Master of Comus

Insistently, he asked her, 'Well, Leonie?'

She stared at the floor. 'You altered everything between us when you insisted on making love to me.'

There was silence. 'You'll never forgive me for that, will you?' Paul asked thickly. 'I knew it next morning. You wouldn't even look at me. I've bitterly regretted it ever since. I lost my head, but that's no excuse. I can only apologise.' He stood up, his chair falling with a crash. 'I think you'd better do as you suggested, fly to Comus and stay with Argon. You and I would be better apart for the moment.'

Leonie stared at him, her breath hurting in her lungs. He was sending her away from him, packing her back to Comus like an unwanted kitten. Diane took precedence now. Diane, soon to be free to marry. Would Paul write in a few months and suggest a quiet divorce? No wonder he now regretted that night of love. Had he not been so precipitate he might have been able to have the marriage annulled without trouble, but now they could not claim that they had never consummated their marriage.

Had it been for Diane's sake that Paul had never married before? All those girls, those beautiful actresses and models with whom he had been seen around, had they been a cover for his real love? Had they been a smoke-screen designed to disguise from George what was going on between Paul and his wife?

Paul moved quickly out of the room, and Leonie listened as the front door slammed.

He had gone. The sound seemed to echo in the flat, and inside her head. She closed her eyes as tears forced their way between her lids and trickled down her cheeks.

After a moment she got up and began to clear the kitchen, wash up the utensils she had used and restore the room to order. That done, she went through to the sitting-room and lifted the telephone.

Later, she packed her clothes in a suitcase, took a last look around the flat and put her front door key down on the kitchen table. There was no need to leave a note. Paul would know where she had gone.

In the taxi she fought a bitter Struggle with her love, but her pride won. Paul had told her to go. She would do just that. Their marriage had been a bitter experience, and she had had enough of pain, humiliation and misery.

She spent that night in a noisy little hotel in Athens. A taverna across the street throbbed with the beat of a bouzouki. Cars hooted and raced their engines up and down the road. Somewhere a dog was howling.

Leonie could not sleep; it was too hot. She sat by the window, peering through the slats of the blind at the bright lights of the city.

Along the coast road she could see the lights of cars moving like fireflies. Aircraft flew low over the Aegean as they came to land at the airport. Planes seemed to arrive every few moments.

Dawn came slowly, bringing a temporary coolness. She washed, dressed, stared at herself disparagingly in the mirror. She was pale and stiff- lipped. Argon would know as soon as he set eyes on her that something was wrong. She forced a smile and the pale lips moved quiveringly apart. Somehow she had to keep up a pretence of being perfectly happy.

She barely noticed the rest of the journey; the flight to Comus passed like a dream, the drive from the landing strip to the villa followed in the same vague haze.

Only when she met Clyte at the terrace door did anything penetrate the cloak in which she had wrapped herself, and she gave the old woman a bright, stiff smile.

Clyte looked at her with concern. 'You look ill? What is Wrong? Why are you here alone? We tried to ring Paul, but there was no reply at the flat.'

'I'm just tired, not ill. Don't worry. Paul's best friend has collapsed with a heart attack and he's very busy taking care of things for him. We thought I would be better off here with Argon for the moment. Paul is too busy to spend much time with me and I hardly know a soul in Paris.'

Clyte's dark eyes searched hers. 'Is that true?'

Leonie smiled again, that stiff unreal smile. 'Of course. It was my idea at first—I was worried about Argon. Paul agreed after he had realised how little free time he would have at present.'

'Come up to Argon,' Clyte said seriously, still not convinced. 'Tell him.'

Leonie followed her up the stairs, feeling nervous. Would Argon press questions on her? She was terrified of breaking down in front of him. She must not let him guess how bad things were between her and Paul.

Argon was waiting for her, sitting up against his piled pillows with a frown creasing his forehead. Leonie ran to him and bent to kiss his cheek. He put up a hand to touch her hair gently, and over her bent head his eyes met Clyte's; The two old people ex- changed looks of mutual understanding, then Clyte softly left the room.

'So,' Argon said, pushing Leonie slightly away so that he could see her face. 'You have come back to Comus.'

'Yes,' she said hastily, and told him about George's heart attack and the need for Paul to take charge of affairs while George was out of action.

'This man is not one of the family, Argon said. 'He should not take precedence over a bride. He shrugged. 'However, I will not say any more. You look too tired. You will go to bed now and rest.

'Oh, but.. ' she began.

'No arguments,' Argon dictated. 'How long is it since you slept?'

She thought of the long, hot sleepless night in Athens, and made a face. 'It was so hot in my hotel last night

'You see? You need sleep. No wonder you look like a wraith from Hades!'