Nemesis of the Dead by Frances Lloyd Read Free Book Online Page A

unpleasantly.
    ‘What do you mean, there’s no decaffeinated coffee? What sort of a hotel is this?’ He sighed. ‘Oh very well. I’ll have some camomile tea.’
    Maria looked anxious and fished a dog-eared phrase book out of her apron pocket. She turned the pages nervously while Ambrose continued to grunt and grumble.
    ‘Sorry. No camomile,’ she said inevitably.
    Ambrose turned scarlet. ‘All right, bring me some water then,’ he retorted. ‘I take it you’ve got some of that, or do we have to get our own from a well?’ He turned angrily on his wife. ‘I told you we should have gone to Bournemouth again but oh no, you wanted to go abroad. Well, look where it’s got you. An eighteen-hour journey under appalling conditions followed by two weeks in a primitive foreign boarding house without even the most basic requirements. I hope you’re satisfied.’
    Marjorie, as usual, said nothing but looked apologetic and everyone felt sorry for her except Corrie, who was willing her to stand up and give Ambrose a good clip round the ear.
    Professor Gordon filled the embarrassed silence that followed by giving them a potted lecture on Katastrophos, to the undisguised boredom of his wife who had clearly heard it many times before. But to those who had not, his obvious affinity with the island and everything on it was compelling.
    ‘Katastrophos is a sleepy, rocky, some might even say a dull little island where time, if not standing still, is at best wandering about rather aimlessly. The best Homer could say about it was that it was “good for goats”.’ He leaned forward and his expression became more intense. ‘But don’t be misled. This island has a strange, hypnotic quality – a disengagement from reality. The air around you becomes slowly more intoxicating, more magical.’ His pop-eyes took on a slightly fanatical gleam as he spoke. ‘You will become dreamers, bewitched and subject to indiscretions outside the boundaries of your narrow domestic lives. On Katastrophos, anything is possible.’
    Tim and Ellie, already bewitched, were feeding each other chunks of melon. They wore fresh but still identical T-shirts and shorts, this time with the addition of matching canvas bucket hats and walking-boots. They reminded Jack of the Flowerpot Men. Sidney, in his customary holiday gear, had a distant, yearning look that had less to do with the magical properties of Katastrophos than the eggs, bacon, sausage, kidney, tomato, baked beans, mushrooms and fried bread that he would now be enjoying had he gone to Majorca. He was also acutely aware of a naked foot under the table that had been creeping up and down his bare thigh for the last ten minutes. If it went up the leg of his shorts, he decided, he would have to leave the table a bit rapid. He looked across at Diana, mouth-watering in a Donatella Versace sundress and he didn’t need specs to see that she had nothing on underneath it. She winked at him.
    ‘I feel no magic.’ The young Greek woman who had signed the register simply as ‘Sky’, spoke for the first time since they arrived. She got up from her stony seat under the oleanders and came across to the table. ‘I feel the synergy of vengeance and retribution,’ she whispered, her eyes half-closed. ‘Nemesis, winged balancer of life, dark-faced goddess and daughter of justice rules here.’
    Because she hadn’t spoken before, Corrie had assumed that the girl didn’t speak English. In fact, her Greek accent was a barely perceptible lisp. She looked even more bizarre in the morning light, her face a caricature of black make-up above a plain black tunic with tattoos on her shoulders and arms. There was an awkward silence with everybody looking at each other but nobody knowing what to say.
    ‘Load of blasted mumbo-jumbo,’ said Ambrose eventually. ‘The girl isn’t all there.’
    ‘Yes, well …’ Jack stood up, ‘if you’ll excuse us, Corrie and I have some sightseeing to do.’ He took his wife’s