how can you do this to her memory?’
Joanne swung round. ‘Do what? She’s dead! What I do can’t hurt her now! I have to think of my father; he’s still alive!’
‘And when did he think of you?’
Joanne didn’t want to discuss that. She didn’t want to tell Jimmy what Dimitri Kastro had said until she knew more about it. If what he had said was true then surely even Jimmy must feel less aggressive. But right now he was not likely to even listen to her.
Now, she said: ‘When my parents were divorced and my mother was given custody of me, my father made several attempts to see me. But he didn’t succeed. My mother made it plain that it would be better for me not to see him and he accepted that.’
‘I’ll bet he did!’ Jimmy hunched his shoulders. ‘I don’t suppose his second wife encouraged his interest.’
Joanne shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose she did. They have a child – a girl – my half-sister.’
Jimmy snorted. ‘How touching! And what is this visit to be? A kind of family reunion?’
‘Oh, no, nothing like that. Look, Jimmy, my father sent Mr. Kastro to ask me to come to Greece, to see him. In the normal way I would refuse outright. As it is, I can’t.’
Jimmy chewed his lower lip. ‘Because of his illness?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure he is ill?’
Joanne coloured. ‘I have no reason to doubt it,’ she said stiffly.
Jimmy shook his head helplessly. ‘It doesn’t make sense! Why ever did you write to him in the first place?’
Joanne lifted her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I just felt he should know. After all, she was his wife – his first wife.’
‘Hmmn!’ Jimmy sounded impatient. ‘You didn’t tell me you’d written.’
‘I didn’t tell anyone. Heavens, I only wrote three days ago. And these last three days haven’t exactly been easy for me!’
‘I suppose not.’ Jimmy sighed, running a hand over his hair. ‘Are you going to tell your aunt?’
‘I shall have to, shan’t I?’
‘Today?’
Joanne shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I should wait. Give her time to get over your mother’s death.’ He looked at her suddenly with speculative eyes. ‘How much time have you? When do you intend to go?’ He gave an exclamation. ‘What about your job?’
Joanne was thankful that the kettle boiled at that moment. She didn’t know how to answer him. She didn’t know sufficient about it herself to make any statements. She made the tea and added milk to the cups, hoping he would be diverted. But as she poured the tea, he said:
‘Well, Jo? What’s on your mind now?’
Joanne sighed. ‘Honestly, I don’t know myself yet. I – I – promised to meet Mr. Kastro tomorrow at twelve to give him my decision.’
Jimmy’s face brightened. ‘You mean you haven’t committed yourself?’
Joanne shook her head again. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m going to.’
‘But why?’ Jimmy made an angry gesture. ‘You’re crazy! We’ve got a good life here, haven’t we? You’ve got a good job and so have I. In a few weeks we’ll be looking around for a house and then there’s the wedding… . How can you jeopardize everything? Can’t you write to your father and explain how things are?’
Joanne looked uncomfortable. ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘How could I write and tell a dying man that I haven’t the time – or the inclination – to visit him?’
‘And what about your job? These trips cost money.’
Joanne shrugged. ‘I expect my father will pay my fare.’
‘Oh, I see. It’s his money that interests you!’ Jimmy’s lip curled.
‘That’s a foul thing to say,’ she cried unsteadily. ‘If that’s the way you feel I can pay my own fare! I don’t want his money; not any of it!’
‘Huh!’ Jimmy turned and stared moodily out of the window at the darkened garden. ‘And what will you do if they won’t release you at the practice?’
Joanne returned her cup to its saucer, the tea untasted. ‘For goodness’ sake, Jimmy,’ she exclaimed, ‘stop asking me questions! Give me time to think about it! It was as much of a shock to me as it was to you, seeing that man at the cemetery!’
Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Bloody foreigner!’ he muttered fiercely. ‘I knew he meant trouble as soon as I saw him. What is he? Your father’s bodyguard, or something?’
‘I don’t know who he is,’ Joanne told him quietly. ‘He said he was some distant relation, a cousin or something.’ She bent her head. ‘And when you talk about foreigners remember I’m half Greek myself!’
Jimmy rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘You may have had Greek ancestors, but you’re as English as I am,’ he ex-postulated. ‘I’ve never heard you mention that before!’
Joanne lifted her shoulders. ‘I suppose like Mother I didn’t like to think about it.’
‘And now you do?’ Jimmy sounded impatient.
‘I didn’t say so.’
‘You didn’t have to.’ Jimmy hunched his shoulders. ‘Hell, this beats everything! Don’t I get any say in this at all?’
Joanne felt unutterably weary, the day finally exacting its toll upon her. ‘Jimmy, if it was your father, what would you do?’
‘That’s a bit different.’
Joanne poured the tea she had made down the sink. ‘Let’s join the others,’ she suggested tiredly, and with ill grace Jimmy preceded her into the lounge.
It wasn’t until later when Joanne was in bed that she allowed the whole weight of the problem to invade her mind. Was she being unreasonable in agreeing to go and see her father? Was she being careless of Jimmy’s – of her aunt’s – feelings? In truth only Jimmy knew as yet, but she knew if she did decide definitely to go she would have to tell her aunt if only because she would hate her to hear it from any other source, and Mrs. Lorrimer, Jimmy’s mother, knew her aunt reasonably well.
Not that she expected Jimmy to divulge her private affairs, but if he felt driven enough by his own feelings he might be unable to hide that something was wrong from his parents.
Joanne punched her pillow into shape, trying to relax. She knew she really had no need to consider the problem; she had to go. Her conscience would not allow her to refuse. And anyway, if what Dimitri Kastro had
