All The Fire Read online

  Joanne’s eyes were disturbed now. ‘Mr. Kastro, you’ve been consistently rude and objectionable to me ever since we met this afternoon at the cemetery! And now that I have stated my case, I don’t intend to sit here any longer listening to your insinuations about my honesty—’ She rose abruptly to her feet, and with a sigh, Dimitri rose too, preventing her escape by blocking her path.

  ‘Calm yourself, Miss Nicolas,’ he said sourly. ‘This kind of ridiculous display will get neither of us anywhere!’

  Joanne was breathing swiftly, her breast rising and falling beneath the softness of a black cashmere jumper. She had loosened her coat while she drank her tea and Dimitri could see the rounded contours of her body matched the flawlessness of her complexion. In consequence, his tone was harsher than he desired.

  ‘Will you get out of my way, or shall I call for assistance?’ she exclaimed angrily.

  Dimitri stood aside without a word and she brushed by him, marching across the room to the door. She was certainly a magnificent young animal, thought Dimitri with reluctant admiration. How proud Matt would be of her. And Marisa? He frowned. Marisa wouldn’t like it at all.

  As she reached out a hand to turn the handle, Dimitri spoke: ‘Did you know that your father has only about six months left to live?’ His voice was mild but very distinct.

  Joanne halted as though carved to stone, and for a moment she did not move at all. Then slowly she turned to face him, her cheeks paling slightly and a questioning disbelief in the wide violet eyes. ‘You— you can’t be serious! she murmured huskily.

  ‘Oh, but I am,’ he returned coolly, thrusting his hands into the front pockets of his trousers.

  Slowly, with hesitant steps, she came back to him, staring at him curiously as though willing him to admit he was merely trying to frighten her. Finally, when his eyes did not waver, she said: ‘But why? Why? My father is a young man! He can’t be more than about forty-five!’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then - then how?’ She shook her head.

  ‘A year ago he had a heart attack and it was discovered he had an organic heart disease. The doctors give him until the fall!’

  Joanne pressed her fingers to her lips. ‘How terrible!’ she whispered incredulously. ‘I - I never - suspected ...’

  ‘How could you?’ queried Dimitri, rather sardonically. ‘You’re not psychic, are you?’

  ‘No, but - well - I’m so sorry... .’ Her voice trailed away.

  Dimitri lifted his broad shoulders in an eloquent gesture. ‘So are we all,’ he commented sombrely. ‘Your stepmother - your half-sister ...’

  Joanne’s face suffused with colour. ‘I have a half-sister?’ she said wonderingly. ‘I didn’t know.’

  Dimitri’s eyes grew sceptical again. ‘I can’t believe that,’ he muttered roughly.

  Joanne looked at him again. ‘Why not? My father did not apprise us of his affairs!’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Did he not?’ Dimitri raised his eyes heavenward. ‘My dear Miss Nicolas, one of us has been grossly deceived!’

  Joanne bit her lip. ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘Stop talking in innuendoes!’ she exclaimed suddenly. ‘If you have something to say to me, say it!’

  Dimitri gave her a half-smile, but it was a sardonic salutation. ‘Very well,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Your father wrote regularly to your mother. Not only that, he continued to support you both long after it was necessary to do so!’

  ‘That’s not true!’ She scarcely let him finish. ‘My mother would accept nothing from my father - after - after he deserted us!’

  Dimitri endeavoured to control the anger that her words aroused in him. He must try to accept that she was more innocent than he would have believed possible. ‘It is true!’ he said tightly. ‘I can prove it, if you give me time!’

  Joanne’s eyes mirrored her distrust of him. ‘Is there more?’ she demanded, biting her lips.

  ‘Much more,’ he snapped, a trifle impatiently. ‘Much, much more! So much that I doubt my capacity for telling you without losing my temper!’

  She stared at him unhappily. ‘Then don’t tell me,’ she said, rather chokingly. ‘Surely you can see you are as biased as I am?’

