Strangers in Company Read Free Page A

in Athens on Monday. Tomorrow, I mean.” He looked at his watch as if it would tell him the day of the week. “Mind you,” he went on. “The delay was lucky for me. I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. And what a chance!”
    â€œWhy?” Stella sounded so profoundly uninterested that Marian suddenly realised this was the question she had wanted to ask.
    â€œOh, didn’t you know?” He was young enough to assume that everyone must be interested in his affairs. “I only took over at the eleventh hour. Literally. The other man was knocked down by a car,” he explained and then added a perfunctory “poor fellow.”
    â€œKilled?” asked Stella.
    â€œOh, I hope not. That would make me feel bad, wouldn’t it? They didn’t know, when they telephoned me. Just that he was badly hurt, and could I take over? Well—it was a rush, but of course I could. It’s the chance I’ve been waiting for. I’ve been on standby for these tours ever since I came down—left the university,” he explained kindly, and Marian, on the far side, was aware of the ripple of irritation that ran through Stella. “I teach, you know.” He was well away now. “Classics, of course. But it doesn’t run to Greek holidays. I’ve not been there since I was up—at Oxford,” he explained again.
    â€œI’ve heard of it.” Stella closed the conversation.
    After that, it was just the usual, exhausting night flight, with bright-voiced, weary hostesses doling out duty-freegoods and cut-price drinks across the furious, semi-recumbent bodies of the passengers who wanted, more than anything, to sleep. There were, at some point, plastic sandwiches and coffee in plastic mugs. Marian, rousing enough to refuse them, heard Stella do the same and heard the courier—Cairngorm was it?—accept his enthusiastically. “Missed my dinner,” he tried to explain to Stella, who ignored him, sleeping ostentatiously.
    Behind them, the group of teachers they had seen at Gatwick were celebrating their reunion by a long, elaborate, whispered conversation about what had happened to whom since they had last met. Listening, because she could not help it, Marian decided that they had been at Teachers’ Training College together; that this was an annual occasion; that they were very nice girls.… Thinking this, at last, she slept.…
    Stella was shaking her again. At least, this time, recognised at once as Stella. “Athens, Mrs. F. Rise and shine.”
    â€œOh, God,” said Marian. “Did you sleep at all?”
    â€œNot much!” She gestured sideways with her head. “Should I wake him, do you think?” Beyond her, Mr. Cairnthorpe slept like a child.
    The NO SMOKING and FASTEN SEAT BELTS signs were on. “Yes, I should think so. He’s to take charge of us, I suppose.”
    â€œSo do I.” Stella met her smile for smile, but her face was grey, as if, Marian thought, she had not slept at all, but had spent all the hours of the flight brooding about the young man who had not been at home. She dug Mr. Cairnthorpe ruthlessly in the ribs. “We’re here.”
    â€œOh … thanks.” Struggling up from sleep, he looked younger than ever, and Marian’s heart sank. Certainly Stella, so far, seemed normal enough, but suppose the “nervous exhaustion” were to manifest itself in some drastic way, what use in the world would this very young man be? None, she told herself, and once again Miss Oakland’s voice echoed in her head. “You’ll earn your high pay.”
    The plane touched, bounced just a little, then touchedagain and was bumpily earthborne. “Not a large airport,” said Stella, unfastening her seat belt.
    A hostess swooped. “Please keep your seat belts fastened, and remain seated until the plane is stationary.”
    â€œOh—” Stella bit off the next word,