FOLLOW A STRANGER
Charlotte Lamb
Kate hadn’t liked the haughty Greek, Marc Lillitos, from
the first moment she met him, and it was only for the
sake of her fiancé Peter, a keen archaeologist, that she
had accepted Marc’s invitation to the two of them to visit
his Greek island home.
Somehow she felt apprehensive about it all. But what
had she to fear?
CHAPTER ONE
There had been a frost overnight, leaving the grass white and
sparkling in the early morning sunshine. When Kate looked
out of her window, at seven, pearly mist obscured her view,
and she dressed quickly, shivering, hoping that it was not
going to be another grey day. But at nine, when she left the
house, the wind had blown the mist away, and the sky was a
bright, clear blue.
The change lifted her spirits. She walked along slowly, her
dreamy eyes fixed on the elm tree tops which showed above
Cheddall’s walls, swaying slowly against the heavenly blue of
the sky. The black branches were thickened by rooks’ nests
and as she watched some of the ungainly black birds rose up,
cawing.
The sound reminded her of summer. She shivered,
clutching her coat closer. Despite the sunshine it was still a
chilly January morning.
Still dreaming, she stepped into the road, and was dragged
down to earth by the blare of a car horn. She leapt back to the
pavement and looked round, heart pounding.
A sleek black car had pulled up, brakes screeching
dramatically. The driver got out and walked round to her.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing, walking under my
wheels like that?”
Kate had the impression of looking up a long way
to his dark, angry face. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “It was
my fault, I know. But,” her nerves shaken by his harsh tones,
“there’s no need to shout at me like that.”
“You must expect people to lose their temper if you try to
commit suicide under their cars,” he retorted. “Are you hurt?”
“No, thank you,” she said, in the same angry tone he had
used for the question.
“You needn’t sound so aggrieved,” he snapped, staring at
her, “I’m the one with a grievance, I think.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”
“You sound sorry,” he said sarcastically.
Her hair bristled on the back of her neck. “I was very sorry
at first, but your attitude would put anyone’s back up.”
“Women!” he grunted. “How very logical! Well, if you’re not
hurt, good morning.”
She watched him stride back to his car and felt like
childishly stamping her foot. Male superiority triumphs
again, she thought, as he drove past without a second glance.
Men like that would make the mildest female join Women’s
Lib!
She glanced at her watch and was horrified to see the
time. She would be late if she did not hurry and her first
lesson was at nine-fifteen. She crossed the road, looking both
ways, and ran the rest of the way to the school.
The summons to Miss Carter’s study came while Kate was
listening to a first-former attempting to play the piano. Both
pupil and teacher sighed with relief at the interruption. Kate
grinned as she followed the reluctant pianist out of the music
room. If only parents knew what resentments they bred in
their children when they forced them to take up music
against their inclination!
It was true, of course, that sometimes they developed an
interest at a later stage and were then grateful for their early
grounding. But, somehow, she did not think that this would
apply to the girl scuttling eagerly in front of her. Lucy
Salmon had fingers like sausages and was almost totally
tone-deaf. Her musical father was doomed to disappointment.
She paused at a pale primrose door and knocked softly.
“Come in,” Miss Carter commanded, and when Kate
entered, smiled at her across the pleasant, sunny room.
“Ah, my dear. I’m sorry to disturb you during a lesson, but
discuss something with you. Sit down.”
The Headmistress of Cheddall Public School for Girls was
as pleasant as her room. Sensible, sandy-haired and blue-
eyed, she had an enviable calm which Kate had never seen
ruffled. Her appointment last year, at the early age of forty,
had surprised no one. She had been acting as deputy for the
previous five years with great success and was popular with
parents and girls alike.
Some of the staff had disapproved of the changes she had
made, others had heartily supported her. But there were few
people who disliked her.
Kate sat back, wondering what she had done wrong. A
summons to the Head was usually a sign of the wrath to
come, but she could not remember having fallen from grace
lately, so she smiled and waited patiently.
She was unaware, being a very modest girl, that when she
smiled two dimples appeared in her cheeks, or that her eyes
had a warmth in their depths which usually produced a
responsive smile from the people she was with, but she was
relieved to see Miss Carter smile back.
Leaning forward with her square hands laid flat on her
desk, the Headmistress said, “We expect a new pupil
tomorrow, Kate.” She paused, as if searching for the right
words. “Rather a special case.” Then paused again, as if
anticipating questions.
