The Veranchetti Marriage(23)

She read Steven’s letter. It was fortunate that Alex had not tried to do so. “Feel like telling me the truth yet? Remember this shoulder is always here. I make a great wailing wall when I’m not wailing myself.” It chirped along much as Steven did, filled with personal questions, casual endearments and entreaties to write soon and tell him where she had hidden the spare keys for the MG. An impending visit from Barbara received a careless reference. “I can’t cope without you, seriously I can’t,” he completed. “Please dump him and come home.”

She sighed. No, he wouldn’t be managing. He was too disorganised. As long as there was food on the table and petrol for the car, he would be happy. He had no ambition beyond that level, and he had depended on her heavily. If Barbara was half the woman Kerry thought she was, she would step into the breach. The business, properly run, would keep a married couple comfortably.

It was early evening when the call came. Spiros came into the lounge to have a discreet word with Alex. Kerry was lying on a couch reading an English newspaper and ignoring an atmosphere which positively pulsed with unspoken expectations. She had given Alex no reason to suspect Steven. The thought of lowering herself to further explanations stuck in her throat and a mention of Barbara now would probably strike Alex as highly suspicious.

“It seems you have a caller who refuses to identify himself.”

Her head flew up. “I have a visitor here?” she said in amazement.

“A phone call,” Alex contradicted.

She began to get up, but Spiros was already passing her the nearest extension. She swept up the receiver, fully expecting to hear her sister’s voice. The voice she did hear shot her in a state of imminent heart failure back on to the couch.

“Kerry? If it’s you, for God’s sake say something,” the New York twang implored. “I’m not much good at cops and robbers.”

“It’s me.”

“I guess you won’t have forgotten me completely. Jeff Connors?”

Had Vickie got hold of him, after all? It seemed conscience had finally won out. Dazedly, Kerry was practically digging the phone into her ear in case the voice travelled within incendiary distance of Alex. To her intense relief, he sprang up and left the room.

“I’m alone now. You can talk,” she muttered.

“Vickie told me everything. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I had no idea you and your husband got a divorce. I just couldn’t leave it lying so I came over…”

“Over where?” Her heartbeat had hit the Richter scale.

“Athens. I’m trying to rig transport over to this island of yours.”

“Are you crazy?” she hissed in disbelief. “You can’t come here, you mustn’t come here. He’d kill you before you…”

“If your husband still feels that strongly, I was right to come.”

“Have you got a death wish?” she murmured, thinking in a hurry, which was difficult when she was in a complete panic. “Don’t come to the island. Wait until we get home to Florence and bring Vickie with you. That’s essential.”

“So you do want the story told?”

“Yes, of course I do.” In her dumbfounded horror at the vision of Jeff stepping on to Kordos, she had not immediately picked up the significance of his willingness to redress the damage he had done. He really had to be a much nicer person than she had ever imagined if he was ready to take the trouble…not to mention the risk. Maybe he was just too stupid to realise what Alex was likely to do if he came across him. Alex would wipe him off the face of the earth before he even got his mouth open.

“We owe you and it will be straightened out,” he promised. “I’ll persuade Vickie by kidnapping if necessary. You see, I’ve got my own aspirations riding on this, too. I want to marry your sister.”

She came off the phone in shock. Vickie had told her so many lies. But her silence in London was now explained. She had been protecting Jeff. From Alex? Or from the knowledge of her own behaviour? After all, if Jeff, who existed in Kerry’s memory as a lanky blond man with formless features, was talking about marrying her sister, his good opinion would not have been something Vickie wished to risk losing. Clearly they were very friendly and had obviously remained in touch. Having told all to Kerry, Vickie had evidently confessed to Jeff as well. Kerry shook her buzzing head to clear it. It was like a chain reaction, and if it kept on moving…dear lord, Kerry might just have a marriage with a future again.

“That was Steven. His idea of a joke.” She lied without a blush, popping her head round the door of Alex’s study with a wide smile.

