should they?’ Jordan seemed unmoved, and she flinched from his hard indifference. ‘It was a long way away, and the press are really only interested if they can get an angle on a story. If there’s something unusual or scandalous to write about. My mother’s death would make dull reading.’
Emma pressed her lips together and looked down at the desk. Then she said quietly: ‘Just tell me where your father is staying, and I’ll make arrangements to see him as soon as possible.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Jordan’s mocking tone brought her head up again. ‘Well, that’s where we run into a slight problem.’
‘A slight problem? What do you mean?’ Emma frowned.
‘My father lives on an island in the Caribbean. Didn’t you know that either?’
Emma gasped. ‘Well, yes—yes, I knew that. But I naturally assumed …’
‘What did you assume? That he’d come to England to die?’ Jordan shook his head. ‘Oh, no. Nothing would persuade my father to come back to this country now, particularly not in the middle of winter. No, Valentia is his home, and that’s where he’ll die.’
‘But—but what about his treatment?’
‘What treatment? He’s had two operations, and various radiation therapy. He knows there’s nothing more anyone can do for him, except prevent him from suffering any more pain than is absolutely necessary.’
‘Oh, Jordan!’
The helpless words fell from her lips, and for a brief moment she saw the spasm of pain that crossed his face. But then it was gone again, and she was left with the impression that perhaps she had imagined it.
‘So …’ He flexed his shoulder muscles. ‘Does this make a difference to the situation?’
‘You must know it does.’ Emma shifted her weight restlessly from one foot to the other. ‘I mean—how can I go out to the West Indies? I have a home—and a husband.’ She avoided his eyes as she said this. ‘I can’t just abandon them without thought or consideration.’
‘No one’s asking you to,’ replied Jordan shortly. ‘I realise how difficult it would be for you. And I’m quite prepared to accept your refusal, should you feel you can’t do it.’
Emma expelled her breath on a heavy sigh. Then she faced him squarely. ‘You don’t really care, do you?’ she exclaimed tautly. ‘You don’t really want me to go out there.’
‘If I’ve given that impression, then I’m sorry,’ replied Jordan politely. ‘Naturally I want what’s best for my father. And if he wants to see you, I shall do everything in my power to accommodate him.’
‘To accommodate him?’ Emma’s lips trembled at the dispassionate tone of his voice. ‘You’re so cold, aren’t you, Jordan? So unfeeling. To you it’s just another job of work, and if anyone’s feelings are hurt, then hard luck!’
‘I see no reason for you to feel so emotively about it,’ he retorted harshly. ‘As you’ve already pointed out, my father has ignored your existence for several years. Why should you rush to his defence now?’
‘He’s dying, Jordan.’
‘And does that eradicate the sins of the past? Are you one of those people who believes that repentance equals forgiveness?’
‘What are you saying, Jordan? What sin has your father committed? Ignoring my existence hardly warrants condemnation.’
‘In your eyes, perhaps not,’ he conceded stiffly. ‘Very well. Do I take it that you’ll come?’
Emma turned her back on him, resting her chin on her knuckles, trying desperately to decide what she ought to do. Obviously, she could make no decision without first discussing it with David, and she already knew what his reaction would be. But here and now she had to decide whether she wanted to go, whether there was any point in holding out hope that she would agree.
After a few moments, she said: ‘What—what would be the arrangements? How would I get to—to Valentia?’
There was a pause, and then Jordan replied: ‘A direct flight operates between London and Barbados. An inter-island transport flies between Seawell and Valentia.’
‘I see.’ Emma turned again, slowly. ‘And—and how long would all this take? I mean—how long would I be away?’
Jordan shrugged. ‘That would be up to you, of course. Technically, the flight to Barbados takes something like ten hours, but bearing in mind the four-hour time lag, you can complete the journey in half a day. The inter-island flight is much shorter—a matter of forty minutes, no more.’
‘And—flights to Valentia; they’re pretty frequent?’
‘No.’ Jordan shook his head. ‘Generally they’re laid on when required. Valentia’s population doesn’t exceed five hundred, so as you can imagine, there’s not a lot of need for a regular service.’
Emma absorbed this with difficulty. Somehow she couldn’t imagine herself flying off to the West Indies at a moment’s notice, going to see a man to whom she was practically a stranger, seeing sights and people totally alien to her normally limited existence. She had seen pictures of the Caribbean islands, shared a common longing for their beauty and tranquillity. But never at any time had she seriously considered going there. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted the dream exposing, for nothing was ever quite as attractive as one anticipated.
‘I’ll have to talk it over with David,’ she said at last, and Jordan’s lean mouth turned downward at the corners.
‘Then you might as well give me your answer right now,’ he remarked cynically. ‘We both know Ingram will never agree to your going anywhere with me.’
‘With—with you?’ Emma’s eyes were wide.
‘Why, yes, with me,’ agreed Jordan dryly. ‘You didn’t imagine I would let you fly out there on your own, did you?’
Emma made a helpless gesture. ‘I thought—that is—the company—–’
‘I have a very capable general manager,’ Jordan interrupted her curtly. ‘Even I am not so heartless as to let my father die alone. At the moment, I’m dividing my time between Abingford and Valentia, but as the time runs out, I’ll stay on the island.’ His lips twisted. ‘There are telephones. My father saw to that.’
Emma didn’t know what to say. Considering going to Valentia alone was one thing. Contemplating the trip with the one man she had hoped never to see again was quite another.
‘I need some time,’ she said now, pushing back her hair with a nervous hand. ‘Surely you can grant me a couple of days. When are you leaving?’
‘At the end of next week,’ he answered, taking his hands out of his pockets to fasten his coat. ‘When will you let me know what you’ve decided? At the weekend? Or is that too soon?’
‘No—no.’ That gave her three days. ‘No, I’ll know by the weekend.’
‘Good. Will you ring me?’
