I can't think about it! I just can't!
She knew she would have to, eventually. Knew that the future was looming over her like a dark, overpowering wall. But for now she would turn her back on it.
She had a few days' grace, she knew. The quick staccato phone call she had made to Tony from the bedroom, before they had set off for Knossos yesterday, had simply communicated an unforeseen change of plan. He had been worried, she could tell, for all she had said was that she was fine, but would not be coming home quite yet; she would let him know when.
Tm not at my grandfather's house,' she had reassured him rapidly. 'I'm...I'm...somewhere else...with someone else.'
Tony had been alarmed, despite her use of the code word they had agreed.
'Where else?' he demanded.
'I'm on my grandfather's yacht,' she had admitted. 'But he's not here. I'm OK, truly. I have to go; someone's coming! Give my love to Mum. I'll be home soon—promise.'
But would she be home soon? She stared out of the windscreen, out over the alien landscape of Crete.
What am I doing? What am I doing?
She had no answer. She was adrift on a new ocean, carried by an unstoppable tide.
At her side, Nikos slipped his left hand from the wheel and :ook her hand, sensing her troubled frame of mind.
'All will be well, Andrea mou. Trust me.'
For now there was nothing else for her to do.
For now it was enough.
They had lunch in the little town of Sougia, at a tourist taverna overlooking the shingle beach.
'It is a pity you are not up to walking,' remarked Nikos. 'There is, so I have just been told, a very popular walk to a place called Ancient Lissos—it is a Roman site, small, but very pretty. Perhaps we can land there from the yacht, another day. You cannot get there by road, I understand.' 'Is it a long walk?' Andrea asked,
'About an hour, the waiter told me, but it could be rough and I don't want to risk it.'
'I'm sorry to be such a drag on you,' Andrea said quietly. He took her hand. 'You are not a drag. You have done your best against great odds. I cannot begin to think what you must have gone through.'
His kindness nearly undid her. She felt tears misting her eyes. He saw them, and patted her hand encouragingly.
'No, do not cry, Andrea. As you said to me yourself, there are others so much worse off!' His gentling smile took any reproof from the words. 'And think too how much worse it would have been, what you went through, had you not been cushioned by your grandfather's wealth. I know that money cannot buy health, but it can buy comfort, and freedom from financial
stress, in ways you cannot, perhaps, imagine. Your mother could afford the best treatment for you, the best doctors, the best care—it is something to be grateful for, ne?”
Cold drenched through Andrea. Cushioned by her grandfather's wealth? She saw again, vivid in her mind, the letter from his office, replying, finally, to the desperate pleadings of her mother after Kim had sent Yiorgos Coustakis all the medical reports on his granddaughter, detailing all the injuries she had suffered, recommending operations and physiotherapy that were so extensive, so expensive, that only private health cart could provide for the years it would take to complete the treatment. The reports had been returned, accompanied by a terse letter to the effect that they were obviously gross exaggerations and it was clearly nothing more than a ploy by a mercenary gold-digger to extort money from a man she had no claim on whatsoever.
And then Andrea chilled even more at the recollection of the final letter that had come, not from her grandfather, but from his lawyers, informing Kim that any further attempt at communicating with Yiorgos Coustakis would result in legal action.
Nikos watched her face shadowing. He had not meant to be harsh, but it was true, what he had said. Like so many born to wealth, Andrea seemed to take it all for granted. Oh, she was polite to servants, waiters and so on, but she never seemed to appreciate just how privileged her upbringing had been. In fact, he mused, she seemed to take more pleasure in something like a simple meal at a cheap taverna than in the lavish delicacies of a five-star restaurant...
If she'd had to work for her money, as he had done, she might appreciate the finer things of life more, he thought.
And do you appreciate anything else any more? Or will only the finest do for you now?
The quizzing voice sounded unwelcome in his mind, and he put it aside. He deserved his wealth—he had worked day and night to get where he was now. And Coustakis Industries was Ms rightful prize.
And the Coustakis heiress....
His mood lightened, and he lifted her imprisoned hand to his lips, grazing it lightly.
'I long for tonight, my sweet, passionate Andrea. I long for it—and you.'