by Anne Mather
‘Why should I? You’ve won after all. You’ve nothing to fear from me. Even my debauched character doesn’t allow me to defile such innocence!’
Joanne stumbled away from him, up the beach to where a belt of trees provided a little shade. She was raw with emotion, and she would not let him see her tears. But in the shelter of the trees she could no longer control herself and she flung herself on the sand, sobbing bitterly.
She lay there for some time until, her emotion spent, she rolled on to her back and wiped her face with sandy hands. Then she sat up and looked about her. The boat was pulled up on the beach, but there was no sign of Dimitri. She got unsteadily to her feet and trudged down the beach again, going to the water’s edge and sluicing her face in its comparative coolness. Then she straightened and frowned. Dimitri was simply not there.
Shading her eyes, she looked out to sea, but apart from a sail on the horizon there was nothing to be seen. A faint twinge of anxiety touched her insides. Where was he? Surely he hadn’t gone swimming and been caught by the current as she had been. The possibility of his having drowned while she lay only a few yards away wrapped in self-pity was a terrifying one. But where was he? The boat was still here, so he hadn’t abandoned her.
She looked about her rather wildly, and walking a few steps into the water, she called: ‘Dimitri! Dimitri! Where are you?’
There was no reply, and she turned and repeated the process, looking up the beach this time. But the cove was deserted. Tall cliffs, towered above her, and the scant vegetation at its base left no hiding places. She pressed the palms of her hands to her cheeks. Oh, no! she thought dis- believingly. Nothing could have happened to him. It was ridiculous even imagining such a thing. And yet the thought persisted, and an awful feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her. What could she do? How could she discover exactly where he was? Ought she to take the boat out in case he was somewhere out there, in the bay, unable to make it back to shore? She remembered with clarity the stark formations of the rocks and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, God, she whispered, almost inaudibly, don’t let him be hurt - or dead!
The silence of the cove was in itself unnerving, and she twisted her hands together as she walked up and down calling his name. She looked seaward suddenly, and her heart rose up in her throat as though it would choke her as a large black shape seemed to be looming up in the water near the shore. She pressed a hand to her throat and watched with fascinated horror as the thing drew nearer, then she almost cried with relief as it rose out of the water and assumed human shape, two oxygen cylinders being responsible for that rather weird appearance underwater. As the man distinguished himself as Dimitri she breathed a sigh of relief and forgetting their earlier confrontation she ran down the beach to him eagerly. Dimitri had removed the two cylinders as he came up out of the water and was carrying them suspended from one hand.
‘Oh, thank heaven you’re safe!’ she exclaimed, when she reached him, her face animated with pleasure. ‘I was so worried. I didn’t know where you’d gone—’
Dimitri dropped the cylinders and peeling off the goggles he had pushed up to his forehead and dropping them too, he said: ‘Hey, Joanne, this is me, Dimitri, remember? I thought you’d be glad to see me gone!’
Joanne shook her head vigorously. ‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ she exclaimed, moving restlessly on the spot, nervous excitement making her tremble a little. ‘I - I thought you might have drowned!’
‘Would you have cared?’ His voice was slightly husky.
‘Of course I would.’ She bent her head, unable to meet those piercing eyes, and suddenly his control seemed to snap. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her hard against him, his mouth seeking the soft curve of her neck and shoulders. She quivered in his arms, and putting up a hand he gripped the back of her neck, turning her face up to his. His eyes searched her features, his thumb moving against her cheek with urgent pressure, and then he bent his dark head and his mouth sought hers, parting her lips with deliberate expertise. He was no longer someone she hated and despised. They were simply a man and a woman united in their need for one another. Joanne knew, with a sense of betrayal, that she had never felt like this with Jimmy. His passionate embraces had never aroused her to this awareness of her body and its needs. Dimitri destroyed her defences effortlessly, seducing her to complete submission. His mouth explored every inch of her face and neck, while his hands on her hips held her closely against him. She was aware of him with every particle of her being responding to his touch without thought of denial. Finally it was Dimitri who drew back slightly, looking deep down into her sleepy violet eyes, and said: ‘You asked for this, you know,’ rather thickly.
