All The Fire. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ I am not without emotions, and quite honestly the prospect of meeting my father arouses my curiosity if nothing else.’ She bit her lip. ‘That’s a terrible admission to make, isn’t it, on the very day my mother is buried?’

      Dimitri lifted his broad shoulders eloquently. ‘It would be unnatural for you not to be curious about your father,’ he stated. ‘We are all human, Miss Nicolas.’

      Joanne sighed. ‘With human failings,’ she added.

      As their interview appeared to be at an end, Dimitri walked towards the door. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I will run you home,’ but this time she was adamant.

      ‘I’d rather be alone,’ she affirmed. ‘I’ll give you my decision tomorrow.’

      ‘At twelve.’ He was cold and businesslike, but as yet he could feel no pity for her. She nodded, and after she had gone Dimitri went swiftly up to his suite. Pouring himself a stiff drink, he loosened his tie and flung himself on the bed. He was relieved that the interview was over and yet he knew that there was something about Joanne Nicolas which would linger in his thoughts. Even while he was verbally berating her downstairs he had been aware of her attraction, and his senses had stirred in spite of himself. He felt a cynical amusement at his own vulnerability, and deliberately forced his thoughts into less disturbing channels.

       CHAPTER TWO

      JOANNE turned into Latimer Road with some misgivings. She wished it could have been possible for her to return to the house without having to face her aunt and uncle. Aunt Emma was her mother’s only sister and obviously she would have little sympathy with any pleas Joanne might make on her father’s behalf. She was bound to support all that Joanne’s mother had done, and it would not be easy to convince her that Joanne could not in all conscience ignore everything that Dimitri Kastro had told her.

      And then of course there was Jimmy to face. He had made his attitude very plain and his instant dismissal of the other man had been an instinctive effort to show his authority where Joanne was concerned. It was certainly a difficult situation, but at least it had in part banished the sense of bereavement that had previously absorbed her. Maybe she was being unreasonable in considering all that Dimitri Kastro had told her on a day when her thoughts should have been all with her mother. But in spite of everything that had gone before, Matthieu Nicolas was her father and the knowledge that he was dying had disturbed her quite badly. She couldn’t remember him at all, of course, and what little her mother had told her about him had not been complimentary, and yet Joanne had to admit to herself that he was still her parent, and as such, the closest living relative she possessed.

      She reached number twenty-seven, and pushed open the gate. There were lights in the front lounge, the dullness of the day requiring the artificial illumination. She could see her aunt and uncle and their son, her cousin Alan, watching the television, while Jimmy was standing at the window and waved enthusiastically when he saw her.

      He came to meet her as she entered the hall of the small house, taking her coat from her and saying: ‘You’ve been ages! You should have let me run you back.’

      Joanne managed a faint smile, smoothing her hair behind her ears automatically. ‘Mr. Kastro offered to run me back,’ she said quietly, ‘but I preferred to get the bus. I needed time to think.’

      ‘Think? What about?’ Jimmy frowned.

      Joanne sighed. ‘Lots of things.’ She moved down the hall despite his attempts to detain her. ‘Is there a cup of tea? I’m thirsty.’

      Aunt Emma came bustling out of the lounge. ‘So there you are, Joanne,’ she exclaimed. ‘And about time, too. Whatever have you been doing? It’s almost six!’

      Joanne shook her head. ‘Is there some tea?’ she asked, ignoring her aunt’s question.

      ‘Of course. Though you’d better boil up the kettle, it’s ages since it was made. We’ve all had some sandwiches. I thought we’d better get on. Mrs. Thwaites has gone. She said she had to see to her husband’s tea.’

      Joanne nodded. ‘That’s all right, Aunt Emma, I can manage. Did you have plenty to eat?’

      Her aunt dabbed her eyes. ‘I wasn’t particularly hungry,’ she maintained with a sniff. ‘Joanne, what did that man want with you? Foreigners! I never did trust them. Look what happened to your dear mother …’

      ‘Not now, Aunt Emma,’ exclaimed Joanne, brushing past her into the small kitchenette. ‘Er – Jimmy – empty the teapot, will you, love?’

      Both Jimmy and her aunt were forced to accept that for the moment Joanne had no intention of divulging her affairs, so Aunt Emma returned to the lounge where she could be heard talking in undertones to her husband. Joanne half-smiled. She could guess what she was saying. She was well aware that Aunt Emma considered her whole attitude sadly lacking in sympathy, but it was simply that Joanne was not the kind of person who could publicly display her grief and consequently sometimes she appeared cold and unfeeling.

      Jimmy emptied the teapot into the sink, and busied himself with the dirty dishes. If he was curious he was endeavouring to conceal it. Joanne watched him with gentle eyes. She did love him, she thought tenderly. He was so kind, so reliable, so lovable! She smiled and on impulse slid her arms round his waist from behind, hugging him.

      ‘Hey!’ he exclaimed, with pleasure, turning round to her. ‘What’s all this? Cupboard love?’

      Joanne shook her head. ‘No, nothing much. Oh, Jimmy, what I’ve got to tell you you’re not going to like!’

      Jimmy’s face darkened. ‘No? Why?’

      Joanne sighed and drew back from him, aware of the change in his attitude at her words. ‘I’ve got to go to Greece,’ she said, without preamble. ‘My father wants to see me.’

      Jimmy’s face registered shock, anger and disbelief in quick succession. ‘You can’t be serious!’

      She nodded slowly. ‘I’m afraid I am, Jimmy. I have a reason …’

      ‘What possible reason can you have?’ he interrupted her. ‘My God, only hours ago you were considering the way your mother was left with you to bring up on a pittance! Now that she’s buried you’re actually considering visiting the man responsible because he sends some blasted henchman to bring you to him!’

      ‘No,’ protested Joanne. ‘It’s not like that.’ She sighed, seeking words to explain things to him. ‘My father is very ill – he’s dying, in fact. He wants to see me—’

      ‘It’s a bit late for him to want that now, isn’t it?’ sneered Jimmy, his good-humour banished. ‘What is this? Some kind of dying act of recompense? Is he making retribution for his sins?’

      ‘No!’ Joanne turned away, fumbling with cups and saucers. She had known Jimmy would take this badly, but what could she do? She had to go. Of that she was certain. It didn’t matter what anyone said, she had to accept that at least part of what Dimitri Kastro had said was true. ‘Jimmy,’ she pleaded, ‘try to understand.’

      Jimmy slammed shut the cutlery drawer and leant back against the sink. ‘What’s there to understand?’ he snapped angrily. ‘I don’t understand you, that’s obvious!’

      Joanne СКАЧАТЬ