Follow a Stranger Read online

  FOLLOW A STRANGER

  Charlotte Lamb

  Kate hadn’t liked the haughty Greek, Marc Lillitos, from

  the first moment she met him, and it was only for the

  sake of her fiancé Peter, a keen archaeologist, that she

  had accepted Marc’s invitation to the two of them to visit

  his Greek island home.

  Somehow she felt apprehensive about it all. But what

  had she to fear?

  CHAPTER ONE

  There had been a frost overnight, leaving the grass white and

  sparkling in the early morning sunshine. When Kate looked

  out of her window, at seven, pearly mist obscured her view,

  and she dressed quickly, shivering, hoping that it was not

  going to be another grey day. But at nine, when she left the

  house, the wind had blown the mist away, and the sky was a

  bright, clear blue.

  The change lifted her spirits. She walked along slowly, her

  dreamy eyes fixed on the elm tree tops which showed above

  Cheddall’s walls, swaying slowly against the heavenly blue of

  the sky. The black branches were thickened by rooks’ nests

  and as she watched some of the ungainly black birds rose up,

  cawing.

  The sound reminded her of summer. She shivered,

  clutching her coat closer. Despite the sunshine it was still a

  chilly January morning.

  Still dreaming, she stepped into the road, and was dragged

  down to earth by the blare of a car horn. She leapt back to the

  pavement and looked round, heart pounding.

  A sleek black car had pulled up, brakes screeching

  dramatically. The driver got out and walked round to her.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing, walking under my

  wheels like that?”

  Kate had the impression of looking up a long way

  to his dark, angry face. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It was

  my fault, I know. But,” her nerves shaken by his harsh tones,

  “there’s no need to shout at me like that.”

  “You must expect people to lose their temper if you try to

  commit suicide under their cars,” he retorted. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, thank you,” she said, in the same angry tone he had

  used for the question.

  “You needn’t sound so aggrieved,” he snapped, staring at

  her, “I’m the one with a grievance, I think.”

  “I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”

  “You sound sorry,” he said sarcastically.

  Her hair bristled on the back of her neck. “I was very sorry

  at first, but your attitude would put anyone’s back up.”

  “Women!” he grunted. “How very logical! Well, if you’re not

  hurt, good morning.”

  She watched him stride back to his car and felt like

  childishly stamping her foot. Male superiority triumphs

  again, she thought, as he drove past without a second glance.

  Men like that would make the mildest female join Women’s

  Lib!

  She glanced at her watch and was horrified to see the

  time. She would be late if she did not hurry and her first

  lesson was at nine-fifteen. She crossed the road, looking both

  ways, and ran the rest of the way to the school.

  The summons to Miss Carter’s study came while Kate was

  listening to a first-former attempting to play the piano. Both

  pupil and teacher sighed with relief at the interruption. Kate

  grinned as she followed the reluctant pianist out of the music

  room. If only parents knew what resentments they bred in

  their children when they forced them to take up music

  against their inclination!

  It was true, of course, that sometimes they developed an

  interest at a later stage and were then grateful for their early

  grounding. But, somehow, she did not think that this would

  apply to the girl scuttling eagerly in front of her. Lucy

  Salmon had fingers like sausages and was almost totally

  tone-deaf. Her musical father was doomed to disappointment.

  She paused at a pale primrose door and knocked softly.

  “Come in,” Miss Carter commanded, and when Kate

  entered, smiled at her across the pleasant, sunny room.

  “Ah, my dear. I’m sorry to disturb you during a lesson, but

  I’m leaving shortly to lunch with the Mayor, and I wanted to

  discuss something with you. Sit down.”

  The Headmistress of Cheddall Public School for Girls was

  as pleasant as her room. Sensible, sandy-haired and blue-

  eyed, she had an enviable calm which Kate had never seen

  ruffled. Her appointment last year, at the early age of forty,

  had surprised no one. She had been acting as deputy for the

  previous five years with great success and was popular with

  parents and girls alike.

  Some of the staff had disapproved of the changes she had

  made, others had heartily supported her. But there were few

  people who disliked her.

  Kate sat back, wondering what she had done wrong. A

  summons to the Head was usually a sign of the wrath to

  come, but she could not remember having fallen from grace

  lately, so she smiled and waited patiently.

  She was unaware, being a very modest girl, that when she

  smiled two dimples appeared in her cheeks, or that her eyes

  had a warmth in their depths which usually produced a

  responsive smile from the people she was with, but she was

  relieved to see Miss Carter smile back.

  Leaning forward with her square hands laid flat on her

  desk, the Headmistress said, “We expect a new pupil

  tomorrow, Kate.” She paused, as if searching for the right

  words. “Rather a special case.” Then paused again, as if

  anticipating questions.