  Dimitri heaved a sigh. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ he inquired tautly. ‘Some of this must be said. I insist. If only for the sake of your father who is still alive. Your mother is dead. What I say cannot hurt her now.’

  Joanne hesitated, and then with a gesture she perched rather nervously on the edge of the banquette. ‘Very well,’ she said quietly. ‘What have you to say?’

  ‘Merely this,’ said Dimitri heavily. ‘Your father is a man involved with his family - every member of his family, and that includes you. Whatever has gone before, he is prepared to forgive you and take you back.’

  Joanne stared at him. ‘Take me back?’ she echoed, uncomprehendingly.

  ‘Maybe my choice of words was unsuitable in the circumstances,’ said Dimitri, leaning his hands on the table and looking down at her. ‘But that was what your letter accomplished, Miss Nicolas!’

  Joanne could not meet his gaze for long, and her lashes veiled her eyes. ‘So that was why you imagined I had written to my father,’ she said slowly. ‘Your fears were unfounded, Mr. Kastro.’

  Dimitri straightened and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Joanne looked up. ‘Surely it’s obvious. Naturally the news of my father’s illness has shocked me, but ultimately it alters nothing.’

  Dimitri uttered an expletive. ‘You don’t seem to understand what I am trying to say, Miss Nicolas,’ he affirmed with emphasis. ‘Your father sent me here to bring you back to him!’

  Joanne looked positively astounded. ‘My father did what?’

  ‘I think you heard what I said, Miss Nicolas. What other reaction did you expect him to have?’

  Joanne shook her head bewilderedly. ‘I didn’t imagine he would react in any way,’ she exclaimed. ‘After all, why should he? He never bothered about me all these years—’

  ‘That is not true!’ said Dimitri harshly. ‘You must not labour under that misapprehension!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her young face was strained.

  ‘Exactly what I say! Believe me, Miss Nicolas, this is as distasteful to me as it is to you, but it seems your mother has deceived you on various points. Your father did not abandon you without making absolutely certain you were well taken care of. And during the years since your parents’ divorce, he has regularly apprised himself of your activities.’

  Joanne got unsteadily to her feet, and walked shakily across the room to where a tall window overlooked the bleak aspect of the car-park. ‘I - I can’t believe it,’ she said unevenly. ‘Why - why would my mother do a thing like that?’

  Dimitri shrugged. ‘Who knows? Perhaps for the same reasons she discouraged every attempt Matt made to see you.’

  Joanne swung round. ‘He tried to see me?’

  ‘When you were a child, yes. Your mother could not absolutely deny him the right when reasonable access had been granted by the courts, but she made it plain that any attempt he made to do so would meet with her disapproval and he realized that it would be impossible to have any kind of normal relationship with you without her condolence.’ Dimitri sighed. ‘Besides, he considered it unfair to place you between them like a bone of contention. I suppose later—after Marisa was born he became less aggressive, and Andrea naturally didn’t encourage his interest.’

  ‘This is the woman he married, of course,’ Joanne’s voice was chilled.

  ‘Yes.’

  Joanne shook her head. ‘It’s incredible! I always thought my mother was completely independent. She worked, you know. She had an office job. I didn’t attribute her adequate income to anything except good housekeeping.’ She bit her lip. ‘Anyway, if my mother considered her reasons for keeping us apart were reasonable, I shouldn’t contest them.’

  Dimitri studied
her pale face. ‘Do you think her reasons were adequate?’

  Joanne twisted the strap of her handbag. ‘I’m hardly in a position to judge. I was so young when - when they separated.’

  Dimitri stifled an exclamation. ‘Obviously, it is impossible for us to discuss something so personal,’ he said brusquely. ‘However, my reasons for being here are impersonal, to me at least, and it is necessary that we should discuss them.’

  ‘You mean - my going to see my father?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, that’s impossible! Absolutely impossible!’

  Dimitri frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Joanne exclaimed. ‘I have a job to do. I can’t take time off - just like that.’

  ‘Then give up your job. Your father will support you.’ There was contempt in Dimitri’s expression now.