Kate nodded. If a girl was allowed to join the school in the
middle of a term it must, indeed, be a special case, but since
the Head clearly wanted some reply, she said politely, “Yes,
Miss Carter?”
The Head laughed. “I’ll be frank—I feel rather doubtful
about accepting this girl.” She shook her head and stared at
the window in silence for a moment. “She’s hardly the sort of
girl we normally have here.” She paused again and began to
sketch a queer little doodle, then, without looking up, added,
“Her brother is Marc Lillitos.”
Kate blinked. Who was he? Clearly she was expected to
know the name, but although she searched her memory, she
could never remember having heard it before.
Miss Carter looked up, her eyes curious. “You do not know
the name?”
“No,” Kate admitted.
“He’s a shipping magnate, a very wealthy man. He came to
me today and asked me to accept his sister Pallas ...”
“Pallas!” Kate interrupted, without thinking.
Miss Carter smiled. “Pallas Athene, the Greek goddess of
wisdom, but I’m afraid the name does not fit this girl. She
has been expelled from three really excellent schools
already.”
“Goodness!” exclaimed Kate, in amazement.
“Quite. As you know, we don’t take problem children here
at Cheddall, so I hesitated. But her brother assures me that,
despite the evidence, she is a talented and clever girl, and he
convinced me that she deserves a final chance. After a long
discussion, I agreed, but on my own conditions.” She paused
again, frowning. “That’s where you come in, Kate.”
Kate nodded, “Yes?”
“I gathered that she is in rebellion against the discipline of
school. She wants to go to a college of music, where she feels
she’ll have more freedom.”
“She’s musical?” Kate said, seeing now how this affected
herself.
“Very, it appears. She both plays the violin and sings. But
her family want her to have a sound education before she
specialises. I sensed vague disapproval of a musical career,
but nothing was said on that subject.”
“If they’re rich, I wouldn’t have thought it would matter,”
said Kate.
“They probably fear she will make the wrong friends. I
suspect they give her very little freedom at home. A strict
background, strict schools—you can see the pattern.”
Kate grimaced. “Only too clearly. What do you want me to
do, Miss Carter?”
The Head smiled. “Make friends with her.”
“Of course,” Kate agreed. “But as I live out of school that
“On the contrary, it’s an advantage. It gives you a less
claustrophobic attitude to the school. It might be an idea to
take her to your home, let her have a taste of ordinary home
life. Boarding schools tend to narrow one’s horizons. I realise
it’s asking a great deal, Kate. You would prefer to get away
from school when you’re off duty. But I feel sorry for the girl.”
“So do I,” said Kate.
“Well, don’t let her suspect that, will you? I would prefer
the relationship to develop quite naturally. Pity would only
make matters worse. The poor little rich girl theme is
poisonous.”
Kate laughed. “I understand. I think I can handle it.”
“Good.” Miss Carter smiled at her. “Thank you, Kate.”
Kate Caulfield was twenty-four, slightly built, with long
straight blonde hair, unusually vivid blue eyes, and the
strong flexible fingers of a pianist.
She had trained in London, and had had dreams of being a
concert pianist, but since she was a practical girl beneath her
dreamy exterior, she soon realised that she did not have the
necessary ability.
When she left college she accepted the post of music
teacher at Cheddall Public School, since it was only a few
minutes’ walk from her home.
Since Miss Carter became Headmistress the school had
been reorganised on more modern lines. There was less
severity, more freedom, and the girls seemed to thrive upon
the new regime. Kate was very happy there, especially since
it left her with plenty of free time in which to be with her
fiancé, Peter Hardy.
Peter ran the local museum and, in his own spare time,
was an ardent archaeologist. Kate had known him all her
life.
Her father had died five years earlier, leaving his wife
with four children to bring up. Kate’s salary was the only
family income for the present, since her younger brother,
Sam, was studying art at the local art school, and her twin
brothers, Harry and John, were only eleven.
That evening she told her mother about Pallas Lillitos
while they washed up after supper.
Sam listened idly, sitting astride a chair, eating a bag of
peanuts.
“She sounds a real frost,” he remarked, “spoilt and
conceited.”
“Didn’t you have enough supper?” Kate countered. “You
eat as if you never expected to see another meal!”
He grinned, wrinkling his freckled nose at her. Sam had
red hair, big ears and an inexhaustible passion for food. Only
his blue eyes were any reminder of the fact that they were
brother and sister.
“You’re just jealous because I don’t have to diet to keep my
figure.”