  Kate nodded. If a girl was allowed to join the school in the

  middle of a term it must, indeed, be a special case, but since

  the Head clearly wanted some reply, she said politely, “Yes,

  Miss Carter?”

  The Head laughed. “I’ll be frank—I feel rather doubtful

  about accepting this girl.” She shook her head and stared at

  the window in silence for a moment. “She’s hardly the sort of

  girl we normally have here.” She paused again and began to

  sketch a queer little doodle, then, without looking up, added,

  “Her brother is Marc Lillitos.”

  Kate blinked. Who was he? Clearly she was expected to

  know the name, but although she searched her memory, she

  could never remember having heard it before.

  Miss Carter looked up, her eyes curious. “You do not know

  the name?”

  “No,” Kate admitted.

  “He’s a shipping magnate, a very wealthy man. He came to

  me today and asked me to accept his sister Pallas ...”

  “Pallas!” Kate interrupted, without thinking.

  Miss Carter smiled. “Pallas Athene, the Greek goddess of

  wisdom, but I’m afraid the name does not fit this girl. She

  has been expelled from three really excellent schools

 
already.”

  “Goodness!” exclaimed Kate, in amazement.

  “Quite. As you know, we don’t take problem children here

  at Cheddall, so I hesitated. But her brother assures me that,

  despite the evidence, she is a talented and clever girl, and he

  convinced me that she deserves a final chance. After a long

  discussion, I agreed, but on my own conditions.” She paused

  again, frowning. “That’s where you come in, Kate.”

  Kate nodded, “Yes?”

  “I gathered that she is in rebellion against the discipline of

  school. She wants to go to a college of music, where she feels

  she’ll have more freedom.”

  “She’s musical?” Kate said, seeing now how this affected

  herself.

  “Very, it appears. She both plays the violin and sings. But

  her family want her to have a sound education before she

  specialises. I sensed vague disapproval of a musical career,

  but nothing was said on that subject.”

  “If they’re rich, I wouldn’t have thought it would matter,”

  said Kate.

  “They probably fear she will make the wrong friends. I

  suspect they give her very little freedom at home. A strict

  background, strict schools—you can see the pattern.”

  Kate grimaced. “Only too clearly. What do you want me to

  do, Miss Carter?”

  The Head smiled. “Make friends with her.”

  “Of course,” Kate agreed. “But as I live out of school that

  may not be easy.”

  “On the contrary, it’s an advantage. It gives you a less

  claustrophobic attitude to the school. It might be an idea to

  take her to your home, let her have a taste of ordinary home

  life. Boarding schools tend to narrow one’s horizons. I realise

  it’s asking a great deal, Kate. You would prefer to get away

  from school when you’re off duty. But I feel sorry for the girl.”

  “So do I,” said Kate.

  “Well, don’t let her suspect that, will you? I would prefer

  the relationship to develop quite naturally. Pity would only

  make matters worse. The poor little rich girl theme is

  poisonous.”

  Kate laughed. “I understand. I think I can handle it.”

  “Good.” Miss Carter smiled at her. “Thank you, Kate.”

  Kate Caulfield was twenty-four, slightly built, with long

  straight blonde hair, unusually vivid blue eyes, and the

  strong flexible fingers of a pianist.

  She had trained in London, and had had dreams of being a

  concert pianist, but since she was a practical girl beneath her

  dreamy exterior, she soon realised that she did not have the

  necessary ability.

  When she left college she accepted the post of music

  teacher at Cheddall Public School, since it was only a few

  minutes’ walk from her home.

  Since Miss Carter became Headmistress the school had

  been reorganised on more modern lines. There was less

  severity, more freedom, and the girls seemed to thrive upon

  the new regime. Kate was very happy there, especially since

  it left her with plenty of free time in which to be with her

  fiancé, Peter Hardy.

  Peter ran the local museum and, in his own spare time,

  was an ardent archaeologist. Kate had known him all her

  life.

  Her father had died five years earlier, leaving his wife

  with four children to bring up. Kate’s salary was the only

  family income for the present, since her younger brother,

  Sam, was studying art at the local art school, and her twin

  brothers, Harry and John, were only eleven.

  That evening she told her mother about Pallas Lillitos

  while they washed up after supper.

  Sam listened idly, sitting astride a chair, eating a bag of

  peanuts.

  “She sounds a real frost,” he remarked, “spoilt and

  conceited.”

  “Didn’t you have enough supper?” Kate countered. “You

  eat as if you never expected to see another meal!”

  He grinned, wrinkling his freckled nose at her. Sam had

  red hair, big ears and an inexhaustible passion for food. Only

  his blue eyes were any reminder of the fact that they were

  brother and sister.

  “You’re just jealous because I don’t have to diet to keep my

  figure.”

