All The Fire

by Anne Mather

  Joanne’s expression was blank. This was the last thing she had expected Andrea to say, in the circumstances. Yesterday, in the Land Rover coming back to the house, they had spoken desultorily, each concerned with their own thoughts, and once they were back at the villa, Matt had claimed Joanne’s attention. But now, for Andrea to be actually attempting to criticize her actions ... It was ludicrous! Joanne felt childishly near to tears, but she suppressed them and said: ‘I don’t think I’ve done anything I need to feel ashamed of.’ Her eyes challenged Andrea’s and for once the older woman looked slightly disconcerted.

  ‘I didn’t say you had,’ she averred firmly. ‘However, I do feel that it might be better if you avoided the Kastros for the rest of your stay.’

  ‘Which isn’t much longer,’ said Joanne sharply. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me—’

  As she turned to go the swish of wheels on the polished floor heralded the arrival of her father, propelling himself this morning. ‘Ah, good morning, my child, he said, and she bent and kissed her cheek. ‘What’s all this? He touched the dark lines beneath her eyes. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Joanne has a headache,’ Andrea intervened. ‘I think perhaps she had too much sun yesterday. I have just been advising her to take things easier for the rest of her stay.’

  ‘Yes.’ Matthieu Nicolas frowned. ‘I heard you mention that you would be leaving soon, Joanne. How soon?

  Joanne hesitated. ‘In a week,’ she admitted uncomfortably. ‘I was going to talk to you about that ...’ Her voice trailed away.

  Matthieu sighed. ‘Yes, I think perhaps you had better,’ he affirmed. ‘Come. We will sit on the patio, in the shade. Andrea, will you join us?’

  Andrea managed a reluctant refusal, saying she had work to do and Marisa’s breakfast to prepare. Matt asked about his other daughter’s health and then indicated that Joanne should propel him outside. Once on the patio with Joanne relaxing beside him on a long yellow canvas lounger, he said: ‘Now, do you want to go home - to England?’

  Joanne’s eyes which had been drowsily narrowed opened wide. ‘That’s a peculiar question,’ she said, sitting up straight and wrapping her arms round her drawn-up knees. ‘You know that sooner or later I have to go back.’

  Matt sighed. ‘You’re definite about that. Staying out here doesn’t appeal to you?’

  Joanne shrugged. ‘My life is in England,’ she said slowly. ‘I am English, Father. No matter what ancestry is mine, I was born and brought up in that country and consequently my roots are there.’

  ‘This young man? This Jimmy?’

  ‘He’s part of my life there, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ Matt frowned. ‘And what is his occupation?’

  ‘His father has a garage, I told you. Jimmy works for him.’

  Matt studied for a moment, and then he said: ‘How would it be if I bought a garage here, in Greece, and made your young man its manager, would that suit him?’

  Joanne blinked rapidly. ‘You can’t be serious!’

  ‘Why not? Money’s no object. If I could bring you nearer to me -I would be content.’

  Joanne lifted her shoulders helplessly. ‘It’s not that easy,’ she protested ruefully. ‘Jimmy has no desire to leave England - at least, I don’t think he has. And besides, he knows nothing of Greece, of Greeks, of their way of life. How could he possibly take on the responsibility for a business here? It’s just not practical, apart from anything else.’

  Matt sighed again. ‘I knew you would say that,’ he remarked sadly. ‘Oh, Joanne, if only there was more time!’ Joanne felt a lump in her throat. It was the first time she had heard her father directly mention his incurable condition. It was impossible not to feel an immense sense of responsibility towards him. It was all very well telling herself that he had left her mother, that he had been responsible for their divorce, but the facts remained as they were: he was her father, he was facing death stoically, and although her reasons for returning to England sounded reasonable enough to other ears to herself they sounded weak and unimportant. It was impossible to describe her feeling of obligation towards her father heightened now by what she had learned about Andrea.

  Now, she slid her glasses up to her forehead, and looked at Matthieu. Already it was April; the months between May and September would soon pass and then ... She drew her dark glasses back over her eyes. She would not let him glimpse the pity that engulfed her as she actually considered time in a matter of weeks and days and hours, instead of years.

