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odd, his asking in such an abrupt fashion. Kate, what’s
going on?”
“He ... I ... Oh, Mother, don’t let’s discuss it,” Kate burst
out. “Really, I’d much rather forget him.” She ran out of the
room, leaving her mother staring after her with a disturbed
expression. Sh
e wondered what had happened between her
daughter and the tall, dark Greek, to make Kate behave so
strangely.
Next morning, as Kate was leaving the house, the
telephone rang. Mrs. Caulfield hurriedly shouted after her
that she was wanted on the telephone. Kate stood,
hesitating. “Who is it?” she asked warily.
“A man with a foreign accent,” said Mrs. Caulfield. Kate
looked at the phone with loathing. “Ask who it is, and if it’s
Marc, tell him I’ve left for school.” Her mother obeyed, with
a worried look, and then said, “It’s someone called Jean-
Paul, I think.”
Kate came back. “Hallo, Jean-Paul!”
“Bonjour, Kate,” he said quietly. “I am ringing from
London, but I am just flying back to Paris. I have little time.
I want to ask you if you could come to Paris next week.
Pyrakis is giving a concert and I have two tickets. I would
be happy if you would come with me.”
Kate was astonished. “Well I ... thank you very much,
Jean-Paul, but I ...”
Quickly he interrupted, “I have English friends who
would be pleased to put you up for the night. They have a
large apartment and only one child, so there is a spare
bedroom you could use.”
