CHAPTER IX

THE warmth and harmony that entered into their relationship from that day on affected them both.'

Tessa bloomed, in much the same way that she had bloomed during the first three weeks of her marriage. The fact that the love and  tenderness her husband gave her were really meant for her sister troubled Tessa not at all. When first embarking on this masquerade she had resigned herself to second best and this she gratefully accepted.

As for Paul himself, it seemed that having at last extended to Lucinda a full pardon, he had shed a heavy weight and this was at first reflected in the disappearance of his headaches. However, just as, Tessa had satisfied   herself that the pains had resulted from strain and that they had nothing to do with his eyes at all, they began to trouble him once more. He was lying on the bed when she went in to him after lunch one day.

'Darling, is it so very bad?'

'It is, dear.'

'The chemist he doesn't seem able to give you anything.'

'He's done his best.' Paul felt for her hand and put it to his temple. 'That's better.' he sighed, and Tessa swallowed a hard little lump in her throat.

True to his word, Joe had contacted the doctor who, extremely interested, had expressed the desire to see Paul.

I'm sure you've had second thoughts Joe had continued in his letter, which she had received ten days ago. If you'll say when you can bring Paul to London, I'll arrange for the interview. The doctor's name is Reade Mr. John Reade, and he's so keen that he offered to see Paul any time. I carefully explained about the accident, and Paul's subsequent blindness. Quite naturally Mr. Reade was reserved, saying very little, but his expression was such that I knew he was most eager to give Paul an examination. Don't hesitate, Tessa, I'll expect a reply by return.

Paul at that time was free from pain, and he was happy. Tessa threw the letter away.

'Shall I bathe your head with cold water?' she offered. 'It helped you once before, remember?"

He smiled faintly. In spite of his pain his manner was indulgent.

'Bathe it if you want to, dear.'

She fully understood. 'You know it won't help this time, don't you?'

A pause; his hand was gently pressed to hers. 'I've reached the conclusion that nothing will do me any good. I shall just have to resign myself to these pains though what the cause can be I'm quite unable to think. It isn't as if I've ever been prone to head  aches.'

Pulling her hand from under his, she straightened up. 'Would you like to be quiet?' she gently asked, unsuccessfully trying to dismiss the contents of Joe's letter from her mind. 'Shall I leave you, dearest?'

'For a little while. I'm sure this willgo later.' And then he added, 'This life is so dull for you we'll dine out this evening, at the Mare Monte. You'll like that?' Always his concern was for her ... always since the day of their visit to Vouni.

'Only if you're quite better, Paul. And as for my life's being dull I'm perfectly happy and content just to be with you.'

Just to be with him .... It was an hour later and Tessa was, in the vine covered courtyard, pacing to and fro. She was 'happy .... But what about Paul? 'He's happy too, I know he is, I'm not going to let him go!'

The moments passed, slow agonizing moments of battling with her conscience. Joe was so optimistic; on hearing about the case the doctor had become keenly interested. Was there hope for her husband's sight? She would never know unless she surrendered to her conscience. Her heart cried out against this course and when, only a few minutes later, Paul appeared looking as if he had never had a headache in his life, she immediately cast off her doubts and indecision.

'You're better?' she breathed, sending up a prayer of thankfulness. 'You look fine.'

With the aid of his stick he guided himself to a chair and sat down.

'It went quite miraculously. It could be the heat, I suppose although it's never affected me so before.' 'Yes, it could be the heat,' she agreed, seizing on that explanation. 'Would you like anything, Paul? Can I fetch you a drink?'         '

'No, darling, but you can read to me.'

'The newspaper?'

He nodded and she went into the house to fetch it.

Takis had been down to the village and the post was on the table. Her heart missed a beat as she saw Joe's handwriting. Tremblingly she slit the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of notepaper. Joe began by expressing surprise at not receiving a reply to his letter, and then he continued, I had given my telephone number to Mr. Reade and he rang me last week. He's rung again today and sounded faintly annoyed. As I told you, he's so dedicated that he goes out of his way to discover this kind of case. He insisted on seeing Paul and this seems to me to indicate optimism on his part, I expect you to do something, Tessa, You can't deny Paul the opportunity of seeing this doctor. Nothing may come of it, but he must be given a chance. Write immediately ....

Slowly she crushed the letter in her hand and, picking up the other letter, which was from her father, she then collected the newspaper and went outside to her husband. The Cyprus Mail was small, only one large sheet, and she was through it in no time at all.

'Shall I read a book?' she then asked, eyeing her father's letter, which lay on the table by her elbow. 'Or do you want the radio?'

