Stormy the Way (5 page)

They were strolling in the garden, having left Leon a moment ago as he said he had to work in his study for an hour or so before dinner.

'I'm glad you're satisfied,' she returned, her attention more with her surroundings than her companion. The flowers were fantastic; she had never seen so many blooming all at once. And the perfume assailing her nostrils - it was heady and exotic, filling the air with sense-stirring delights. For a fleeting moment her thoughts strayed and she was with Ricky, walking here, in this lovely Eastern garden, on an enchanted island floating like a gem on the calm blue waters of the Saronic Gulf. Romance ... That was what it all spelt. To be in love, in a setting like this. . . It would be sheer heaven, every single moment of it. Ricky. She closed her eyes tightly, and shook her head in an angry gesture. She would
not
think of him, would not torture herself with visions of him with Freda, walking and talking; kissing and petting . .. making love— No! She would not allow him to intrude into her thoughts!

'You're miles away.' Paul's voice cut in, and she mentally thanked him for the diversion. 'What are you thinking, Tara?'

'it was nothing of importance, Paul. This garden, it's absolutely delightful! What are all these flowers.

Name them for me.'

'These are oleanders; they smell nice, yes?'

'Delightful. And these?'

'Bougainvillaeas. They climb, as you see over there. Everybody grows them up pillars of the verandahs, because they look so petty.

There they are again, clambering over those walls. On the islands of Rhodes and Cos you see them everywhere, because there are lots of ancient walls on those islands. These are hibiscus - so bright a red!

You have no such lovely flowers in England.'

'We have roses—'

'But so have we! All your flowers will grow here, but ours won't grow in your country. We have flowers all the year round.'

She nodded, inhaling deeply. She had always been susceptible to perfume, especially the natural perfume of flowers.

'Those trees, on the hillsides over there?'

Tines - Aleppo pines. See down there; they grow right to the water's edge. And can you see the lovely golden beaches down there too? We have wonderful bathing beaches, and much sun all the time.'

She had to smile at his enthusiasm. There was no doubt about it, the Greeks certainly loved their homeland. Perhaps this was owing to the fact of their many struggles to defend it. They had fought numerous greedy enemies in their long history, and often they had lost, only to rise again, as was fitting for the people who had been the first to bring civilization to the West. And they were a devout people despite their paganism in the past. Churches were everywhere - numerous white edifices, charmingly humble and lovingly cared for, their campaniles always gleaming in the brilliant sunshine, their black-bearded priests always smiling a welcome to strangers, should they desire to look around the churches, or to take part in a service or a wedding.

'Tomorrow we will go into the town,' Paul was saying. 'You didn't get a proper look at it when you came from the boat because Androula was there to bring us straight home. You would like to see the town of Poros?'

'Very much. I want to buy some souvenirs. Can I get them there?'

'There are shops, yes.'

Tara fell silent, her mind straying to Leon and that interview. He had meant trouble, she felt sure, and it was with thankfulness that she dwelt on her determination not to lose her temper. All would have been lost, whereas now everything appeared to be plain sailing. Just a little more acting and Paul would get his money and be out of the man's clutches for ever. How short-sighted it was of Paul's father to leave his stepson in charge of his children's money. He should have seen the possibility of Leon's adopting an arbitrary, highhanded attitude which could cause hardship - as it had, in Paul's case.

Androula seemed not to be troubled by the shortage of money, and this could be that she did not require as much as Paul, who naturally would want to pay for any girl-friend he happened to take out.

Leon was not seen until almost dinner time, when he appeared on the patio, dressed in a superbly-cut white tropical suit. Her attention was arrested and she lowered her eyes only when, aware of her interest, Leon made a haughty lift of one eyebrow. She coloured at the action, and wondered at it too, since she had been given to understand that she and Leon were to be friends. This arrogance was far from friendly and, to her surprise, it hurt in a vague, incomprehensible sort of way.

