver that he should have turned left. 'He's the rottenest manager in the world! He's always in debt, I can't think what he does with his money, and he won't tell me. He wrote to me last week trying to borrow two thousand drachmae, but I wouldn't lend him ten! - because I know very well I'd never get it back.'

The taxi-driver had corrected his mistake and was now slowing down. Androula collected up her parcels, helped by Tara, who paid the driver from money borrowed from her husband. She could not help thinking with disgust of the money she had sent on to Paul. How she had misjudged Leon ! He knew what he was doing when he refused to allow the boy his inheritance. And Paul's father must have put his whole trust in Leon, knowing he'd never let him down. To think she had taken in everything Paul had told her, condemning the dictatorial brother whom she had never met. She had lent herself to Paul's plan - and landed herself in this mess! And it had all been lies on Paul's part, lies that had led Tara to this point in her life where all she could see was a broken marriage. She could willingly have strangled the boy!

'Thanks a lot for a lovely lunch!' Androula was saying as she stood by the taxi which was taking Tara to the port. 'And thanks for helping with the dress. My boy-friend will love it!'

'You have a boy-friend?' The driver opened the door and Tara got in.

'I have several - but don't tell Leon. He's still of the opinion that a girl mustn't go out with boys. She must come to her husband never having been kissed. If he knew one half he'd have a dreadful shock! But I'm clever. 'Bye! See you at Christmas!'