“Oh I’m not sure I can handle that. You should see how beastly he gets with it. No fun at all.”
“Yes, deadly diseases can be boring like that,” said Roxy, drolly. “In any case, I should be fine, thanks Doc. My GP put me on Chloroquine before I came.”
“Smart man,” he said, wiping what looked mayonnaise from his chin.
“Smart woman, actually. So, what about the locals? How do they handle it?”
Doc shrugged. “They don’t seem to get it. Certainly not in the 10 years I’ve been here. Of course, they’re continually exposed to the malaria parasites so they may have built up a natural immunity.”
“Lucky bastards,” Maya said. Then, more irritably, “Where the hell is Luc? He promised me a lesson today.” She noticed Doc’s smirk and added, “We’re supposed to be studying oils today thank you very much.”
“Of course you are my dear.”
“I saw him at the surf beach less than an hour ago,” Roxy said.
Maya looked mortified. “He went to Taboo and didn’t tell me? Huh!”
She stood up, grabbed her hat and glasses and stalked off.
The doctor chuckled. “They couldn’t be less obvious about it if they tried,” he said.
Roxy glanced around. The Zimmermans were at the buffet table, Joshua and Helen were just leaving and Popeye was busy clearing away plates.
“So they’re um...” She didn’t quite know how to put it.
“Checking out each other’s etchings?” Doc suggested, a cheeky glint in his eye. “Yes, on a daily basis I believe. Have been ever since he arrived about two months ago. Back then, Maya came to Dormay every second week or so. Now we can’t seem to get rid of the ghastly girl. Might as well move in. I don’t know why Wade stands for it, frankly. But, well, he has other fish to fry...” He took another mouthful of salad.
“Oh?”
“Money trouble,” he whispered, spitting shredded tuna towards her. “He’s been at Abi for months.”
“Abi? What’s she got to do with it?”
At that moment the Zimmermans took their seats not far from Doc and he tapped one finger to his nose.
“Perhaps another time, eh?”
He turned towards the Swiss couple who were now clad in matching beige shorts and shirts.
“So, Ingrid and Bernard, productive morning was it?”
Ingrid nodded her head stiffly. “Very productive, yes, thank you doctor. Wasn’t it, Bernard?”
Bernard, who didn’t appear to have a voice box, simply nodded his own head and bit into a slice of quiche.
“What exactly are you looking for out there?” asked Roxy casually enough but Ingrid seemed put out by the question. Again.
“We just like the reef,” she relied sternly. “And the fish.”
“You know, I’ve never actually been diving.”
“And you come from Australia!?” Ingrid looked scandalised. “Not even the Great Barrier Reef?!”
Roxy shook her head apologetically.
“You must try it when you are here. Did you know, they have some of the best coral in the world? Right here, at Dormay?”
“So I keep hearing. I guess you don’t see anything like this in your part of the world?”
She scoffed. “No! Nothing like this.”
“But we have excellent cheeses,” Bernard said suddenly, surprising Roxy.
It was the first time she had heard him speak. He smiled stiffly and then said something in what sounded like German to his wife. A small argument ensued and Roxy glanced at Doc who was busily devouring a chicken leg. She took this as her queue to leave, returning to her room to change into some swimmers.
Roxy had been on the island almost 24 hours and hadn’t yet hit the beach. Some would call that a travesty. She wasn’t fazed in the slightest but felt it might be time to get it over and done with. She pulled on a black and white one-piece swimming costume and lathered every inch of exposed skin with sunscreen including, yes, her ear lobes. Then slipped her sundress back on, pulled on an enormous sunhat and sunglasses, swapped her wedges for white thongs and made for the door. Just before she reached it, she heard garbled voices coming from the other side of the room, below the windows. Roxy stepped back curiously towards them. Through the half-closed shutters she could just spy the small patio below. From her angle, Roxy couldn’t see who was doing the talking but she could hear traces of a male voice.
“What do you mean (inaudible)... get rid of (inaudible)...?”
“Shhh,” came another voice, more feminine. “Just calm down (inaudible)... not in my plan.”
“Plan? Who cares about—”
There was a loud knock on Roxy’s door and her heart nearly leapt through her mouth. The voices below stopped and she drew back against the wall, hoping they hadn’t spotted her, and not only because she was clearly eavesdropping. There was something very secretive about their tones, something desperate, too. She took a deep breath and stepped softly away from the window and towards her door.
“Who is it?” she hissed as quietly as she could.
“It’s Maya, sweetie, do let me in!”
Roxy swung the door open to find the young woman standing outside, nothing but a brown and white checked Burberry bikini, matching ballet flats, and dark Gucci sunglasses on. A small butterfly tattoo fluttered out from the back of her bikini bottom and her tall, lean body looked amazing. If Luc wasn’t having his merry way with her, Roxy wondered why.
As if reading her mind, Maya said, “Well, Luc’s missed his chance, so I’m going for a dip. Wanna come?”