However, the action was forgotten during the pleasant, light conversation accompanying the meal. Paul was especially happy -

secretly exultant, no doubt, thought Tara with a smile. Androula was most untypical of Greek girls in that she was thoroughly modern and self-confident. And while Tara was sure she would never openly defy her brother, she was also sure that she would never be domineered by him. She wore a low-cut dress, very short. Frowning darkly when she at first appeared, Leon seemed then to give a resigned shrug, but Tara did hear him say, a moment later when he was sitting close to Androula on the patio, having pre-dinner drinks,

'When you get married, my girl, your husband's going to beat you.

Where did you buy this most inadequate scrap of feminine nonsense?'

Androula laughed softly.

'They're all over the place. You never look in the shops, that's why you've not seen a dress like this before.'

'I have seen a dress like this before. I'm not blind. One does not expect one's sister to go about half-naked, though. In any case, what's worn in Athens is not suitable to this island.'

'The poor little Poriot girls! They live in the past, Leon, as do all the people of the islands.'

His eyes roved her, then moved to Tara, who was clad rather more modestly in that her dress was high- necked. But this was merely because low-cut necklines did not suit her. Had they done so she would have wornthem. Her dress was very short, though, and she did wonder whether he disapproved. What a stuffy, old- fashioned man he was! He was living out of his time; he would have done very well in early Victorian England, when the man was undisputed lord and master and his wife and daughters cringing females without wills of their own. Tara thought of his marrying, and wondered how his wife would fare. His earlier words had been enough to illustrate what sort of husband he would make.

When dinner was over Tara would have preferred to remain with Androula and Leon, for although Leon was far from being good company, Androula was witty and vivacious and had kept the conversation alive. But Leon, with smooth pleasantry, said,

'I expect you two want to be off on your own. Don't allow good manners to influence you. Tara's stay is comparatively short, so you must make the most of your time together. Off you go, into the garden.' His black eyes held a cynical light as they caught Tara's expression. 'Enjoy yourselves.'

Her colour had heightened at his words, 'Off you go,' because they not only savoured of an order, but they also seemed to imply that there was something faintly disgusting in the idea of a woman of twenty-five allowing a boy of twenty to make love to her. And in all honesty she herself felt that way - which only served to increase her anger against Leon.

'Your brother is a man of changeable moods,' she almost snapped once they were out of earshot of Leon and Androula, who were on the patio. 'I concluded, earlier, that he had accepted me, and in fact that he fully approved of me, but now I'm not quite sure.'

'Take no notice,' advised Paul carelessly. 'You never know when you've got him. All I want to do is keep in with him until I get my money. I'm sick to death of being without. You've no idea how much I owe, Tara.'

'You're in debt?'

'How can it be otherwise? I've borrowed from all my pals, and I've even been driven to going to a moneylender—'

'No - surely not !'

'It's quite true.' He looked harassed all at once and she felt heartily sorry for him. To own a fortune and yet have to resort to borrowing; it was disgraceful.

'Can't you have it out with Leon? Surely he knows your allowance is inadequate.' Leon himself had maintained that it was more than adequate, she recalled, condemning him for that deliberate lie. 'Tell him you can't manage; that you must have a larger allowance.' But Paul was shaking his head even before Tara had finished speaking,

'He won't listen,' he told her sulkily. 'I've tried, over and over again, but he's adamant. It's so frustrating! I'll be an old man before I can enjoy what's really mine!'

At this Tara had to laugh, and she received a scathing glance in response. It wasn't at all funny, Paul said, still in the same sulky tones.

What a child he was, really, she decided. Leon was right when he declared that a woman of twenty was much older than a man of that age, and that compared to a woman of twenty-five he was a mere child. This much Tara did concede.

'I hardly think you'll be an old man,' she argued lightly. 'Even had you to wait until you're twenty-five you'd still be young.'

Twenty-five! I can't wait that long,' he groaned.

'And twenty-five isn't young - well, I don't think so.'

