‘I’m not asking you. Demis will have to learn to respect my independence, just as I respect his. My life is just as important as his.’
‘But different,’ Demetrios pointed out, refusing to be squashed. ‘You do not wish to be a man, surely?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then there is no argument. The trouble with Barbara is that she would like to be a man. She has no respect for her own sex. She resents Demis because he makes it clear to her she is a woman, even though he is only her brother, and Giorgios who is her husband does not!’
The lights of the yacht came suddenly into view. Emily sighed with relief. Whatever her family thought about her, she was looking forward to meeting Barbara. It would be nice to have another woman to talk to. Chrisoula was a darling, but she was only sixteen and she didn’t share Emily’s need to retire inside herself where no one could disturb the even tenor of her essential individuality. Chrisoula welcomed the rough and tumble of having her ideas turned upside down. Emily did not—not all at once and with the devastating efficiency with which Demis went about it. With Barbara there would be other things to talk about. Nice, safe subjects that didn’t matter to anyone but which lent a cosy atmosphere in which she could recoup her forces ready for the next encounter with Demis.
The lights came nearer, reflecting red and green and pale yellow a thousand times in the surface facets of the water. How beautiful it was! Emily didn’t know what she had expected, but the clean, sweeping white lines of the yacht took her breath away.
‘You should have told me!’ she exclaimed, awed, to Demetrios.
‘What did you expect? A local caique? Demis began with one of those, but he really goes for style when he can afford it.’
‘The caiques have enough style for me! Great heavens above, what did it cost? It ought to have a millionaire to go with it!’
‘It has Demis.’
That caught Emily in the pit of her stomach. Winded, she turned on her young brother-in-law. ‘He can’t be as rich as all that! What would he want with my father’s firm—’ She broke off, aware of the bad taste in discussing her proika, much as she resented it, with Demetrios. ‘Never mind, I expect it’s a good business investment, or something like that.’
Demetrios only laughed. ‘You’re too good to be true, little English sister,’ he teased her. ‘Didn’t you ask any questions at all about Demis before you married him?’
‘I suppose not,’ she said diffidently.
‘I thought English girls managed their own affairs, asked their own questions, ran their own lives?’
Emily was glad of the covering darkness that hid her hot cheeks. ‘I never thought—There wasn’t much time—It didn’t seem to matter!’ she told him.
‘You’d have taken him without a penny to his name, wouldn’t you?’ Demetrios discovered with a delighted laugh. ‘Did you tell him that?’
Emily shook her head, but which question she was denying she preferred not to ask herself. ‘At least we English are not as mercenary as you Greeks!’ she retorted in triumph. ‘We don’t bother about dowries and settlements and all the things that govern your marriages!’ Only she had allowed herself to be bought by Demis for her father’s sake and that was mercenary enough, but it hadn’t seemed like that because she hadn’t gained anything at all.
The yacht slid into the waiting berth beside them with the minimum of fuss and bother. The gangway was lowered and made secure by a smiling matelot, and Demetrios and Emily lined up at the bottom for all the world as if they were two officials sent to receive some important delegation. The thought amused Emily, but all thought of laughter fell away from her when she saw his strained face as he waited for his sister to descend the steps towards them.
‘Well, well, Demetrios,’ a light feminine voice floated down to them from the deck. Barbara’s English was as perfect as her brother’s, but the accent was more American, the vowels broader than in Demis’ precise speech. ‘I thought I could rely on you at least. Why didn’t you tell me our brother is married, hmm?’
‘There was no hurry for you to know,’ Demetrios answered.
‘Not when Demis had to go flying back to England at such short notice?’
She was very well informed, Emily thought. She looked up, trying to see her better, but all she could see was the faint outline of a thin, petite woman, who didn’t move at all, but seemed prepared to wait there on the deck for ever.
‘Hullo, Barbara,’ she called up to her. ‘I’m Emily. Demetrios said I could come and meet you—’
‘Why not? It is your house now. Your yacht too, come to that. Did Demis tell you to be kind to the new poor relations of yours?’
