Mary Weaver - The Bookseller Pt. 01

"Tomorrow?" echoed Miss Weaver.

"We can go boating and swim and explore!"

"There's bound to be heaps of food!"

"There is one small problem, though," Hubert said.

"What is that?"

"One of us will have to stay behind."

"Ah."

"There isn't enough space in the cars, you see."

"Ah, I see."

"Ah," Hubert said, and looked hangdog.

"I am quite willing to stay here," Weaver said carefully, " but who will see to the girls?"

"Well, Miss de la Salle's nephew and his family will be there, and they have a nanny with them. I daresay she can cope with the girls for one night. We'd all be travelling together, you see. Of course if you wish to go, I can stay here."

"No, no – you must go, Mr Hubert, of course. I won't hear of you staying."

"Oh, if you're –"

"Quite sure."

"Well, thank you. I do feel bad to leave you in the lurch like this, but –"

"It's quite alright."

"You do a capital job with these girls, you know," he said.

"When would you be leaving?"

"Oh – tomorrow, just after lunch. The aim is to be there early in the afternoon. We would be back before sundown on Sunday. Not too late."

"I'm sure I can amuse myself during that time," said Miss Weaver.

This peach, this peach that had dropped into her lap.

"Now girls," she clapped her hands. "It's high time you all went up and changed for bed. I'll be up in a little while, so no larking about, thank you. Say goodnight to your uncle, now."

When they were gone, Hubert stood up and took his jacket.

"Going up?" he said to her, nodding at the stairs.

"Not quite yet," she replied. "I think I'll see the girls to bed and then go out for a short walk. The night's so lovely and warm."

"Too warm," he said. "Well, I think I'll get ready for bed. It's been a long day. Good night, Miss Weaver."

Half an hour later, out in the street, she felt the hum return. She had asked the front desk for the quickest way to Agioy Nicolaos, and walked briskly down the cobbled street. A left, then a right, then another left and a right, and she was on Agioy Nicolaos, the church behind her. The street was long, and empty except for a man at the far end carrying café tables inside for the night. She slowed her pace; the night was warm and the air here not as fresh as it was on bigger streets. Sweat gathered under her hair at the nape of her neck.

She saw a white house, then another, and another. Then one with lions, small things the size of a Pekingese, either side of a short rise of steps. Then a smooth wall, an arch, and in the arch a gate. Behind the gate, a passageway open to the sky, and the dim glow of light from a window thrown against the adjacent wall.

She slid the bolt on the gate and went in. The smooth plaster walls of the houses rose close about her. She trailed one hand along beside her as she walked. There was an arch set into the wall, a door set into an alcove behind it. The square of light shone two yards ahead.

She knocked, then knocked again.

Footsteps came down stairs, crossed a floor, paused, and the door opened onto darkness.

"You came," said Cabot quietly.

"I can't stay," Weaver said quickly, dropping her voice into the merest whisper.

Cabot stepped down out of the doorway. "But you came."

"I came to say – tomorrow. They're all going to be away. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"They're going to Gourniliki."

"But not you?"

"No."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Yes."

Cabot leaned forward and kissed her. Weaver opened the kiss. It was Cabot that broke it when they ran out of air.

"Then, tomorrow," she said.

"Will you wait?"

"I can wait."

Weaver turned and went back the way she had come.