Dear Stranger Page 4

  ‘That will be very nice indeed.’ He looked at her glass. ‘A

  fill-up?’

  She nodded and smiled; it was a long, long while since she had felt as happy as this.

  ‘Ouzo, please.’

  Carl brought two glasses of ouzo, two tumblers of water and of course the usual meze one should always eat with this potent aniseed drink.

  Pouring some of the water into the ouzo, Shara watched it cloud over before taking up the glass.

  ‘Shall we drink to our newly-found friendship?’ she suggested, and Carl picked up his glass. They drank together and after a little while Shara asked his daughter’s name. ‘Ariane. We call her Rian for short.’

  ‘Ariane ...’ The name rolled deliciously off Shara’s tongue. ‘A lovely sound,’ she murmured dreamily, conscious of a prick of pain marring for a second her newfound happiness. ‘I saw her one morning as I walked before breakfast. She was in the garden, and, later, I saw her in the car with you.’

  Carl’s eyes flickered.

  ‘I remember seeing a stranger. Naturally I took no notice because we do get the odd tourist whose interest extends beyond the beach and the hotels and the archaeological sites to which they’re taken by coach.’

  ‘We live in Lapithos. Gilbert’s rented a house from some rich Americans—’

  ‘The Steigels? I knew they were renting their place to a friend. Well, you certainly have a luxurious place to live in while you’re here. You like it?’ he added unnecessarily.

  ‘It’s marvellous,’ she returned enthusiastically. ‘And the views — they’re just out of this world.’

  Carl nodded, his expression reflective.

  ‘They aroused a great deal of interest when they built that house. Nothing like it had ever been seen in Lapithos before.’

  ‘Yours is very lovely,’ she said after a pause. ‘At least, it looks charming from outside. It’s older, of course, and mellowed.’

  Carl nodded.

  ‘It was dilapidated when I bought it, having been deserted long ago by the Turkish Cypriot who built it. But I could see the potential - it has the delightful cane ceilings and wide arches. You’ll like it, I think,

  but in a different way from the Steigels’ villa.’ ‘I’ll like it....’ She spoke to herself and her eyes were misty all at once.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure I shall,’ she said in her normal voice. ‘I stood for ages looking in at the gardens.’ ‘You must come, very soon. You’ll be charmed with Rian, and I’m sure she’ll be delighted with her new aunt.’

  ‘It’s really astounding,’ Gilbert was saying much later and as he and Shara were preparing to go to bed. ‘I can’t get over it. Just imagine your finding Carl here. But I’m glad for you, my dear,’ he added, looking affectionately at her and noting the stars in her eyes. ‘It used to trouble me when you talked about him, saying you wished you could find him again.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it.’ A smile trembled on her lips and unconsciously she clasped her hands together. ‘He’s asked me to his house. I’m going tomorrow - if it’s all right with you, that is?’

  ‘By all means. Most certainly you must go. I’ve already said we’re not starting work yet awhile. I haven’t sorted the book out. I think it must be a travel book, because this is what will be expected of me, but there’s something so intimate about this island that I feel I must get to know the people, and incorporate my personal experiences. Cyprus demands more than a listing and appraisal of its sites and monasteries and all the normal places of interest one usually includes in a book. This one will contain life - and that life will be provided by

  the people of the island themselves.’

  Shara stared at him wordlessly for a space and

  then,

  ‘It seems already to have fascinated you.’

  ‘I believe it has,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Perhaps I’m becoming sentimental in my old age - and less mercenary.’ She said nothing; her gaze had become dreamy and reflective and Gilbert said, ‘You, Shara - you’re not a bit mercenary—’ He broke off, hesitating, but after a moment continued, with sudden decision, ‘I know it’s none of my business, but as you’ve confided in me in the past I feel I can ask the question. Did you offer to give Carl back the money his parents left to you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘No. I’m sure he’d refuse. I thought of making it over to his daughter, if he’ll let me - and I certainly hope he will,’ she added with fervour. ‘It’s like a chain round my neck!’ Gilbert had to laugh.

