The Windmill of Kalakos Page 3

  “Pity,” he commented. “I’d been hoping you were the right girl for Brendon.”

  The week-end was miserable, for David took Sara off to visit one of his aunts or other relatives, and Jacynth mooned about the flat in a dispirited mood.

  On Sunday evening Sara returned and announced that she was going to marry David.

  The shock made Jacynth reel. “David? Not David!”

  Sara’s smile was gentle. “Of course David. Why not?”

  “But he’s—he’s—”Jacynth could utter no further words and rushed away to her bedroom.

  Hours later she was aware that Sara was bending over her. “Don’t cry, pet,” she was saying. “I know what a devastating effect he can have on any impressionable girl.”

  “But I love him! I love him!” moaned Jacynth.

  “So do I.” Sara’s calm voice made the other sit up abruptly.

  “You? You don’t love anyone. You just amuse yourself with men. You have all the others. Why can’t you—?”

  “Why can’t I let you have David?” supplied Sara. “Because we love each other and I’ve waited a year for him. All my other men friends were just companions for an evening out and a goodnight kiss on the doorstep. Nothing else.”

  After a pause, Sara continued, “This job in Rhodes might be a good idea just now.”

  “I turned it down,” Jacynth said flatly.

  “What a pity! Darling, you’ll see that you haven’t come to the end of the world. You’ll meet other men—and probably find that what you felt for David was only an infatuation.”

  Oh, it was easy enough for Sara to be so philosophical about the affair. She would soon be wearing David’s ring and the wedding was fixed for some time in April.

  “I’m sorry about that job,” Sara was saying thoughtfully. “It would have been an advantage for David and me to have the flat to ourselves when we’re married—until we can find something more suitable. But of course, Jacynth dear, I’m not anxious to turn you out. We shall be able to make some arrangement, no doubt.”

  So Jacynth’s place in the flat was needed for David in due course, but in any case she could not have borne staying on there and meeting him.

  On Monday morning she approached her chief and told him she had changed her mind about the job in Rhodes, if it was still open.

  “Lucky for you, young lady, that your cousin telephoned late on Friday and asked me to hold it over the week-end. She thought you might be ready to go.”

  Jacynth was speechless. Anger, resentment, pride and a flash of gratitude jumbled together to deprive her of words.

  “You’ll have to get a move on, though,” her chief informed her. “Mr. Brendon is impatient for someone to go immediately. Could you fly on Wednesday?”

  She agreed. She would have gone to a remote island in the Pacific to escape the heartache that enveloped her. Although David had not encouraged her in the slightest to believe that he had a spark of love for her, except perhaps a cousinly affection because of Sara, Jacynth had not yet had time to recover from the rawness of the wound. In time she might be able to think of David as Sara’s husband.

  Sara’s parting words at the airport had been, “Dear Jacynth, I don’t mean to be cruel, but one day you may thank me for my part in hustling you abroad. Life’s full of challenges and you never know what new man may be on the horizon.”

  Now that she was here in Rhodes, Jacynth considered that however “irresistible” some new man on her horizon might be, she was not in a condition to be attracted to him.

  As for Mr. Mallory Brendon, his brusque treatment and obvious antagonism were hardly calculated to induce her to fall worshipping at his feet. She could not claim to be as attractive or glamorous as Diana Osborn, so Mallory would be quite safe where Jacynth was concerned. She was here to work and make a success of the job she had been sent to do. Nothing else.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jacynth was up early next morning, for she wanted to explore the gardens of the Villa Kalakos. So far she had not stepped outside the front door since her arrival and as yet she had no idea of the situation of the villa in relation to the town of Rhodes.

  The front door was not only bolted but locked in what appeared to be a complicated manner, so she went through to where she knew the kitchen to be and met Caterina who was preparing the breakfast trays.

  Caterina seemed surprised at this intrusion at so early an hour, but understood when Jacynth indicated that she wanted to go out to the garden.

