Moon of Aphrodite by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

picture of astonishment. He started to say something about
    Kyrios Leandros, but Helen swiftly interrupted .
    'Kyrios Leandros cannot come with us. He has been delayed.' She mimed a telephone
    cal . 'He is too busy. He wil come later.'
    The driver gave her a long doubtful look, then stared at the hotel entrance as if wil ing
    Kyrios Leandros to appear like the Demon King and put an end to his uncertainty. But
    no one emerged.
    'Please hurry!' Helen applied a little more pressure. 'If I miss the ferry, my grandfather
    Michael Korialis wil be angry.'
    It was clear the Korialis name had pul with the driver, because with a fatalistic shrug
    he got into the driving seat and started the car. Helen sat back in her seat, al owing a
    little relieved sigh to escape her lips. She wished she could be around when Damon
    Leandros finishedtaking his phone cal , or whatever he was doing, and came out of the
    hotel to find the car gone and her with it, but you couldn't have everything in this life,
    and she was more than content to be speeding towards Piraeus and the Phoros ferry
    without him.
    And let him explain that away to my grandfather along with everything else, she
    thought.
    The drive to Piraeus was a little disappointing, as the road lay through rather dusty
    suburbs and industrial estates, and the scenery was flat and uninspiring. Helen found it
    difficult to relax. She felt exhilarated, and a little nervous at the same time, and could
    not resist taking brief looks back over her shoulder, as if she half expected to see
    Damon Leandros following them.
    But that was impossible, she told herself confidently. He'd have to find another car, and
    that would take time. She glanced at her watch, wondering what time the Phoros ferry
    left. The traffic was heavy, and the car was constantly being forced to slow almost to a
    crawling pace if not stop altogether. But recal ing her experience of waiting for the bus,
    Helen decided that timetables were obviously not as strictly adhered to in Greece as in
    the rest of creation. Certainly the driver dil not seem at al agitated by the frequent
    delays,' and the easiest thing to do was to follow his example.
    She sighed in relief as the harbour came in sight, and sat forward, waiting for the tar to
    stop. But it did not stop. The driver steadily threaded his way through the other
    vehicles both moving and stationary which packed the narrow streets, narrowly
    avoiding laughing, chattering groups of people who roamed across the crowded
    highways as if it was just another extension of the narrow footpath.
    There seemed to be streamers everywhere, Helen thought dazedly as she stared out of
    the window, and hundreds of people boarding and disembarking. She only hoped the
    driver knew what he was doing, and that her escapade would not end in her sailing off
    into the wide blue yonder on the wrong ship.
    She tapped the driver on the shoulder. 'Which is the ferry?' she asked.
    But his only response was an owlish look and a faint shrug of the shoulders as if her
    meaning escaped him.
    'Boat—-Phoros,' she tried again, and this time to her relief he nodded, smiling broadly.
    'Soon, soon, thespinis.'
    And with that she had to be content. The car moved on, away front the harbour, and
    the scent of exhaust fumes mingling with the more pervasive odours of charcoal gril s
    and olive oil, and out on to a winding road. Helen twisted round,- staring at the
    clustering vessels they were leaving behind. She could only hope the driver knew what
    he was doing as they left the vast sprawl of the waterfront behind them. The road they
    were on seemed to have been carved out of the vast cliffs themselves, and some of the
    views were spectacular, she had to admit. She was intrigued too by the numerous little
    shrines and grottoes which were dotted along the wayside. Thank-offerings, she
    supposed, but to which gods—the ancient or the modern? Perhaps in a country like
    Greece the old pagan undercurrents stil ran strong.
    The