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shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject.
The yacht was moored in the harbour of Mandraki; Juliet gazed from
the deck of Nereus to the colourful scene of flowers and gardens,
imposing buildings and windmills. All along the waterfront were
numerous pleasure boats, white and stately, lording it over the little
caiques which bobbed about with a sort of gay abandon.
Dorian, coming to stand beside her, asked if she were ready to go
ashore.
'Of course.' She was still thrilled by the idea, but now she prudently
kept her enthusiasm to herself. 'Come, then, and we'll take a look at
Rhodes.' Island of Roses, she thought... and the merest tinge of regret
touched her heart. If only this had been a proper honeymoon, spent
with someone she loved.... Dismissing this, she said, looking up into
his face, 'You've been here before?'
'Yes. I was here about nine years ago.' And he met Tanya --'You
enjoyed being here?' she just could not help inquiring as they stepped
from the boat on to the harbour.
'Very much.' His face became expressionless.
'You were on holiday?'
'I was living here at that time.'
Juliet would have liked to ask more, but his manner forbade it.
Nevertheless, she could not help wondering if his thoughts were with
her cousin.
'Rhodes --' she murmured and, to herself, 'Where it all began.' If
Tanya and her parents had not chosen Rhodes for their holiday then
Dorian Coralis and Emily Lowther would never have met ... and he
and Juliet Hardy would never have married. What a capricious thing
fate was!
Oh, well, it were best to forget her troubles for the time being, she
decided as, looking around, she had a vivid impression of a
sub-tropical atmosphere, with an unusual clarity of light which is
found in Greece alone. Beauty and colour was evident
everywhere in the absorbent crimson of the hibiscus blossoms and
the cascades of violet bougainvillaea spreading a riot of glowing
colour over the ramparts of the Fortress of the Knights; in the hedges
of pink oleander and the flowering trees and shrubs, in the dazzling
white arcades reflected in the emerald waters of the harbour. Juliet
sighed and, hearing her, Dorian turned, a slight frown appearing on
his forehead.
'Why the sigh?' he asked, looking down into her upturned face. 'Don't
you want to see some of the island, after all?'
'Certainly I do.'
'You sounded bored.'
'I'd scarcely be bored today having my freedom like this.'
'Is that sarcasm?' he wanted to know, and it did seem that a glint
appeared in his eyes.
'It is not.' A pause and then, 'Dorian, can we hoist a flag of truce just
for the next few hours?'
Silence; she saw his lips compress. However, when eventually he
spoke his voice was devoid of hostility as he agreed with her
suggestion.
'It will be far more pleasant than walking about in silence or near
silence,' he added.. But another long silence did follow, a silence
which Juliet several times attempted to break, but found she was
enveloped in a net of awkwardness from which she seemed quite
unable to disengage herself. And so it was Dorian who eventually
brought the silence to an end by saying, *I suggest we take a look at
the Old City first; it's the part of the town that's inside the walls. I
think you'll be quite enchanted with it.'
He took her along the famous Street of the Knights, a narrow
thoroughfare which still retained its fourteenth-century
character the particular style of architecture used for housing the
Knights of St John. Massive coats of arms were carved above the
stone porches, and through the wide archways of the ancient houses
could be seen fascinating paved courtyards and shady arbours, steps
of stone leading to balconies draped with flowers or to roof gardens
tantalizingly hidden from view by the facade of the building itself. At
one end of the street was the Palace of the Grand Master, and Juliet
immediately commented on the fact of its having a distinctly French
influence.
'The first six Grand Masters were French,' Dorian informed her. 'So
it's not surprising that the style of building is French in character. I
believe that the Palace of the Popes in Avignon is very similar to this.'
They strolled on, as did many other couples, but these were more
often than not walking hand in hand. A curious chill seemed to pass
through Juliet's body, the poignant chill of something lost or was it
something out of reach?
'Can we sit down?' she asked, suddenly affected by the heat. 'I'd like a
cool drink, Dorian.'
'Of course.' Soon he had her in the shade of a cedar tree, under which
was a small table and two chairs. The cafe was run by a Turk, who
came from his shop at once to take their order, also that of another
couple who were seated beneath a nearby, thickly-foliaged tree.
Other people were seated about, at tables that were spaced out on a
pink-stoned pavement bordered by low walls over which tumbled
semi-tropical creepers, blazoning the area with scarlet, gold and
purple flowers. Soft bouzouki music drifted from the direction of the
shop. Over at one side of the pavement a group of dusky-faced men
lounged in their chairs, playing tavli, while others played with
well-worn 'worry beads' komboli a pastime that was said to be
good for the nerves.
'Do you feel all right?' Dorian spoke to her, bringing her attention
from the group of men. 'You're looking rather pale.' He sounded
anxious, she thought, and suddenly a sense of shame and guilt swept
over her. Misinformed as he was, he naturally felt some anxiety about
her, if only because he wanted the child. And as she looked into his
face and saw the tightness of his mouth and the dark concern in his
eyes, she could scarcely resist the temptation to be honest with him
and so relieve his mind. But of course she refrained, not only because
she knew that, in being honest and confessing that she was not
expecting a child, she would be throwing away her chance of
freedom, and secondly, she would not have dared to be
honest knowing her husband's temper and having experienced the
savagery which that temper could produce.
'I'm all right,' she told him, leaning back in her chair and beginning to
look around again. The mosque and minaret rose to one side of the
square; a fountain sparkled in the sunshine. Tourists lounged idly in
rattan chairs, or sauntered about, enjoying the cosmopolitan
atmosphere, for Rhodes was a place where many different
nationalities could be found.
"You're quite sure?' Dorian broke into her quiet mind wanderings and
she smiled spontaneously, without realizing she was doing it.
Dorian's eyes flickered, but almost immediately his interest was
replaced by an expression of concern. 'You're still somewhat pale.'
'I'm quite sure.' Juliet injected a bright note into her voice, and she
never did know just why she fobbed him off in this way, since she
actually did feel very much under the weather. The sun was affecting
her and she felt sick. But she contrived to appear well, and she
supposed the reason for this must be that she wanted to prolong the
enjoyment she was deriving from this unexpected spell of freedom.
After their refreshments they wandered on, to explore the new part of
the town with its parks blazing with exotic colour, its stately
buildings lining the shore. The shops were a dream, and Juliet would
very much have liked to stop and window-gaze, but Dorian was
obviously not in the mood to pander to this kind of whim. She saw
him glance into the windows of the jewellers each time one was
reached ... and she knew without any doubt at all that, in ordinary
circumstances, he would quite literally have showered lovely gifts
upon her, gifts she would remember as being bought on their
honeymoon. Another sigh escaped her; die felt restless and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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