There was no real enmity,
but she wasn't going out of her way to be friendly either. Clearly she
was taking her lead from the mistress of the house, Harriet thought
wryly.
Androula led the way along the gallery which looked down on the
entrance hall, and turned down a wide corridor, its smooth walls
interrupted at intervals by illuminated niches containing exquisite
antique pottery. Harriet would have liked to have lingered and
examined some of them more closely, but she told herself there was
plenty of time for that. Androula led her to a door at the very end of
the corridor and threw it open with less than a flourish.
'This is your room, thespinis ,' she remarked. 'Your baggage will be
brought to you.' She gave a curt nod and whisked herself away,
leaving Harriet alone to stare round her new accommodation.
For a moment she thought there had been a mistake, or that Androula
had had a brainstorm and shown her into a cupboard, but a second
glance revealed that there was a bed duly made up, and a chest of
drawers and hooks behind the door for those of her clothes which
needed to be hung up. There was also, she realised, her temper rising,
one very small window up towards the ceiling height, and clearly it
had not been felt necessary to extend the air-conditioning towards
this particular room, because it was already like an oven.
If she hadn't felt so angry, she would have burst into tears.
She sat down limply on the edge of the bed. This, she supposed, was
the equivalent of the servants' quarters or possibly even a dressing
room, because she now realised that her bed was standing against a
door leading to the adjoining room. She tried it gingerly, but it was
securely locked, and there was no key to be seen anywhere. She
listened and thought she could hear, through the woodwork, Nicky's
clear high tones, and Yannina's low-pitched cheerful laugh as she
answered him, and guessed that she was next door to what passed for
the nursery.
She tried to tell herself that this was the room they assumed she
would have chosen, if she had been given a choice—the nearest one
to Nicky's, but it didn't sound convincing. If this particular room had
been at the opposite end of the villa entirely, it would still have been
allocated to her because it was intended as a snub, to show her quite
plainly how little she was wanted in this house, how little regarded.
The bed she was sitting on was hard and narrow, although she
supposed if it had been much wider, she would have had difficulty
opening any of the drawers in the chest, and the pillow, as she
touched it tentatively, felt as if it was stuffed with sawdust instead of
down.
She wondered drily whether she was supposed to protest, to rush
downstairs thoroughly miffed and demand to be returned to Britain
on the next available flight. She shook her head. She was here for
Nicky's sake, not for her own, so she would accept whatever
treatment was handed out without a murmur because at least she
knew it wasn't for ever. This rejection, this insult of a room would
make it all the easier to leave when the time came, she told herself
resolutely.
She decided to go next door and see Nicky, and as she opened her
door, she nearly fell headlong over her cases, which had been dumped
there without a word. Harriet set her jaw and lugged them into the
room. There was just enough room for the things she had brought,
and she was glad she had remembered her own dress hangers. It
would have been a minor defeat to have had to ask Androula for
some.
She had a smile firmly pinned on when she went into the next room.
Nicky, already in his pyjamas, was sitting at a special low table by the
window eating his way through fruit and yoghurt, fondly observed by
Yannina.
' Yasoo , Nicos:' Harriet knelt beside him, accepting the piece of fruit
he judiciously held out to her.
'Ah!' Yannina sounded delighted. 'You learn our language,
thespinis?'
Harriet grimaced. 'A
but she wasn't going out of her way to be friendly either. Clearly she
was taking her lead from the mistress of the house, Harriet thought
wryly.
Androula led the way along the gallery which looked down on the
entrance hall, and turned down a wide corridor, its smooth walls
interrupted at intervals by illuminated niches containing exquisite
antique pottery. Harriet would have liked to have lingered and
examined some of them more closely, but she told herself there was
plenty of time for that. Androula led her to a door at the very end of
the corridor and threw it open with less than a flourish.
'This is your room, thespinis ,' she remarked. 'Your baggage will be
brought to you.' She gave a curt nod and whisked herself away,
leaving Harriet alone to stare round her new accommodation.
For a moment she thought there had been a mistake, or that Androula
had had a brainstorm and shown her into a cupboard, but a second
glance revealed that there was a bed duly made up, and a chest of
drawers and hooks behind the door for those of her clothes which
needed to be hung up. There was also, she realised, her temper rising,
one very small window up towards the ceiling height, and clearly it
had not been felt necessary to extend the air-conditioning towards
this particular room, because it was already like an oven.
If she hadn't felt so angry, she would have burst into tears.
She sat down limply on the edge of the bed. This, she supposed, was
the equivalent of the servants' quarters or possibly even a dressing
room, because she now realised that her bed was standing against a
door leading to the adjoining room. She tried it gingerly, but it was
securely locked, and there was no key to be seen anywhere. She
listened and thought she could hear, through the woodwork, Nicky's
clear high tones, and Yannina's low-pitched cheerful laugh as she
answered him, and guessed that she was next door to what passed for
the nursery.
She tried to tell herself that this was the room they assumed she
would have chosen, if she had been given a choice—the nearest one
to Nicky's, but it didn't sound convincing. If this particular room had
been at the opposite end of the villa entirely, it would still have been
allocated to her because it was intended as a snub, to show her quite
plainly how little she was wanted in this house, how little regarded.
The bed she was sitting on was hard and narrow, although she
supposed if it had been much wider, she would have had difficulty
opening any of the drawers in the chest, and the pillow, as she
touched it tentatively, felt as if it was stuffed with sawdust instead of
down.
She wondered drily whether she was supposed to protest, to rush
downstairs thoroughly miffed and demand to be returned to Britain
on the next available flight. She shook her head. She was here for
Nicky's sake, not for her own, so she would accept whatever
treatment was handed out without a murmur because at least she
knew it wasn't for ever. This rejection, this insult of a room would
make it all the easier to leave when the time came, she told herself
resolutely.
She decided to go next door and see Nicky, and as she opened her
door, she nearly fell headlong over her cases, which had been dumped
there without a word. Harriet set her jaw and lugged them into the
room. There was just enough room for the things she had brought,
and she was glad she had remembered her own dress hangers. It
would have been a minor defeat to have had to ask Androula for
some.
She had a smile firmly pinned on when she went into the next room.
Nicky, already in his pyjamas, was sitting at a special low table by the
window eating his way through fruit and yoghurt, fondly observed by
Yannina.
' Yasoo , Nicos:' Harriet knelt beside him, accepting the piece of fruit
he judiciously held out to her.
'Ah!' Yannina sounded delighted. 'You learn our language,
thespinis?'
Harriet grimaced. 'A
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