Strangers in Company by Jane Aiken Hodge Read Free Book Online

Hilton, limping along in her high heels, turned and caught sight of Marian. “No guide, no instructions, nothing!”
    â€œHe had no sleep, poor man.” Looking back, Marian saw that Cairnthorpe had settled himself in the shade of a rock. “But it’s true. How do we know when to get back to the bus?”
    â€œI asked him.” Mrs. Hilton was pleased with herself. “An hour, he said, and would I tell the others? I ask you! I’m not doing his job for him.”
    â€œWe could tell anyone who asks.”
    â€œWell, of course!” She turned her ankle and swore. “Look at the kiddies picking the flowers! They oughtn’t to be let.”
    Marian had been thinking very much the same thing, but found herself demurring. “There are so many.”
    â€œKids? Or flowers?”
    â€œWell.” She looked around. “Both, in fact. I say.” She paused and drew a long breath. “Isn’t it splendid!”
    â€œPoseidon.” Mrs. Hilton was reading her guidebook. “Is that how you pronounce it? Magnificent temple … twelve standing columns. Pericles had it built.” She pronounced him to rhyme with icicles. “Ooh, I say, Lord Byron—you know, the wicked one—carved his name on one of the pillars. I must see that.”
    â€œI do call that wicked.” Marian bent and pretended to retie a shoelace. It was bad enough to see her first Greek temple in these horribly crowded conditions. She drew the line at Mrs. Hilton’s company. Luckily, the schoolmistresses, who had come up by a detour, joined her at this point and stopped to ask if she knew when they were due back at the bus. Telling them, she was relieved to see Mrs. Hilton plunge on ahead, buttonhole a postcard seller on the steps of the temple, then climb purposefully up them.
    She herself moved round to the seaward side of the temple and then climbed up from there to gaze, entranced,through white pillars out across still, blue sea to a distant island. “
Bitte
.” The polite voice roused her, and she moved aside to make way for an eager young photographer. It was no use; the temple was too crowded to be enjoyed. She made her way a little sadly down the steps and followed one of the rambling cliffside paths through beds of yellow and purple vetch. Farther from Athens, she thought, it would be better. And at least, even here, there was the blessing of the hot sun. She found a sheltered corner among the rocks and sat down to bask. When she closed her eyes voices from the temple above blurred into indistinguishable background music; she could almost pretend that she heard the sound of the sea on the rocks below. It would be pleasant to climb down for a closer look. But once again the extraordinary sensation of peace and freedom was stealing over her. Bless you, Poseidon, she thought, and stayed where she was.
    Half-sleeping, half-waking, utterly relaxed, she let time ebb by, until the sound of familiar voices roused her. It was the schoolmistresses climbing cheerfully back up from what they described as very nearly sea level. “The flowers are even better down there,” said one. “I wish I’d brought my book.”
    â€œI know. It’s maddening. I don’t know why one wants to know their names, but one does.” Marian looked at her watch. “Time to be getting back to the bus, I suppose.” She followed them slowly, feeling incredibly older as she listened to their lighthearted nonsense. One last look at the temple, and she turned down the hill towards the gates. But where was the bus? Ahead of her, the schoolmistresses were asking each other the same question. They turned to wait for her. “You did say an hour, Mrs. Frenche?”
    â€œYes.” How pleasantly characteristic that they had learned her name already. “At least, that’s what Mrs. Hilton told me.”
    â€œThey
can’t
have left us all behind.” It was almost a