  “I’ll have my breakfast later,” she said, hoping that the woman would understand.

  Outside, the morning air struck with the coolness of this time of year, mid-March, but Jacynth had prudently dressed in warm clothes and added her short fur jacket of pale musquash. Mr. Brendon need not worry this morning about her inadequate attire.

  The grounds were more extensive than she had imagined, with lawns and clumps of flowering bushes, untidy gravel paths and a swimming pool, at present empty and littered with dead leaves and dust. At one end near the roadway was a windmill, but unlike any Jacynth had ever seen in England. This was cylindrical, made of old grey stone and with a conical roof. A door near the ground looked as though it had not been opened for many years and the supports for the sails were in the form of an eight-pointed star.

  Jacynth knew that Rhodes had been famous for its old windmills, but she had not expected to find one in a private garden.

  “Interested in the windmill?” asked a voice behind her.

  She turned quickly to face Mr. Brendon. “Yes. Isn’t it unusual to find one here in a garden?”

  “No. Every house along this part of the coast had its own mill at one time. They’ve not been used for many years. The grain usually goes to the mainland now to be ground.”

  She was about to ask him how far away was the villa from the town or if he would show her on a map, but his next words I cut in sharply. “If you’ve finished your tour for the time being, I’d like you to come now to my study. I’ve some instructions.”

  She opened her mouth to protest that she had not yet breakfasted, but decided she had better follow him into the house. “Sit down,” he commanded. “Brought your notebook?”

  “No,” she admitted. Did he believe she carried it around with her on an early morning stroll?

  He grunted and gave her some sheets of paper for her shorthand notes, then dictated rapidly a long report.

  Occasionally a phrase was unfamiliar to her, but she would check it later rather than ask him at this moment.

  Then, as though he read her thoughts, he said, “If you don’t understand what I’m saying, then ask now. It causes no end of confusion if I have to switch my ideas back again.”

  Jacynth glanced up guiltily, and felt the swift colour flood into her cheeks, but tried to control her voice. “That last sentence—shall I read it back?”

  “Naturally,” he snapped. “Otherwise I can’t know where you’ve gone wrong.”

  Her head shot up and she met his glance, his dark eyes like pools of challenging criticism. For a few seconds she held his glance, refusing to cringe, but when she turned her attention to her notes the shorthand outlines swam before her, blurring into nothingness and her heart thudded so loudly that she felt sure he must hear it.

  She wanted to run out of the room, but now Mallory Brendon made matters worse, for, apparently impatient of her silence, he rose from his own chair and came and stood beside her, looking over her shoulder at the page of shorthand squiggly. His masculine nearness made her feel weak and faint and with an effort she pulled herself together. What on earth was the matter with her?

  She found the beginning of the sentence and in a slightly unsteady voice began to read.

  “... the company will make interim payments to enable the construction labour force to be paid, but detailed accounts of these payments must be rendered to the accountant so that—” She raised her head questioningly.

  “So that ‘spot’ payments are not confused with ‘fo
rward’ commitments for materials not yet essential. Got that?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said.

  “I see you have a problem with unruled paper. Can you manage?”

  His sudden change of tone from that dictatorial bullying to a more amiable manner nearly caused her to dissolve into tears, but she swallowed hard and mumbled a reply.

  He continued working for almost another hour and Jacynth was aware of her lack of breakfast. No doubt he had already eaten and assumed that she had, too. All the same, she thought, he could have asked.

  Then he glanced at his watch and in a final flurry of brisk instructions he went out of the room and ostensibly left the house.

  Jacynth leaned her head on her arms, sprawling across the polished teak desk. How could she go on working for such a man? Then she sat up smartly, dried her eyes and reminded herself that every new job is full of initial difficulties when one’s usual routine is changed.

  She found Caterina in the kitchen and asked for her coffee and rolls. The woman seemed to be concerned that Jacynth had waited so long. From a few hurried sentences, the girl gathered that Caterina had taken her breakfast up to the bedroom and left it, believing that Jacynth was only absent for a few minutes.