His mocking words brought Joanne to her senses, and she opened her eyes wide, stepping jerkily back from him. He made no attempt to detain her and she pressed the palms of her hands against her burning cheeks, feeling positively horrified as full recollection of her abandonment swept over her. She looked at Dimitri with tortured eyes, but he had turned away to pick up the skin-diving gear, seemingly undisturbed by what had just occurred. He hoisted the cylinders on to his shoulder and looked at her speculatively. ‘Don’t look so devastated, kid,’ he advised shortly. ‘You weren’t entirely to blame!’
Joanne shook her head tremulously. ‘I—I—I’m not in the habit of allowing men—any men—to—to make love to me! She smoothed her hair behind her ears.
Dimitri regarded her steadily. ‘We haven’t made love, Joanne,’ he observed, rather cruelly. ‘We kissed!’
Joanne looked aghast. ‘I - I’m not in the habit of allowing a man to touch me—as—as you have touched me!’ she said, swallowing with difficulty.
A flicker of impatience crossed Dimitri’s face. ‘You wanted me to touch you,’ he remarked coldly. ‘You surely don’t intend to deny that! However, there’s no need to make a federal case out of it. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m not in the habit of indulging in promiscuous interludes with immature females!’ His words were harsh.
Joanne stared at him indignantly. ‘You’re so confident, aren’t you? You can’t resist taunting me!’
Dimitri’s eyes darkened with anger. He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. ‘All right, Miss Nicolas,’ he muttered fiercely, ‘I’ll taunt you, if that’s what you expect! Tell me about Jimmy now! Tell me how much you love him! Tell me how badly you want to marry him! And tell me you’ve felt this way with him!’ His eyes were openly contemptuous now. ‘Next time you want to play games, Miss Nicolas, find yourself another playmate, or you might not get off so lightly!’ He thrust her hand away.
Joanne was furious, as much with herself as with him, but it was towards him that her anger was directed. With clenched fists she struck out at him blindly, beating her fists against his bare chest wildly. Dimitri dropped the cylinders, and thrust her away from him easily.
‘Grow up!’ he muttered, in a low voice. ‘Sooner or later everyone has to.’
Joanne’s fists dropped to her sides. ‘I hate you, Dimitri Kastro!’ she exclaimed bitterly.
Dimitri gave an eloquent lift of his shoulders. ‘Why? Because you know I’m right? Because you’re beginning to realize that what you feel for that boy in England is merely liking?’
Joanne frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’ She shook her head. ‘I know it’s not because you—you want me, is it?’
Dimitri gave her a sardonic stare. ‘I just don’t want you to make a mess of your life like your father did, initially,’ he remarked. ‘Me—I’m a loner. I want no little woman to warm my slippers on a winter’s evening and cook me exotic eastern food in our super space-age kitchen!’
Joanne compressed her lips. ‘Like I said,’ she muttered chokingly, ‘I hate you!’
The cruise back to her father’s villa was accomplished swiftly and Joanne barely waited for the boat to beach before she sprang out and strode up the beach. But Dimitri vaulted out too and ran after her.
‘Oh, what now?’ she exclaimed wearily, shading her eyes. It was no
on and the sun was very hot.
‘Tell your father I won’t be over for dinner this evening. I - er -I have things to do.’
‘All right.’ Joanne was sulky, and shrugging he turned and strode back to the boat. Joanne wrinkled her nose in a childish gesture of dislike and then, tears smarting her eyes, she ran up and into the house.
