then Argus had it exactly right, Penny reflected, following the big dog at a much slower pace. Zarek would of course be overjoyed to see him.
‘Argus!’
The delight in Zarek’s deep voice reinforced her belief that he would be more than happy to see his hound and prepared Penny for what she would see as she went into the room herself.
The moon was shining through the big patio doors that were open to the sight of the gleaming waves that swayed and tossed between the cliffs and the horizon, the sound of them breaking against the rocks on the shore. Zarek sat in a wide comfortable armchair just inside the room, his face, his whole body, in shadow.
‘Argus!’ he said again, slapping one hand against his thigh to call the dog to him. A moment later he was cradling the animal’s big black and white head in both his palms, rubbing the rough fur and crooning softly in low-toned Greek. And Argus, instead of bounding round his master in overwhelming joy at his return, as she had expected, simply gave himself up to the bliss of being reunited. His eyes closed and the only thing that moved was his big tail that was wagging furiously.
It was foolish to be jealous of a dog, Penny told herself. But at the same time she couldn’t help envying the hound’s simple pleasure in the moment. And his total confidence that he would be welcome, that Zarek would be as delighted to see him as he was to see his master.
It would all have been so much easier if she could have run straight into her husband’s arms in the moment that he had first walked into the room. But of course Argus had endured none of the distance, the arguments, the stand up fights that had marred the days before Zarek’s departure. He was loved for what he was, not given house room simply because of what Zarek wanted from him. And, besides, he was happy to acknowledge the man as his master and to obey his every command.
Penny couldn’t help feeling that if, like the dog, she had come when called, or at the slap of a hand against a thigh, then things might not be so tense and awkward. Instead they were like two opposing armies, facing a stand-off, waiting for the instruction either to attack or stand down. And she didn’t know which one was most likely.
But how she longed to hear the gentleness in her husband’s voice that he now directed towards the hound, or to feel his hands on her, stroking, caressing as they were moving over the animal’s big head and down his long back.
‘You kept the dog.’ Zarek’s voice broke into her uncomfortable thoughts, making her start slightly, lifting her eyes from the dog’s black and white head to look into her husband’s face. Not that she could see anything of Zarek’s expression. The darkness of the shadows by the wall was too intense, hiding everything.
‘Of course I kept him,’ she managed stiffly. ‘What else did you think I’d do?’
‘He wasn’t your pet. And you were never that much of a dog person.’
‘No. But of course I kept him at the beginning when we still thought that you might come back.’
She wasn’t yet going to admit that at the beginning the dog and his needs had seemed to be the only things that had kept her going. That the reason he slept on her bed was because she hadn’t been able to sleep alone and that most nights she had wept into the dog’s shaggy fur. Zarek might never have loved her but she had loved him and the thought that he was lost or dead had torn at her already wounded heart.
‘Besides, he pined for you so I had to look after him—and after that Argus and I—came to an understanding.’
‘Thank you for that.’
Zarek’s strong fingers were still buried in the rough fur, Argus’ head on his knee, the dog looking up into his master’s face with such blind devotion that she felt tears sting at her eyes. Once she had felt like that, hungry for Zarek’s attention, desperate for any casual word that fell from his lips, any caress he offered her. But that had been before she had realised that she was only ever second best and that the man she loved didn’t feel the same way about her.
‘It’s very dark in here,’ she said abruptly, needing to break the mood.
Swinging away, she searched for the light switch, found it. Her fingers were on it when Zarek spoke sharply from behind her.
‘Don’t!’ It was a command not a request but a moment later he softened it slightly by adding, ‘I always loved the sight of the moonlight on the waves. I missed it.’
This was her cue to ask where he’d been while he’d missed the sea, but even as she opened her mouth to do so her nerves failed her. She was manoeuvring in the dark, both physically and mentally, and she was having to grope her way slowly through the shadows, trying to find some sort of a path that would help her.
‘Whatever you want.’
She moved to a chair opposite him. At least this way the light from the moon gave her some hope of being able to read the expressions on his face.
‘What time is it?’
‘Around eight.’
Zarek didn’t even trouble to glance at his watch. It seemed that the hour was a matter of total indifference to him. He couldn’t care less if it was night or day.
‘So late?’
How had she come to sleep so long? Was it the exhaustion after the stress of the day? Or the rush of relief at knowing that Zarek was home. That he was safe. She still couldn’t quite absorb the fact for all that she was sitting looking at him with the sound of his voice in her ears, the scent of his skin reaching her nostrils. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch, to reassure herself that he was real. To feel the warmth of his flesh under her hands. But the fear of how he might react held her back.
She didn’t feel she could take another of those cold-eyed rejections. Not now with what seemed like several layers of her skin flayed away, leaving her nerves raw and exposed.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked to distract herself.
Normally at this time the staff were busy preparing the evening meal. The family would meet for drinks before dinner. But of course there was no way that this was any sort of an ordinary day.
‘Gone.’
‘Gone where?’
Zarek’s shrug dismissed the question as unimportant.
‘Home—or wherever they spend their evenings.’
‘Everyone?’
This time his only response was a curt nod.
‘Even Jason—and Hermione?’ Penny found it hard to believe that Hermione would relinquish her place in the family home after she had been so determined to move in.
‘Even Jason—and especially Hermione.’ Zarek didn’t give either of the names any particular emphasis but all the same it seemed to Penny that they had a dark underlining to his tone.
‘How did you persuade Hermione to leave?’
She hadn’t been able to achieve that herself in almost two years, even when she had asked Zarek’s stepmother point blank to go. Since then Hermione had been a constant, nagging presence, critical
