The Beads of Nemesis Page 3

  He grinned, “You’ll get used to it.” He touched her cheek with his finger and shut the door on her. “You’re beginning to yell quite nicely,” he added. “Only you’re not allowed to yell at me. You’re only allowed to yell at the children.”

  Morag was silent the whole way through Athens. She found the traffic nerve-racking and was ashamed of her fears, for Pericles drove both carefully and well. He even seemed to know where he was going, up and down the one-way streets, but then she supposed he had made the journey many times. For a while she wondered why the waiting cars invariably hooted when the traffic lights changed from red to green, but then she realised that they were almost impossible to see from those in front, and amused herself by trying to will Pericles forward before anyone had time to hoot at him. She was not sorry, though, when they had finally driven through the city, passing close beneath the cream-coloured Acropolis, surely the finest monument that any city can boast as its central feature, and came out at last on to the coast road.

  “Not far now,” Pericles smiled at her.

  She relaxed a little in her seat. “They drive very fast, don’t they?” she said, annoyed by the note of apology in her voice.

  “It seems faster to the uninitiated. It’s a bit baffling at first, finding one’s way round the city. Looking at a map doesn’t help much, unless the one-way systems are marked. You’ll soon learn them.”

  “I don’t drive!” The sharpness of her tone made her bite her lip. “I mean, I can’t just now.”

  “Banned as well as fined? It might be as well if you kept that item of information from my mother, Morag.”

  “I don’t think I’d drive in Greece anyway,” she said defiantly. “I’m not a very experienced driver. My father doesn’t like women driving his car, and I haven’t one of my own.”

  Pericles smiled faintly. “My mother expects all young people to drive, especially young English women. If you say you don’t drive, it may even be a point in your favour. Susan didn’t drive either.”

  “Your wife?”

  He nodded. “Susan was brought up in Greece in a rather old-fashioned household. Women here are taught to obey their husbands and to leave all the decisions to them. Before that, they obey their fathers and learn all the domestic arts. Driving a car isn’t often included in their education.”

  “Oh,” said Morag.

  “Is that all you have to say? I thought you’d start yelling at me again about the equality of women in modern society.”

  Morag laughed. “A bit obvious, Mr. Holmes!”

  “Pericles.”

  “Mr. Holmes,” she said again, “I told you, I prefer Mr. Holmes.” “Morag-”

  “Yes, Mr. Holmes?”

  “There’s a Greek side to my nature that prefers women to be meek and obedient. I don’t expect to have to repeat myself when I give you an order. You are to call me Pericles. Understood?”

  She nodded. It occurred to her that she was a little afraid of Pericles Holmes and that she didn’t entirely dislike the sensation.

  “I suppose it would be silly as you call me Morag,” she managed. It was not much of a last word, but it was the best that she could manage under the circumstances.

  “I am in a privileged position,” he said with a sardonic smile. “I’ll call you anything I please.”

  “Isn’t that rather unfair?”

  “Life is unfair,” he said.

  He turned off the main coastal road shortly after that,

  apparently heading straight into the sea. “Welcome to my

  mother’s house,” he said formally. “Kimon, you can make yourself

  useful by carrying Morag’s knapsack inside. That’s one of the

  other perks that we allow the girls.”

  “Kimon doesn’t carry my things for me,” Peggy said at once.

  “I do that!” her father reminded her. “Who’s carrying your

  necklace now?”

  “Morag. You only carry heavy things.”

  Morag giggled unexpectedly. “I’m sure a Greek man wouldn’t do that!” she said. “I thought it was the women who did all the work!”

  “Would that they did!” he returned drily. He smiled slowly at

  her. “You look quite pretty when you’re amused,” he told her.

  “We’ll have to have you laughing more often.”

  She shook her head, her cheeks hot. “I’ll never be pretty.”

  He touched her on the cheek, flicking her nose with one

  finger. “You’re right, pretty is the wrong word, but I could find

  you very attractive, Morag Grant, if you smiled a little more.”

  She tried to pass it off as casually as he had made the remark.

  “Then I’ll have to be as sober as a judge,” she said, and if her

  voice trembled she was almost sure that only she had noticed it. “You can try!” he said.

  “I - I” She swallowed. “David -” she began hesitantly.

  He lifted his eyebrows in mute enquiry. “Yes?” he prompted her when she still said nothing.

  “David thought I was pretty - sometimes.”

  He shook his head at her. “Morag! And that was enough to make you love him?” He put a hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. She tried to back away, but the warmth in his eyes stopped her. “You don’t know what love means, do you?

  When it does come to you, fretting after what might have been with David will seem a poor substitute for the real thing. You don’t owe him anything.” He touched her cheek again, half-smiling. “Come in and meet my mother. She’ll be very glad to see you, I promise you. She hasn’t found it easy having the children here, any more than they have enjoyed being with her. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, unable to find any words in which to answer him. She put up her hand to her cheek where he had touched her, wondering at the weakness which assailed her. She would have to pull herself together before she met his mother. What would she think if her unknown guest was quite incapable of greeting her in anything other than a foolish monosyllable, just because -because what?