For the rest of the day Joanne avoided companionship. She delivered Dimitri’s message to Andrea who was busy with the lunch when she returned. She observed a trace of speculation in her stepmother’s eyes and realized Andrea would be curious to know why Dimitri had not given her stepdaughter lunch, but she refused to be drawn, apart from a casual reference to falling into the water. She sensed Andrea was intensely interested in her relationship with Dimitri, but while she in no way endorsed Dimitri’s repudiation of her stepmother’s remarks she felt compelled to keep their association to herself.
Her father joined them for lunch, but he seemed absorbed with his own thoughts and didn’t ask too many questions about her brief outing. After lunch, while her father rested, Joanne wrote another letter to Jimmy. He had not replied to her first, but she knew he was not an eloquent correspondent, and besides, this time next week she would be back again. The knowledge was a faint pain in the region of her heart and she thrust the letter aside and walked restlessly to her french windows, staring out blindly. Every second of the morning’s events came back to torture her tired brain, and she pressed her fingers against her eyes trying to rid herself of the feeling that suddenly everything was going wrong.
But it was no good, her thoughts persisted, and she lay down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as so many images flitted through her mind. What had it been that had impelled her to write that fatal letter to her father in the first place? If she had not responded to that impulse none of this would have happened. Matt would have been as cut off from her as he had ever been, while she would never have learned that her mother had been deceiving her since she was a child, making her believe her father was a thoughtless playboy who cared nothing for his responsibilities. Having met her father, having spent many hours in his company, she could no longer accept her mother’s opinion. Their separation might have been a good thing for both of them, for obviously they had been incompatible, but whether or not Ellen Nicolas should have prevented her ex-husband from seeing his daughter, from spending holidays with her, and generally providing some kind of kinship with her, that was another matter.
Joanne rolled on to her stomach, tracing the pattern of the bedspread with her forefinger. It was no use now speculating on what might have happened if she had not written the letter. The fact remained, she had written the letter and Dimitri would say it was just another example of her dissatisfaction with the rigid pattern of her life. She frowned. Was it possible that her reasons for contacting her father had possessed motives which she might not consciously have been aware of? It was true she was beginning to realize she had very little experience when it came to the ways of the world, but that had in part been her mother’s fault. She had always impressed upon Joanne the need for security at all costs. She had taught her to avoid relationships based on a purely sexual awareness, and therefore Joanne’s experience was limited to the kind of steady young men her mother had approved of. She supposed Jimmy fell basically into this category, although he was a rebel in some ways. He supported the liberation of youth and took part in demonstrations, much to his parents’ disgust, but deep down he was still their son, and would have no more considered asking Joanne to live with him without the conformity of a wedding ring than his father would have done twenty-five years previously. But her mother’s attitude had not provided her daughter with the slightest idea of how to deal with the present situation. Obviously Dimitri did not fall into the category of men her mother had approved of, and yet it was impossible for Joanne to deny his attraction for herself.
She turned on to her back again and dug her toes into the coverlet. The complexities of Dimitri’s character fascinated her, although as he was nearer forty than thirty she doubted very much whether she was the first woman to think that. He was obviously experienced. Those devastating kisses on the beach had not been taken by any amateur. He had known exactly how to arouse her and whatever his motives he had succeeded. And the whole point of this exercise was - what? She frowned. It was quite simple really. How did her feelings for Jimmy stand up to this physical infatuation she felt for Dimitri Kastro?
She sat up straight, compressing her lips bitterly. That was not the point of the exercise, she told herself severely. Dimitri Kastro didn’t even come into it. Apart from the possibility of his involvement with Andrea, he found her, Joanne, immature and naive. He had said so. So why was she plaguing herself with these thoughts?
She slid off the bed and padded impatiently into the bathroom. She would take a shower, a nice cold shower, and then she would get dressed and go on to the patio, and forget all about that terrible man!
Marisa was sitting on the patio when Joanne emerged and she looked up at her half-sister questioningly as Joanne came out to join her. Joanne decided she must be sociable and polite, and she smiled and said: ‘Is your throat better, Marisa?’ in a friendly voice.