  Later she had found the coffee pot cold and the rolls untouched. But now, without asking questions, she brewed a fresh supply of coffee and Jacynth ventured to pull a chair to the table and tackle the croissants and apricot jam, hoping that she was not infringing one of the rules of the establishment by eating in Caterina’s kitchen.

  For the first time, the woman smiled at Jacynth and her previous dour, unamiable mood seemed to have softened. Hesitantly, Jacynth tried out a phrase or two in Greek, But Caterina’s answers confused her and she had to admit that she did not understand.

  “Soon,” she said, as she rose to go, “I shall teach you English.”

  When she returned to the room she now called in her office, she was astounded to find such piles of work awaiting her. There were notes in Mallory’s bold, decisive handwriting, telling her the priorities. He must have come in before he left the house.

  She worked with considerable zest for a couple of hours, fortified by the mid-morning coffee that Caterina brought. As she broke off for a few minutes Jacynth reflected that those ridiculous sensations she. had experienced earlier when Mallory was dictating to her had been entirely due to her lack of breakfast. There was no other possible reason.

  Somewhere about the middle of the afternoon, Caterina brought an envelope to Jacynth. It was clearly addressed to her, “Miss Jacynth Rowan, Villa Kalakos.” But the writing was certainly not Mallory’s. She opened the envelope and read the note inside, then gave a little exclamation of pleasure. It was from Ray Gurney, the young man with whom she had travelled to Rhodes from Athens. He asked her to meet him tonight about eight o’clock at the Cafe Actaeon.

  The note had evidently been delivered by hand and she went out to the kitchen to ask Caterina who had brought it.

  Caterina indicated that someone had given it to her husband, Nikon, when he was working in the garden.

  Jacynth was puzzled over several aspects of this unexpected invitation. She supposed that Ray had seen her address on her luggage, but why did he deliver a note instead of calling at the house, or even telephoning?

  Anyway, she supposed it would be in order for her to go out for the evening, although she had no idea where the Cafe Actaeon was situated or how far it might be from the villa. Still, she could ask Caterina for directions.

  At half-past six, when she considered she had put in about a nine-hour day for Mr. Mallory Brendon, just about fifty per cent more than she would have done in any civilised office in London, she covered her typewriter, tidied the desk and hoped she had completed the correct priorities.

  She had reached the foot of the main stairs when Mallory came in.

  He stared at her and her cheeks burned as though she had been caught in some guilty situation like sliding down the bannisters or stealing the petty cash.

  “Are you taking a rest?” he queried.

  “I—I thought I’d finished for the day.” She glanced pointedly at her watch.

  “I’m afraid not,” he snapped. “I’ve several urgent matters I want attended to.”

  He went striding into the office and Jacynth realised that she had no choice but to follow him. Perhaps he would keep her only ten minutes or so and she would still have time to go out and meet Ray.

  “We work long hours here, Miss Rowan,” he said when she joined him by her typewriter and uncovered it. “On the other hand, occasionally we can take a day off when matters simmer down. But that’s not very often.”

  He implied that she need not expect much free time in the near future, and although he had said “we” can take a day off, he was certainly not offering to share it with her.

  He glanced casually at some of the work she had done during the day and she watched for signs of approval or the reverse on his face. Already she was coming to know the shape of his lean features, the straight nose, firm mouth and a jawline that would defy argument. At this moment she could not see his eyes, but only the black curving brows above them. Then he turned quickly towards her and she was unprepared for that sudden gaze from his dark brown eyes. Once again, Jacynth was aware of that slightly stunned feeling when she met his glance and she turned her head sharply away.

  “Right!” he said. “We’ll get these new matters sorted out.”

