Anne Hampson Love Hath an Island [HR 1522, MBS 135, MB 494] (pdf)

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fruits were extracted and canned for export They lived in a bungalow
just behind the beach, and Mary often visited them, usually for about
an hour in the evening when the air was cool and they could sit out
on the verandah and chat.
Humming a little tune to herself, Mary strolled along the shore to the
bungalow which her employer had loaned to her. He had made the
suggestion a fortnight after her arrival and Mary had been in
occupation just over two weeks.
'Don't you ever use it?' Mary had asked on the day Adrian had shown
her over it.
'Very; occasionally - when my mother and sister come or when I
have friends over on a visit. We do sometimes spend a few days here,
swimming and sunbathing, but we never sleep here; it's too near the
house. We find it far simpler to go home than to transport all the
things we should require.'
'You might need it, though,' Mary demurred, but Adrian shook his
head.
'Take it for the time being. You may want to get a place of your own
later, but for the present you may as well have it. It isn't good for a
house to stand empty, even in a climate like this.'
'You're very kind.' Mary looked round at the furniture and carpets; all
practically new and in excellent and expensive taste. 'I'll take great
care of everything.'
'There's no need to be afraid of using it.' For the first time she saw the
hint of a smile touch the stern dark features. 'You must treat it as a
home, otherwise you're not going to be comfortable. Invite your
friends, by all means.'
At that time Mary couldn't see herself having anyone to invite, but
only a couple of days later she had been approached by the
Sanderson children who immediately wanted to know who she was
and where she lived. The next day they had come to the bungalow
and Joy, with complete lack of decorum, had flung herself into a
chair and made herself at home. Pamela, with more reserve, had
stood in the middle of the room and had to be coaxed into sitting
down. From then on they were regular visitors to the bungalow and
on the day their mother had called to fetch them she had invited Mary
to come along to their bungalow for supper.
Sunday was normally Mary's day for catching up on the chores which
had accumulated during the week. For the island was experiencing an
unusually warm April and after working through the heat of the
afternoon she rarely had the energy to tackle her household jobs in
the evenings. However, with an abandon which Josie would have
applauded, she took a leisurely breakfast on the verandah - lingering
over her book long after she had drunk her second cup of coffee - had
a bath and made herself ready for the afternoon's outing. With about
half an hour to spare she went on to the verandah and answered Mrs.
Stanning's last letter, giving her the news of her son which she had
asked for, and being able to say with truth that he was looking very
well and appeared to be completely untroubled by his arm. The
Sandersons arrived at two o'clock, and Mary sat in the back seat of
the car with the children.
'Have you been before?' Dorothy Sanderson, golden- haired and
looking rather younger than her thirty years, turned to Mary with a
dazzling smile.
'No, but I believe it's very impressive. Mr. Stanning recommended it
as one of the places I should visit.'
'The ruins are Roman,' submitted Pamela, 'and from what I've heard
they're very much overgrown.'
'Pam has been reading all about it; she always does when we're going
anywhere. We shan't need a guide.'
'I don't think it sounds very interesting.' Joy began tinkering with the
door catch and Mary pulled her hand away. 'I'd rather play hide and
seek. Will you play with me, Mary?'
'No, Mary won't,' put in her father emphatically. 'She doesn't want to
be bothered entertaining you on her day off.'
The journey to the ancient city took them past the citrus groves in a
northerly direction through countryside blazing with colour, for
masses and masses of wild flowers were still in full bloom. To the
east lay the sea, now visible, now lost to view; to the west stretched
the great Messaoria plain, and in the distance rose the rugged heights
of the Kyrenia Mountains with their cliffs and crags, and their
skylined castles topping the hills.
The whole area of Salamis lay amid a dense forest of pines and
eucalyptus trees, giant cypresses and plantations of golden wattle.
The place seemed forlorn and rather eerie, for no one lived there
except two custodians, one of whom took the money which they had
to pay to gain entry to the ruins,.
'They wandered about, not attempting to look at them in
chronological order, for they were so scattered and, in many places,
almost smothered by the vivid yellow flowers of the giant fennel. For
Mary the most impressive of the ruins was the lovely Marble Forum -
or what remained of it. She could imagine the rows of gleaming
white pillars which had in Roman times formed the sides of the
gymnasium; she could also imagine the marble statues when in the
height of their immaculate , glory - Apollo and Herakles; the love
goddess Aphrodite and the huntress Artemis - or Diana as she was
called by the Romans.
'I'm hungry,' complained Joy, bored by the spectacle of fallen pillars,
crumbled statue bases and vague unreadable inscriptions. 'When are
we having our tea?'
It so happened that they were all ready for a rest and they found a
spot among the sandhills and unpacked their picnic basket.
Mary sat, a sandwich in one hand, a glass of orange juice in the other,
watching first the children, then their parents. What a happy family
they were! Dorothy, hard-working, yet always appearing fresh and
ready for anything; Kevin, a wonderful father and an attentive
husband; the two girls, arguing with each other at times, yet
fundamentally loyal and affectionate. Mary turned away.
A strange little tremor passed through her, a tremor of apprehension
as she saw her future. Since the break with Vance she had never [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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