The Beads of Nemesis

  Pericles looked amused. “So you did. Do you think it’s too soon for me to give her a brotherly kiss of greeting?” Morag didn’t bother to reply. It didn’t matter what she did, she thought, Delia was bound to take over, and Pericles would follow her lead, and it would be just like David all over again. Any man had only to see Delia to want to kiss her.

  She cast Pericles a swift, reproachful look and was not surprised to see he was smiling. It was an anticipatory smile, as if he already knew just how much he was going to enjoy dallying with Delia. Well, if she had anything to do with it, he would not be given the opportunity!

  “I don’t think it would be at all suitable! she snapped,” her head held high. “Besides, you owe me something too! Or have you forgotten already?”

  His smile grew deeper and she thought it had a rather triumphant air to it. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “You won’t have any cause for complaint - while we’re in England. Afterwards - ”

  “Afterwards we’ll be back in Greece with the children,” she attempted humour. “It won’t matter then!”

  “I expect your family will come out and stay with us from time to time. I certainly mean to do all I can to see that we stay on good terms with all of them!”

  I'll bet, she thought. And all this after one glimpse of Delia! What was it going to be like when he had spent a whole week in her company?

  Delia settled the whole question of the kiss by coming straight up to Pericles and offering him her face. “I ought to congratulate you,” she said huskily, “but I know Morag too well to do that. I think I’ll congratulate her instead! How did she manage to find an Adonis like you, even in the wilds of Greece?”

  “I expect she’ll tell you herself,” Pericles answered smoothly. He turned away to shake Morag’s father’s hand and to be introduced to her stepmother. When he felt he had made himself sufficiently agreeable to them both, he put an arm about Morag’s shoulders and smiled down at

  her.

  Morag was so busy reminding herself that he didn’t mean what his smile was telling her that she was quite unprepared for her stepsister’s sudden exclamation.

  “My dear Morag, where did you get that dreadful necklace? Let’s have a look at it!” She pulled at the shells which Morag had put on under her jumper and laughed out loud. “It would be quite pretty if it weren’t for those terrible green beads! Morag, you ought to know better than to wear such rubbish.”

  “I like them!” Morag declared.

  Pericles grinned at her. He pulled the necklace out from under her jumper and rearranged it round her neck, making, she felt, the most of the moment and plainly enjoying her own shy attempts to prevent him.

  “I gave them to her,” he told the others. “She’s under the protection of

  the goddess Nemesis when she wears them - ”

  “Yes, but I don’t believe that!” Morag protested.

  “Then why wear them now, darling?” he said.

  “I thought they’d get crushed in my suitcase.” It wasn’t true. She hadn’t thought about it at all. But it seemed as good a reason as any other. She would not admit, even to herself, that it was because he had given them to her. She had worn them constantly ever since, hiding them under her dress, or with a scarf round her neck. It was the only thing he had given her!

  “Nemesis?” Delia said vaguely. “Seem to have heard about her. Doesn’t she creep up behind people, dropping swords on their heads?”

  Pericles frowned. “Not swords, no. I don’t think you can have the right lady.” He sounded short to the point of rudeness.

  “No,” Mr. Grant said soberly. He gave his stepdaughter an affectionate look mixed with admiration. “Delia’s facts are always well chosen to suit herself. Nemesis sought out and punished evildoers.”

  “And compensated those who suffered,” Morag put in, not looking at Delia. “I went to visit her temple in Greece.” Delia managed a very creditable smile. “What a good thing she has no jurisdiction in

  England!” she shot at Morag.

  Mrs. Grant giggled. “Goodness, yes! But we mustn’t bring up any painful memories for Morag today. She has obviously forgotten all about David - poor boy! We must try and do the same, Delia. After all,

  he was her fiance!” Morag coloured guiltily, seeking to evade Pericles’ restraining arm while she thought of some devastating retort. But Pericles would not allow it. He gave Mrs. Grant a cool, considering look and then he smiled.

  “Perhaps Morag had less to forget,” he drawled. “Calf love is painful at the time, especially when one’s beloved is not particularly faithful, or particularly particular, come to that, but one grows out of such foolishness!”

  Morag gave him a look of-exasperation. “Calf-love?”

  He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Wasn’t it?”

  Her cheeks burned. “I suppose you know best,” she managed to say.

  He flicked her cheek with a gentle finger, but his attention had already wandered and she knew, without looking at him, that he was covertly studying her stepsister.

  It was strange to be back in her father’s house and to sleep in the room which had been hers all through her childhood. From the window she could see the stretch of road where that fateful evening the car had come weaving towards the gates, only to crash into the telegraph-pole on the far side of the road.. Morag stood at the window for a long time, trying to recall what it was that she had felt then that had compelled her to take Delia’s place at the wheel, after hurrying her stepsister up into the house and telling her to call the police. She must have been mad! How could she have thought that David mattered so much to her that his lightest interest had to be protected at such a cost?. She sighed, glad that it was getting dark and that it was time to change her dress. She had brooded for long enough. She had other things to think about now. Pericles, for example.

