Past Deception

Most mornings Elena had coffee with her neighbour Frances, who after driving her three children to school, called in at ten o’clock. Frances had been her mainstay when Elena’s marriage began cracking. A year ago, Elena’s husband Dan, had discussed the prospect of his promotion moving them to Europe. She was set against living in Germany. Her mother’s stories about the Nazi occupation of Greece had coloured her attitudes. Elena would never wittingly buy anything made in Germany. She avoided Germans when she and Dan were on holiday, refusing to have any kind of social rapport with them. One of her worst arguments with Dan, had occurred soon after his company moved into the German market. She was furious with him for not going for a promotion to France. Dan had reasoned with her that his fluent German gave him an edge. Elena had yelled at him, thrown his dinner onto his lap, ruining his navy blue suit.
“Your French isn’t at all bad.” She had shrilled. "If you had taken a crash language course before the interviews, I wouldn’t be so mad with you.”
Dan had stood his ground determined not to give in. “You don’t have to move.” He had said angrily through tight lips. “I can commute to Berlin.”
“I rarely see you the way it is now.” Elena had wailed. “Sod off to Berlin. But don’t expect me to entertain your German buddies.”

Now Dan was persuading her they should move permanently to Germany. “Give it a try. You would enjoy Berlin. I miss you when I’m away,” he wheedled.
“No Dan. You know my feelings about Germans. I will never learn to speak that language. Going there would be like betraying my mother and her family.”
Elena stormed off to the local pub, where she sat at an unobtrusive corner table after ordering a large cognac. Tearful she called Frances on her mobile, who was settling the kids in their beds. “Give me fifteen minutes. You know how the boys are. If I don’t tell them a story, Jeff won’t have peace.”

Sipping the warming cognac, Elena felt guilty for disturbing Frances. The pub was quiet with only a few regulars at the bar. She heard the nearby Church clock chime, hoped Dan would clear the dinner table, and put the dishes in the washer. Elena had no intention of being placatory, nor did she want to return home to find Dan sulking. Waiting for Frances to arrive, her thoughts moved to when she and Dan had first met. It was love at first sight on his part. Elena had been his tour guide. She had hardly noticed him for much of the Greece tour. The group of mostly young Americans had taken up more of her attention. She had been aware of Dan gazing at her with his hungry blue eyes. Thinking he was quite attractive, at the same time dismissing him as not her type.

Determined to earn as much money as possible from her temporary tour job that summer in 1997, Elena aimed to find photography work in New York. She could earn more money there, see more of the USA. Elena had a special rapport with one American on the tour. Rob a New England college teacher, with the build of an athlete, and an outgoing personality, had been seductively charming with her. Dan in contrast had seemed awkward, taciturn, and distant. Serendipity gave Dan his opportunity when Rob became sick in Heraklion, who said he would catch up with Elena later in Athens. Dan seized his chance to engage her in conversation at a local Taverna. After that evening, Elena had warmed to him more. He was protective when she couldn’t manage two group members, who were rowdy and argumentative after drinking too much Ouzo. Elena thought then, Dan’s concern for her safety was endearing.

Elena had excitedly anticipated Rob’s arrival, until she watched him swing into the Athens hotel foyer with a pretty blond hanging onto his arm. “Hi Elena, this is Adele. We met in Heraklion.” Rob had casually said, looking bronzed and in-love. “Adele’s a music student.” Elena felt crushed she was in-love with Rob. Her dream of being with him shattered like brittle glass that day. After the tour Elena met Dan in London. They saw each other frequently, Dan sent her flowers, took her to fashionable restaurants. He had a knack of being around when Elena’s photography assignments were slack. Besotted with her, Dan had persuaded Elena to see the summer through in London, before going to New York. Autumn and then winter passed, and she was no further forward with her plans. Dan had again persuaded Elena to wait until the spring before moving. By then she was used to having him in her life. “Come with me.” She said one day, as they strolled along the Thames Embankment. Dan’s response to that was, “Marry me.” Her parents approved of Dan. “He’s a decent steady chap.” Her father had said. Her mother asked if she loved him. Elena had hesitated before responding. That worried her mother. “If you don’t love him now, there’s no guarantee that will grow.”

Battle Ground of Wills

Nancy’s frustration leapt to the sharp arch of her eyebrows, to the tight tilt of her mouth, the controlled flare of her nostrils. Frome’s words had struck her like a shard of glass, cutting through his sly pretension. Blind to the blaze he had ignited in her, Frome had exposed his deeply held prejudice. Nancy knew at once, he could not be trusted. She could have retaliated; instead, she eyed him condescendingly with a coldly calculating stare. Then gazing over his head, she focused her ire upon the bare, stark trees, beyond his office window. Frome’s peculiarly clipped speech continued like a river in spate. Seated stiffly on the hard-back upright chair, as if patiently waiting for the London train, Nancy’s thoughts raced, there was much to consider, much to unravel. Averting her gaze from the window, she politely asked him for a cup of tea. The flow of his words halting, Frome’s slippery eyes danced in their sockets, he was not accustomed to interruptions. The immediacy of his heavy silence had become a battle-ground of wills. Frome saw, Nancy could be a formidable woman if thwarted. “Perhaps, Miss Prophet. You need more time to consider my offer?” His placatory words cut no ice with Nancy, her composure was restrained, her voice curt. “Yes, more time. Goodbye, Frome.” Dismissing him like servant, Nancy left the office scheming. She hailed a taxi for the station, her thoughts refusing to consider any further contact with Frome. His offer for the old manor house, had been absurdly arrogant.