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Jane wished she had the nerve to just walk into the house. But it was five years since she and Demetri had lived together and this woman didn’t know her from Adam. Or should she say Eve?
‘He’s not expecting me,’ she admitted uncomfortably. Then, in an effort to establish her identity, she added, ‘Where is Mrs Grey?’
‘Mrs Grey?’ The woman looked a little less doubtful now. ‘You know Mrs Grey?’
‘Mr Souvakis’ housekeeper, yes.’ Jane nodded. ‘Is she still here?’
‘Mrs Grey retired three years ago,’ the woman answered. ‘I’m Mrs Sawyer. I took her place.’
‘I see.’
Jane was feeling slightly reassured when a man’s voice interrupted them. ‘Who is it, Freda?’ he called; from upstairs, Jane surmised. ‘Ineh, Theo? Tell him to come in.’
‘It’s not Mr Vasilis, Mr Souvakis,’ Mrs Sawyer replied, raising her voice so he could hear, and Jane’s heart almost stopped beating when she heard someone coming down the stairs.
‘Well, you know I’m going out,’ Demetri was saying as he reached the bottom of the stairs and strode along the hall towards the door. And then he saw Jane, and the silence that ensued was almost deafening.
‘Hello, Demetri.’ Jane knew it was up to her to say something. ‘May I come in?’
Demetri exchanged a look with Mrs Sawyer. ‘This is my wife, Freda,’ he said, unaware that they had already introduced themselves. Then, without meeting Jane’s eyes, he stepped back and gestured her inside. ‘Neh, come in. I am going out, but I can spare you a few minutes. If it’s urgent.’
‘It is,’ said Jane, giving the housekeeper an apologetic smile. The door closed and she nervously moistened her lips. ‘How are you, Demetri? You look well.’
In actual fact, he looked anything but, she thought. The strain of his father’s illness was obviously taking its toll on him. Ianthe had told her that Leo Souvakis was still alive, but very frail. Jane imagined he was very disappointed that Demetri’s relationship with Ariadne had come to nothing.
Demetri didn’t answer her and she wasn’t really surprised. He must know she hadn’t come here to enquire about his health. He was probably wondering why she was here, for, despite what Ianthe had said, he had made no attempt to see her during his visit.
‘We’ll be in the upstairs sitting room,’ he told the housekeeper now. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘Would you like coffee? Or something stronger?’
‘Um—tea would be nice,’ murmured Jane, still unable to face the former. ‘If it’s not too much trouble—’
‘Tea. For one, Freda.’ Demetri gave the order. Then, indicating the staircase, ‘Parakalo: you know where the sitting room is.’
Jane glanced behind her as she climbed the stairs. ‘You—er—you don’t live in the basement these days?’ she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
‘Freda and her husband have their apartment in the basement,’ Demetri replied flatly. ‘I haven’t used it for years.’
‘Oh.’
Jane couldn’t think of an answer to that and instead tried to distract herself by familiarising herself with her surroundings. Silk-lined walls, hung with priceless paintings, cushion-soft carpets, a crystal chandelier. And that was before she entered the family sitting room, with its Bokhara rugs and curved leather sofas, its elegant marble fireplace and exquisite works of art.
She paused in the doorway, where pocket doors could be slid aside to create a larger space for entertaining. When Demetri’s father had been in London, the Souvakises had enjoyed a busy social life. Jane remembered parties where finding a guest without a famous name had been quite a feat.
She turned to remind Demetri of this, but he was already easing past her, crossing the room with the evident intention of getting himself a drink.And not tea, she speculated, aware that he looked much leaner than she remembered. Although his black pleated trousers and white silk shirt fitted him with glove-like precision, he had definitely lost some weight. There was more grey in the sleek beauty of his hair now and surprisingly he needed a haircut.
‘So,’ he said, at last, turning to rest his hips against the cabinet behind him. He was holding a glass with what she suspected was whisky in it. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected appearance?’
Jane came slowly into the room. ‘I notice you don’t say “unexpected pleasure”,’ she said lightly, resisting the urge to wrap her arms about her waist. Then, because it was easier than getting to the real point of her visit, ‘How is your father?’