Marisa hesitated, looked doubtful, and then said: ‘It’s much better, thank you. How - how are you enjoying your holiday?’
Joanne stared at Marisa in obvious astonishment, and then, collecting herself, she replied: ‘Very much. This is a marvellous place.’
Marisa nodded. ‘Yes, it is. I suppose I’m lucky really, living here.’
Joanne took what was offered graciously. ‘You are indeed,’ she agreed, settling in a lounger. ‘Nothing to do all day but lie in the sun!’ Then she frowned. ‘But I expect that would pall in time.’
Marisa considered this. ‘I suppose it would. But I don’t expect we shall stay here after ...’ She halted, and then turned to look fully at Joanne. ‘Look,’ she went on, ‘I know I’ve been pretty silly since you came here, but I’d like to apologize. I - I’ve been talking to our father and it suddenly seemed so stupid, our being at loggerheads with one another.’
Joanne could hardly believe her ears. ‘Well, I don’t know what to say,’ she began awkwardly.
Marisa half-smiled. ‘Don’t say anything,’ she replied. ‘I’m a jealous pig, I know that, but - well, I love Constantine and I guess you’re so attractive I couldn’t see anything but the green-eyed monster.’
Joanne shook her head. She could scarcely credit that anything her father could have said could produce such a change in her half-sister, but she was not one to bear grudges, so she accepted Marisa’s apology for what it was and afterwards they sat companionably and talked girl-talk. It was quite pleasant really, having someone to discuss clothes and make-up with, and when Joanne went in to get changed for dinner she began to think that this day which had had such disastrous beginnings might turn out to be not at all bad.
Constantine came to dinner that evening, but for once Marisa cast no covetous glances in Joanne’s direction when she had, perforce, to speak to the young Greek. However, what Constantine had to say to Joanne disturbed her more than she cared to admit.
While they were sitting together in the lounge after dinner having coffee, he said: ‘What happened between you and Dimitri this morning?’ in confidential tones.
Joanne coloured and shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she exclaimed, sipping her coffee.
Constantine raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Now I know you must be joking!’ he returned huskily. ‘Aons! All afternoon Dimitri has been completely unapproachable! Me - I have kept out of his way. I feared for my life!’
‘Oh, don’t exaggerate!’ gasped Joanne, glancing uncomfortably in Marisa’s direction, but fortunately the other girl was talking to her father. It was the first time Joanne had seen them so closely in contact and she pondered their sudden attunement.
Now Constantine uttered an expletive, and rose to his feet. ‘Very w
ell,’ he said. ‘Obviously you do know what I am talking about, but you choose not to discuss it. I thought we were friends.’
‘So we are!’ said Joanne impatiently. ‘Oh, Constantine, don’t be so childish! Dimitri and I dislike one another, that’s all!’
Constantine narrowed his eyes. ‘You think that is it?’
Joanne shook her head. ‘Does it matter?’
He shrugged. ‘That is for you to decide, Joanne.’
‘Oh, leave me alone!’ she said wearily, tired of this inquisition suddenly. ‘Go and talk to your fiancée.’
Constantine looked hurt, but he did as she asked, and Joanne lay back in her chair and determinedly thrust all thoughts of the Kastros to the back of her mind.
The next couple of days passed quite pleasantly. Now that Marisa had got over her sullenness Joanne found her to be quite a charming companion. She could swim like a fish, skin-dive and even water-ski, although this was one thing she did not demonstrate for Joanne’s benefit, mainly because Joanne could not steer the motor-boat at the speed she required. But they swam together and sunbathed together and talked a lot about their lives and their individual aspirations. Marisa was intensely interested in Jimmy, questioning her half-sister mercilessly, finding out everything about the man Joanne intended to marry. She seemed curious to know what marriage in England was like, for in Greece it was more rigidly accepted that a woman’s place was in the home, and when Joanne explained that she intended to go on working after the honeymoon Marisa was horrified.