Innocent Obsession

‘No. No.’ Sylvie slipped her arms around his neck apologetically, smiling at his angry expression. ‘It’s just something that happened today, that’s all. Something I don’t much like—but which I’ve got to do now, because I promised.’

‘What?’ Brian was puzzled. ‘You didn’t agree to go on that dig, did you? I thought you said—–’

‘It’s not the dig,’ retorted Sylvie flatly, momentarily dispelling his frown. Mr Hammond, her history tutor, had invited her to join a dig he was organising in Northumberland: but in spite of her interest in antiquity, she had declined, mainly because she had felt the need to get a job, and contribute something to the family budget. Besides, Brian, whose own interests lay in a more technical direction, had objected to her spending several weeks camping up north while he was kicking his heels in London, and she realised his reaction to her proposed trip to Greece was going to be far harder to handle than her mother’s.

‘As a matter of fact, I am going away,’ she said now, distracting his attention from the soft curve of her neck, and Brian drew back.

‘Going away?’ he echoed. ‘You mean—on holiday? But I thought you said—–’

‘Not on holiday,’ Sylvie contradicted with a sigh. ‘It’s a job really.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m going to Alasyia to look after Margot’s little boy for a few weeks.’

‘Alasyia? You mean—Greece, don’t you?’

Sylvie nodded.

‘I see.’ Brian drew back completely, and Sylvie’s hands dropped to her sides. ‘When was this decided?’

‘Just today—I told you.’

Brian looked sceptical. ‘You mean—today was the first you heard of it?’

‘Well, not exactly. I mean—–’ Sylvie was finding it difficult to be honest, ‘Margot knew about it, of course, and I knew Leon wanted her to go—–’

‘Leon? That’s your brother-in-law, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Sylvie nodded again. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, Leon asked Margot to go home, but she’s busy with a play at the moment—–’

‘—–so she asked you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to go?’

Sylvie grimaced. ‘You have to be joking!’

‘So why didn’t you refuse?’

‘I did, at first. But then—oh, Brian! She said she’d ask Mummy, and I thought Mummy would go, and she’d be miserable, so I had to agree.’

Brian’s mouth compressed. ‘It doesn’t matter about me, of course.’

Sylvie sighed. ‘Yes, it does—I’ve told you. I didn’t want to go. But now I’ve promised, so I have to.’

Brian frowned. ‘Why doesn’t this—Leon employ a nanny?’

‘He did. He does. Dora—that’s her name—she’s had to go and take care of her sick mother—–’

‘Her sick mother!’ Brian was scathing.

‘It’s true!’ Sylvie flushed. ‘Can’t you try and understand? This isn’t easy for me either. Leon expects Margot, and I’m going in her place!’

Brian sniffed. ‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know. Two or three weeks …’ Sylvie was doubtful, but unwilling to mention the six weeks Margot had stipulated.

‘Three weeks!’ Brian was aggressive. ‘That’s longer than the dig was going to last!’

‘I know it.’ Sylvie touched his sleeve tentatively. ‘I don’t want to go, Brian, honestly.’

Brian’s jaw jutted. ‘So you say. But what about me? What am I supposed to do for three weeks? Hang about, waiting for you to come back? I’m going to be a laughing stock!’

‘No, you’re not.’ Sylvie wriggled a finger through the buttonhole in his leather jacket. ‘Besides,’ she ventured a smile, ‘aren’t I worth waiting for?’

‘I don’t know, do I?’ Brian retorted. ‘You haven’t let me find out yet!’

Sylvie’s colour deepened. ‘There’s more to a relationship than sex,’ she said huskily. ‘And I don’t sleep around.’

‘I’m not asking you to sleep around,’ Brian countered, slipping his arms around her waist again and drawing her towards him. ‘Only with me.’

‘No, Brian.’

‘What do you mean? No—now, no—later, or no—for all time?’

Sylvie licked her lips. ‘Just no.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t.’

‘Or won’t?’

‘Brian, why is it so important to you?’ Sylvie shook her head. ‘Everyone knows I’m your girl. Why should it matter whether or not we’ve been to bed together?’

Brian let her go with a smothered oath. ‘If you have to ask that, I’m wasting my time,’ he declared harshly. ‘Sylvie, don’t you ever—want to?’

‘Not—not specially,’ she admitted, wondering with a sudden pang whether there was something wrong with her. Brian was handsome and popular, and all the girls in school had tried to attract his attention, but for more than three months now he had been dating Sylvie. Their association had been good, at least so far as she was concerned, and his early attempts to take their lovemaking beyond the bounds she had set had given way to a steady relationship. But this evening, she realised, he had only been biding his time, and given the impetus of her proposed departure, he was being forced to precipitate his objective.

‘I don’t get you, do you know that?’ he said now, raking back his thick fair hair with an impatient hand. ‘You look such a sexy lady, but underneath I guess you don’t even know the score, do you?’

Sylvie absorbed this in silence, slightly amazed by his description of herself as a ‘sexy lady’. Was that how he saw her? She couldn’t believe it. Not after that unfavourable comparison with Margot this afternoon.

‘Come on,’ he said now, ‘I’ll take you home. There’s not much point in pursuing this, is there? I mean, what with you going away and all. Call me when you get back, and we’ll talk it over, hmm? Until then we’re free agents, right?’

You mean you are, thought Sylvie, but she didn’t say anything, and although she had a sinking feeling in her stomach when he left her at her gate, she couldn’t wait to examine her reflection once again, to see what she had missed.

Sylvie had never been to Alasyia before, but she knew of it from Margot’s descriptions. It was on a peninsular, south-east of Athens, a pine-clad promontory overlooking the blue-green waters of the Aegean. Leon’s parents lived in Athens itself, and Sylvie vaguely recalled Aristotle Petronides’ leathery-brown face, and his wife’s more aristocratic features. They had attended the wedding in London, with evident misgivings, and had insisted on a more orthodox ceremony taking place, once they returned to Athens. Leon’s brothers and sisters—he was the second son in a family of eight—had not all been at the wedding, but his elder brother, Andreas, had been best man, and two of his younger sisters had accompanied their parents. Sylvie hardly remembered them, engrossed as she had been in her own role as bridesmaid, and although she supposed she might meet them again, she was not in a hurry to renew their acquaintance. Leon she might be able to handle; Aristotle Petronides was another matter.

Her plane landed in Athens just after four o’clock in the afternoon, and in spite of the warmth of London in early July, nothing had prepared her for the heat wafting up from the tarmac as she stepped out of the aircraft. It was like a blanket, wrapping itself around her and stifling her, and she could well understand why a house at the beach was so desirable. She was glad she had taken her mother’s advice and worn a dress, instead of the inevitable trousers she was used to, although the liberal folds of Indian cotton were soon sticking to her legs. Her hair, too, felt hot and heavy, and she entered the airport buildings lifting its silky dampness up from her nape.