  Coming home had had one unlooked-for advantage in that she was reunited with her wardrobe and no longer had to make do with what she had been able to carry in her knapsack. It took her all of ten minutes to decide which dress to wear. Her stepmother thought it was unlucky to wear green and so Morag had only one dress of that colour, and she chose it now, knowing that it brought out the green of her eyes and made her hair look darker and richer against the soft glow of the silk. Having made up her mind, it took her much less time to slip off the clothes she had been wearing, to put on a long petticoat, and to slide the green dress over her head, letting the wide skirt fall to her feet.

  A knock at her door interrupted her efforts to pull up the zip behind her back.

  “Come in,” she called out. She heard the door open and went on quite crossly, “Do me up, will you? I think it’s stuck!”

  “Very pretty!” Pericles congratulated her.

  She twisted round to face him. “I thought you were Delia!”

  “Your father sent me up to fetch you. He wants to toast our health before dinner.” His eyes looked her over with appreciation. “You’ll have to turn round if you want me to fix your zip.”

  She turned her back, shivering as his fingers came in contact with her bare skin. “I wish Kimon and Peggy were here,” she said. “They might have enjoyed all the fuss.”

  “Meaning that you’re not?”

  “Not much,” she said.

  “Then you don’t want me to leave you here and to go back to Greece on my own?” She started undoing the few inches of zip he had managed to do up. “Oh, Perry, you wouldn’t! Please don’t tease me! I’ll do anything - ”

  “Anything?”

  Her hands clutched at and found his sleeve. “Y-yes,” she stammered. “Only don’t leave me here! You can’t! You said you’d marry me!”

  “You said you’d marry me, but I can’t help wondering if you know what you’re doing, Morag Grant. You’re not marrying Kimon and Peggy!”

  “I know that!”

  A gleam of amusement lit his eyes. “I wonder. I think you’re more intent on having some kind of revenge on your family.
But it will be you who will have to live with it, karthia mou. I don’t want you to rush into something you may regret.”

  She turned her back on him again, finding it easier not to look at him. “It isn’t only that,” she said. “I won’t pretend that I’m not enjoying - well, you know how it is! You’re so modest that you don’t know that you’re better than good-looking and - very attractive! But I wouldn’t make use of you like that!”

  “Not even to get at Delia?”

  Morag did not deign to reply as he finished zipping her up and turned her round to face him. “This is the last chance I shall give you to change your mind, Morag. I’ll try not to rush you, but there can be no going back on your decision now.”

  She looked down, veiling her eyes with her long lashes. “I’ve said I want to marry you,” she said quietly. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “I hope it will be - for you,” he answered.

  She looked up at him then, the colour creeping up her cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean?”

  He gave her a little shake. “I could beat you when you pretend to be obtuse!” he growled at her. “Don’t count on my being patient with you forever! One day I’ll make you say it, all of it! You make a mistake if you think you can lead me by the nose for long! I am a man, and I won’t play second fiddle to any chit of a girl. Is that clear enough for you?”

  She nodded. “But you did promise that you’d pretend to be in love with me while we’re here - Pericles, please - ” “Yes?”

  But she couldn’t go on. “You promised!” she said again. His eyes narrowed and she was once more afraid of him. “I didn’t promise to pretend anything. I promised to save your pride.” '

  “But it’s the same thing!”

  “No, yineka mou, it’s not the same thing at all. Come on, we’d better go down to the others.” He opened the door for her and stood back to let her pass. “By the way, did I tell you that I like your dress?”

  She made a humble gesture with her hand and was surprised when he captured it in his own. To hide her pleasure, she rushed into speech. “You said you liked green. I put it on for you!”

  He bent and kissed her cheek. “Very pretty, pedhi, but it’s the words I want, and it’s the words I mean to have!”

  It was strange to be married. Stranger still to find herself the equal of her stepmother and no longer the lesser loved daughter of the house. Morag enjoyed herself. She made the most of every moment of it from the time she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, for once the centre of his attention, right up to the last goodbye from the last of the guests.

  True, it was a peculiarly solemn moment when she promised to love, honour, and obey him for the rest of her life, but the look in Pericles’ eyes had started a blaze of hope that had stayed with her all day and even now had not quite died away.

  “Happy, my dear?” her father asked her, easing himself out of his coat with a sigh of relief.

  “Very happy!”

  “You’re a lucky girl. I don’t mind telling you now that I was a bit worried about you and David. He didn’t strike me as being your type -far more in Delia’s line, if you know what I mean?”

  “No, I don’t,” Morag said, frowning.

  “Bit flashier in her tastes than you,” her father rejoined. “He would have ended up with her - if he hadn’t already. You’re like your mother, and Delia is very like hers. I’m a lucky man to have known both. Don’t misunderstand me, darling, my second marriage is a very happy one. One could not hope for the same generosity a second time such as your mother had. Is that what this Greek man has seen in you?”

  “He’s only half Greek.”

  Her father chuckled. “He looks Greek, and I daresay he makes love like a Greek. Did you tell him the truth about the David business, or did he guess?”

  Morag gave him a quick glance. “I didn’t think you knew!”