She threw the tea-towel at him. “How true, you
abominable boy!”
Mrs. Caulfield smiled, her gaze resting on Kate’s trim
waist. “You don’t need to diet either, Kate.”
Kate put her hands on either side of her waist, sighing. “I
do if I want to wear my new dress for the spring dance at the
Tennis Club. I need to lose an inch off my waist, or the dress
will burst at the seams.”
“You should have bought a larger size,” said her mother.
“They only had it in one size and it was too gorgeous to
resist.”
“It cost a bomb, too,” Sam said. “Which reminds me—lend
me a quid, Kate. I want to take Karen to the pictures.”
Kate groaned, but produced the money. “I thought girls
went dutch these days.”
“Not Karen,” he said proudly. “Half the male population of
Greyford is trying to date her. I wouldn’t dare suggest we go
dutch.”
When he had vanished to change into even sloppier jeans,
his mother laughed. “Karen isn’t a girl—she’s a prize. Sam is
delighted to be dating her.”
“I can’t think why,” said Kate. “She’s the most boring girl I
ever met.”
“But she looks like a beauty queen,” said Mrs. Caulfield
with amusement, “and all the other boys are crazy about
her.”
The doorbell rang and Kate jumped up. “That will be
Peter—I’ll go.”
She opened the door and a tall, bearded young man
wandered in, smiling vaguely at her. “Hi!”
She sighed and reached up to kiss him. “Hello, darling.
Had an interesting day?”
He looked almost lively. “Yes—guess what was brought in?
Another urn fragment from the Roman fort at Lower
Greyford. And it fits perfectly! The urn is really taking shape
now. Another few pieces and I’ll have a complete second-
century urn.”
“How fascinating, darling. Like a jigsaw puzzle,” she said,
pushing him into the sitting-room.
Peter Hardy was a few years older than Kate, but looked
less, because his features were less mature. Sam had once
said that Peter looked like a Viking, talked like a professor
and hardly knew one girl from another. Blond, grey-eyed and
pleasant, he was too passionately involved with his work to
be aware of anything else.
Kate, who had fallen in love with him years ago and had
only managed to make him notice her by being continually
underfoot, often wondered if he remembered that they were
engaged to be married. Certainly he never suggested a
wedding date. But she curled up beside him on the sofa and
let him talk of Roman urns while her mind wandered to more
romantic ideas.
A few days later Miss Carter came into the music room and
&
nbsp; introduced her to Pallas Lillitos.
Kate was taken aback to find her new pupil to be far more
adult than she had expected. She was wearing a plain black
skirt and white blouse, the usual sixth form version of the
school uniform. But she managed to invest it with a Parisian
chic which, with her sleek black hair and matt complexion,
made her look nearer twenty than sixteen.
Miss Carter left them alone together after a moment or
two, and Kate looked thoughtfully at the new girl.
“Perhaps you’d better show me what you can do,” she
suggested. “Shall we start with the violin?”
Pallas shrugged indifferently. Taking out her violin, she
played a dazzling piece of Paganini, her face remote and
austere beneath her black cap of hair.
Kate smiled at her when she had finished. She knew very
well that Pallas had chosen that particular piece in order to
startle her by her technical brilliance, and, she had to admit,
it was very clever. But there had been something lacking.
She could not quite put her finger on what that was, but she
said nothing, except to ask Pallas to sing for her.
The girl looked a little cross. Sullenly she chose a song,
Kate played the introduction on the piano, and Pallas sang.
Kate’s fingers almost halted in amazement as the clear,
sweet notes spilled out. She looked round and saw a dreamy
expression stealing into the girl’s face.
Afterwards, she closed the piano lid with a gesture of
finality. “You don’t need me to tell you that you have a very
lovely voice,” she said, smiling at Pallas. “I shall arrange for
our specialist violin teacher to come in and teach you. Your
voice is really almost beyond me. You need serious training.”
“When I am eighteen Marc will let me go to a college of
music,” said the girl. “But he has no intention of letting me
take up a professional career. So what does it matter?”
Kate leaned back and stared at her. “Why won’t he let you
become a musician?”
“He wants me to marry,” said Pallas, “as I’m sure you
know!” And her eyes bit contemptuously at Kate.
“How should I know? I’ve never met him. Why shouldn’t
you marry and still have a career?”
Pallas shrugged, without answering.
Kate waited, then changed the subject. “I’m sure Miss
Carter could arrange to have someone really good to come in
and teach you singing. Madame Liovitch lives twenty miles