Catherine O'Connor - Obligation To Love

‘My job in the gallery is selling art works,’ she said modestly, never admitting to the important role she played; her lack of confidence made her unaware of her true skills and talents.

‘You like this work—it is interesting?’ His voice was warmly persuasive, and Hayley, who loved her work and enjoyed talking about it, failed to see the flicker of curiosity on his usually guarded features.

‘Oh, yes indeed. The gallery specialises in antique works but we also hold several exhibitions each year for new talent,’ she told him, sparkling as she recalled her past achievements.

‘And your preferred artists?’ Alex asked almost cautiously, as if not wanting to be disappointed by her choice.

‘I have a very general taste. At the moment, there is a growing interest in religious art. Many churches are closing and they contain some marvellous artistic pieces. Many undiscovered sculptures by famous men are appearing at auction, so at the moment I’m spending time researching into all aspects of religious art.’

‘This gallery—you own it?’ he asked gently, feigning casual interest as he brushed imaginary fluff from his trousers. Hayley gave a hoot of delight.

‘No, I couldn’t possibly afford to own a gallery!’ she replied, shaking her head till her thick fringe swayed, drawing attention to the natural beauty of her face.

‘That’s very honest of you,’ he remarked.

‘Why should I lie to you?’ Hayley was puzzled by his cynical observation.

He pushed his fingers roughly through his hair, an action that made him look slightly boyish before he replied. ‘Why indeed?’ he said heavily, and she knew that he was laughing at her, a joke which she was part of but didn’t under-stand. A shadow of disappointment crossed her face.

‘You clearly love your work, but you feel you are no expert?’ Alex asked, as if trying to draw her back to easy conversation.

‘I’m no expert,’ agreed Hayley, omitting to tell him how qualified she was, as it might appear boastful and crude.

‘You told me your visit to Greece is not a holiday. Do I presume business, then? Art works to view?’ he queried.

‘No, not really, but if I saw anything very good I could not ignore such an opportunity to ask the owner to perhaps consider an exhibition. This is my card,’ she said in her most professional manner, passing Alex the gallery’s small buff-coloured card. He scanned over it with interest before fixing back on her.

‘So, if it is not business,’ he continued, as he tucked her card neatly in his chest pocket, ‘then what brings you to Greece?’

Hayley gave a low groan; how could one possibly describe the situation she was in? ‘My sister is hoping to get married and I’m going to meet the family.’

‘Indeed? How fascinating.’ She detected the hidden edge in his voice and was worried by it. ‘And will you be able to cope?’

Hayley paused before she answered, as a mental image of her parents flashed before her. She had always coped, always had to cope alone, while Melissa had demanded attention.

‘I’ve always coped,’ she replied, trying to keep the sorrow from her voice which she knew was ever-present when she thought about her childhood. He nodded briefly, catching the hidden pain in her eyes.

‘So it is you who must make all the arrangements?’ he pursued, his voice warming and gentle, yet there was a teasing, almost mocking ring to his enquiries, making her nervous.

‘I’m afraid so, and, though for my sister’s sake I must do my best, it’s not going to be easy.’

‘Why do you say that about people you haven’t even met?’ he queried keenly.

‘I’m not sure, but the family don’t appear at all keen on the idea, to be honest,’ Hayley confessed with lightness, as if it was of no real consequence. She was trying hard not to feel intimidated, but the thought of meeting Dimitri’s family played on the back of her mind. She noted the concern that suddenly creased Alex’s brow, and when he spoke his voice was jagged.

‘Why not?’ he snapped, looking stormy. Hayley felt pleased that he seemed as perturbed as she about their objections. It reassured her that perhaps not all Greeks were as old-fashioned as Mr Christos.

‘It’s the old man—’ she began, but she was interrupted immediately by Alex.

‘The old man?’ he echoed incredulously, and the sudden glint in his eyes unnerved her.

‘Yes—Dimitri’s cousin,’ she explained. ‘I’ve only spoken to him on the phone, but he was far from friendly,’ she said, a little embarrassed by the admission. She remembered Mr Christos’s tone and felt angry again.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure, but I think it’s because it would be a mixed marriage; he sounds awfully traditional and set in his ways.’

‘You can tell all this by the sound of his voice?’ Alex’s voice was measured and even, but Hayley caught the underlying anger and reacted to it, defending her opinion vehemently.

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