  Morag had no time to do more than brush down her tight-fitting jeans and try to smooth her shirt that, what with the heat and the dust from the day, was scarcely looking as neat and fresh as when she had put it on in the morning. Pericles drew her inexorably into the house after him and out again on to the verandah on the other side. He let go of her there, bending over the elegant figure of the woman who sat, straight-backed, on a wooden chair, looking out towards the sea.

  “You’re home in time for the sunset tonight,” Mrs. Holmes said. “I thought you might have gone to Sounion as the children have never seen our most famous local site - Poseidon’s temple in the dying sun, when his famous blue hair turns to grey. Sometimes I can almost believe that he’s real when I watch the sea taking on the colours of the heavens. That is why I love this house!”

  Pericles kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I brought someone home with me. She’s going to give a hand with the children for the rest of the summer. Mama, this is Morag Grant.”

  His mother swivelled round in her chair, a look of shock on her face. “A stranger, Perry? How could you?”

  “I think you may come to like her,” he answered calmly. “But what does she know of our Greek ways?”

  “We’re not wholly Greek,” her son reminded her. “Besides, I

  think you’ll find her willing to learn. She’s very amenable.” The amusement in his voice stung Morag into speech. She took a deep breath and held out a hand to the older woman.

  “Hero poll, ” she said in Greek, hoping that she had got it right. Pericles’ mother favoured her with a long, searching look. “Milate Ellinika ?” she enquired, finally shaking hands.

  “No,” Morag admitted. “I tried to learn a few phrases before I came. It seems only civil to try and speak to people a few words of their own language, but most people seem to speak English, and I suppose I’m a bit lazy too.”

&nb
sp; “The children both speak excellent Greek,” Kyria Holmes said. “It’s my wish that they should converse as much as possible in their own language. We have decided that both their lives lie in this country and it is as well for them to learn how to be wholly Greek, whatever my son may say. Do you really think you can help us to achieve that purpose?”

  “I can try,” Morag answered her.

  “No, no, it’s impossible! Peggy especially needs to be taught that Greek women don’t get their own way by throwing tantrums whenever they are crossed! When she grows up and marries, her husband will control her destiny, just as her father should be doing now. Wanting to do everything just the same as Kimon does will be of little use then!”

  Morag looked quickly at Pericles. “It this what you want for your daughter ?”

  “I’d like her to marry a strong man,” he admitted. “As for the rest, I suppose it was the way her mother was brought up.” “Certainly it was!” his mother exclaimed.

  Morag saw Pericles’ lips tighten. “It might have been better for her if she’d shown more spirit,” he remarked.

  “I suppose you are referring to that foolish incident when she thought she was in love with Takis? Did she make you a less good wife because of that? Your slightest wish was her command right up until her death.”

  “Oh, quite!” he said.

  Morag thought she detected an underlying bitterness in his words. “Who is Takis?” she asked, seeking to divert his attention

  from thoughts of his wife.

  “Takis Kapandriti is my nephew.” Kyria Holmes drew herself up. “He is staying with us at this moment. You will probably meet him sooner or later. He goes out a great deal as he has business in Athens.”

  Morag looked about her, suddenly wondering what her own position in the house was, to be. “Is - is there room?”

  Kyria Holmes rose to her feet. “It’s a large house, Miss Grant. My son would not have brought you here otherwise.” She nodded formally and went inside without a backward look, calling out to the children as she went.

  Morag shrugged her shoulders.

  Pericles looked amused. “She isn’t really frightening once you get used to her,” he reassured her. His face crinkled into a smile. “I think she was trying to warn you about Takis in her own way. Stay clear of him, Morag. He isn’t going to marry for a long time yet and he might not understand that there are some English girls who don’t come here for the one thing only. Our Greek women are very closely protected by their families and British freedoms are apt to be misunderstood.”

  “But I haven’t even met him yet!” Morag protested.

  “There’s no harm in making things clear from the beginning,” he observed drily. “Takis is never serious and you are not to encourage him. Is that clear?”

  “What do you expect me to do? Ignore him completely?” She faced him angrily. “It may not be very Greek, Mr. Holmes, but I make my own decisions of that kind no matter where I am!”

  “Not very successfully,” he reminded her. “It won’t hurt you, while you’re here, to do things my way. It’s time someone put the brakes on where you’re concerned. You are obviously warmhearted to a fault, but that can make for sloppiness if you’re not careful. Takis would only take advantage of you - as easily as that David of yours, for instance.”

  She glared at him. “Thank you very much!” she stormed. “You don’t know anything about it! How dare you?” “Easily!”

  “Well, you can stay out of my business once and for all! You can be as high-handed as you like with your own children, though I don’t think you’re at all fair to Peggy, but no one speaks like that to me!”

  He actually chuckled. It was the last straw as far as she was concerned. “I hate you, Pericles Holmes,” she declared. “I’m going! I can’t think why I ever came with you! Goodbye

  He leaned against one of the verandah pillars, folding his arms across his chest.

  “What a fuss!” he mocked her.

  “You can’t keep me here against my will!”

