On Monday, the limousine arrived outside the convent gate at seven o'clock in the morning. Catherine had been awake all night thinking about the unknown future that lay ahead of her.
Sister Theresa walked her to the gate that led to the world outside.
"We will pray for you. Remember, if you decide to come back to us you will always have a place here."
"Thank you, Sister. I'll remember."
But in her heart, Catherine was sure that she was never going to return.
The long drive from Ioannina to Athens filled Catherine with a series of conflicting emotions. It was tremendously exciting to be outside the gates of the convent, and yet there was something ominous about the world beyond. Was she going to learn what terrible thing had happened in her past? Did it have anything to do with her recurring dream that someone was trying to drown her?
In the early afternoon, the countryside gave way to small villages, and finally they reached the outskirts of Athens and soon were in the middle of the bustling city. It all seemed strange and unreal to Catherine - and yet oddly familiar. I've been here before, Catherine thought excitedly.
The driver headed east, and fifteen minutes later they reached an enormous estate high on a hill. They drove through a tall iron gate and a stone gate house, up a long driveway lined with majestic cypress trees, and stopped before a large white Mediterranean villa framed by half a dozen magnificent statues.
The chauffeur opened the car door for Catherine and she stepped out. A man was waiting at the front door.
"Kalimehra." The word for good morning sprang to Catherine's lips unbidden.
"Kalimehra."
"Are you...are you the person I've come to see?"
"Oh, no. Mr. Demiris is waiting for you in the library."
Demiris. It was a name she had never heard before. Why was he interested in helping her?
Catherine followed the man through an enormous rotunda, with a domed roof set in plaques of Wedgewood. The floors were of creamy Italian marble.
The living room was huge, with a high beamed ceiling and large, low comfortable couches and chairs everywhere. A huge canvas, a dark and glowering Goya, covered one entire wall. As they approached the library, the man stopped.
"Mr. Demiris is waiting for you inside."
The walls of the library were white and gold boiserie, and the shelves lining the walls were filled with leather books embossed in gold. A man was seated behind a huge desk. He looked up as Catherine entered, and rose. He searched for a sign of recognition on her face, but there was none.
"Welcome. I am Constantin Demiris. What is your name?" He made the question sound casual. Did she remember her name?
"Catherine Alexander."
He showed no reaction. "Welcome, Catherine Alexander. Please sit down." He took a seat opposite her, on a black leather couch. She was even lovelier close up. She's magnificent, Demiris thought. Even dressed in that black habit. It's a shame to destroy anything that beautiful. At least she will die happy.
"It's...it's very kind of you to see me," Catherine said. "I don't understand why you..."
He smiled genially. "It's really quite simple. From time to time I help out Sister Theresa. The convent has very little money, and I do what I can. When she wrote me about you and asked if I could be helpful, I told her that I would be happy to try."
"That's very..." She stopped, not knowing how to continue. "Did Sister Theresa tell you that I...that I've lost my memory?"
"Yes, she did mention something about that." He paused and asked offhandedly, "How much do you remember?"
"I know my name, but I don't know where I came from, or who I really am." She added, hopefully, "Perhaps I can find someone here in Athens who knows me."
Constantin Demiris felt a sudden frisson of alarm. That was the last thing in the world he wanted. "That's possible, of course," he said carefully. "Why don't we discuss it in the morning? Unfortunately I have to attend a meeting now. I've arranged to have a suite prepared for you here. I think you'll be comfortable."
"I...I really don't know how to thank you."
He waved a hand. "That isn't necessary. You will be well taken care of here. Just make yourself at home."
"Thank you, Mr. - "
"My friends call me Costa."
A housekeeper led Catherine into a fantastic bedroom suite, done in soft shades of white, furnished with an oversized bed with a silk canopy, white couches and armchairs, antique tables and lamps, and Impressionist paintings on the walls. Pale shutters of sea green kept the glaring sun at bay. Through the windows, Catherine could see the turquoise sea below in the distance.
The housekeeper said, "Mr. Demiris has arranged to have some clothes sent here for your approval. You are to select whatever you like."
Catherine was conscious, for the first time, that she was still wearing the habit given her at the convent.
"Thank you." She sank down in the soft bed, feeling as though she were in a dream. Who was this stranger, and why was he being so kind to her?
An hour later a van pulled up filled with clothes. A couturier was ushered into Catherine's bedroom.
"I'm Madame Dimas. Let's see what we have to work with. Would you get undressed, please?"
"I...I beg your pardon?"
"Will you get undressed? I can't tell much about your figure under those clothes."
How long had it been since she had been naked in front of another person?
Catherine began to take off her clothes, moving slowly, feeling self-conscious. When she stood nude in front of the woman, Madame Dimas looked her over with a practiced eye. She was impressed.