The Highest Stakes of All by Sara Craven Page B

only managed a couple of paces before she heard it bounce back again. She picked it up and walked to the gate, hunkering down so that she and the child were level.
    Pointing to herself, she said, ‘Joanna.’
    But the child simply stared back unwinkingly and said nothing, her small face serious.
    From inside the house, a female voice called sharply, ‘Eleni,’ and a young woman came out, shading her eyes from the sun. Olive-skinned and sloe-eyed, she had a full-lipped, sulky mouth, while a dark red dress made the most of a figure that bordered on the voluptuous.
    As she caught sight of Joanna, her brows snapped together in a sharp frown and she marched down towards the gate, firing off a series of shrill questions in Greek.
    ‘I’m sorry.’ Joanna straightened awkwardly, passing the ball over the gate. ‘I don’t understand.’
    The other halted, hands on hips, clearly taken aback. ‘Anglitha?’
    Her voice sounded apprehensive, and when Joanna nodded, she crossed herself, seized the child’s hand and began to tug her towards the house.
    At the door, she turned. ‘Go,’ she said in halting, heavily accented English. ‘You go. Not come here.’
    More evil eye, I suppose, Joanna thought wearily as she retreated. But I only gave the poor little soul her ball back. I hardly turned her into a frog.
    And you must have heard her crying, so why didn’t you do something about it yourself?
    Walking back to the villa, she kept picturing the small wistful face still looking back at her as she was being urged indoors by her mother. Besides the house being in the middle of nowhere, that garden was a very small playing space for a growing child, she thought, thinking of the expanse of unused lawn around the villa.
    She recalled, too, one of her aunt’s sayings—'all dressed up and nowhere to go.’ Well, that was certainly true for little Eleni, she told herself with a pang.
    As she emerged from the trees, a voice called, ‘ Thespinis,’ and she saw Stavros hurrying towards her, mopping his face with his handkerchief.
    ‘I have been to the beach searching for you,’ he told her snappishly. ‘Where have you been?’
    Joanna shrugged. ‘Just for a walk,’ she returned neutrally.
    ‘You must come back to the house,’ he said urgently. ‘Come back quickly now. Because Kyrios Vassos is at Thaliki. Soon he will be here, and you must be waiting, thespinis. That is his order.’
    All thoughts of quizzing him about her unexpected encounter vanished. Her heart was thudding unevenly.
    She swallowed. ‘He—he’s on his way?’
    ‘Have I not said so?’ He gestured impatiently. ‘Hara is waiting in your room. Make haste.’
    The older woman swung round from the wardrobe as Joanna entered. She held up a dark green cotton skirt, ankle-length and patterned with daisies, and a scooped-neck blouse in broderie-anglaise.
    ‘This,’ she ordained brusquely. ‘You wear this.’ She paused. ‘You wish bath or shower?’
    Neither, with you around, Joanna thought. She said stonily, ‘I can manage for myself—thank you.’
    Hara gave her a beady look. ‘You hurry. I return.’
    Which was probably the longest verbal exchange they’d ever shared, Joanna thought.
    Alone, she hung the skirt and top back in the wardrobe and selected some white linen flared trousers and a matching shirt, covering her from throat to wrist.
    The hall seemed full of people when she eventually descended the stairs, but they were all looking at the open door, where Andonis stood beaming, and not at her.
    She sensed the excited stir, telling her the moment she’d dreaded had finally arrived. Then, as he walked in, clad only in ancient white shorts and a pair of canvas shoes, Joanna saw with a sudden lurch of the heart that the pirate had returned.
    For an instant time spun away, and it was as if she was once more seeing him for the first time.
    Except that she now realised what all those restless, troubled dreams had been telling her. That she knew exactly