  ‘Such a huge fortune? Shara, my dear girl, most people would count themselves inordinately lucky to own a sum of money like that.’

  ‘I’m always conscious of the fact that it isn’t mine at all, but Carl’s; that’s why I’ve never touched a penny of it’

  ‘What does Carl do for a living?’

  ‘He owns vast orange groves in the north-west of the island, near Morphou. I was talking to Dick for a few minutes before we left the party and he told me that Carl has been extremely lucky, although at first he had to work terribly hard. Now, however, he’s a fairly wealthy man. Apart from these orange groves he has his own canning factory where he preserves many other fruits besides his own oranges - or rather, the juice extraction.’

  ‘Must have worked like a slave if only five years ago he

  didn’t even have the money for a couple of air fares to England.’

  ‘Isn’t it sad?’ Distress overcame her and her voice broke a little. ‘Alison was so young.’

  Gilbert cast her a curious glance.

  ‘Does he seem to have got over it?’ he asked, and a little frown appeared between Shara’s brows.

  ‘He was dreadfully upset when he was telling me about her death, but - well, yes, he does appear to have got over it.’

  Gilbert nodded, rather absently.

  ‘I expect he has, in five years. Time is the infallible healer.’

  Shara nodded in agreement while at the same time wondering why her love for Carl - which had never even been allowed to flower - should have remained so alive that she had never contemplated marriage with another man. It was not that Carl presented a permanent barrier to her falling in love with someone else; half the time he was a nebulous figure occupying some remote corner of her mind... but he was there. Always she was forced to accept this, even though acceptance did not supply understanding, or answer her oft-repeated question: why should she go on caring, after all this time? She had been little more than a child when first the discovery of her feelings for Carl made its impact. By all that was logical she should have forgotten him a long while ago. But she had not forgotten; she never would, and now she had found him she was content to have him for her friend, happy and relieved that the barrier raised by his parents had been swept away in a matter of minutes. It all seemed too good to be true, she thought when, the following day immediately after lunch, her eager footsteps carried her along on air from the lovely modern villa high on the hillside to the mellowed Turkish-style house set in several acres of matured gardens where bougainvillea flared against pillars and trellises and the

  sweetly-scented oleanders grew in great clusters beneath the swaying date-palms.

  Carl, free and casual in light grey slacks and a pale blue shirt, came from the wide flower-strewn patio and met her half way along the path. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. How handsome he was! - and how stately and confident in bearing. She felt small and overpowered and wondered what had happened to her innate poise and ready supply of words. It was Carl who spoke first, his eyes flickering half in puzzlement, half in humour.

  ‘Is anything wrong? You’re breathless.’

  ‘I suppose I’ve been hurrying,’ she confessed. ‘I was so eager to get here.’

  A strange silence followed; Carl’s puzzlement had gone; his humour remained.

  ‘You’ve changed,’ he commented, falling into step beside her and making for the house. ‘You were never impulsive in the old days.’

 
; ‘I can’t remember.’ Shara tilted her head and looked up at him. ‘It’s a long time ago, Carl.’

  He nodded, suddenly grave.

  ‘Nine years; we’ve left our youth behind.’

  She frowned at that and he smiled at her in some amusement.

  ‘We’re not old,’ she said, still frowning.

  ‘Neither old nor young - at least I’m not. In your case perhaps I should not have said you’d left your youth behind. You’re five years younger than I.’

  So he had remembered her age; the fact brought a smile to her lips.

  ‘Is Rian not in?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘She is, but she had got some dirt on her dress. Thoula -that’s her nanny - is changing her.’

  Shara recalled the immaculate appearance of the child

  - neatly plaited hair tied with ribbons; starched white dress and shoes that looked brand new. She remembered the woman’s words, ‘Mind you don’t get dirty, now. You know what your papa will say if you get a mark on your dress!’ Carl took Shara into the lounge; she stood in the centre of the room and looked around appreciatively.

  ‘This is lovely. It’s old and has more - feeling than our villa.’

