The Smouldering Flame

Joanna pushed her plate aside, the eggs barely half eaten, staring down at the table through a mist of tears. So that was that. Shannon was forcing her to leave, and she felt more devastated now than she had when she had first learned of her father’s stroke. But why should she care? she asked herself angrily. Her father would be disappointed, but it was not the end of the world. So why did she feel so shattered by it all?

Shannon uttered an oath suddenly, and came to stand wearily at the other side of the table, supporting himself with his palms against its cool surface, staring at her half angrily. ‘God, Joanna, it’s no use you staying here, hoping I’ll change my mind!’

Joanna stole a look at him. His brow was beaded with sweat even though the room was comparatively cool, and she realised with an anxious pang that he was still suffering the after-effects of his illness.

‘It—it doesn’t occur to you that I might like being here, that I might like being with you, does it?’ she asked quietly.

Shannon straightened, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. ‘No.’

‘Why not? Shannon, we haven’t seen one another for ten years! I—I’ve missed you. I missed you terribly when you first went away, and then never hearing from you—never really knowing what you were doing. Surely it’s not unreasonable that I should want to talk to you, should want to hear what’s been happening to you?’ She traced the pattern of the formica with a fingernail. ‘I can’t believe you don’t have any feelings about us!’

Shannon wiped the sweat from his forehead, and then raked a hand through his hair in a defeated gesture. ‘Why did he send you!’ he muttered, half to himself.

Joanna’s eyes widened. ‘Who else could have come? Mummy’s nerves are in a dreadful state. There was no one else. I—I had to try.’

Shannon turned away, his facial muscles tightening. ‘Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for that.’

Joanna sighed, and risking a rebuff she went round the table to him, sliding her arm through his. He stiffened and would have drawn away, the muscles of his arm taut against her skin. But she held on to him, aware as she did so that she was risking more than his anger. ‘What’s happened, Shannon?’ she asked, rushing into speech. ‘Why are you being like this? Can’t you forget the past as Daddy has done?’

Shannon looked down at her, and the torment in his eyes sent a forbidden shiver up her spine. When he looked at her like that it was very hard to hang on to her identity. ‘Do you think he has?’ he demanded huskily. ‘Forgotten the past, I mean? I don’t. I think he hates me just as much as he ever did, only now there’s very little he can do about it! Except send you here—with that ring on your finger!’

‘Shannon!’ Joanna was aghast. ‘Daddy doesn’t hate you!’

Shannon drew his hand out of his pocket so unexpectedly, that she almost lost her balance, and she wrapped her arms about herself defensively as she faced him. ‘Oh, yes, he does, Joanna,’ he told her violently, swaying a little as he spoke. ‘And you can tell him I feel exactly the same!’

‘Shannon! Shannon, why?’

Joanna’s lips parted in dismay as his hands descended on her shoulders, gripping her almost cruelly, and shaking her as he spoke. ‘Are you really as naïve as you appear?’ he asked harshly, staring penetratingly at her. ‘Don’t you know anything about the reasons why I left England?’

Joanna licked her dry lips. ‘I—you had a row with Daddy.’

‘Is that all?’

‘It—it was something to do with—with your mother, wasn’t it?’ she ventured tentatively.

‘My mother!’ He raised his eyes heavenward for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, it had to do with my mother.’ He paused, his eyes raking her ruthlessly. ‘But it had to do with you, too. Did no one ever tell you that?’

‘No.’ Joanna shook her head.

Shannon’s lips twisted. ‘No. No, of course they wouldn’t.’ He thrust her away from him, putting some distance between them. ‘And you never guessed?’

‘No.’ Joanna was confused. ‘What—what did I do?’

Shannon massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. ‘God, my head aches!’ he muttered, obviously impatient of his weakness. Then; ‘Oh, don’t look like that, Joanna. You didn’t do anything. But you were there. And so was I. And our relationship … Well, do you need me to draw a picture?’

‘No!’ Joanna put a horrified hand to her throat. ‘You don’t mean——’

‘Don’t pretend you’re not aware of it, Joanna,’ he said, savagely. ‘It’s been there between us ever since you came here yesterday, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit it. But there’s no future in it. There never was. Your father took damn good care of that. But don’t ask me to forget, because I know I won’t.’

‘You can’t mean …’ Her voice shook and then trailed away.

‘Oh, but I can. Everything. Everything, Joanna.’ He turned away as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her. ‘I wasn’t much more than a boy myself, but I——’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. I learned my lesson well. You have nothing to fear from me.’

Joanna was trembling. She knew she ought to feel ashamed, that she should be disgusted by what she had just heard, but she wasn’t. And that was the frightening part. Whatever he did, she knew she would never despise Shannon. And this explained so much—and yet left so much unexplained. And their father had sent her here, fully aware of what had happened in the past! Who could blame Shannon for despising him?

Taking a deep breath, she said: ‘I—I’m sorry.’ It was inadequate, but she was too stunned to say more.