'I'll have the radio.' It was on the table and she pushed it forward, leaving Paul to find the station for himself. Soon the gay strains of bouzouki music echoed softly through the sunlit garden. Tessa took up her father's letter. Lucinda was married the previous Saturday and she 'looked like a lovely angel in her flowing white gown'. If she had been in any way upset by her sister's absence Mr. Blane tactfully refrained from mentioning it. Lucinda knew Tessa was in Cyprus, believing her to be, teaching. She had no idea where Paul was. Joe had rightly guessed that the blind Greek 'recluse' living in the mountains above Bellapais was his friend, but as he was not on speaking terms with Lucinda she, like most others who had known Paul, believed him to be on one of the 'Greek islands. Tess', father went on, As your marriage has turned out so well, don't you think we might let your mother into the secret? It has been a difficult one for me to keep, though fortunately Mother has never been a letter writer and she leaves the writing and posting entirely to me. The deception was for her sake, to save her anxiety, but as you're obviously happy there seems no reason why she should be kept in ignorance of the marriage. She'll be a little hurt, I'm sure, about the deception, but thank heaven, she's most understanding and won't reproach either of us. Let me know how you feel about this, my girlie. Take good care of yourself and give my sincere regards to 'your husband.'        

'What are you doing?' Paul turned the sound down as he spoke. 'You're very quiet.'

She hated the idea of lying, but there was so little in the letter she could read to Paul that she had no alternative.

'Just thinking.'

'About what?' Was it imagination', or was there a curious ring to his voice?

'Well, Father and Mother,' she was able to say truthfully.

His dark brows lifted a fraction, 'Only your parents? What about your brothers  and your sister?'

She looked swiftly at him, and became guarded. 'I think about them, naturally, but it was my parents I was thinking about just now.'

Paul appeared to have lost interest and to be listening to the chirping of the cicadas, which could be heard above the drone of insects in the flower borders. 'How would you like to visit them?' he asked. 'It would be a pleasant change for us both and we could also visit our friends,' he added smoothly, turning his head in her direction almost as if he would by some miracle be able to note her reaction.

'Friends ... no! Oh no,' she blurted out, the colour draining from her face. 'I don't w want to v visit England, not ever!'

'Not ever? But, my darling—'

'I didn't mean that,' she interrupted in a shaky little voice, while at the same time endeavouring to regain her composure. 'Naturally we must go some time to England. But not yet, Paul. Next year will be quite soon enough.'

She watched his face, so dark and strong, with features etched in fine and noble lines, and a brow low and furrowed beneath the mass of jet black hair. For no apparent reason she saw those dark and piercing eyes regarding her with that hint of arrogant impatience, heard the soft contemptuous tones he had used when talking so disparagingly to Joe about her at the party. Those eyes were hidden now behind dark glasses; the voice was filled with tenderness when he spoke ... tenderness for Lucinda.

'Very well, darling. Next year, if that is what you want.'

Relief flooded over her; she was safe for the time being. Let the future take care of itself.

Another letter arrived from Joe the following week.

He 'made no attempt at civility and actually accused Tessa of selfishness. She replied, briefly, saying she was quite sure nothing could be done for Paul and that it would be cruel to let him see this doctor, only to be told, finally, that his case was hopeless.

The July day was scorching hot and Tessa suggested they do their shopping as quickly as possible and leave the city behind. They had gone into Nicosia because Paul wanted some new clothes shirts and shorts mainly.

'This is the shop,' she told him, and a moment later they were inside and Paul was asking for what he wanted. 'This shirt's green do you want green?'

 'What shade of green?'

'Well, just a little lighter than emerald.'

'Is it a pleasant colour?'

Tessa caught the eye of the shop assistant and something tugged at her heartstrings. This was the first occasion on which they had done this kind of shopping and the assistant was looking on with a sort of pitying surprise. What did a blind man want to trouble himself about colour for? he seemed to be saying.

'There's another here,' she said, putting it into his hand. 'I like it better than the one you have. This one's a sort of olive green and the material's a better quality don't you agree?'

'Yes, the quality's very fine.' His sensitive fingers moved with that peculiar tactility known only to the blind. 'But the colour, darling. Just tell me, exactly, what colour is it?'

She tried, but her voice faltered and tears filled her eyes. Never had she seen her husband quite so helpless as this. 'It should suit you,' she added lamely, catching the assistant's eye again.        '

'I'll have it, then. What other colours are there?' 'Blue, and yellow—'

'I don't want yellow.' His fingers were moving over the counter and Tessa put another shirt into his hand. 'This is the blue one?'

Her lip trembled and she could not speak. Why I should she feel like this? They had been shopping before—But always Paul had known exactly what he had' wanted. It had been something from the chemist or some branded article that the shop assistant had been able to place instantly in his hand.

'That is the blue one,' the assistant answered, at the same time taking out yet another shirt from its transparent wrapping. 'This is a cheaper one but a very attractive colour.'