  Joanne gave him an eloquent stare. ‘I prefer my independence,’ she averred quietly.

  He shrugged. ‘What is your job?’

  ‘I’m a secretary to a group practice of doctors.’

  ‘Not an irreplaceable position,’ he commented dryly.

  ‘No. But I like it,’ she replied hotly. ‘And my holiday is fixed for June. I’m getting married then.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Dimitri’s voice was like ice. ‘While your father is slowly dying.’

  Joanne gasped, and bent her head. ‘That’s a cruel thing to say,’ she whispered.

  Dimitri took a deep breath. It was a cruel thing to say, he knew that, but he was fighting for Matt’s peace of mind. Until now it had never occurred to him that she might refuse, but to return to Matt with her refusal was untenable. Somehow she had got to be made to see sense. He clenched his fists, wishing he could simply demand that she accompany him, but he could not, and not even the hurt anguish in her eyes could deter him from doing everything in his power to get her to agree.

  ‘Have you ever been to Greece, Miss Nicolas?’ he asked now.

  Joanne looked up. ‘No. When my parents were married my father worked in London.’

  Dimitri considered this. ‘I suppose you do realize that your father is a Greek,’ he queried harshly.

  Joanne stiffened. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Your letter was sent to the firm’s offices in Athens; don’t you know where your father actually lives?’

  ‘Why should I?’ she asked sharply.

  Dimitri shrugged. ‘He owns an island, Dionysius. He and Andrea moved there almost ten years ago.’

  Joanne compressed her lips. ‘That’s of no interest to me.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Aren’t you the faintest bit curious about your father? Or his second wife? Or your half-sister?’

  ‘What are you trying to do, Mr. Kastro?’

  Dimitri clenched his fists. ‘I’m trying to make you see sense, Miss Nicolas,’ he said violently. ‘And I’m also trying to keep my temper in the face of extreme provocation!’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you are a selfish young woman, Miss Nicolas, if you can continue with your life here with complete disregard for the man who sowed the seed of your conception in your mother’s womb!’ His dark face was contorted with his anger, and she moved uncomfortably.

  ‘What would you have me do?’ she cried.

  ‘I would have you go to Dionysius!’ he told her roughly. ‘I would have you make a dying man happy!’

  She pressed the palms of her hands to her hot cheeks. ‘And what of my family? My fiancé?’

  ‘I am not asking you to abandon your fiancé,’ returned Dimitri impatiently. ‘Surely between now and June you could find the time to spend a visit with your father!’

  Joanne looked confused. ‘And my job ...’ she murmured, almost to herself.

  ‘Leave it!’ he commanded coldly. ‘No doubt you will be leaving in June anyway.’

  She frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘You said you were getting married,’ he reminded her briefly.

  ‘In England a wife does not give up her job,’ returned Joanne, with a trace of humour.

  Dimitri inclined his dark head. ‘That is indeed a pity,’ he commented expressionlessly.

  She shook her head. ‘I need time to think—to talk this over with my fiancé.’

  ‘I presume the young man at the cemetery was your fiancé.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Dimitri gave a derogatory grimace. ‘Then I imagine your task will not be a pleasant one,’ he remarked. ‘I do not believe he will voice any enthusiasm for my suggestions.’

  Joanne sighed. ‘Jimmy is possessive,’ she admitted.

  ‘He is also very stupid if he imagines a woman with independent tendencies like yourself appreciates such an attitude,’ Dimitri observed.

  Joanne’s eyes darkened. ‘I don’t need your opinion, Mr. Kastro,’ she replied sharply. ‘Jimmy and his parents have been very good to both my mother and myself.’ There was a faint choking sound in her voice, and Dimitri realized he had forgotten exactly what she had been through today.

  He realized, also, that he felt suddenly very weary. ‘Very well, Miss Nicolas,’ he said now. ‘I have your word that you will consider my proposition - your father’s proposition?’

  Joanne nodded. ‘I don’t have much choice,’ she replied. ‘Contrary to your beliefs, Mr. Kastro, 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 dul
lness 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.