Free Moon of Aphrodite by Sara Craven Page A

knuckles turned white. 'You don't believe I'l tel
    him, do you?'
    'Yes, I believe you. And, of course, you must tel him what you wish.'
    'So good to have your permission,' she flashed.
    He made no reply, and after a while he tinned away, sending the butt of his cheroot
    spinning into the Sea. She remained there alone, staring ac the growing panorama of
    the lights and the smal figures moving against them with eyesthat saw nothing.
    There was a car wailing on the quayside when they went ashore. Helen was surprised
    to see it; on the map, Phoros looked too smal to warrant motorised transport. This
    time there was no uniformed chauffeur at the wheel, merely a stockily built young man
    in a short-sleeved shirt and faded jeans who gave Helen a long look of burning
    admiration before turning to shake hands, grinning, with Damon Leandros.
    Damon said drily, 'Eleni, this is Kostas who works for your grandfather. He speaks little
    English, but if you talk slowly enough he should be able to understand you.'
    'Would he understand enough to throw you in the sea if I asked him?' she asked
    bitterly.
    He sighed impatiently. 'No, nor would he obey you if he did understand. Stop behaving
    like a peevish child, Eleni.'
    She gave him a furious look, and stood in seething silence while her cases were safely
    stowed in the car's capacious boot. Then Kostas turned to her with a bril iant smile as
    he opened the rear passenger door for her. Damon Leandros got into the front of the
    car, leaving Helen in solitary splendour in the back. Kostas jumped into the driving seat,
    let in the clutch with a jerk, and they started off.
    The car negotiated its way along the quayside, then turned inland up a narrow vil age
    street. There seemed to be a number of people around, and most of the shops they
    passed were open for business, even though it was so late.
    She leaned her head back against the comfortable upholstery and closed her eyes,
    trying to ignore the incessant jolting as the car bumped its way over the rough surface.
    Once dear of the vil age, the road improved a little and Rostra picked up speed. Helen
    had been faintly amused when she first got in the car to see an array of religious
    medals, and even a smal wooden icon fixed to the dashboard, but now as the car flung
    itself round bends with total disregard for any traffic that might be coming in the
    opposite direction, she began to wonder uneasily if the religious symbols sp displayed
    were there for active protection.
    They were stil travel ing inland, and climbing as wel , she noticed. She stared out at the
    moonlit landscape with a feeling of unreality. The scenery was barren, with tumbled
    boulders lining the road, but here and there were clumps of trees that she supposed
    were olives. It looked bleak and alien, she thought apprehensively, yet her father,
    seeing it with an artist's eyes, had said it was beautiful. But then he had also been in
    love, she reminded herself, and a smal , sad smile touched her lips, as she thought of
    her mother who had been born here, but had turned her back on it for ever one sunlit
    day.
    She closed her eyes again, and must have dozed a little, because the next thing she
    was aware of was the car slowing and turning off the road. She sat up with a start,
    peering out of the window, but there was stil nothing to see. They were now on a
    narrow track which wound downwards between groves of trees, and the mountains
    were behind them. They must have come across the entire island, she thought,
    because straight ahead she could see the moonlight glimmer of the sea.
    Damon looked round at her. 'You are nearly at the end of your journey, Eleni. We are
    now on your grandfather's land.'
    She made no reply, but sat upright, gripping her hands together in her lap with painful
    intensity. Al her doubts and tears returned in force to plague her as, below them, lights
    came into view. Damon Leandros had spoken only of reconciliation, but how did he
    know —how did anyone