'It's purple,' said Tessa.

'Good lord! No, I'll just take the two—' As he spoke he went to put his hand in his pocket to get some money. In doing so he made a small turn and caught a life size model which had been standing near the counter close to his side. Obviously he did not know what he had knocked over, but he was fully aware of being the cause of the crash. The' assistant came round and picked up the model while Tessa just stood there, trembling from head to foot, watching Paul's face and seeing the hot colour creep up under the tan of his skin. He groped about as if to discover what had happened. Coming out of her stupor, Tessa said lightly,   ,

'It was nothing, darling there's no harm done.' 'Let's get out of here.' His voice was tight and

cracked. 'Take me home.'           

'But your shirts    ' began the assistant. 'It doesn't matter, thank you.'

Tessa took his hand, and after throwing the assistant a glance of apology she led Paul from the shop.

The memory of the incident remained with him and he was quiet all the way home. Several times she saw him shading his eyes, even though he wore his dark glasses. That his head troubled him was certain, for his. Face became twisted and the now familiar patches of will stood out at the comers of his mouth.

'There's a cafe here, Paul. Would you like some coffee?' She half expected him to refuse, but to her surprise he said yes and she drew up at the side of the road, parking the car under the shade of the palms that ran along the front of the cafe.

'Yes, what can we do for you?' A young and handsome Greek came right to the entrance to greet them, smiling a welcome and glancing curiously from Paul to his young wife, and then down to their hands, clasped lightly together. Tessa looked round; as usual she was the only woman in the cafe. The men all looked at her, but by now she was used to these prolonged stares and merely followed the waiter to a table by the open window.

'Can we have coffee, please?' Paul felt for the chair· and sat down. 'One Turkish; one with milk.'

'What part of England do you come from?' the young man asked a few minutes later when, having brought their coffee, he sat down at their table. Tessa told him, and they all chatted together for a while. When they left he even accompanied them to the door and waved to them as they drove away.

The interlude had helped Paul get over his embarrassment, but for the rest of the way home he was quiet. Tessa also had fallen into a brooding silence, for her husband's plight had hit her, more forcibly than ever before. With so vigorous a personality and such physical strength this helplessness must be tearing him apart.

'I'll lie down.' he decided on arriving back at the house. 'I don't expect I'll sleep, but call me at teatime if I do.' He seemed utterly defeated, and there was no doubt in Tessa's mind that he suffered both mentally and physically.

The letter she had written to Joe was in her hand bag; she had meant to post it in Nicosia, but the incident in the shop had put everything else out of her mind. In any case, her one desire was to obey Paul's urgent request to be driven home. Taking out the letter, Tessa tore it up and put it in the waste paper basket. She then wrote another and lest she should falter in her resolve, she went down to the village immediately to post it.   .

Once it had left her hand she stood there, staring at the letter box, a strange inertia taking possession of her. How long she remained there she did not know, but suddenly she became vaguely aware of the curious stares of the men sitting around in front of the cafe, Those playing trik trak had stopped; the driver of the bus that had just come up with the tourists was also watching her, oblivious of the fact that one of his passengers was waiting to ply him with questions about the Abbey and its history. Two women on donkeys slowed down and half a dozen little brown children waited shyly under the great tree, wondering what was wrong with this English girl that she just stood there, gazing vacantly at the letter box.

Flushing, she moved, to make her way through the narrow village street with its high, shuttered houses, its gardens blazing with hibiscus and bougainvillea, its courtyards scented with roses and shaded by delicate trailing vines.

After a while she saw nothing, for tears blurred her vision. Was this the beginning of the end? Had she struggled and fought to win her husband's love only to lose it so soon? And what would be his reaction to her deceit? She had played on his affliction, used his helplessness to gain what she had so greatly desired since her first fateful meeting with Paul. Terror held her, and she knew she could never face him. He had come near to crucifying her once; he would do so again, but he would torture her first, lash her with his scorn and contempt and bitter condemnation. For he must be bitter finding himself married to a girl he intensely disliked, a girl he found unattractive in every way, and who had 'made eyes at him' when he was almost engaged to her sister.

No, she could never face him ... but what must she do? Instinctively she looked for escape in the same way she had sought escape previously. A post abroad. That was all that was open to her. This man might not be able to help Paul; and even if he operated there was no certainty of success. But she must be prepared ....

Paul was still lying down when she reached the house and she glanced at her watch. Nowhere near teatime yet. Taking the car, she drove down into Kyrenia. She had never been in the Country Club, but she knew that all the English newspapers would be there. No one bothered to inquire if she were a member as she looked vaguely about her. Soon she found what she wanted and sat down with the Times Educational Supplement on a table in front of her and a pencil and paper in her hand.

Canada ... Australia ... Venezuela ... Hong Kong . . Hong Kong