Free (11/20) Farther Afield by Miss Read Page B

shifted along obligingly, and Mrs Clark spread a rug and cushion, and arranged herself elegantly upon them.
    'John's in the pool, but it does mess up one's hair so, that I thought I'd miss my dip today. How is your arm?'
    I assured her that I was mending fast.
    'It's all this lovely fresh air and sunshine,' she said. 'It's a heavenly climate. My husband would like to live here.'
    'I can understand it.'
    'So can I. He has more reason than most to like the Greek way of life. His grandmother was a Greek. She lived a few miles south of Athens, and John spent a number of holidays with her as a schoolboy.'
    'Lucky fellow!'
    'I suppose so.' She sounded sad, and I wondered what lay behind this disclosure.
    'We visited her, as often as we could manage it, right up to her death about five or six years ago. A wonderful old lady. She had been a widow for years. In fact, I never met John's grandfather. He died when John was still at Marlborough.'
    She sat up and anointed one slim leg with sun tan lotion. Her expression was serious, as she worked away. I began to suspect, with some misgiving, that once again I was destined to hear someone's troubles.
    'You see,' she went on, 'John retires from the Army next year, and he is set on coming here to live. He's even started house-hunting.'
    'And what do you feel about it?'
    She turned a defiant blue gaze upon me.
    'I'm dead against it. I'm moving heaven and earth to try to get him to change his mind, and I intend to succeed. It's a dream he has lived with for years – first it was to live in Athens. Then in one or other of the Greek islands, and now it's definitely whittled down to Crete. I've never seen him so ruthless.'
    I thought of Amy who had used almost exactly the same words about James.
    'Perhaps something will occur to make him change his mind,' I suggested.
    'Never! He's thought of this kind of life wherever he's been, and I feel that he's been through so much that it is right in a way for him to have what he wants, now that he will have the leisure to enjoy it. But the thing is, I can't bear the thought of it. We should have to leave everything behind that we love, I tell him.'
    She began to attack the other leg with ferocity.
    'We live in Surrey. Over the years we saved enough to buy this rather nice house, with a big garden, and we've been lucky enough to live in it for the past seven years. Before that, of course, we were posted here, there, and everywhere, but one expects that. I thought that John had given up the idea of settling out here. He's seemed so happy helping me in the garden, and making improvements to the house. Now I realise that he was looking upon the place as something valuable to sell to finance a home here. And the garden – ,'
    She broke off, and bent low, ostensibly to examine her leg.
    'Tell me about it,' I said.
    'I've made a heavenly rockery. It slopes steeply, and you can get some very good terraces cut into the side of the hill. My gentians are doing so well, and lots of little Alpines. And three years ago I planted an autumn flowering prunus which had lots of blossom last October – so pretty. I simply won't leave it!'
    'You could make a garden here I expect. My friend Amy tells me that when she was here last, in April, there were carnations and geraniums, and lilies of all sorts. Think of that!'
    'And then there are the grandchildren,' she went on, as though she had not heard me. 'We have two girls, both married, who live quite near us, and we see the grandchildren several times a week. There are three, and a new baby due soon after we return. I'm going to keep house for Irene when she goes into hospital, and look after her husband and Bruce, the first boy.'
    'You'll enjoy that, I expect,' I said, hoping to wean her from her unhappiness. I did not succeed.
    'But just think of all those little things growing up miles away from us! Think of the fun we're going to miss, seeing them at all the different stages! I keep reminding John of this. And then