  ‘You like it?’ He seemed pleased as he flipped a hand, indicating a chair. ‘Sit down, Shara.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She continued to take in her surroundings. ‘All these ivories and carvings - did you buy them here in Cyprus?’

  ‘No, I bought most of them in Egypt, although a few came from the Lebanon. I like to travel, and I usually pick something up when I’m away.’

  ‘Gilbert and I were in Egypt two years ago, but I didn’t manage to pick up anything like these.’

  ‘You have to know where to look. These old things aren’t to be found in the tourist shops.’ He went over to a cocktail cabinet. ‘What will you have, Shara - the Cyprus brandy’s good.’

  ‘I already know that, but it’s a little strong for me. Can I have something to quench my thirst?’

  ‘Try the Angelos orange juice.’ He brought out a bottle and she saw his name on the label.

  ‘It’s good,’ she said a moment later. ‘You can it as well, so Dick told me.’

  ‘Yes, we do, and the grapefruit juice—’ He broke off and the green eyes became alive. Shara turned; the little girl, prim and spotless, stood in the doorway. ‘Come on in, Rian. You’re not shy. You know who this is, don’t you? I told you

  she was coming.’

  Rian nodded and came into the room. Sedately she held out a hand and said, just as if she had been rehearsing it, ‘Good afternoon, Aunt Shara. I am very happy to meet you.’

  Shara’s spirits immediately sank. This was not the natural behaviour of a small child. Rian was too prim, too old-fashioned and mature for her age. Was her father to blame -or her nanny?

  ‘And I’m most happy to meet you, Rian. Would you like to sit here beside me?’ It was a wide roomy chair, but the child eyed it doubtfully.

  ‘I’ll crease my dress,’ she said, and went over to another chair. She sat down carefully, spreading the folds of her dress so that they covered the chair. Then she clasped her hands in her lap, and looked long and hard at Shara. ‘Papa says you’re living in Mr. Steigel’s house. We used to go and see Mr. and Mrs. Steigel sometimes.’

  ‘You did? Will you come and see me?’

  Rian looked across at her father, who was seated on the couch, glass in hand. He nodded and said,

  ‘Yes, we’ll visit Auntie Shara.’

  ‘And have tea like we did with Mr. and Mrs. Steigel?’

  ‘Of course,’ put in Shara. ‘You must come lots of times and have your tea.’ She felt strangely awkward, which was ridiculous, just because this little girl had entered the room. But she was so unapproachable, so stiff and mature. Shara would have preferred to see her with her socks falling down, and one of her ribbons undone. The child was like a doll in a shop window, all shining and new ... and utterly without character. Shara’s brow furrowed. How could a child of Carl’s be without character? It was quite impossible; so that meant that Rian’s character was being suppressed - but by whom? Raising her eyes she gazed at Carl. And like a flash the answer was there. It was a case of over-protection, born of a psychological reaction to the parental neglect which Carl himself had suffered. This little daughter of his must never for one single moment feel neglected; she must have everything, must even be changed if she got a speck of dirt on her dress.

  What was to be done? Shara’s eyes flickered from Carl to Rian. The child was sitting in a prim way upright in the chair, not even swinging her legs. ‘I dare not interfere,’ she whispered to herself as she continued to watch the child. ‘I have no right to do so, because after all she belongs to Carl. I am as yet a stranger. But - oh, what a shame if Rian continues like this. She will grow up to be characterless - little more than-an automaton.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  The two weeks which Gilbert had allowed himself for the acquiring of the atmosphere of the island were proving to be somewhat hectic for him and Shara on account of the number of invitations which flowed in, both from the British residents and the Cypriots. During the first twelve days they attended five cocktail parties, three dinner parties, and a birthday party given by Linos Pistols for his sister Katrina who, although only sixteen years of age, was engaged to a Greek Cypriot at present studying in London. Present at all these parties to which Shara and Gilbert had been invited, Linos had made no effort to conceal his admiration for Shara. At twenty-six he was already a wealthy man, having inherited an enormous amount of property from his mother, who had been a widow for five years before she herself died just over twelve months ago. Linos owned a large palatial block of flats in Nicosia, one of which he occupied himself,

  along with his young sister, but at the week-ends he and Katrina would come up to Kyrenia where, in the lovely village of Ayios Georgios, he had a villa by the sea. The house, built without any thought of cost, jutted out on to the golden beach, supported on stilts. All along the length of the front was an elevated sun terrace, banked with flowers and canopied by vines. It was on this terrace that the party was being held, although the large windows and doors of the house were thrown open so that the guests could come and go as they pleased.