'I'm twenty-five,' she reminded him, and he made a swift apology. 'It doesn't matter, Paul,' she smiled. fiI don't consider myself old.'

They strolled about the garden, into the trees so that they were hidden from the house. But Tara was feeling bored; a young boy of twenty was not the company she would have chosen, and it was a relief when eventually she could say,

'I think we can return to the house now. Our absence has been long enough to satisfy your brother that we've been having a little cuddle and a kiss or two.'

He laughed then and said,

'You're very attractive, Tara, as I told you on that first meeting, and if we'd been the same generation I'd have fallen in love with you, I'm sure.'

'The same generation?' she exclaimed. 'Really, Paul, I'm not quite as far removed from you as all that!'

'Sorry again. But, you see, to be suitable as a wife for me you'd have to be about fifteen, which is ten years younger than you are.'

'Shall we change the subject?' she suggested with a laugh. 'I don't care to be looked upon as an old woman.'

Leon was alone when they reached the patio, and as Paul excused himself and went off somewhere Tara found herself alone with the man she heartily disliked.

^Languidly he stretched forth a hand and brought out a chair.

'Sit down,' he invited, 'and enjoy the cool evening breeze.'

Accepting the chair, she then wondered what they would talk about, but she needn't have worried; Leon began asking her about her family.

'And you have let your parents know that you're engaged?' he queried when at length she fell silent.

'Not yet.'

The black eyes flickered strangely.

'The British have such peculiar ways,' he commented presently.

'You mean - here, the marriages are arranged by the parents - so in effect they know all about it before the poor bride.'

'Poor bride?' with the merest hint of amusement. 'The girl is greatly honoured that a man will offer for her.'

Tara's lips pressed together. So it was to start all over again, it seemed.

'This might be the case here—'

'It's the case in most parts of the East,' he interrupted, stifling a yawn, a mannerism she had noticed before and one which irritated her immensely.

'Very well, it's the case in your part of the world. But in the Western world women are considered equal.'

'I wonder why?'

She looked at him across the small space separating them, her resolution to outwit him forcibly thrusting itself into her consciousness.

'Mr. - I mean ...?'

'Leon. We're to be related,' he murmured inscrutably.

'Leon ... I can't help feeling that you dislike me, in spite of your acceptance of me as Paul's fiancee, and your saying he had made an excellent choice.'

Glinting eyes flickered over her for a second. The mask-like expression remained; he appeared, in the dim half-light thrown off by the lamps hidden in the foliage of the vines, more formidable than ever, with his black hair coming low, forming a peak in his forehead, and that marble-like polish to his mahogany skin, a skin which seemed darker owing to the whiteness of the fine linen shirt against his neck. And his hands - long and slender and impressively strong -

they also looked darker than they really were, owing to the whiteness of his sleeves against his wrists. Attractive he undoubtedly was, she admitted, but grudgingly. How would a woman fare if he should decide to tempt her? Amazed at such thoughts, Tara shook them off...

but she was to remember them later ...

Tve given you the impression that I dislike you?' No perturbation in his lazy tones; no hint of apology or regret. Now how could you have got that impression?' A decided hint of amusement was carried in his voice as this was said, and Tara felt her colour rise.

'You're not very courteous,' she accused plaintively.

His hands were clasped in front of him; his fingers flipped open and he said with a careless shrug,

'Courtesy has never been one of .my virtues. It can be taken as a weakness, especially by women, and often is.'

'Courtesy - a weakness?' she exclaimed. 'Indeed, no! I would never consider it a weakness.'

'You wouldn't?' Oddly he examined her, eyes sweeping from her soft brown hair, teased a little by the wind to her long neck and shoulders, then down lower to where curves were accentuated by the particular play of light reaching her slantwise. Her waist was tiny and nipped in by the sash of her dress; her slender legs were elegantly crossed, one slim ankle moving slightly in time to the faint strains of
bouzouki
music drifting from some distant point on the other side of the hill.