The Power of the Legendary Greek - By Catherine George Page 0,27
the interminable service was over at last he was the first to leave, in such a hurry to avoid his grandfather that the man who hurtled out of the crowd with upraised knife took him by surprise. Luke’s lightning reflexes sent him ducking sideways and the glancing blade pierced the sleeve of his jacket to cut his arm as he slammed his fist into the assailant’s stomach, then, with a swift upper cut to the jaw, sent the man sprawling on the ground. Suddenly there were women screaming and police everywhere. Luke caught sight of his grandfather’s shocked face, but it was the gloating eyes of the Karras sisters that remained with him afterwards, not least because the gloating changed so quickly to furious disappointment. That he was still alive, obviously. He shot a cold, scathing smile at the women, then turned away to the police officers waiting to question him. Ambulances came rushing to the scene, but he held the paramedics off, determined to give all help possible to the police before he allowed anyone to attend to his wound.
Inspired by talking to Luke, Isobel quickly immersed herself in her painting. The noon light was brighter, more vivid than before, and she spent a long time mixing paints to capture the play of sunlight on the pool. Its frame of greenery was equally challenging. The lush plant life seemed to encompass every shade of green, with overtones of blue and vivid splashes of contrast colour from tamarisk, oleander and geranium; a challenge she responded to with her usual concentration.
When Eleni coughed tactfully, rattling a tray, Isobel looked up, blinking owlishly, and smiled.
‘Drinks—wonderful; I’m thirsty.’
‘Isobel, you have visitor.’
Isobel stared in surprise. ‘Really? Who?’
‘Alyssa Nicolaides. No worry. She speak English.’
‘How very nice.’ Isobel sat back in her chair, rotating her neck as she stretched. ‘A break would be good. Could you bring her in while I have a wash?’ She waggled her stained fingers and went off with her crutch to change her paint-spattered T-shirt and do something to her face and hair.
When Isobel got back to the terrace a young woman with a mass of dark curling hair spun round from an intent study of the watercolour and smiled warmly.
‘Hello. I’m Alyssa. I was speaking to Dr Riga today, and he said you might like some company now Luke’s gone.’
Isobel smiled back, delighted. ‘I would, very much. How kind of you. Now I can thank you for packing my clothes.’
‘I was glad to help. Alex told me about your accident.’
‘Your brother was very kind, too. Please thank him when you speak to him again. Is he back at the hospital now?’
‘Yes. He was just here for his days off.’ Alyssa gestured to the painting. ‘I’m impressed. You have enormous talent.’
‘Thank you. How about some fruit juice, or water?’
‘The juice will be fine. Shall I pour some for you?’
Isobel nodded. ‘Please. Do sit down—I’ve been standing too long.’
Alyssa eyed the strapped ankle doubtfully as she pulled up a chair. ‘Will you be able to manage at the cottage on your own?’
‘Once Spiro drives me there, yes. The cottage is all on one floor, so with my crutch and the walking stick Luke gave me, no problem.’ Isobel eyed her guest with interest. ‘You speak very good English.’
‘We had a marvellous English teacher here in school. I also studied it along with my business degree, and went to work in England. I was there for several years.’ Alyssa grinned. ‘The accent is still strong, but I pride myself I’m fluent.’
‘You certainly are. What did you do?’
‘I worked in a London bank, with all those hotshot City boys.’ She fluttered her eyelashes. ‘One of them even tried to persuade me to share his trendy riverside apartment.’
With those eyes and curves and the luxuriant hair, Isobel could well believe it. Alyssa was probably exactly the type of woman Luke usually went for. ‘But it didn’t happen?’
‘No. He was a charmer, and I was tempted, but I was homesick. By that time I had saved a fair sum of money, so home I came. Soon afterwards my baby brother introduced me to a handsome surgeon at his hospital.’ She waggled a hand adorned with an impressive ring. ‘And in a few weeks I’m going to marry my Dimitri. In the meantime I keep my English up with tourists at the taverna. But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.’
Alyssa listened, fascinated, as Isobel described her painting commissions and her job at the gallery, then