My Brother Michael Read Online Free PDF Page B

being intelligible, made me understand that, though incompetent, I was female and therefore delightful, and that was just how it should be.
    The lorry roared on its way. I saw its driver glance back and lift a hand to the men who still stood in a little group near the café door. One or two of them responded, but most were still watching, not the car, but my companion.
    I glanced at him. I knew then that I was right. He was aware of it too. His eyes, narrowed against the sun, showed none of that vivid aliveness that I had surprised in them. He sent the group a look, slow, appraising, utterly without expression. I thought he hesitated. A hand went to the car door, as if he were going to get out, then it dropped back on to the wheel, and he turned to me in inquiry.
    I answered his look before he spoke. ‘Don’t give athought to my
amour-propre
, will you? Of course I should love you to drive the beastly thing through the village for me. I haven’t a rag of pride left, and as long as I get this car to Delphi in one piece, my self respect can be salvaged later. Believe me, I’m terribly grateful.’
    He smiled. ‘You must be tired, and it’s dreadfully hot. Have you come far?’
    ‘From Athens.’
    His brows shot up, but he said nothing. The car was moving with the minimum of noise and fuss through the narrow street. The little group of men had disappeared, melting chin-on-shoulder into the café as the car approached them. He didn’t glance aside after them.
    I said defiantly: ‘Yes, all the way. And not a scratch.’
    ‘Congratulations … And here we are. Clear of the houses and all set for Delphi. You did say Delphi?’
    ‘I did.’ I regarded him thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t by any chance be going that way yourself?’
    ‘As it happens, yes.’
    ‘Would you …?’ I hesitated, then took the plunge. ‘Would you like a lift? In a manner of speaking, that is?’
    ‘I should be delighted. And if the manner of speaking means will I drive – with pleasure, ma’am.’
    ‘That’s wonderful.’ I relaxed with a little sigh. The car purred round the last corner and gathered speed up a long curling hill. ‘I’ve really quite enjoyed myself, but you know, I’ve missed half the scenery.’
    ‘Never mind. You brought some of it with you.’
    ‘What d’you mean?’
    He said coolly: ‘The feathers on the bonnet. Very original they look, and quite striking.’
    ‘The – oh!’ My hand flew to my mouth. ‘
Feathers
? Honestly?’
    ‘Indeed yes. Lots of them.’
    I said guiltily: ‘That must be the hen just outside Levadia. At least, it was a cockerel. White ones?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, it was asking for it. I even hooted the horn, and if you’d heard this horn you’d know that cockerel was bent on death. I didn’t kill him, though, really I didn’t. I saw him come out the other side and dash away. It
is
only feathers, truly it is.’
    He laughed. He, too, seemed in some indefinable way to have relaxed. It was as if he had left his preoccupations behind him in Arachova, and with them that impression he had given of a rather formidable reserve. He might have been any pleasant, casually-met stranger on holiday.
    ‘No hen’ll look at that chap till he’s grown a new tail,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And you don’t have to make excuses to me; it wasn’t my cockerel.’
    ‘No,’ I said, ‘but I’ve a feeling this is your—’ I stopped.
    ‘This is what?’
    ‘Oh, nothing. Merciful heavens, what a view!’
    We were running along a high white road that hugged the side of Parnassus. Below us to the left the steep hillside fell away to the valley of the Pleistus, the river that winds down between Parnassus’ great flanks and the rounded ridges of Mount Cirphis,towards the plain of Chrissa and the sea. All along the Pleistus – at this season a dry white serpent of shingle-beds that glittered in the sun – all along its course, filling the valley-bottom with the tumbling, whispering