  Suddenly she was angry. At least he might have said that she had worked satisfactorily! In fact, she had slaved all day, and now when she was expecting an hour or so’s recreation he had to come barging in and start all over again. Quite likely the business matters were not so important that they couldn’t be attended to tomorrow morning.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had been invited out for the evening, but now it was too late. He was waiting impatiently for her to open her shorthand notebook.

  More than an hour went by and Jacynth, after numerous glances at her watch, realised that her date with Ray was not going to be possible. She could telephone his hotel, but there was no telephone in this room. In fact, the only one was in Mallory’s study, so she could hardly use that.

  “I notice you keep looking at the time,” Mallory observed, leaning back in his chair opposite her. “I suppose you want your dinner. Caterina told me that when we started work this morning, you hadn’t had time to eat your breakfast. I’m sorry I kept you hungry, but I assumed that as you were strolling in the garden, you’d already breakfasted.”

  “Oh, it didn’t matter,” she assured him, relieved that he supposed it was hunger rather than a meeting with an acquaintance that made her on edge about the time. Well, it was too late now to bother about going out. Still, it would have been pleasant to talk to someone like Ray on a friendly footing.

  “Well, I don’t want you fainting for want of food. I don’t think you’ll be starved here, so tell me next time when you want to eat.”

  “I shan’t faint,” she said emphatically, “but I am hungry.” He had invited her to tell him, so why did he now give the faintest glimmer of a smile?

  “What a girl you are for food!” he exclaimed. “You look as though you live on fresh air and faith. Well, we’ll break off now and I’ll tell Caterina.”

  When he went out of the room Jacynth took the opportunity to slip upstairs to her room, wash her hands and face and apply fresh make-up. There was no point in changing her dress, she thought, for she was still expected to continue working after dinner. Besides, Mallory would probably only make some sarcastic remark if she went down looking as though she anticipated a social evening. She was wearing a honey-coloured silky jumper with a beige skirt, an outfit that accented her shining fair hair and the cornflower blue of her eyes.

  When she returned to the sitting-room-office, she was surprised to find that Caterina had laid two places at the centre table. Jacynth had supposed that, as usual, she would be served
alone, while Mallory took his meal elsewhere.

  She hid a slight smile. So she was to eat in company with the great man himself. What an honour!

  A few moments later Mallory came in with a bottle of wine, which he handed to Caterina who expertly drew the cork.

  “Do you like our resinated wine?” Mallory asked Jacynth.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tasted it, although I’ve heard of it,” she added hastily to cover her ignorance.

  Mallory poured a glass of pale white wine and handed it to her. “Sip it slowly in case you don’t care for it.”

  She obeyed. The “tarry” flavour was surprising, but not unpleasant. It reminded her of roads being repaired with fresh tarmac.

  “And the verdict?” he prompted

  “A bit daunting at first, but no doubt one gets used to it ”

  As Caterina served small fish salads, his eyes appraised Jacynth across the table. “And are you easily daunted?” he asked.

  She could not sustain his glance for long, for she began to feel churned up inside and now she studied her plate before answering. “It depends on the situation I’m faced with!”

  “Perhaps we shall have to present situations to you and see how you react.” His voice was challenging but more genial, and she looked across at him quickly in time to see an expression in his eyes that brought the blood rushing to her cheeks. She turned her attention swiftly to her food and began to crumble bread abstractedly.

  The meal progressed with a meat dish with potatoes and aubergines covered in a browned sauce. Finally there was cheese and fruit.

  Mallory told her some of the details of the hotels and other buildings being constructed in Rhodes, Crete and some of the smaller islands, and Jacynth listened eagerly, trying to remember accurately all he said. But he had now replaced the retsina wine with a light local Rhodes wine and filled her glass more than once. As she divided an orange into segments, she felt more cheerful than at any time since her arrival. Mallory—already she was thinking of him by his Christian name, even though she had to address him as “Mr. Brendon”—apparently had some vestige of a human side to his nature, and this unexpected tête-à-tête dinner was more than adequate compensation for the loss of an evening in the company of Ray Gurney.