Free Moon of Aphrodite by Sara Craven Page B

know what her grandfather real y felt? Supposing he had
    invited her here to this remote place to exact some strange retribution of his own for
    being her mother's daughter? She told herself she was being a fool, but the thought
    hung around in her head, tormenting her.
    Then the car was stopping, and there was no time to think any more. Kostas got out
    and came to open her door. His smile was cheerful and reassuring even though he was
    a stranger to her.
    The vil a at first glance was a low, rambling place, with a tiled roof, and white wal s.
    Looking up, Helen saw that a gal ery ran around the upper storey, and that a terrace
    surrounded the ground floor. Two shal ow steps led up EO the front door which stood
    open, light spil ing out in what she could only hope was welcome.
    She swal owed and walked up the steps, aware that Damon Leandros was only one
    step behind her. As if on sentry duty, she thought almost hysterical y.
    Two women stood in the hal as she entered hesitantly, both dressed in black. But that
    was the only resemblance. The first woman, who took a step forward, her hands held
    out, was smal and undeniably plump, her thick grey hair dragged back into a bun. Her
    eyes were fil ed with tears as she gazed at Helen, and with a little wail she snatched up
    the broad white apron she wore and covered her face.
    'Her name is Josephina. She was your mother's nurse,' Damon said in her ear.
    'She is weeping for joy at the sight of you,' he added somewhat caustical y. 'Say
    something kind to her.'
    Helen bit her lip, conscious al the time that the other woman, tal and smart in a
    haggard way, was exhibiting no sign of pleasure at her arrival. On the contrary, the
    dark eyes were coldly inimical as they studied Helen across the hal ,
    Helen found her voice. 'Dear Josephina,' she said gently. 'My mother spoke of you so
    often,' and was glad she did not have to lie. Memories were Stirring— memories of
    bedtime stories and her mother's voice tel ing her that she had heard such and such a
    tale from Josephina. She knew that her mother had loved her nurse and grieved
    because she had been forced to leave her behind.
    Damon spoke again. 'Kyria Atrakis,' he said, and Helen realised with a start that the
    woman regarding her with such hostility was Thia Irini. 'Wil you take Eleni to your
    brother.'
    He spoke slowly in English, Helen realised for her benefit, but the woman replied in
    Greek, and even Helen's untutored ear realised the answer was a definite negative. She
    glanced at Damon and saw his face darken with anger.
    He said, 'If Kyrios Michaelis is truly asleep, then we wil obey the doctor and not disturb
    him. But I think that tonight of al nights, kyria, he wil be awake, and I think you know
    that too. Come, Eleni.'
    His hand was under her elbow. She wanted to pul away, but was reluctant to do so in
    front of this strange woman who was her great-aunt, and who, clearly did not want her
    here, who had not held out her hand or uttered one welcoming word as far as she
    could understand.
    The floor they walked across was tiled in marble, and the stairs were marble too, she
    noticed, as they climbed them, with graceful y shaped pil ars supporting a broad smooth
    rail. At the top of the stairs, gal eries led off in both directions, and there was an
    archway directly ahead of them leading to a broad corridor, with large double doors at
    the end. It was down this corridor that Damon ledher. She was shaking inside, and
    some of her turmoil must have communicated itself to the man who walked beside her,
    no longer touching her.
    He said, 'Youhave nothing to fear, Eleni. He is your own flesh and blood. Never forget
    that.'
    He knocked quietly at one of the massive doors. It opened slightly and a woman in a
    nurse's uniform appeared, her face questioning as she peered at them, then lightening
    into a smile.
    She took Helen's cold hand in hers and pressed it warmly.
    'Welcome, thespinis. Kyrios Michaelis has been impatient for your