  Matthieu seemed to sense her disturbed frame of mind, for he put out a hand and gripped her arm tightly. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I’m behaving like a fool! Of course you must go back to your fiancé. Don’t allow my selfishness to spoil everything for you. This should be a time of pleasure for you with your wedding in the offing—’ He halted suddenly. ‘Would it be possible for you to come to Greece then? For your honeymoon? Not to stay here, of course. I realize you would want to be alone. But to Athens, perhaps? You said you would like to visit the Acropolis, the Plaka!’ Enthusiasm made his voice husky.

  Joanne shook her head. ‘I couldn’t decide that alone,’ she murmured unhappily, considering with some apprehension what Jimmy’s reactions would be if she suggested spending their honeymoon visiting archaeological sites. He might agree to come to Greece; after all the weather would at least be hot, but somehow, after all this bother it did not seem likely.

  Matthieu nodded vigorously. ‘Of course not,’ he agreed. His brows drew together as though he was considering something seriously. Then he smiled. ‘We will discuss this again later,’ he affirmed. ‘But now we will relax and enjoy the view.’

  Joanne bit her lip. ‘Would you like me to read to you?’ she asked.

  Matthieu frowned. ‘Perhaps that would be pleasant, my child,’ he answered, resting his head back against the rest. ‘My book is there, on the table. Lukas always sees that it is within reach.’

  Joanne smiled and lifted the book. It was written in modern Greek and although she did not understand wholly what she was reading, her pronunciation of the language was vastly improving with this exercise. It had been at her father’s suggestion three days ago that she had taken up this occupation, and now she enjoyed it as much as he did.

  They had been sitting there reading for almost half an hour when Joanne became aware of someone watching them. Looking up, she saw Dimitri Kastro leaning negligently against the terrace steps which led down to the beach. Dressed in close-fitting black shorts and a shirt of some shiny black material, opened almost to his waist, he looked dark and disturbing, the unusually sombre attire giving him a slightly predatory appearance. She stopped reading at once, and Matt, who had had his eyes closed, opened them and saw their visitor.

  ‘Why, Dimitri!’ he exclaimed with pleasure. ‘It’s good to see you again. I thought you might have come over last evening for a drink.’

  Dimitri straightened from his lounging position and climbed the steps to the patio, strolling towards them with pantherlike grace.

  ‘I thought you might be too tired to see me so late in the day,’ he commented, with a warm smile which was directed wholly at Joanne’s father. ‘Whereas this morning I can see you are looking quite remarkably fit.’

  Joanne sat there in silence, wishing she could leave them to their conversation. She could hardly bear to listen to Dimitri talking so casually to the man he was deliberately betraying. Her lips were tightly pressed together, and she stared down at the page of literature before her and willed him to take his departure quickly. She didn’t know how he had got here without them hearing the sound of the car, and she felt that again he had impinged upon her privacy.

  Presently Matthieu drew her into the conversation, saying: ‘Joanne’s been reading to me. She doesn’t always understand what it’s all about, but I enjoy listening to her.’ He chuckled gently.

  Dimitri looked at Joanne, and his eyes were cold. ‘How are you this morning, Miss Nicolas?’

  ‘I’m very wel
l, thank you, Mr. Kastro.’ Joanne did not remove her sunglasses. They provided a very adequate shield.

  Her father gave an exclamation. ‘What is this?’ he cried. ‘Miss Nicolas; Mr. Kastro! Dimitri - this is my daughter, Joanne.’

  ‘Miss Nicolas and I were never properly introduced,’ remarked Dimitri, sardonically. ‘However, if she would prefer to call me Dimitri, then she is perfectly at liberty to do so, as I am sure she is aware. I ...’ he hesitated, and then gave Joanne a mocking glance. ‘I will continue to address her formally until she gives me permission to do otherwise.’

  Matthieu frowned and regarded both of them strangely. ‘It would seem,’ he observed shrewdly, ‘that you two know one another rather better than you would have me believe.’ He frowned. ‘Joanne? Do I detect a note of antagonism?’

