Legend Of Lexandros

‘I am afraid so. His marriage has been arranged for many years, and his fiancée is the daughter of one of my greatest friends. You see, Miss Collins, in Greece we are still a little old-fashioned ourselves, and we find these kind of marriages work very well.’

Dallas shook her head. ‘Jane doesn’t know about his fiancée,’ she said quietly. ‘No matter what you may think, she really believes she loves Paris.’

‘She is bemused by his possessions,’ retorted Alexander Stavros, roughly. ‘Good God, I did not know there were such creatures left in the world today.’ He poured himself a strong whisky, and turned back to her. ‘You really are unique, Miss Collins, and I’ll drink to that.’

Dallas’s cheeks burned. He was mocking her and she did not like it.

Apparently he had tired himself of baiting her, for he walked over to Myron Saravanos who was standing by the window, smoking quietly, and they had a short but animated conversation in Greek. Then Myron Saravanos left the room and Alexander Stavros lifted the telephone.

Dallas took little notice of what was going on around her. She thought that perhaps she ought to ring Charles, but he would not take kindly to being woken at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning, so she decided against it.

Time slipped by. She was aware that investigations were being carried out, trying to find the whereabouts of the missing couple, and Stephanos Karantinos appeared and spent some time talking to Stavros.

At ten-fifteen the telephone rang, and Alexander Stavros answered it himself. As he listened to what was being said his face darkened and he gnawed at his bottom lip for a moment before replying in the affirmative and replacing the receiver meticulously. Dallas could see his face was very pale beneath the tan, and Stephanos put a hand on his arm and spoke to him in his own language. Alexander Stavros answered him, and Stephanos gave a startled gasp and pressed his hands together violently, shaking his head. Dallas felt her nerves jumping. What now? She rose from her seat, and Stavros faced her wearily.

‘They have been found,’ he said in an expressionless voice. ‘Paris is dead. Your sister is all right.’

Dallas stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Paris is dead!’ she echoed faintly. ‘But … I mean … how …?’

Stavros shook his head. ‘As usual Paris was driving recklessly. He crashed into a lorry on the M1. Mercifully your sister was thrown clear. She is merely suffering from shock, and a few minor cuts and bruises.’ He lit a cheroot with hands that were not quite steady. ‘The police want me to go and identify the body of my son.’

He turned away, clenching his fists, and Dallas looked from Myron Saravanos to Stephanos Karantinos awkwardly. She did not know what to do; what to say. Anything would sound inadequate. Stephanos took pity on her.

‘Come, Miss Collins, I will take you home. Arrangements will be made to bring your sister back to you. I think you had better leave it all in our hands, yes?’

Dallas nodded, casting a compassionate glance at Alexander Stavros’s back. What a terrible thing to have happened to him! How desperately he must feel the pain.

She walked to the door, and then went out without speaking again. There was nothing she could say that would in any way assuage his grief. Besides, at times like these, it was his wife he needed most.

But when, in the car, she tentatively mentioned this to Stephanos Karantinos, he shook his head.

‘Alex has no wife,’ he said softly. ‘She died almost ten years ago.’

‘Oh!’ Dallas bent her head. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘How could you?’ He shrugged. ‘Anna suffered from leukaemia. The last few months of her life she was in terrible pain. It was a blessed relief.’

‘Does … does Mr. Stavros have other children?’

‘No. Paris was his only child.’

‘How terrible!’ Dallas clasped her hands together in her lap. ‘So now he has no one.’

‘Not exactly,’ replied Stephanos, turning into the road where the girls’ flat was situated. ‘He has a mother, and several brothers and sisters. He will not be completely alone.’

He halted the sleek car, and Dallas slid out without waiting for his assistance.

‘Well, thank you,’ she said. ‘Please let me know if there is anything I can do.’

Stephanos nodded kindly, wished her goodbye, and drove away.

Dallas walked tiredly up the steps and into the flat. She felt shivery and shaky with the aftermath of the shock, and could hardly take it all in. It scarcely seemed possible that so much could have happened in such a short period. That Paris Stavros should be dead seemed incredible, and she wondered what the gossip-hungry press might make of it all.

She made herself some coffee, lit a cigarette, and sank down into a low armchair to await for Jane’s return. Her thoughts were in a turmoil, and it was difficult to assimilate the events of the last few hours.

Charles would have to be told, of course, but she would leave that until later. Just now, she had no desire to be forced into revealing situations which were so painfully evident.

She needed time to gather herself together to speak to him, but for the moment she could only remember Alexander Stavros’s face when he told her the news, all arrogance gone, leaving his face strangely vulnerable.

* * *

In the days immediately following the accident, Jane and Dallas acquired a closeness which they had not experienced since the first few months after their father’s death. Jane seemed to have lost all her independence and clung to Dallas helplessly, looking to her for strength and guidance.

Alexander Stavros himself brought Jane home, carrying her up the stairs and into the flat as though she was a featherweight. His face had resumed its mask of indifference, although his eyes were strangely gentle as he looked at Jane.

Dallas indicated that he should leave her on her bed in the bedroom, and after he had done so and said goodbye to Jane, he came out, closing the door behind him to speak to Dallas alone.

His height and presence seemed to fill the small room, and Dallas, for all her five feet six inches, felt small and inadequate beside him.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, looking down at her with his intensely dark eyes.

Dallas felt suddenly disturbed, and looked away from him.

‘I … I … of course I am. Are … are you?’

He shrugged. ‘My feelings are not easy to describe,’ he replied, softly. ‘But yes, I suppose you could say I am all right.’

‘There’s nothing I can say,’ began Dallas, twisting her hands together nervously.

‘No, there is not.’ He took out his case and extracted a cheroot. ‘May I?’ and at her swift nod, he lit it. ‘You will need to talk with your sister,’ he went on. ‘There is much to discuss.’

Dallas didn’t quite understand this remark, but she let it go. This was not the time for questions, and while she wished he would go with one half of her, the rest of her being experienced a desire for him to stay. He emanated a feeling of power and competence, and she thought he was the kind of man a woman would always feel protected with.

‘So.’ He walked to the door slowly. ‘I will go. I have much to do … to arrange. We will of course see you later.’

‘Yes, Mr. Stavros,’ Dallas nodded hastily.

Brushing past him, she opened the door of the flat for him, but he stopped her, his eyes intent upon her.

‘Dallas,’ he said, surprisingly, ‘I may call you that, may I not?’

Dallas nodded, too surprised to do anything else.

‘Don’t worry … about anything.’ He fastened the dark astrakhan coat closely about him, turning up the collar.

Dallas frowned. She didn’t understand what he meant, unless he thought Jane was going to be very difficult to console.

‘All right,’ she said, allowing him to open the door wide and step into the aperture. ‘Th … thank you, for bringing Jane home.’