‘Of course not,’ Emily disclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking forward to your arrival. In fact, I couldn’t wait to meet you! I was hoping we could be friends?’
‘Friends?’ Barbara repeated the word as if she had never heard it before. ‘My dear, isn’t that rather optimistic? Demis will never allow you to be my friend.’
Emily frowned. ‘Why not?’
‘I am what is known as a “bad influence”. The only reason Demis tolerates Giorgios and me is because there was no one else to keep house for him when our parents died. He would have turned me out long ago but for that.’ She turned her head a fraction of an inch. ‘Wouldn’t he, Demetrios? He can’t be bothered to see to your daily needs, can he? He’s so much better at handing down orders and interfering with anything we want to do!’
Demetrios coughed. ‘You make too much of it, Barbara. He does what he thinks is best for us all.’
‘Which was all right when we were children, but it’s been a long time since anyone could have called me a child!’
Another shape joined Barbara’s on the deck. ‘Ti trehi?’
‘The matter?’ Barbara turned on him. ‘Everything is the matter!’
Giorgios’ English was less good than that of any of his wife’s family. He put a comforting arm round Barbara’s shoulders and talked to her in Greek. Emily could understand some of it, but not enough to be able to make out exactly what the trouble was. ‘What is it?’ she whispered to Demetrios.
‘She says you’ve come to spy on her and that you probably hate her too.’
Perplexed, Emily put a tentative foot on the bottom of the gangway. ‘May I come on board?’ she called up.
The only answer was Barbara’s mad dash down the steps, brushing past her on the way to the car. ‘Let’s get home, shall we?’ She laughed harshly. ‘I’ll bet Demis was sick that you had to meet me the first time without him!’
‘Why should he care?’ Emily asked her. She was beginning to think that Barbara’s trouble was nervous. ‘He doesn’t choose my friends for me.’
Barbara leaned forward. ‘Get in!’ she beckoned imperiously. ‘Sit here, next to me. I want to talk to you.’
Emily did as she was told. Inside the car, with the door still open, she could see the Greek girl clearly for the first time. She was not at all like Chrisoula to look at, and far less handsome than either of her brothers. She had a small, cramped face, with a sulky twist to her mouth and a grey look to her skin that told its own story of pain and illness.
‘Barbara, I really would like to be friends,’ Emily began awkwardly.
‘With Demis’ wife! My dear, you’ve got to be joking. Like Caesar’s wife, you have to be above suspicion, and in Demis’ eyes I’m the original scarlet woman. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
Barbara screwed her head round to take a closer look at Emily. ‘What made him marry you?’ she asked with an abruptness that amounted to open rudeness.
‘I don’t know,’ Emily admitted.
‘Not a love match? How interesting.’
‘My father’s firm has always had connections with Greece. Demis is going to take it over,’ Emily said before she could stop herself. ‘My father hasn’t been well and wanted to retire.’
‘Ah! A business arrangement! That sounds exactly like De
mis!’
Emily died a little inside. She was hardly aware of shaking hands with Giorgios when Demetrios brought him over to the car, or of the two men climbing into the front seats of the car and driving off to the Kaladonis house. Of course she had always known that Demis had married her for commercial reasons of his own. ‘I wish he’d taken me with him to England.’ Without thinking, she spoke her thought out loud. ‘I mean, I would have liked to see my father too,’ she added quickly.
‘Have you been bored on your own?’ Barbara drawled, smiling a little.
‘She couldn’t have been. She’s been out all day,’ Demetrios put in. ‘Where did you go, Emily?’
‘I walked to Tiryns. I like walking,’ she claimed.
‘On your own?’ Barbara’s eyebrows shot upwards and her whole expression was one of inquiry tinged with contempt. ‘Surely not?’
