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like this again. Buy them.”
Kate was a competent needlewoman, but she had to
admit, as she gazed at diminutive bikinis and smart,
multi-hued trousers, that she could never have produced
anything half as professional.
Pallas was chattering to Sam, as they walked towards
the sleek black car which had come to meet them, and
Kate had time to look around her.
The airfield ran along beside the beach, the only
flat part of the island, as far as she could see. Above it rose
green hills and rugged crags of stone, their peaks swathed
in a lavender mist shot through with pink.
A man approached them, taking the bags from the
airport manager while saluting Pallas with a grin. The
airport manager slid away politely and began locking up
the one building visible, a small modern pavilion built of
wood.
“Hallo, Jake,” Pallas greeted the newcomer. “How are
you?”
“Fine, Miss Pallas, just fine.” He was a rugged Greek of
middle years, with swarthy skin and a broken nose which
gave him a slightly pugnacious expression. Stowing their
bags into the boot of the car, he helped Pallas into the
back.
All the details of the journey had been handled by the
Lillitos family. Kate felt quite dazed as she sat back on the
smooth upholstery of the limousine, next to Pallas, staring
out of the window. Everything had been so trouble-free
that she almost doubted that she had really left England.
Money certainly oiled the wheels when one was travelling.
