Read Online Follow a Stranger by Charlotte Lamb - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte Lamb
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I
will go back to my room. Will you call my son?”
Kate obeyed and Marc came in quickly, looking at his
mother with natural anxiety.
“Give me your arm, my son,” she said heavily.
He moved to her side at once and they left the room
slowly. Kate sank back into her own chair, baffled. Why
had Mrs. Lillitos suddenly altered? Was it just that she
had begun to feel ill, or had something Kate said upset
her?
Before she could think too closely about it, Pallas and
Sam had come in together, talking loudly.
“Oh, you’re alone,” said Pallas, with obvious relief. “I
thought Marc might be in here. Heavens, Kate, if you had
seen his face when he discovered we had let you go up to
To Angkistri alone! He practically burst a blood vessel.
Marc has such set ideas about women. He likes to wrap
them in cotton wool for safe keeping.” She grinned at
Sam. “Although these days he does seem to be making an
effort to turn a blind eye to my new clothes and hairstyle.
So perhaps he is improving.”
“He’s a throwback to the knights of old,” Sam teased.
“His recipe for life starts, first catch your damsel ...”
Pallas giggled. “Club her,” she suggested, “and throw
her over your horse.”
Sam played up. “Gallop away with her to your castle,”
he added, twirling an imaginary moustache, “and shut
her up in an ivory tower.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Ah,
those were the days!”
“Nowadays,” said Marc’s cool tones from the door, making
them all look round guiltily, “your knight
would have a hard time telling the damsels from the other
young men.”
“But think what fun he would have trying to find out!”
Sam countered impudently.
Marc’s brows rose. “Really? Shall we go in to dinner
now? Mama does not feel well enough to stay down,
Pallas. She has one of her headaches.”
They had moussaka for dinner—aubergines thinly
sliced, rich dark minced lamb and a thick cheese sauce
covering it all. Kate enjoyed it very much and determined
to make it when she got home.
Marc peeled an apple slowly, his long slim fingers deft
in all their movements. Kate watched him, remembering
the gentleness of those fingers on her face earlier.
“By the way, Pallas, Helene cabled today. She arrives
at the end of the week,” he said without looking up.
His sister looked up, frowning. “Alone?”
He shook his head and shot her a quick glance. “She is
bringing Marie-Louise and Jean-Paul with her.”
Pallas dropped the fork with which she was eating a
confection of chocolate and cream. “Jean-Paul?” she
repeated breathlessly. “Oh, why did you have to invite
him here?”
“Why shouldn’t he come here?” Marc demanded. “He is
our cousin, after all. And he usually visits us once a year.”
She pushed back her chair, standing up suddenly. “It
isn’t fair!” she wailed, like a child, and ran out of the
room.
Sam stared after her, then looked at Marc, who calmly
went on peeling his apple, the rings sliding from between
his fingers in symmetrical spirals.
Silently, Sam followed Pallas out of the room. Kate felt
curious, yet nervous. She wanted to know why Pallas so
much disliked the idea of a visit from this cousin of hers,
and yet she was tensely aware of being left alone with
Marc once more.
He cut himself a slice of the apple, bit it with relish,
and then smilingly offered her half. She shook her head.
But before she could ask him about his sister’s reaction to
his news, he had said lazily, “Did you know that Spiro
Pyrakis lived near here?”
She dragged her mind back from the thoughts which
had been absorbing it.
“Spiro Pyrakis? No, I didn’t. I have all his records at
home. He’s my favourite pianist. I went to all his London
concerts last year, and I found his playing even better
than I’d dreamed. Of course, a recording is never the
same as the real thing.”
“He’s a friend of mine,” he said casually.
She stared at him, too
will go back to my room. Will you call my son?”
Kate obeyed and Marc came in quickly, looking at his
mother with natural anxiety.
“Give me your arm, my son,” she said heavily.
He moved to her side at once and they left the room
slowly. Kate sank back into her own chair, baffled. Why
had Mrs. Lillitos suddenly altered? Was it just that she
had begun to feel ill, or had something Kate said upset
her?
Before she could think too closely about it, Pallas and
Sam had come in together, talking loudly.
“Oh, you’re alone,” said Pallas, with obvious relief. “I
thought Marc might be in here. Heavens, Kate, if you had
seen his face when he discovered we had let you go up to
To Angkistri alone! He practically burst a blood vessel.
Marc has such set ideas about women. He likes to wrap
them in cotton wool for safe keeping.” She grinned at
Sam. “Although these days he does seem to be making an
effort to turn a blind eye to my new clothes and hairstyle.
So perhaps he is improving.”
“He’s a throwback to the knights of old,” Sam teased.
“His recipe for life starts, first catch your damsel ...”
Pallas giggled. “Club her,” she suggested, “and throw
her over your horse.”
Sam played up. “Gallop away with her to your castle,”
he added, twirling an imaginary moustache, “and shut
her up in an ivory tower.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Ah,
those were the days!”
“Nowadays,” said Marc’s cool tones from the door, making
them all look round guiltily, “your knight
would have a hard time telling the damsels from the other
young men.”
“But think what fun he would have trying to find out!”
Sam countered impudently.
Marc’s brows rose. “Really? Shall we go in to dinner
now? Mama does not feel well enough to stay down,
Pallas. She has one of her headaches.”
They had moussaka for dinner—aubergines thinly
sliced, rich dark minced lamb and a thick cheese sauce
covering it all. Kate enjoyed it very much and determined
to make it when she got home.
Marc peeled an apple slowly, his long slim fingers deft
in all their movements. Kate watched him, remembering
the gentleness of those fingers on her face earlier.
“By the way, Pallas, Helene cabled today. She arrives
at the end of the week,” he said without looking up.
His sister looked up, frowning. “Alone?”
He shook his head and shot her a quick glance. “She is
bringing Marie-Louise and Jean-Paul with her.”
Pallas dropped the fork with which she was eating a
confection of chocolate and cream. “Jean-Paul?” she
repeated breathlessly. “Oh, why did you have to invite
him here?”
“Why shouldn’t he come here?” Marc demanded. “He is
our cousin, after all. And he usually visits us once a year.”
She pushed back her chair, standing up suddenly. “It
isn’t fair!” she wailed, like a child, and ran out of the
room.
Sam stared after her, then looked at Marc, who calmly
went on peeling his apple, the rings sliding from between
his fingers in symmetrical spirals.
Silently, Sam followed Pallas out of the room. Kate felt
curious, yet nervous. She wanted to know why Pallas so
much disliked the idea of a visit from this cousin of hers,
and yet she was tensely aware of being left alone with
Marc once more.
He cut himself a slice of the apple, bit it with relish,
and then smilingly offered her half. She shook her head.
But before she could ask him about his sister’s reaction to
his news, he had said lazily, “Did you know that Spiro
Pyrakis lived near here?”
She dragged her mind back from the thoughts which
had been absorbing it.
“Spiro Pyrakis? No, I didn’t. I have all his records at
home. He’s my favourite pianist. I went to all his London
concerts last year, and I found his playing even better
than I’d dreamed. Of course, a recording is never the
same as the real thing.”
“He’s a friend of mine,” he said casually.
She stared at him, too
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