‘Lyn—come and meet my grandfather,’ he said.
She stepped towards the bed, her eyes going to the occupant. So this, she thought, was Timon Petranakos.
A lion of a man, she realised, but one on whom old age, grief and extreme illness had taken a heavy toll. Yet his eyes, as dark as Anatole’s, held her with a penetrating regard. For a moment he said nothing, simply looked at her as if taking her measure. Then he nodded.
‘It is good to meet you,’ he said. His voice was somewhat rasping, and his accent in English strong.
‘How do you do?’ she said politely.
He gave a short, rasping laugh. ‘Not well, but better than I might.’ His dark eyes turned to Georgy, who was blowing bubbles at him from Anatole’s arms. ‘And all the better for seeing you!’
He switched to Greek, bestowing what Lyn took to be words of warm affection for Georgy and holding out his gnarled hands for Anatole to place him on his lap. She watched them interact—the old, sick man who had lost both son and grandson before their time and the infant who represented to him all the hope he had for the future. Anatole joined in, speaking Greek as well, and making a fuss of Georgy, who clearly loved being the centre of attention.
Lyn stood at the foot of the bed, feeling suddenly awkward.
Excluded.
Then, abruptly, Timon’s head lifted. ‘Tell me about his mother,’ he commanded.
And it definitely was a command, she realised. But she made allowances. A man of his generation, his wealth, the head of a powerful Greek family, would be used to giving commands to all around him.
She swallowed, wondering what to say, where to begin. ‘Lindy was...the sweetest person you could know,’ she said. ‘Loving and gentle.’
It hurt to talk about her, and yet she was glad that Timon Petranakos was asking.
‘Beautiful?’ he probed.
She nodded. ‘Blonde and blue eyed,’ she answered.
The short, rasping laugh came again. ‘No wonder my Marcos wanted her! He had good taste, that grandson of mine!’ There was an obvious note of indulgence in his voice as he talked about Georgy’s father. Then the dark eyes went to his other grandson, seated beside him. ‘As does this grandson too,’ he added.
His gaze slid back to Lyn, and she felt herself flushing slightly. She dropped her eyes, feeling awkward.
‘So,’ Timon went on, ‘you have the wedding all prepared, the two of you?’
Was there something different about his voice as he threw that at them? Lyn wondered uneasily. But perhaps it was just the thickness of his accent.
Anatole was answering him. ‘We want you to be out of here first. Back at home.’
Timon nodded. ‘Well, the wretches who are my doctors tell me that another week should make that possible.’ His eyes went back to Lyn. For a moment there was that measuring expression in them again, and then his face creased into a smile.
‘We are going into the city after we have left you,’ said Anatole. ‘Lyn wants to see the sights.’
Timon’s eyes lit. ‘Athens is the cradle of civilisation,’ he told Lyn. ‘No city in the world can compare to it!’ His eyes went to his great-grandson. ‘It would be unthinkable for Marcos’s son to grow up anywhere else. Unthinkable!’
‘Well,’ said Anatole, ‘that is what we are making possible.’
He nodded at his grandfather and said something to him in Greek that she did not understand. It was probably, she thought, something to do with the legal issues surrounding Georgy’s adoption, because Timon answered in an impatient tone, to which Anatole gave a reply that seemed to have a warning note to it. Lyn could understand how Antole’s grandfather might feel irked by the ponderous and exhaustive bureaucracy of the adoption process.
Then Timon’s dark, sunken eyes were turned on her again, and once more Lyn felt herself being measured— assessed. She made herself hold the penetrating gaze, though, returning it with a clear, transparent expression. Abruptly Timon’s lined face broke into a smile and he nodded.
‘Good, good,’ he said, in his strong accent. Then he lifted a hand. ‘Go—go, the pair of you.’ He turned towards Anatole. ‘Take her into the city. Buy her things she likes,’ he instructed.
