Follow a Stranger (4 page)

him to explain he was irritatingly complacent.

“That’s all right. I was not that keen myself. I want to

finish reading Howard Carter’s book on the discovery of

Tutankhamen’s tomb, anyway. Make sure this chap buys

you a decent meal. Oh, by the way, I think I’ve persuaded

Colonel Feather to leave his collection of flints to the

museum. Isn’t that wonderful?”

She agreed flatly that it was, and rang off. Her mother

looked up as she drifted into the kitchen.

“You look upset, dear. Did Peter object to you dining

with Mr. Lillitos?”

“Far from it,” Kate sighed. “He seemed quite pleased to

have a free night to read archaeology.”

Mrs. Caulfield smiled, but watched her with concern.

She often wondered if Peter were the right man for Kate.

They were more like brother and sister than lovers. Peter

was nice enough, but rather too wrapped up in his work,

and Kate was an impulsive, warmhearted girl. It would be

a tragedy if she married a man who could never respond to

her. Sometimes Mrs. Caulfield had a nightmare in which

Kate was buried alive, under dusty tomes, and Peter

worked on, deaf to her cries for help. She shook herself

mentally, and began to whip up a cream sponge. The twins

would be back from school soon, ravenous and noisy.

“What are you going to wear?” she asked Kate, beating

the mixture lightly.

“Goodness knows. I haven’t got a dress which is even

remotely suitable for dinner with a millionaire.”

“Your pink one is pretty,” her mother suggested.

Kate laughed at her. “My pink one, Mother, is the only

formal dress I possess, as you perfectly well know!” She

shrugged her shoulders. “But so what? I’m not trying to

compete with the glamour girls he usually takes around,

am I? It doesn’t matter what he thinks of my dress.”

Sam, putting his head around the door, grinned. “There

was a false ring to that remark. What are you talking

about?”

Kate put out her tongue, but told him.

Sam whistled. “You must have penetrated that thick hide

of his, after all! It’s your big blue eyes and Goldilocks hair,

Sis.”

Kate was angry to feel herself blushing. “Don’t be silly,”

she told him severely, and went upstairs to have a bath.

She took her time over her preparations and it was almost

seven when she looked at herself in the mirror for the last

time. Her dress was very simple, a high-waisted pink crepe,

with a scooped neckline and long, wide sleeves which floated

as she moved her arms. With her blonde hair in a smooth

chignon, a matching pink lipstick and her favourite false

eyelashes, she decided she looked passable.

If only she did not look so maddeningly young! She

suddenly longed for a glittering sophistication. She would

have liked to sweep downstairs and see his eyes open in

stunned admiration.

Then she made a face at herself. What silly nonsense!

They were ships, passing in the night. What did it matter

what he thought of her?

She touched behind her ears with some scent, tucked back

a wandering hair, and then heard his voice below. He was

early! Kate felt her heart flip over peculiarly, as it had once

before that day, and ordered herself to be calm and collected.

As she approached the sitting-room she heard him refuse

the drink her mother was offering. She opened the door

quietly. He turned to look at her, his expression inscrutable.

“Ah, there you are,” he said calmly. “I am afraid I am

rather early.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she stammered, conscious of his gaze.

He took her arm and smiled at her mother. “Good night,

Mrs. Caulfield.”

As they drove away he said, “I thought we would dine at

the Black Swan. Do you know it?”

She did, but had never been there, since it was the most

expensive hotel for miles around. They drove for a quarter of

an hour before reaching the high gates. The hotel was set

back in its own grounds, the drive bordered by masses of

rhododendron bushes which, in summer, were a blaze of

colour. Now they were dimly visible, in the car headlights.

They pulled up in front of the hotel. He came round and

helped her out of the car and they walked round to the

brilliantly lit porch.

They were escorted to their table by an obsequious head

waiter who used her host’s name ostentatiously. Kate

guessed that even the Black Swan was not accustomed to the

patronage of such wealthy customers. Not many people in

Greyford came into the supertax bracket and there were no

local millionaires.

She found the punctilious attentions embarrassing.

Flushed and irritable, she avoided Marc Lillitos’s eyes. Was

this how he was always treated? With hovering waiters;

flattering, bowing and scraping; continual observation by the

other guests, curious whispers at each move he made? It

must be abominable.

But if it was, perhaps it went some way to explaining his

air of arrogant self-assurance. How often had someone said

no to him? How many times had he heard angry voices? Been

told the truth? In his way, he was as warped as Pallas had

been, twisted out of shape by the pressures his money

created around him.

She was so embarrassed that she barely tasted the

meal, but it was beautifully prepared and presented. She

shook her head when her host asked her to choose, and

left it all to him. He ran a quick eye over the menu and

chose shrimp cocktail; duck, green peas, orange sauce

and game chips followed for her by a creme caramel and

for himself with cheese.

She ate in almost total silence, answering only when

he asked her a question, painfully aware of the stares of

the other diners, and wishing herself anywhere but

there.

The dining-room emptied as they reached the coffee

stage and he leaned over to offer a cigarette, which she

refused. He asked if she would mind if he smoked. She

said that she did not, and watched him light his cigarette

and push the lighter back into his pocket.

He had long, slender, shapely hands, beautifully cared

for, and she stared at them with almost hypnotised

awareness.

