The Divided Child by Ekaterine Nikas

  Shall I meet you in the hotel bar at
eleven?”
                "Eleven-thirty,"
Geoffrey countered.   "It's
nearly ten now."
                “Eleven-thirty,
then,” Robert agreed with a grimace.   He turned to me.   “I always
said he was the one who should have been a lawyer; his bull-headedness would
have made for some extremely interesting litigation.”
                “Feel
free to hurry along,” Geoffrey urged.
                "Very
well.   I take the hint.   Geoffrey, until later.   Christine, it’s been a pleasure"   And with that, he strode up the marble
steps and disappeared into the lobby.
                I
turned back from watching him go, to find Geoffrey eyeing me warily.   "You two seem to have become well
acquainted this afternoon."
                "Not
really."
                "What
did the two of you talk about?”
                "Do
we have to discuss it now?   I
thought we were just about to go in and have a delicious meal."
                Geoffrey
cocked an eyebrow at me and said in a low voice, "What we were about to do
had nothing whatsoever to do with food."
                "That
may be," I replied with feigned lightness, "but if I don't get
something to eat soon, I may slump unconscious at your feet."
                His
eyes gleamed mischievously.   "Don't tempt me."
                I
made a face at him.
                "All
right, all right," he grumbled.   "Shall we go in?"

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
                The
hotel restaurant wasn't crowded, and it was easy for us to get a table off by
ourselves.   "Is it always this
empty?" I asked.
                Geoffrey
shook his head.   "I fancy it's
late."
                "I
thought people liked to eat late here."
                "The
natives, yes.   But we tourists are
a soft-stomached lot."   He
grinned at me.   "We go quite
weak in the knees if we aren't fed on time."
                "The
natives usually eat a very large and very filling lunch," I retorted.   "I missed lunch altogether
today."
                "Excuses,
excuses," he murmured, his eyes twinkling.
                "Are
we going to spend the rest of the evening discussing my stomach?"
                "No.   Actually, I was planning to ask you
about your holiday.   Where else in
Greece have you visited?"
                At
first I assumed he'd picked the topic because it was safe and easy and had
nothing to do with Michael or the accident at the Old Fort, but after a while I
began to realize he was genuinely interested.   He asked me countless questions.   Had I been to Delphi?   Mycenae?   Knossos?   What other islands had I traveled to?   Had I visited the excavations at
Akrotiri?   Had I seen the Acropolis
by moonlight?
                I
answered his questions and listened to his comments about the beauty of this
temple and the wonder of that site, and time seemed to pass without either of
us noticing.   The food arrived and
we ate it.   Between mouthfuls we
argued about the unique quality of Greek light.
                "But
surely all countries along the Mediterranean have the same glittering
sunshine?" I said.
                He
shook his head adamantly.   "No, it's not the same.   I can't describe the difference or put a name to it, but the light here
in Greece is different from anywhere else in the world."
                "I
guess I'll have to take your word for it,” I said.   “I’ve never been anywhere else besides home."
                "You
mean to say this is your first visit to Greece?"   He sounded disbelieving.   "Why did you wait so long?"
                "You
make it sound like some sort of pilgrimage."
                "Well,
isn't it?   Most Greeks I've met,