  Carl and Shara were in the lounge when, passing through on his way to the terrace, Linos stopped for a moment’s chat. His eyes rested on Shara’s face practically the whole time, and his smile was for her alone. Almost as tall as Carl, he was neither so slender nor so distinguished-looking. However, he was handsome and wore an air of confidence comparable to that of Carl. His smile deepened as Shara spoke and when he at length left to join his other guests outside Carl smiled faintly himself and remarked, in casual tones lightly touched with humour,

  ‘I expect you’re fully aware of the hit you’ve made with Linos?’ Naturally there was no reply to this, but a hint of colour rose to enhance the lovely contours of Shara’s face. ‘It should be a triumph for you, Shara. It might interest you to know that Linos takes little notice of the female sex. Many hopeful parents have had designs on him as a husband for one of their daughters, and the dowries he’s been offered from time to time would undoubtedly have tempted any other man. But up till now he hasn’t been interested.’ The smile faded; Carl was by nature a deep thinker - the probable result of his aloneness as a child, Shara often thought — and ready smiles did not often come to those firm taut lips. And his eyes were faraway at times, shadowed as if by dreams ... sad and lost.

  On these occasions Shara would invariably wonder if he were with his young wife, reliving that brief period of happiness when love was his. He had fallen into this sort of a mood now and although Shara desired nothing more than to draw him out of it she was exceedingly conscious of the fact that he would resent any intrusion into his thoughts. At length, however, he himself broke the silence, saying seriously, ‘Have you never thought of marriage, Shara?’

  Silence fell once more, profound and deep
. What would he say if she told him the reason why she had never thought of marriage? She said at last,

  ‘I like my job, Carl. It gives me all I need.’

  Turning his dark head, he looked at her, his eyes moving slowly from her high forehead with its crown of short ash-blonde hair to the little pointed chin, and further still to the graceful arch of her neck.

  ‘All you need?’ His brows had risen slightly. ‘I would never have thought a career could give a woman all she needed. There is usually the inherent desire for motherhood.’

  Shara’s colour deepened.

  ‘Perhaps I’m different from other women,’ was all she could find to say, and a sort of disinterested expression settled on her companion’s face. He stretched his long legs out before him in a gesture of rather lazy ease, and stared into his glass for a space before putting it to his lips.

  ‘You’re obviously not as attracted to Linos as he is to you,’ he remarked at length, lifting one brown hand to stifle a yawn.

  ‘I find him quite charming,’ was Shara’s candid admission, although she added, ‘That’s all. I’m not attracted to him in any way.’

  ‘So the poor man wastes his time, eh?’ The deep and resonant tones were fringed with humour now and his eyes momentarily lost their expression of lazy disinterest. ‘There are many people here who will be surprised if you remain impervious to his attractions.’

  ‘He hasn’t made any advances,’ she was quick to point out, not particularly happy at the trend of conversation. ‘And in all probability he hasn’t the slightest intention of doing so.’

  ‘No?’ thoughtfully and accompanied by a slanting of his eyebrows. ‘Time will tell, Shara, but unless I’m very much mistaken you’ll not have to wait very long for a proposal of marriage from Linos.’

  Despite the way the conversation went this forthright statement took her completely by surprise. She shook her head in a negative gesture and said she was sure that Carl was mistaken, and that although Linos might be a trifle interested in her his interest had not come anywhere near the point where a proposal of marriage could be expected. Whatever Carl would have replied to this was never voiced, as they were joined by Gilbert, who wanted to know what they were doing inside when the night was so warm and balmy.