when they are courting。 they kiss you a lot and they make pliments。 but when you are married you are just his wife。”
the summer mary went to ándros； demetrios courted her with flowers and scented soaps and chocolates； and he said she was beautiful and he had never known anything like her。 he kissed her in the moonlight； and one night he even covered her hands with kisses and hot tears； too。 mary knew this was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her or probably would happen。 it made her uneasy that this was so。 what was demetrios； then？ who did he think he was—was her secret feeling。 and she watched him while he was asleep； thinking； but why？ but she often remembered； too； how he had been then； that summer； three years ago。 now he was as sensible as any englishman。 like tom； about whom helen sighed； though smiling； saying it was lucky tom liked his fun in bed； because otherwise she’d think he didn’t love her。
a likely story； thinks mary； who wonders why helen said yes to tom。 he was all right； not bad…looking。 “he makes me laugh；” says helen。 but surely she must sometimes find him boring？
but did dmitri still love mary？
that night； when he rolled toward her in bed； she said； “no； i don’t feel like it；” trying to make herself sound like helen when she was teasing and taunting； but she knew she had not succeeded。 she had never said no before： she liked her fun in bed； too。 he was as surprised as if she had said she wanted a divorce。 “what’s wrong with you？” he demanded。 what he should have asked was “but what have i done？” though she would not have known what to reply if he had。 she turned her back on him； knowing this hurt her as much as it did him： she could feel his baffled； hurt glare on her shoulders。 he muttered something she was glad she had not heard。 he lay awake and she did； too； but pretended to be asleep。
next morning he kept sighing and giving her hard accusing looks。 it happened that it was saturday； and that night the two couples went to drink in the garden of a pub； and then had dinner at the restaurant where dmitri was a waiter； but it was his night off。 the women sometimes worked there as waitresses when they needed a bit extra for the housekeeping。 everyone knew them； people waved or called greetings or came to admire the baby asleep in the pram。 mary saw how helen hung on tom’s arm and knew they were going to make love the minute they got home。 when demetrios and mary got home he said to her； “i hope you aren’t going to not feel like it tonight。” he was clumsy in his sarcasm； and that made it easy for her to say； “i might or i might not；” but in bed he at once attacked her； as she tried to plain to herself； but it was no good saying she didn’t feel like it when it was evident to both of them that she did。 “when are you going to give me a kid？” he said afterward； and he was doing something she always found frightening and exciting： he was sliding her wedding ring around and around her finger； as if he were thinking of throwing it away。 “i’ll see；” she said； knowing she had never provoked him like this before。 then she found herself being raped。 there was no other word for it。 she was all slippery from the recent sex； so he could not know she was thrilled and quite dissolved and could easily have said then and there； “yes； all right about the baby；” if he had not been groaning into her ear； “you bitch； i want a baby。 now； not in ten years。”
next morning she did not say one word at breakfast。 he didn’t notice。 he was taking his time with the toast and the jam and the coffee： he didn’t have to be at the restaurant until eleven。 this was the best part of their day； the hours before he went to work。 they talked or didn’t talk； and read the paper； and sometimes went back to bed。 she knew that when the baby came their mornings would never be like this again。 she had told him so； and he had said； “and so what。” this made her feel he didn’t love her。 it was not until the end of this breakfast that he realized her silence was meant； and he lifted his head and looked at her； long and hard； and she looked coldly back。 and then she went on with it； using the unblinking stare she had practiced before the mirror。 “what the hell？” he said。 “what 。 。 。 ？” she said nothing but sat in front of him and stared。 it was driving him wild； she could see； and secretly she was excited； she was thrilled； and she answered not one word while he went on exclaiming and accusing and asking what the hell she thought she was doing； and then he shouted “bitch！” at her and went off to work。
mary sat with helen outside a pub； in the sun； with the baby in the pram between them； and mary thought； i don’t really mind a baby； i suppose。 i’ll leave off the pill and see what happens。 but i’m not going to tell dmitri； not yet。 and i’m not going to give in to the baby。
“how long do you keep it up？” she asked； trying to sound casual； but helen at once understood and said； “oh； it’s not much—i just like to see how long i can keep it up。 because i want to give in and i don’t。”
why did helen find everything so easy？ she was talking as if it all were nothing； just a joke。 why don’t i find things easy？ mary was thinking as she sat silent and dismal； looking at helen’s long thin brown legs and her brown thin arms； and the way the black dress was on her； and her black shining hair loose on her shoulders。 that dress would look like a bunch on me。 。 。 。 the baby began grizzling； and helen picked it up； no trouble at all； hardly looking； and she sang some greek nursery song in her deep sexy voice。 the baby stopped crying。 the soft little head was inches away from mary； and the sweet intimate baby smell made her want to cry。 oh； no； she thought； oh； no—but helen casually handed her the cuddlesome bundle and said； “i’m going to the toilet；” and off she strode； with the black linen swinging around her。
mary thought； i suppose dmitri will sing our baby greek songs。 when demetrios and helen spoke together in greek mary listened and she wasn’t thinking of the kebabs and taramasalata and the retsina and all that stuff they had right here in london but of the sun on the dark…blue sea and the hot rocks and the olive trees and the singing。 often when the two greeks talked together tom and mary—neither knew more than a few words of greek—exchanged smiles acknowledging that these people they had married were sometimes strangers to them。
mary did not speak to demetrios that night when he came in； as usual； late； well after midnight； but she sat up in bed and stared at him while he stumbled around the room and swore and discarded his clothes anyhow and then flung himself on the bed with his back to her。 she longed to put her arms around him from behind and do what he loved her to； which was nibble his ear and then kiss and bite his neck。 the first time she did this it had been like jumping over a fence into the dark because she was taking the initiative； which she had not done—she liked being the one who said yes—and there was at once a storm of sex。 but there wasn’t always： i’m not going to let you take me for granted； said dmitri； teasing her—she thought； but then saw this was his delicacy again； for he was sensitive； surprising her； when you’d think he was just a big rough noisy man。 he knew she would be shy； afraid he would think she was asking for sex instead of sometimes just a cuddle； and that was why he kept her guessing。 she had seen helen giving tom little touches and strokes that put a look of wonder and astonishment on his face； and she had tried them out on dmitri—without helen she would never have thought of doing anything like that。 now she lay beside dmitri； rigid； and she was thinking that one night it was easy to put one’s arms around one’s husband and then be happy till morning； and the next night it was impossible to put a hand to touch him； let alone kisses and nibbles。
she kept the silence going all night； for she did not sleep； and next morning through breakfast。 and now she was frightened。 she sat staring at him while he averted his eyes but sometimes glanced at her in wonderment； in anger； and in fear。 but as well as being scared she was dissatisfied； and her dissatisfaction with everything and with him； like an accusation of him； was stronger every minute； because what she was doing was feeding it。 he should be well； he should be kissing her hands and covering them with tears and saying he was sorry。
that night she was careful to seem asleep when he came in from the restaurant。 perhaps he will kiss me； she thought： he often did； when she was asleep。 she would put up her arms and pull him down into her。 but he didn’t kiss her。
next morning at breakfast she could see herself sitting there； with her staring face like a radar dish following him around the room。 he was not looking at her； though。 she thought； he’s stupid。 just because i haven’t got a smile on my face and i’m not speaking—but i’m just the same inside； aren’t i？ meanwhile he was stumbling about and knocking into things。 he looked as if she had put a curse on him。 he left his coffee and banged straight out。 next morning she woke before he did； and was about to slide quietly