“Parents, yes.”
“They saw no harm in allowing you to do this?”
Her laugh was just a little short. “They have every confidence in me.”
“But obviously little authority over you.”
“In my country, women my age are considered old enough to govern their own lives.”
“In my country, women your age are normally answerable to their husbands,” came the unmoved response. “Is there no man in your life?”
“No one I plan on marrying, if that’s what you mean.” Chelsea was fast losing patience with this inquisition. “I’ve no interest whatsoever in marriage.”
Nikos gave her another of those swift, assessing glances. “You should think seriously about it while you still have the time.”
About to let fly with a pithy answer, Chelsea caught herself up. Considering the reason she was here at all, she was hardly doing her case much good by getting ratty with the man. She needed to cultivate him, not antagonise him. What she didn’t need at the moment was to let drop any hint of her true colours.
“I appreciate your concern for my welfare, kirie, really I do,” she said on a lighter note. “Few would take the trouble.”
The overture made no visible impression. “You were to call me Nikos,” was all he said.
Quiet up until now in the back, Dion obviously decided it was time he made his presence felt. “My sister will be happy to have you here,” he said. “She’s always complaining of the shortage of feminine companionship. Florina is unmarried too-although she hopes to be wed before too much more time passes.” The last with an odd emphasis. “You’ll like each other, I’m sure.”
Chelsea hoped he was right. Being here under false pretences was bad enough, without finding herself at odds with any member of his family. Abandoning the whole idea would probably be the wisest course, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not while there was any chance at all of achieving her aim. Nikos would be a hard nut to crack, but she might just manage it if she put her mind to it. First and foremost, she had to get beneath that guard of his.
“If she speaks English as fluently as the two of you do there’ll certainly be no problem in communicating,” she said. “My Greek is pretty basic as yet”
“Travel broadens the vocabulary,” said Nikos. “As does tourism also.”
Chelsea’s brows drew together. “You’re involved in the tourist industry?”
“The whole of Greece is involved in the tourist industry,” came the dry return. “Our economy, to a great extent, depends upon it”
“I shouldn’t have thought you met all that many tourists yourself, though,” she ventured, unable to visualise this man mingling with the average package dealers. “The island being private, I mean.”
“Our lives are hardly confined to Skalos,” he said, making her feel a bit of an idiot
“Does Dimitris know yet that he’s to have a birthday party?” asked Dion, before she could make any further comment. “Or is it still to be a surprise?”
“Better he should be surprised rather than disappointed should anything go amiss,” his cousin replied. “Do you like children?” he added to Chelsea.
“I couldn’t eat a whole one,” she quipped before she could stop herself, drawing a splutter of laughter from the rear. “Sorry, that was crass,” she apologised, neither daring nor caring to glance in Nikos’s direction. She added cautiously, “I like some children.”
“You’ll love Dimitris,” Dion assured her. “He’s a real little character!”
“You’re welcome to attend the party if you wish,” invited his cousin, leaving Chelsea feeling that the younger man hadn’t left him much choice.
An opportunity to see the Pandrossos homestead was hardly to be turned down, however, though it seemed necessary to at least make the gesture.
“That’s very kind of you, she said formally, “but I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family occasion.”
Nikos drove the car between double iron gates, expression unrevealing. “Dimitris is the only child in the family, so we must go outside of it for companions for him. We have guests coming from the mainland too, so there’s no question of intrusion.”
“In that case, I’d very much like to come. “Thank you, ki… I mean, Nikos.”
His nod was a mite perfunctory. “Think nothing of it.”
Sparkling white in the sunlight, the house that came into view was more modem in design than Chelsea would have anticipated-a single storey spreading out in several directions, as if bits had been added almost as afterthoughts. A disappointment in many ways, she had to admit.
Nikos drew up before the arched doorway, but declined to accompany the two of them into the house.
“I’m invited for dinner tonight,” he said, “so I’ll see you then. Kali andamosi.”
The equivalent of “bye for now’, Chelsea surmised, not having come across the phrase before. She felt deflated as he headed the car back along the driveway, aware of having made a great deal less than a good start on her campaign-buoying herself up with the thought that she was at least no further away from achieving her aim.
“Come and meet my mother,” said Dion. “My father is away on business at present, although he may be back in time for tomorrow’s festivities.”
If the outside of the house had been a disappointment, the inside was scarcely less so. Lavishly furnished, and heavy on marble and gilt, it left Chelsea with an impression of magazine room settings rather than a home. But then why should these people be expected to conform to her preconceptions simply because they were Greek? she asked herself, following Dion out through the rear of the house to a wide terrace which overlooked an equally spacious swimming pool, with the sea forming a suitable backdrop.
The woman reclining on one of the long, luxuriously padded loungers set beneath a spreading umbrella looked up at her son’s approach, her smile taking on a certain resignation as her eyes fell on Chelsea. When she spoke it was in Greek, and too fast for Chelsea to follow, although as Dion didn’t look in any way perturbed she could only surmise that the welcome mat hadn’t been fully withdrawn.
“This is Chelsea Lovatt from England,” he said. “I invited her to stay for a few days before she continues her travels.”
“Khero poli, Kiria Pandrossos,” Chelsea proffered. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“My son’s friends are always welcome,” returned the other in excellent, if slightly more stilted English than Dion’s own, reinforcing what he’d said himself. “Come, take a seat. You are here on holiday?”
“That’s right.” Chelsea sat down on the nearby chair indicated. “I’m trying to see as many Greek islands as I can before I go home.” She gave a smile. “This one wasn’t on my itinerary, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to add it to the list.”
“Very few foreigners visit Skalos,” confirmed her hostess, not unkindly. “Dion, you will order drinks for all of us.”
“Of course,” he said. “What would you like, Chelsea?”
“A long, cold lemonade would be wonderful,” she said.
Chic in a gold-coloured kaftan, her dark hair swept up and back from her face, Kiria Pandrossos relaxed back onto the lounger as her son went back into the house. Dion was her own age, Chelsea already knew, which meant his mother must surely be in her forties, yet she could easily pass for mid-thirties.
“It’s