A nurse came bustling in, telling them that Kyrios Petranakos needed to rest now and take his medication. Anatole got to his feet, scooping up Georgy with him. He spoke affectionately to his grandfather in Greek, then came to Lyn as they made their farewells. Lyn was conscious of a feeling of slight relief as they left. Timon Petranakos might be old and ill, but there was an aura of power about him that meant it was more comfortable being out of his presence, however kindly he had been towards her.
As they settled back into the car and set off for the city centre Anatole looked across at Lyn.
‘Not too bad, was it?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. But his eyes had a sympathetic glint in them.
‘He is quite formidable,’ she allowed.
Anatole nodded in agreement. ‘He is of his generation,’ he said. ‘As he demonstrates,’ he added dryly, ‘by his belief that the way to win a woman over is to “buy her things she likes...”’
Lyn couldn’t help but smile. ‘You don’t have to buy me anything!’ she said. Her expression changed as she gazed at him. ‘And you’ve won me over anyway, already— totally and completely!’
His eyes caught hers. ‘Have I?’ he said softly
‘You know you have...’ she breathed, her eyes and face alight with everything she felt for him.
He reached across Georgy’s infant seat and lightly, so lightly, brushed Lyn’s mouth.
‘Good,’ he said. Then he sat back.
Just for a moment Lyn thought she could see in his air and attitude the same aura of satisfaction she’d seen in Timon’s smile.
Well, why not? Anatole is his grandson—of course there will be physical similarities!
Then Georgy was patting at her arm, wanting her attention. She gave it instantly and fully, as she always did, for never, ever would she dream of neglecting him—not even for Anatole.
The day they spent in Athens was magical for Lyn. Timon Petranakos had spoken the truth—the city was, indeed, the cradle of civilisation, the birthplace of democracy. As they made their way up to the Parthenon Anatole regaled her with millennia of history.
‘How extraordinary,’ Lyn said as they stood and gazed at the peerless ancient monument that had withstood all the centuries had thrown at it, ‘to think that in this very place your ancestors came to worship! Two and half thousand years ago!’
Anatole gave his wry smile. ‘We take it for granted sometimes and forget how much history we have compared with many other nations.’
She hooked her hand into his arm. ‘You’d never run out of history here if you were a student,’ she said.
He glanced across at her. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘if I could track down a suitable course of historical study would you be interested in taking it?’
She looked at him doubtfully. ‘In Greek?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I’m anywhere near being able to cope with that.’
Anatole shook his head. ‘I’m sure there must be courses in English. The British School at Athens, for example, runs English language summer courses in archaeology, I seem to remember. There are probably other opportunities as well—I’m sure we could find something that would suit you. After all, history was what you originally wanted to study before you had to divert to accountancy.’
‘It would be wonderful if I could have a go at history again!’ she enthused. Then she frowned slightly. ‘But I don’t think it’s practical now I’m looking after Georgy.’
Anatole looked at her with his familiar amused expression. ‘Lyn—it’s one of the many perks of wealth that childcare can easily be sorted! Speaking of which...’ His tone of voice changed again, and Lyn looked at him. ‘Timon was telling me that he wants to provide us with a nanny for Georgy.’
She looked startled. ‘What for?’ she said blankly.
He made a slight face. ‘Like I said, he is of his generation. To him it is natural for children to be looked after by nursemaids and nannies.’
‘I don’t want to hand Georgy over to nursemaids and nannies!’ Lyn exclaimed.
Anatole kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t worry about it, Lyn.’ His tone of voice changed again. ‘Now, do you feel up to visiting the temple of Nike as well? Or shall we take a coffee break first?’
They continued with their excursion, and Anatole regaled Lyn with everything he knew about all the monuments they were seeing. By the time they were finished Lyn was glad to set off back home again.
She looked at Anatole as they settled back into the car. ‘It will most definitely take more than one visit to see everything in Athens!’ she said with a smile.
‘In the summer it will get too hot for sightseeing,’ he replied, ‘so it’s best to see as much as possible now, while it’s still relatively cool.’ He smiled. ‘We can drive in again tomorrow, if you like, or if you prefer we could drive out and see more of Attica itself—the whole region that Athens is set in.’