Santorini

Chapter 6

The Angelina, to put it at its most kindly, was a rather striking-looking craft. An eighty-tonner built of pinewood from the forests of the island of Samos, she had a dazzling white hull which contrasted strongly ? some would have said violently — with her vermilion gunwale. Wide of beam and low in the water amidships, she had a pronounced flare aft and for'ard, a curved stem that projected high above the gunwale. As a sailing boat, she was well equipped with a standing-lug main and balance-lug foresail, together with two jibs. Had it been left at that, as she had originally been built, the Angelina, a typical example of the Tehandiri class, would not only have been striking but downright handsome. Unfortunately, it had not been left at that.

The owner, Professor Wotherspoon, although a self-avowed traditionalist, was also strongly attached to his creature comforts. Not content with converting the craft's very considerable hold ? it was, after all, originally constructed as a cargo vessel ? into cabins and bathrooms, he had constructed on the deck a bridge, saloon and galley which, while admittedly functional, detracted notably from the overall aesthetic effect.

Shortly before ten o'clock in the morning, the Angelina, almost slack-sailed and ghosting along under a Meltemi that hardly rated as a zephyr, tied up along the starboard side of the Ariadne. Talbot, accompanied by Denholm, climbed down a rope ladder to greet the owner.

The first impression that Talbot had of Wotherspoon was that he didn't look a bit like a professor or an archaeologist but then, he had to admit, he had no idea what a professor or archaeologist was supposed to look like. He was tall, lean, shock-haired and deeply tanned: humorous of mien and colloquial of speech, he was the last person one would expect to find wandering through the groves of Academe. He was certainly not more than forty years old. His wife, with auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes, was at least ten years younger and was also, it seemed, an archaeologist.

Introductions effected by Denholm, Talbot said: 'I appreciate this very much, Professor. Very kind of you to come. Not to say very gallant. You appreciate that there is a fair chance that you might find yourself prematurely in another world? Lieutenant Denholm did explain the dangers to you?'

'In a cautious and roundabout fashion. He's become very tight-lipped since he joined the Senior Service.'

'I didn't join. I was dragooned.'

'He did mention something about vaporization. Well, one gets a bit tired of studying ancient history. Much more interesting to be a part of the making of it.'

'It might be a very short-lived interest indeed. Does Mrs Wotherspoon share your short-lived interests?'

''Angelina', please. We had to entertain a very prim and proper Swiss lady the other day and she insisted on addressing me as Madame Professor Wotherspoon. Ghastly. 'No, I can't say I share all of my husband's more extravagant enthusiasms. But, alas, he does have one professorial failing. He's horribly absent-minded. Someone has to look after him.'

Talbot smiled. 'A fearful thing for so young and attractive a lady to be trapped for life. Again, thank you both very, very much. I should like it if you would join us for lunch. Meantime, I'll leave Lieutenant Denholm to explain the full horrors of the situation to you ? especially the ones you'll encounter across the lunch table.'

'Gloom and despondency,' Van Gelder said. 'It ill becomes one so young and beautiful to be gloomy and despondent. What is the matter, Irene?'

In so far as one so young and beautiful could look morose, Irene Charial gazed out morosely over the taffrail of the Ariadne.

'I am not, Lieutenant-Commander Van Gelder, in the mood for flattery.'

'Vincent. Flattery is an insincere compliment. How can the truth be flattery? But you're right about the word 'mood'. You are in a mood. You're worried, upset. What's troubling you?'

'Nothing.'

'Being beautiful doesn't mean you're above telling fibs. You could hardly call that flattery, could you?'

'No.' A fleeting smile touched the green eyes. 'Not really.'

'I know this is a very unpleasant situation you find yourself in. But we're all trying to make the best of it. Or did something your parents say upset you?'

'You know perfectly well that that's not true.' Van Gelder also knew it, Denholm had reassured him on that point.

'Yes, that's so. You were hardly in a cheerful frame of mind when I first met you this morning. Something worries you. Is it so dreadful a secret that you can't tell me?'

'You've come here to pry, haven't you?'

'Yes. To pry and probe. Crafty, cunning, devious questions to extract information from you that you don't know you're giving away.' It was Van Gelder's turn to look morose. 'I don't think I'm very good at it.'

'I don't think you are, either. That man sent you, didn't he?'

'What man?'

'Now you're being dishonest. Commander Talbot. Your captain. A cold man. Distant. Humourless.'

'He's neither cold nor distant. And he's got a very considerable sense of humour.'

'Humour. I don't see any signs of it.'

'I'm beginning not to be surprised.' Van Gelder had stopped smiling. 'Maybe he thought it would be wasted on you.'

'Maybe he's right.' She appeared not to have taken offence. 'Or maybe I just don't see too much to laugh about at the moment. But I'm right about the other thing. He's remote, distant. I've met people like him before.'

'I doubt it very much. In the same way that I doubt your power of judgement You don't seem to be very well equipped in that line.'

'Oh.' She made a moue. 'Flattery and charm have flown out the window, is that it?'

'I don't flatter. I've never claimed to have charm.'

'I meant no harm. Please. I see nothing wrong with being a career officer. But he lives for only two things — the Royal Navy and the Ariadne.'

'You poor deluded creature.' Van Gelder spoke without heat. 'But how were you to know? John Talbot lives for only two things ? his daughter and his son. Fiona, aged six, and Jimmy, aged three. He dotes on them. So do I. I'm their Uncle Vincent.'

'Oh.' She was silent for some moments. 'And his wife?'

'Dead.'

'I am sorry.' She caught his arm. 'To say I didn't know is no excuse. Go ahead. Call me a clown.'

'I don't flatter, I don't charm — and I don't tell lies.'

'But you do turn a pretty compliment.' She took her hand away, leaned on the rail and looked out over the sea. After some time, she said, without looking around: 'It's my Uncle Adam, isn't it?'

'Yes. We don't know him, we don't trust him and we think he's a highly suspicious character. You will forgive me talking about your nearest and dearest in this fashion.'

'He is not my nearest and dearest.' She had turned to face him. There was neither vehemence in her voice nor marked expression in her face: at most, a slight degree of bewilderment in both. 7 don't know him, / don't trust him and / think he's a highly suspicious character.'

'If you don't know him, what on earth are — were — you doing aboard his yacht?'

'I suppose that, too, seems suspicious. Not really. Three reasons, I would think. He's a very persuasive man He seems to be genuinely fond of our family ? my younger brother and sister and myself — for he is forever giving us presents, very expensive presents, too, and it seemed churlish to refuse his invitation. Then there was the element of fascination. I know practically nothing about him, nor what his business activities are or why he spends so much time in foreign countries. And, of course, perhaps both Eugenia and I are snobs at heart and were flattered by the invitation to go cruising on a very expensive yacht.'

'Well, good enough reasons. But still not good enough to explain why you went with him if you dislike him.'

'I didn't say I disliked him. I said I distrusted him. Not the same thing. And I didn't begin distrusting him until