  Joanne flushed, and Dimitri said: ‘Your daughter is an adept at being antagonistic! Indeed, she makes a study of it!’

  Joanne was biting her lips to prevent herself from making some angry remonstrance. How dare he come here and deliberately attempt to make a fool of her in front of her father? She endeavoured to control the desire to jump up from her seat and strike him hard across his mocking face.

  Her father chuckled at Dimitri’s remarks, and gave her a chiding glance. ‘Come, Joanne,’ he said encouragingly. ‘We are all friends here. Of course, I should have realized, you are your mother’s daughter and as such it would be impossible for you to accept Dimitri’s sometimes arrogant attitude.’ He smiled at the younger man to take any insult out of his words. ‘But nevertheless, he did succeed in bringing you here, and I am grateful for that.’ He looked at Joanne and then back at Dimitri. ‘Perhaps I should enlist his help in finding some way to keep you here.’

  Dimitri frowned, standing looking at them both, feet apart, a cheroot between his teeth. ‘What is this?’ he queried. ‘Matt?’

  Matthieu shook his head. ‘An insuperable problem, I am afraid, my friend,’ he replied regretfully. ‘Joanne is to be married in June. It is already April. At the end of next week she must return to England - to her fiancé.’

  Dimitri’s gaze flickered to Joanne’s averted face and then he shrugged thoughtfully. ‘Not entirely insuperable, surely,’ he commented. ‘June is many weeks away.’

  Joanne looked up. Surely he would not attempt to interfere in her affairs yet again? She wished he would just go away and leave them alone. He was far too disturbing, and she was beginning to wish she had never even met him.

  Matthieu shook his head again. ‘We will not discuss it again this morning,’ he said firmly. ‘Joanne. Go and ask Andrea if we may have some coffee for our guest.’

  Joanne nodded and got reluctantly to her feet. Maybe though, she consoled herself, this was her chance to escape. She could always plead a headache. That at least was true.

  Andrea was in the kitchen. She obviously was unaware of the arrival of their guest, thought Joanne cynically.

  ‘Could we have some coffee?’ she asked politely. ‘Mr. Kastro has arrived, and my father suggested you might make some.’

  Andrea frowned. ‘Dimitri?’ she questioned, and at Joanne’s nod, she frowned. ‘I wonder why he has come so early.’

  ‘Early?’ Joanne was curious in spite of herself.

  Andrea collected her thoughts. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said hastily. ‘He usually dines with us on Sunday evenings anyway.’

  ‘I see.’ Joanne turned to go, but Andrea’s voice halted her. ‘Joanne! You don’t intend to make trouble, do you?’

  Joanne was astounded. ‘Make trouble!’ she echoed slowly. ‘What about?’

  Andrea had the grace to colour. ‘About yesterday,’ she replied.

  Joanne deliberately chose to be obtuse. ‘What about yesterday?’ she enquired coldly.

  Andrea stared at her intently. ‘I think you know, Joanne,’ she replied sharply. ‘You thought - well, I could tell - you imagined you saw something — between Dimitri and me!’

  Joanne managed to make her expression blank. ‘And I didn’t?’

  Andrea turned away, rummaging in a drawer for cutlery. ‘Not what you think you saw, anyway,’ she replied.

  Joanne walked towards the door without answering, and Andrea stared after her angrily. ‘Joanne!’ she exclaimed impatiently.

  Joanne turned wearily. ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Your little secret’s safe with me. I’d do nothing to harm my father’s peace of mind.’

  Andrea opened her mouth as though to say more and then closed it again, and Joanne walked swiftly out of the room. In her bedroom she sank down on to the bed feeling sick. So she had not been mistaken. She had seen something, something that Andrea had had to bring out into the open because she was afraid of what Joanne might say to her father. It was horrible!

  After a while she got up from the bed and going into her bathroom she sluiced her hot face under the cold tap. Then she went back into the bedroom and seating herself at her dressing table she began to brush her hair with even strokes, ridding herself of pent-up emotions by this simple action. Afterwards, she studied her face critically, smoothing the skin over her cheekbones and brushing a little eye-shadow on to her lids. She was applying a colourless lipstick to her mouth when there was a knock at her bedroom door. Frowning, she went to answer it, and found Alicia, Andrea’s maidservant, outside.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, with a faint smile.

