Catherine O'Connor - Obligation To Love

‘Good evening, Mr Christos, I had no idea...’ he began apologetically, as he shrugged his shoulders and shifted about uncomfortably. Andros allowed his eyebrows to rise slightly and he replaced his sunglasses with an air of dismissal. The driver hurried away, still mumbling his apologies and drove off swiftly. Andros’s mouth quirked with self-assurance as he made straight for the motorway, confident that there would be few road users who would not recognise him and allow him through.

The drive home was long; it was a good hour and a half before the motorway ran across the Isthmus bridge, and then at last the road began to descend. Andros sighed with contentment as he caught his first glimpse of Lake Vouliagmenik, a shimmering blue oval in the mountains clearly visible from his village. He parked the car under the shade of some cypress trees and marched into the house. The interior was cool and silent. His heels clicked against the cold grey marble floor, echoing dismally in the emptiness of the large hall. He made his way to the heavy ornate doors at the end of the hall and pushed them both apart as he entered.

‘Andros!’ A small plump woman jumped to her feet the moment he entered, her relief at seeing him evident in her every action. She clasped him tightly, her arms wrapping firmly around his waist as she hugged him, as if trying to squeeze strength from him. He allowed her to stay there for a while, a rarely seen look of pleasure on his face, before he began to disentangle himself from her.

‘Now, Aunt Sophia, what is this all about?’ he asked, as he carelessly pulled the tie from around his neck and opened his shirt collar. The initial laughter and confidence drained from Sophia’s face and she sank wearily on to the white leather couch, her eyes troubled. Despite the warm colour of her smooth skin and the absence of grey from her dark hair, she suddenly seemed old to Andros, and he watched her anxiously as he poured himself a drink.

‘I have tried talking to Dimitri, but he insists,’ she said sadly, shaking her head in defeat. Andros shrugged his powerful body from his jacket and tossed it across a chair. He moved to his aunt’s side, taking her hand with firmness as he sat down next to her.

‘No doubt he has told you he is in love?’ he asked mockingly, a grin of amusement on his face. She raised her head but did not return the smile.

‘I know we have heard it so many times from my boy, but...’ She stopped as if frightened to continue. Andros stood up, dropping her hand as he did so, his attitude changing as realisation struck him.

‘He is serious this time—is that what you are trying to tell me?’ he demanded, his tone piercingly sharp.

Sophia lifted her shoulders expressively. ‘It is true. They are so happy together—but I know it will not work,’ she added sadly, watching Andros closely.

‘Of course it will not work! How can it possibly work? This family has suffered enough,’ he said, barely raising his tone, but his voice full of angry conviction. Sophia nodded silently, her face full of grief as the past seemed ready to repeat itself.

‘What are we to do, Andros?’ she pleaded desperately, her dark eyes fixed on him as if he were a god. Andros sank back into a chair and closed his own eyes, as if trying to block out the look of admiration and expectation on his aunt’s face. He rubbed his hand over his face, suddenly feeling exhausted; the heat of summer was already building up.

‘Where are they now?’ he asked wearily.

‘Loutraki; she works there as a courier for a holiday company. Dimitri says he will bring her for dinner this evening. You will talk to them then, yes?’ she asked gratefully. Andros nodded abruptly and kept his eyes closed. His aunt silently left the room. It would bring back painful memories for Andros, she knew, but they had to prevent Dimitri from making the same mistake.

* * *

Andros sat up till late in the evening. He needed his solitude, time to think, but his thoughts were not about Dimitri. They were about himself and his own foolishness. It was so easy to imagine being in love as these two young fools were doing. He knew he had no choice but to forbid the marriage, and he was confident that Dimitri would obey him; was Andros not the head of the family? Dimitri would obey, he thought grimly, an iron determination hardening his already stiff jaw.

* * *

‘ Marriage !’ Andros spat contemptuously, unable to suffer the young couple’s innocence any longer. A look of superiority and derision swept across his features. He leant back in his chair, rocking it slightly as he viewed them both with barely concealed contempt. ‘It is out of the question.’ There was a finality in his voice that normally Dimitri would have immediately obeyed, but this time the boy was equally determined, and his eyes met Andros’s in angry conflict.

‘We love each other,’ Dimitri stated proudly, wrapping a protective arm around his girl’s slim waist.

‘Love!’ echoed his stern-faced cousin scornfully, the pain of his own ideals stabbing at him too deeply to be visible. ‘Love!’ he echoed again, as if it were the only thought more ridiculous than marriage. Andros’s eyes narrowed as he viewed the pair and his mouth set as he saw the look of resolution on their youthful faces. He turned to look at the girl, Melissa, with unconcealed dislike. She was too pretty, a child, unable to love anyone but herself.

‘Your family. What have they to say about this?’ he demanded, watching her closely as she replied.

‘My parents are dead, but I’m sure Hayley will approve.’ She looked at Dimitri as she spoke, her eyes soft and full of unspoken love.

‘Really?’ Andros drawled caustically. ‘Then I should like to meet her—’

‘Yes! that’s a great idea,’ interrupted Melissa, before she became aware of Dimitri’s tightening grip, and the look of fury on Andros’s face. She coloured immediately.

‘If this lady wishes to become your bride, I suggest that you teach her some manners.’ Andros spoke coldly, directing his criticism at Dimitri while viewing Melissa with icy disdain. ‘I shall telephone your sister and make arrange-ments for her to join us.’

He watched them as they walked away, their arms entwined and their heads close together. He looked down at the slim grey card Melissa had passed him and studied it with care. The address was that of a quite fashionable gallery in the Knightsbridge area of London and, despite himself, Andros was impressed. He went to the phone and dialled the number carefully, and listened as an efficient voice answered.

‘Good afternoon, Longshaw’s Gallery. Hayley Swift speaking.’

Andros allowed himself a flicker of a smile at her officious tone and couldn’t help but compare her to Melissa, as he had automatically imagined a waif of a girl.

‘Miss Swift, my name is Andros Christos.’ He paused, allowing the impact of his name to penetrate. His wealth had made him known throughout the world and his interest in collecting art was well known. Any gallery who received a call from him would immediately respond.

Hayley remained silent for a moment, her mind snapping to attention. Melissa! she thought instinctively, an icy dread suddenly surrounding her. She recalled the frantic letter she had received yesterday from her sister. Melissa, as usual, was begging for her help, and normally Hayley would have responded without question. But this time she had her own doubts; surely Melissa was not ready for marriage? In so many ways she was still so young. Hayley’s frown deepened, clouding her clear blue eyes. It was about time Melissa took responsibility for herself. Surely this time it was a matter between her and her future husband’s family, and could not possibly involve Hayley? Yet, as always, Melissa had turned to Hayley for help and, despite all Hayley’s resolutions not to get involved, she found herself weakening. The desperate plea in her sister’s letter was suddenly etched on Hayley’s mind, and the sound of the man on the phone who was responsible for her sister’s unhappiness made her blood boil! Mr Christos disapproved and without his consent the marriage would not be allowed. Hayley wasn’t sure whether or not he disapproved of the marriage, or just of Melissa—either way, there was something in his approach that rankled with her, an assurance and authority in his tone that almost demanded that his word be law.