Emily felt a moment’s embarrassment at having to admit that she had not been alone, but she dismissed her reluctance to mention Keith as mere foolishness on her part. She had nothing to be ashamed of in seeking the Englishman’s company. She might just as easily have gone walking with a member of her own sex.
‘No,’ she said with unexpected firmness. ‘I went with an English friend of mine. He likes walking too.’
‘He?’ Demetrios and Barbara spoke as one, united for once in their disbelief.
Emily shrugged. ‘Why not? He’s very nice.’
It was Barbara who recovered first. She broke into Greek for her husband’s sake, recounting what Emily had said. She sounded excited and suddenly very much alive. Emily heard Giorgios’ swift negative in answer to whatever it was his wife had asked him. Barbara made a comprehensive sound of discontent and returned her attention to Emily.
‘Does this friend of yours live in Greece?’ she asked.
Emily shook her head. ‘He’s staying in Nauplia.’
‘And do you plan to go walking with him again?’ Emily threaded her fingers together. ‘I think so. We want to go to Corinth. We’ll have to go part of the way by bus because it’s rather far—’
‘You can borrow my car!’ Barbara interrupted her. ‘I shall be so glad for you to have it. It will cement our friendship if we can lend each other our possessions, don’t you think? Friends always borrow from one another.’
Put like that, Emily didn’t like to refuse. She felt a bit daunted at the prospect of having Barbara as a friend, although that was what she had herself wanted in the first place. She had hoped to find her as pleasant and as likeable as Chrisoula, and then they could have had a lot of fun together, but with someone as neurotic as Barbara she doubted she would manage to enjoy even the commonplace, inevitable brushes with her that sharing a house with someone entailed. It was a disappointment, but the truth was that she didn’t like Barbara. She felt sorry for her, but she didn’t like her at all.
‘I don’t know if Keith drives,’ she said.
‘Doesn’t matter at all!’ Barbara declared. ‘You drive, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes,’ Emily admitted. ‘I hold a driving licence, but I’ve had very little practice. It isn’t worth having a car in London. There’s nowhere to park it.’
‘You’ll find very little traffic on the Corinth road. Of course you must have the car!’ Barbara insisted.
Demetrios turned his head to look back at his sister. Emily held her breath, hoping that he was going to forbid her taking the car, but he said nothing at all. His eyes flickered over Emily’s shape and he turned back again to the front.
‘I’ll have to ask Keith,’ Emily said in a voice that didn’t sound like her own at all.
It was Giorgios who answered her. ‘Demis would never give his permission for you to spend a day alone with another man,’ he told her in his heavily accented English. ‘Why not wait till he comes home?’
‘Because Emily isn’t as old-fashioned and prudish as you are,’ Barbara answered for her. ‘English girls don’t allow their husbands to confine them at home and have all the fun by themselves. Demis will have to learn that, won’t he, Emily?’
Emily uttered a laugh that caught in her throat. She doubted that she would ever be in a position to teach Demis anything. ‘Keith is only a friend,’ she said defensively. ‘Thank you, Barbara, I’d like to take your car.’
Emily was unfamiliar with the gears of Barbara’s French car. She managed to stall the engine twice on the short journey into Nauplia. If she had done it a third time she would have turned round and driven straight back to the house. As it was, her pride wouldn’t admit such a course. She was obsessed by the thought of Barbara rocking with amusement at her cowardice and couldn’t bear to give her the opportunity to despise her more than she already did.
It was unlikely that Keith would be waiting for her at the cafe after their exchange of the day before, which made her journey seem all the more ridiculous. If he was not there, what would she do? She pulled at the gear-lever hopefully and was relieved to find that she had finally mastered its eccentricities. It was quite simple after all, and only her own lack of confidence had prevented her from getting the hang of it earlier. If Keith wasn’t there, she would go on to Corinth alone.
But he was there. He looked up, surprised to see her in a car when she drew up alongside him. She sat there in silence while he got in beside her, and then she said, ‘I didn’t think you’d be here. I thought you had better things to do?’