He had a glass of whisky in his hand. His sombre features merely tightened, but she ignored them. A heady surge of hope was rising within her as she adjusted to the import of the call she had received. Alex could not deny both Jeff and Vickie, surely? Even for Jeff to face him was a revealing fact within itself. But it all had to be done properly. She sighed. “Alex, please try to trust me.”

“How? Do I police you everywhere I go?” he demanded scathingly. “I almost lifted the phone to listen to your call. To even think along such lines unmans me!”

She drew in a long, sustaining breath. Had he been less self-restrained she would probably have been swandiving off the terrace right now and striking out for the nearest patch of dry land. She inwardly thanked her guardian angel for Alex’s principles. There was never anything sneaky about Alex in his dealings with her…aside of that business with Willard Evans and all the prying he had done. But she was in a good enough mood to concede well-meant intentions on those counts. Really, there was always a bright side to be found if you looked hard enough. And Kerry was suddenly seeing bright sides all around her for the first time in years.

Over dinner, Alex’s silence passed over her preoccupied head. When she went off to bed, she slept like a log. The last agonies of the long nightmare would soon be over, she reflected cheerfully when she awoke the next day.

“I’m glad to see you so happy,” Alex commented sardonically over breakfast.

Her nose wrinkled as she tasted her coffee. It had a curious sharp flavour, but Alex didn’t appear to be finding anything amiss with his. She munched a piece of fruit to freshen her mouth. “Are we leaving for Florence soon?”

Dark eyes swept her unwittingly hopeful face. His thick lashes screened his gaze. “No. I am content here for the moment.”

“You said a week, maybe two,” she reminded him. “I miss Nicky.”

“He can always come out here to join us.” He shrugged with cool finality. “If you want to do some shopping, I’ll take you to Athens.”

“I do occasionally take my mind out of my wardrobe.”

“And where does it travel then?” he murmured with a satiric edge.

Slowly she counted to ten. She still got up. “I feel like some fresh air. I’ll go down to the beach for a walk.”

“Don’t go far. Carina and Ricky will be here for lunch,” he warned her. “They’re leaving for New York tomorrow. He’s taking charge of our public relations department over there.”

She managed a smile at the news. She liked Carina the best of Alex’s sisters, but her mind was more intent on how speedily she could bring Alex and Vickie and Jeff together in Florence. Jeff had said that he would fly back to London today. Impatience shrilled through her as she went down the steep steps to the beach. She was terrified that Jeff would lose interest or that Vickie would persuade him against his plan. If he was in love with her, Vickie would have influence over him. Perhaps in the heat of the moment Jeff had flown out to Greece. Kerry had stopped him in his enthusiastic tracks. Suppose he gave up the idea? Vickie wanted to pretend that it was all in the past. She was afraid to face Alex. Her pride revolted against the concept.

Kerry wandered along the rocky beach, the sun beating down on her in golden warmth. She had been walking for some time when she came on the small cove where a yacht was moored. A bunch of sun-tanned young people were strewn out on the sand, sunbathing, while a stereo cassette pounded out Bruce Springsteen.

“You can’t be a local!” A dark-haired youth proclaimed loudly. “Not with that gorgeous hair. I refuse to believe it.”

She grinned. “You’re English.”

Within five minutes she was sitting down with the group. There were two couples and one odd man out. They had rented out the small, shabby yacht to do a tour of the islands, and they were lively company.

“The people in the village aren’t too friendly,” Hilary, the curvaceous blonde complained. “We got flung out of the taverna last night because Dave got on the wrong side of one of the men. We got all this guff about this being a private island, and the local cop saw us off at the harbour so we simply shifted anchor. Are you staying at the taverna?”

Kerry was reluctant to admit who she was, for they had accepted her as one of them. She was enjoying the sound of her own language and the easiness of her welcome. “No, I’m staying at a private house. With my husband,” she added circumspectly.

“You’re married?” Dave, the one who had originally spoken to her, groaned in mock despair.