  She threw the tea-towel at him. “How true, you

  abominable boy!”

  Mrs. Caulfield smiled, her gaze resting on Kate’s trim

  waist. “You don’t need to diet either, Kate.”

  Kate put her hands on either side of her waist, sighing. “I

  do if I want to wear my new dress for the spring dance at the

  Tennis Club. I need to lose an inch off my waist, or the dress

  will burst at the seams.”

  “You should have bought a larger size,” said her mother.

  “They only had it in one size and it was too gorgeous to

  resist.”

  “It cost a bomb, too,” Sam said. “Which reminds me—lend

  me a quid, Kate. I want to take Karen to the pictures.”

  Kate groaned, but produced the money. “I thought girls

  went dutch these days.”

  “Not Karen,” he said proudly. “Half the male population of

  Greyford is trying to date her. I wouldn’t dare suggest we go

  dutch.”

  When he had vanished to change into even sloppier jeans,

  his mother laughed. “Karen isn’t a girl—she’s a prize. Sam is

  delighted to be dating her.”

  “I can’t think why,” said Kate. “She’s the most boring girl I

  ever met.”

  “But she looks like a beauty queen,” said Mrs. Caulfield

  with amusement, “and all the other boys are crazy about

  her.”

  The doorbell rang and Kate jumped up. “That will be

  Peter—I’ll go.”

  She opened the door and a tall, bearded young man

  wandered in, smiling vaguely at her. “Hi!”

  She sighed and reached up to kiss him. “Hello, darling.

  Had an interesting day?”

  He looked almost lively. “Yes—guess what was brought in?

  Another urn fragment from the Roman fort at Lower

  Greyford. And it fits perfectly! The urn is really taking shape

  now. Another few pieces and I’ll have a complete second-

  century urn.”

  “How fascinating, darling. Like a jigsaw puzzle,” she said,

  pushing him into the sitting-room.

  Peter Hardy was a few years older than Kate, but looked

  less, because his features were less mature. Sam had once

  said that Peter looked like a Viking, talked like a professor

  and hardly knew one girl from another. Blond, grey-eyed and

  pleasant, he was too passionately involved with his work to

  be aware of anything else.

  Kate, who had fallen in love with him years ago and had

  only managed to make him notice her by being continually

  underfoot, often wondered if he remembered that they were

  engaged to be married. Certainly he never suggested a

  wedding date. But she curled up beside him on the sofa and

  let him talk of Roman urns while her mind wandered to more

  romantic ideas.

  A few days later Miss Carter came into the music room and

&
nbsp; introduced her to Pallas Lillitos.

  Kate was taken aback to find her new pupil to be far more

  adult than she had expected. She was wearing a plain black

  skirt and white blouse, the usual sixth form version of the

  school uniform. But she managed to invest it with a Parisian

  chic which, with her sleek black hair and matt complexion,

  made her look nearer twenty than sixteen.

  Miss Carter left them alone together after a moment or

  two, and Kate looked thoughtfully at the new girl.

  “Perhaps you’d better show me what you can do,” she

  suggested. “Shall we start with the violin?”

  Pallas shrugged indifferently. Taking out her violin, she

  played a dazzling piece of Paganini, her face remote and

  austere beneath her black cap of hair.

  Kate smiled at her when she had finished. She knew very

  well that Pallas had chosen that particular piece in order to

  startle her by her technical brilliance, and, she had to admit,

  it was very clever. But there had been something lacking.

  She could not quite put her finger on what that was, but she

  said nothing, except to ask Pallas to sing for her.

  The girl looked a little cross. Sullenly she chose a song,

  Kate played the introduction on the piano, and Pallas sang.

  Kate’s fingers almost halted in amazement as the clear,

  sweet notes spilled out. She looked round and saw a dreamy

  expression stealing into the girl’s face.

  Afterwards, she closed the piano lid with a gesture of

  finality. “You don’t need me to tell you that you have a very

  lovely voice,” she said, smiling at Pallas. “I shall arrange for

  our specialist violin teacher to come in and teach you. Your

  voice is really almost beyond me. You need serious training.”

  “When I am eighteen Marc will let me go to a college of

  music,” said the girl. “But he has no intention of letting me

  take up a professional career. So what does it matter?”

  Kate leaned back and stared at her. “Why won’t he let you

  become a musician?”

  “He wants me to marry,” said Pallas, “as I’m sure you

  know!” And her eyes bit contemptuously at Kate.

  “How should I know? I’ve never met him. Why shouldn’t

  you marry and still have a career?”

  Pallas shrugged, without answering.

  Kate waited, then changed the subject. “I’m sure Miss

  Carter could arrange to have someone really good to come in

  and teach you singing. Madame Liovitch lives twenty miles