‘I thought I’d give it another try,’ he responded. ‘If you came at all, I figured it would be because you see things my way after all.’
‘But I don’t! I like you, Keith, as a friend, but I don’t want to have to fight you off the whole way to Corinth and back. I’d rather go by myself!’
His mouth worked as he tried to make up his mind what to do. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he said at last. ‘Have you got someone else? Is that it?’
‘In a way. I just don’t go for that sort of thing.’
‘Is it me? Is it that I don’t happen to turn you on?’ If she agreed to that being so, she thought ruefully, she would hurt him badly. And yet it was the truth. Even to herself, she would not admit the true reason for her lack of interest.
She sighed. ‘Are you coming on my terms, or not?’
‘I’m coming,’ he conceded. ‘Only I don’t promise anything.’
She let in the clutch and slid the car forwards, sighing again. ‘Okay, but I can’t mean anything to you. Not really. How could I, when we’ve only just met?’
‘It doesn’t take time.’ He thumped his fist into the palm of his hand. ‘It either happens—pow!—like that, or nothing happens at all. Obviously you’ve never come up against it at all. Where’ve you been all your life? In a convent?’
‘The next best thing,’ she admitted without resentment. She was barely listening to him. Her mind had flown to her first sight of Demis on the train. Was it that kind of attraction she had felt for him in that moment? Keith hadn’t been talking about love, love was something different from the surface sexual attraction that was all he wanted to indulge in. One could feel that kind of attraction and not be in love at all.
She found she had been holding her breath, and let it go with a relief that was not only physical in its impact.
‘Keith, let’s enjoy Corinth for itself—please? We may never get there again, and it would be a pity to spoil it with any silliness.’
‘Would it?’ His voice was dry. ‘If you say so, darling. I’ll try to be good, but you’re too pretty for me to ignore altogether. You might not mind half as much as you think if you let yourself go, do you know that?’
She set her mouth in a stubborn line. ‘I know myself. Tell me about Corinth. I want to know everything there is to know about it.’
‘Okay, I’ll do my best. Will that do?’
She nodded and smiled at him. ‘That’ll do fine!’ she said.
His best was pretty good. He managed to conjure up a wealth of detail about the people who had held the key to the two parts of Greece a
nd who had thrived for centuries on the ancient enmity between the Spartans and the Athenians, stirring the pot whenever the two cities had shown any sign of friendliness and taking the gold of both sides to show themselves impartial. They had had a reputation for luxury and soft living which had lived on into the present day when most people only knew Corinth as the home of the so-called oldest profession in the world. Their ladies of easy virtue had been renowned for their loveliness and for the shoes they wore, the emblems on the soles of which left ‘Follow Me’ written in the dust of their footprints. Today, Corinth was the victim of earthquakes and tremors which had reduced a prosperous city to a small, insignificant town with little to recommend it to the modern youth of Greece.
As always, the ancient Greeks had chosen their site with superb flair. Acrocorinth, the high place above the city, had one of the best views in all Greece. It was possible to see some walls on the brow of the hill, but it would have taken far too long to climb up to the top, and Emily abandoned the idea with reluctance.
‘Did every city have its acropolis?’ she asked.
‘Sure thing. Acropolis only means the high place above the city. For some reason the gods of mankind have always preferred the heights. Perhaps they found it easier to look down on mankind when they were naturally above them.’
‘Maybe,’ Emily agreed.
She parked the car with care near the entrance to the site and ran up the steps ahead of Keith, anxious to have her first sight of a place whose name had been familiar to her since childhood from the letters St Paul had addressed to the Christian community there.
The seven pillars of the Temple of Apollo stood braced above the rubble, magnificent in their desolation. They were of the Doric order, very plain and, which was more unusual, were each made of only one piece of stone instead of the more usual drums pinned together to make up the column. The temple must have dominated the city from the very beginning. It drew the eye towards it wherever one was standing.