  Alicia responded rather shyly. ‘Er - Kyrie Nicolas waits for you, thespinis!’ she murmured.

  ‘For me?’ Joanne drew her brows together.

  ‘Malista, thespinis!’

  Joanne sighed. ‘All right. Thank you, Alicia.’

  The girl bowed slightly, and walked swiftly away and Joanne stood, leaning against the door post watching her. Her father - waiting for her? That could only mean one thing. He expected her to join them for coffee. She felt exasperated. Surely it was obvious from her attitude that she had no wish to join them.

  Then she lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. She could not refuse, of course, so she might as well make the best of it. She looked down at the striped red and white cotton she was wearing. She knew it had seen better days, but she had no intention of changing and allowing Dimitri Kastro to imagine he had influenced her to do so.

  When she emerged onto the patio, she found that in her absence more loungers had been brought out and now Andrea had joined the two men. Seated in the shade of a patterned umbrella it was a scene straight out of a holiday brochure, but Joanne was in no mood to appreciate it.

  Matthieu looked up at her with pleasure as she joined them, while Dimitri rose lazily from his seat with automatic politeness.

  ‘Where have you been, Joanne?’ her father asked, looking a little weary himself by this time. ‘Andrea tells me you complained of a headache earlier.’

  ‘That’s right, I did.’ Joanne resumed her seat beside her father and tried to avoid looking at Dimitri as he lowered himself back on to his lounger with indolent ease. ‘Andrea gave me some tablets and they seem to have cleared it.’

  ‘Good, good!’ Matthieu smiled and Andrea sat forward to pour her stepdaughter a cup of coffee. Joanne accepted it with a brief word of thanks, feeling amazed at the undercurrents that were present today that had not been present yesterday.

  ‘How long are you staying this time, Dimitri?’ Andrea asked casually, lighting a cigarette.

  Dimitri raised dark eyebrows. ‘I’m not certain,’ he replied, and Joanne, glancing across at them, felt a thrust of resentment. He looked at Matthieu suddenly and intercepted Joanne’s expression, and his eyes narrowed. ‘It depends whether there is anything urgent requiring my attention back at the lab.’

  ‘Well, it’s good to have you here,’ commented Matthieu, nodding. ‘We get so few visitors and I’m sure Joanne has been having a dull time until now.’ Joanne was about to protest, when Matthieu went on: ‘Dimitri suggested you might like a trip round the island in his boat, Joanne. Does that appeal to you?’

  Joanne was spee
chless. She glared across at Dimitri willing him to retract his invitation. How dare he invite her to join him again after yesterday’s fiasco? What was the matter? Was he afraid too of what she might inadvertently reveal to her father? Was he hoping to have this opportunity of putting her straight as Andrea had attempted to do?

  However, before she could reply, Andrea intervened. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Matt,’ she said. ‘After all, Joanne has had a headache and I think she needs to stay out of the sun today.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Matt was impatient. ‘The girl’s not an invalid just because she’s had a headache! Besides, the fresh sea air will do her the world of good, eh, Joanne?’

  Joanne was torn between two straws. On the one hand she wanted to refuse Dimitri’s invitation outright but she knew that to do so would upset her father. He believed Dimitri was his friend. And on the other hand, she wanted to accept, if only to appease her resentment against Andrea in some small way.

  Sighing, she said: ‘I’m quite sure Mr. Kastro has better things to do than entertain me.’

  Dimitri straightened, his eyes enigmatic. ‘On the contrary, Miss Nicolas, I should enjoy your company very much.’

  Joanne looked at Andrea. She was obviously struggling with her own resentment. Then she looked at her father. He looked very tired, and somehow she knew that for her to refuse would create more argument.

  ‘Very well,’ she agreed coolly, implying by her attitude that her decision was forced upon her.

  ‘Good.’ Matt leaned back in his chair. ‘And now I think I must rest. I feel very weary. Andrea, my dear, will you wheel me back to my room?’