  “I didn’t know. I thought it likely, no more than that. I should have spoken up, I suppose. I didn’t know what to do! I’m glad you’ve found someone to look after you. Too many people were ready to take advantage of you and you would have given them all everything you had. Pericles looks as though he knows how to keep you well in hand. I think you’ve chosen well there!”

  Morag looked at him as though she had never really seen him before. “It was a lovely wedding, Daddy,” she said. “Thank you for that.”

  “It was the least I could do. Ah, here’s Delia. Did you enjoy the wedding too?” he asked his stepdaughter.

  “Heavens, no! I thought it was rather pathetic, actually. Morag may think she’s got Perry where she wants him, but it can’t possibly last. I give her a year, and then he’ll be bored with her as David was!”

  “Delia!”

  Delia smiled lazily at her stepfather. “Don’t look so shocked! You know it’s true! By the way, Morag, where are you going for your honeymoon? I suppose you are having one?”

  Morag’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  Delia laughed loudly. “Well, hadn’t you better find out?”

  “Do you know?” Morag challenged her.

  “Of course!”

  Hurt to the quick, Morag ran from the room, running slap into Pericles in the hall. “How could you?’; she demanded of him. “How could you tell her and not me?” “Tell her what?”

  “Where we’re going!”

  “But you know where we’re going, Morag!”

  “I don’t!” she stormed at him. She lifted a hand as if to strike him, but

  he was before her, clipping both her wrists behind her back.

  “We’re going back to Greece, where else? Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Yes,” she admitted uncertainly. “But why tell her?”“Why let her know you mind?” he countered. He let her go with a suddenness that made her stagger. “How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “I haven’t packed yet.” She bit her lip. “I thought - ”

  He gave her a push towards the stairs, sighing. “Go and pack, Morag.”

  She met her stepmother coming down the stairs and stood aside for her to pass, hoping that she wouldn’t notice how close she was to tears. It was a forlorn hope.

  “Oh, Morag, I thought you would be gone! Crying already? I’m not surprised! It seems so strange for you to be the wife of a foreigner. I hope you manage to get used to their funny ways. Delia says it wouldn’t do for her at all! Perry has been telling her some of the things that are expected of a wife in Greece. She says he only married you to look after the children anyway!”

  Morag managed a light, amused laugh, helped on by the freezing anger that gripped her. She ran up the remaining stairs and threw her possessions into her suitcase, uncaring as to whether they creased or not. She shut the case with a bang and took a last look around the room. The necklace of shells lay on the bedside-table and she picked them up, longing to smash them as Peggy had smashed her necklace at Rhamous. Pericles had promised, and he hadn’t even told her a simple thing like that they were going back to Greece. She put the shells round her neck, not knowing what else to do with them, and went downstairs again.

  Pericles stood up the moment she appeared in the door-way. He took a step towards her, taking both her hands in his.

  “Ready, darling? I have been trying to convince your father that we’ll

  be pleased to see him any time in Athens. You’ll have to add your persuasions to mine!”

  “But of course we’d love to have you,” Morag heard herself say.

  Her father chuckled. “When you’ve had time to get used to one another we might think about paying you a visit.” “Do, sir. Morag will like to see you, won’t you, sweetheart?”

  Morag felt hypnotised into agreeing with anything he said. She still felt cold with anger at his betrayal, but it didn’t seem to matter very much. Nothing mattered, not even the acquisitive look in Delia’s eyes that at another time would have filled her with despair.

  “The car is waiting
to take you to the airport,” Mrs. Grant told them busily, her eyes snapping at the sight of Pericles holding Morag’s hand. “I don’t suppose you want us to come with you.”

  Pericles grinned at her. “Quite right. I haven’t had an opportunity to kiss my bride yet, and where better than in a comfortable car?”

  “Oh, but - ” said Morag.

  “She’s shy,” Delia said, sounding bored. “You’d think she’d never been kissed before!”

  Pericles put his arms round Morag and hugged her tight, kissing her still pink cheek. “That’s what I love about her,” he said. “I’m Greek enough to want to come first with my wife.” He kissed her again, very gently, but as if he meant it. “Do I come first?” he whispered in her ear. She buried her face in his chest and clenched her fists, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was only to herself that she could acknowledge that with her he would always come first, last, and all the time, no matter what he did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “It sounds a funny sort of wedding to me,” Kimon said.

  “You look just the same as before,” Peggy added.

  She felt just the same too, Morag reflected. The trip to England and the few days spent with her family were like the events of a dream. Pericles had hurried her into the car that had taken them to the airport, but he hadn’t kissed her. All he had said was that she must be tired after such a long day and that he hoped she wouldn’t find the flight back to Greece too much for her.

  Morag had been aware of a dull feeling of disappointment which had

  lasted for the whole length of the journey. She had felt like a puppet, having her passport stamped and her luggage checked, and even when she had sat in the car beside Pericles for the short drive to his mother’s villa.

  Once they had arrived there, she had been sure that everything would change for the better, but it had not.

  She had got out of the car, stiff-limbed and more than a little weary, but undeniably glad to be back in this lovely house, with its private pathway down to the sea. It had looked grey in the moonlight and friendly, just as she had remembered it.