“Now,” he said quietly, “shall we discuss my sister?”

Kate stared and glanced up from her contemplation of

his hands, her eyes wide. “Oh, yes ... of course.”

His look held hers for a second, one dark brow raised

quizzically. Then he smiled slightly. “Part of the problem

is that I have no experience of young girls. Had she been

a boy I might have understood her better. My mother, as

I said, is bed-ridden for much of the time. My sister-in-

law lives in America and only visits us occasionally.” He

spread his hands in an expressive gesture. “So Pallas is

very lonely when she is at home.”

“Surely you have some young friends?” she asked,

surprised.

He shook his head. “I am a very busy man. My friends are

all business acquaintances.”

“Doesn’t Pallas have
any
friends of her own?” She was not

aware of the shocked disbelief of her own voice, but he looked

hard at her.

“You find that strange? Yes, it is, I suppose. When she was

small she used to play with the island children, but most of

the girls in her age group are married now, or will be soon.

Our girls mature early.”

“No wonder Pallas feels cut off,” Kate said slowly. “She’s

sent away to school while the girls she grew up with are

regarded as adult women! When she first came to Cheddall

she looked so sad—a young girl dressed like a middle-aged

woman, very quiet and aloof. She was marooned on an island

at a time when she should have been having fun with people

of her own age.”

“She had her music,” he protested.

“Which you don’t take seriously!”

He met her eyes. “She told you that?” And when Kate

nodded, he said, “She was wrong, but that can wait. First, I

want to know if you really like my sister, or if you are only

sorry for her.”

“I like her,” Kate said. “I’m sorry for her, too, but there’s

something appealing about her. She’s so ... eager. She wants

to be happy. It’s touching.”

“Good, I am glad you like her. I want you and Sam to visit

her during the Easter holiday.”

She was shocked into an exclamation. “What?” Then,

flushing, “I’m sorry, I was rather surprised ...”

He smiled, a little teasingly, which surprised her again.

She had not thought he could look so human, the dark face

relaxed and friendly. “You do respond impulsively, don’t you?

But will you come? Our home is on Kianthos, a small Greek

island. I have a private plane which will fly you there and

back. Our villa is very secluded, but we have an excellent

private beach, tennis courts, swimming pool—all the things

young people like for a holiday.”

She stared at him, feeling as unreal as a dream. “It’s very

kind of you ...” she began, but again he cut her off.

“It will be a kindness in you to accept.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. I’ve

already planned my Easter holiday.”

He stubbed out his cigarette. “I would, of course, be happy

to compensate you for any expense you might incur ...”

“Please!” she broke in angrily. “You don’t understand. I’m

going on a dig in Sussex, with my fiancé. I couldn’t break off

the arrangements now.”

He leaned back, his hands lying very still on the table,

palms down. “Your fiancé?” he repeated, his eyes narrowed.

Kate held up her ring finger so that he could see the

Victorian opals gleaming. She and Peter had chosen the ring

together. He had liked the massive gold hoop, set with milky

stones, and, although Kate had preferred a small sapphire

ring, she had been happy to wear the one Peter liked.

Marc Lillitos stared at the ring, face impassive. “Did you say

you were going on a dig?” he repeated.

“Yes, Peter is an archaeologist. We always spend our

holidays at archaeological sites.”

He raised a sardonic brow. “How unusual!” The smoothly

derisive tone infuriated her once more.

“We like it!” she shot back angrily.

His smile doubted her, but he only said, “If your fiancé

cares to come, too, he will be very welcome.”

She shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m

afraid Peter wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Pallas would have been so happy to

have you there, but I am sure she will understand that you

prefer to be with your real friends.”

“That isn’t fair,” she said hotly. “I like her very much, but

Peter is my fiancé, after all ...”

“Don’t worry,” he said blandly, “I’ll explain it to her.”

“I bet you will!” she seethed, “and hurt her feelings badly

in the process.” She stood up. “Will you take me home now? I

think we’ve said enough.”

He did not argue. They drove home in a frozen silence.

When he stopped the car she fumbled with the door and he

leaned over and put his hand over hers. “I’ll do it,” he

murmured, looking down at her with the teasing smile which

had surprised her earlier.

Kate angrily realised that her heart had once again

performed that peculiar, inexplicable flip. Climbing out with

dignity, she said good night and then shot away as though

the devil were after her.

Sam was waiting up for her, a flask of cocoa on the

kitchen table at his elbow, his sketch pad open under his

hand. She paused, looking over his shoulder, and felt a shiver

of the nerves as she recognised the arrogant dark face he was

drawing.

“Is it like?” Sam asked without looking up.

“Very,” she said, offhandedly.

He leaned back, smiling at her so that his face was

inverted and unfamiliar.

“What did he want? Or was it just a cover for wolfish

advances? Did he offer you a pad in Monte Carlo? Or a mink

coat with diamond buttons?”'

“Fool,” she said, flushing. “He wanted you and me to visit

their home during the Easter holidays.”

“Wow!” yelled Sam, throwing up his charcoal and catching

it. “Kianthos! Sounds great.”

“I told him I couldn’t go, of course,” she said, pouring

herself some cocoa and sitting down at the table.

Sam looked at her closely. “Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

“You know I’ve fixed my holiday,” she answered. “I’m