  “No?”

  The single syllable seemed doubly insulting to her; first because it implied she didn’t know her own mind, and second because it held a threat that she wanted to challenge but didn’t quite dare to put it to the test. She was afraid of Pericles Holmes, she thought, even while he attracted her.

  “If I do stay,” she began. “If I do, you must understand-”

  “You’ll stay,” he said certainly.

  Her lips quivered. “I won’t be dictated to!”

  “And I won’t be yelled at by.”

  “A mere woman, you mean?” she said easily. “I’ll yell whenever I feel like it!”

  “Not at me you won’t!” He laughed suddenly. “I might have known your green eyes could flash with temper as much as any other emotion! But don’t flash them at me, Morag Grant. You might get more of a reaction than you bargained for!”

  She shrugged her shoulders, bitterly aware that she had somehow lost the battle and that he knew she had no intention of going anywhere. “Indeed?” was all she said.

  “Indeed, Kortsi mou.”

  She stood stock still, annoyed to find that she wanted to find out exactly what reaction she would inspire in him if she continued the argument. It was very tempting to her to find out. She gave him an uncertain look. “I'm not sloppy!” His eyebrows rose. “All right,” he said. “I take that back. You’re not sloppy. You’re just more feminine than is good for you.” A mocking smile touched his lips. “But I won’t tease you anymore. It’s too soon for you to know what you want for the future and you need to keep a tight hold on your heart without any commitments until you know which way you’re looking. Only don’t tempt me, Morag. I’m only a man, and making love to you wouldn’t be at all disagreeable to me, especially when you look at me as though you expect me to pounce on you at any moment!” “You forget,” she said quietly, “it’s not long since I lost my fiance.”

  He snapped his fingers, making an angry noise in his mouth. “Grow up, Morag! You didn’t love David. He gave you a nice romantic feeling, no more than that! If I took you on, you’d find out what loving a man means. You wouldn’t cast me off on your sister when you’re tired of me!” Morag gaped at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Oh yes, you do! Do you think Delia, or whatever her name is, would have succeeded in interesting David if you hadn’t half wanted it that way?”

  “You don’t know Delia.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with Delia. I’m sure she is prettier than you, more attractive, more everything, but that wouldn’t have resigned you to losing David to her. What if she has always taken everything she thought you wanted away from you? If you’d really wanted David you would have fought back, and you’d have gone on fighting until you had them both where you wanted them!”

  Morag looked as surprised as she felt. “Would I?” she said. “I don’t see how you could know that.” Her eyes kindled with indignation. “If I wouldn’t do it for David, I certainly wouldn’t do it for you!”

  Suddenly he took a step toward her and she panicked, almost running away from him to the far end of the verandah. “One day,” he said, “I’ll take you up on that, when you’ve had time to know me better.”

  An extraordinary, totally unfamiliar excitement ran through her. “You may have treated Susan to the masterful approach, but I shouldn’t care for it at all!”

  His laughter unsettled her badly. “Susan was well broken in long before she was chosen as a suitable wife for me. She obeyed,

  but she never loved, poor girl. They should have allowed her to

  marry Takis - she had more than enough money for them both!

  All I could do was to be gentle and to encourage her as far as

  possible to do things for herself. It was I who introduced her to

  the flying which finally killed her, but I don’t regret it! At least it

  gave her a few moments of freedom from the quagmire in which<
br />
  she found herself.”

  The colour rose in Morag’s cheeks and she veiled her eyes from him, more than a little shy. “If you felt like that about her, why should you want-” She broke off, not wanting to put the threat she felt for him into words after all. She might have misunderstood him and then what would he think of her?

  “To tame you?” His smile told her that he had read her

  thoughts exactly. “Perhaps because you’d revel in the battle as

  much as I. You’re not like Susan in any way. She found marriage

  to me a prison, a comfortable prison for which she had been well

  prepared with a lifetime of submission to what her family

  decided was good for her. I was no more than her warder,

  carrying out the sentence they had passed on her. It would be

  different with you, Morag Grant. You would find freedom.”

  She couldn’t bear to hear any more. “Never with you!” “Never

  with David!” he retorted. “Never with any man who wouldn’t

  demand everything you have to give, who wouldn’t make you

  wholly his - in every way!”

  Morag swallowed. “I think that’s a highly improper thing to

  say. I d-don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

  He strolled across the verandah towards her, stopping so close

  to her that they were almost touching. Her breath caught in the

  back of her throat and she was more afraid than ever, not so

  much of him as of herself.

  “Improper?” he repeated. “Why? Because I haven’t known you

  long enough? It doesn’t take time for me to know I’d like to kiss

  you, or for you to know that you’d like me to! Shall I give you a

  practical demonstration, karthia mou?”

  “No!” The negative exploded out of her.

  “Another time?” He put a hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Cheer up, sweetheart, I’ll try not to rush you. You’ll be quite safe with me.” He stroked her cheek with a gentle

  finger, bringing the burning colour rushing in the wake of his touch. Then he bent his head and his lips met hers in a caress so fleeting that she couldn’t be sure that it had actually happened.