“Sure. I was just on my way there.”
“Fabulous. Let’s do it!”
They made their way through the lobby and down the main stairs to a rickety set of wooden side steps that lead all the way to the main beach in front of the hotel. The sand was not as silky smooth as Roxy was expecting. Instead it was sharp in places, littered with all manner of broken shells and bleached out coral. Where the water crashed into the sand on shore it tinkled like broken china, and all about she spotted dozens of near-perfect shells including an enormous nautilus that had likely washed up the night before. The sand wasn’t perfect white either, instead boasting a kaleidoscope of coloured grains, from brown and red to black and pink and white and grey—every shade of the reef from which it had come.
Several large umbrellas had been dug into the sand beside freshly varnished deck chairs, and fluffy blue and white striped beach towels placed, folded, on each one. Maya shook a towel out and draped it over her chair before slipping off her flats and dropping down to sunbake. Then, noticing she was in the shade, jumped back up and pushed her chair out into the scorching sunshine.
“That’s better,” she said.
Raising her sunglasses to catch Roxy’s eyes, she added, “Don’t even mention the letters SPF to me, please! I’m not a child and I really don’t need to be told. Again.”
Roxy held her hands up defensively.
“And I’m not your mother, so burn away.”
She slipped her hat, sundress and thongs off, placing them onto the adjoining chair, then picked her way carefully down to the water’s edge. The ocean here was far less rough than Taboo, protected no doubt by the surrounding reef. The water rippled gently into shore, and it really was a perfect temperature. Not quite warm but certainly not cold. She slid in easily, thrilled that she didn’t have to make a spectacle of herself, inching in slowly as she normally did, her teeth clenched in agony. She stopped just below her shoulders to avoid wetting her hair but needn’t have bothered. Maya came crashing in beside her, diving like a pro into the glistening water and splashing the writer in the process. She was still wearing her sunnies and came up beaming.
“Ah, that’s better,” she said.
“Oh what the hell,” said Roxy, dropping her own head under.
It felt amazing, and its translucency had her mesmerised. So glassy water really did exist outside of tourist brochures, she thought. Who knew?
“Yo
u’re quite the mermaid,” she said to Maya who was now floating on her back, bobbing along with the tide.
“Well, I have to get my swims in somewhere.”
“What’s wrong with the mainland beaches?”
“Sandflies, for the most part. They plague this area. Well, everywhere except Dormay of course. It’s almost the only island in the region without them. God knows why.”
“Are sandflies as bad as mosquitoes?”
“Oh my god! They’re much worse! You got a few mozzie bites today? Boo-hoo! Stand on any of the beaches at Beela at dusk, and your entire body is covered in less than a minute. They even follow you into the water, the little devils. The welts are larger, itchier too. It’s the reason Wade’s resort is such a disaster.”
Roxy combed her hair back with her fingers. “You guys have a resort?”
“Well, Wade does, sweetie. He’s had it for a few years now so he can’t blame me for that one. We’ve only been married 18 months you know?”
“No, I didn’t. So, tell me about the resort.”
“Oh it’s nice enough. More modern than Dormay, which isn’t saying much. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Dormay, but it’s a tad retro for my liking. Anyway, Wade’s place, Paradise Point—crappy name, I know—accommodates three times the guests, too. But we don’t seem to get as much repeat business, which is what Dormay survives off, or at least that’s what Wade says. He’s fixated with it. And I’m telling you, it’s because of the blasted sandflies. The beaches are riddled with them and they seem to get worse each year. Wade says they weren’t nearly as bad five years ago. He keeps threatening to DDT the entire region, and quite frankly I think he would if he didn’t keep getting voted down by the local bloody council. Savages. Still, it means I have plenty of excuses to come to Dormay.”
“Oh?”
She stood up, repositioned her bikini and began striding back to shore.
“Well, I can’t be expected to bake on sandfly infested beaches, can I?”
No, indeed, thought Roxy, that would be short of torture. She followed Maya back to their towels, scooping up the nautilus along the way.
“So, you guys are only newlyweds.” She placed the large reddish-white shell to her ear. “How did you meet?”
Maya dropped back onto her towel and began wiping the water off her long legs. “Boring story, really. I came out on holiday two years ago and he swept me off my feet. I came back six months later to marry him, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Maya spoke the lines as though repeating a mantra, almost mechanically, with no obvious emotion, then promptly changed the subject.
“Are you married? I don’t see a ring but that doesn’t always mean anything.”
Roxy laughed, putting the shell aside. “No, no, I’m not married, much to my mother’s disappointment.”
“A boyfriend, then? Anyone special?”
Her green eyes sparkled provocatively.
“Er, no to that, too. I am currently a free agent, but then again, I am almost always a free agent.”
Maya sat up and stared at her.
“Really? I wonder why?” She flickered her eyes across Roxy’s body. “You’re attractive enough.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I guess I’m just married to my work, that’s all. Maybe one day.”
Maya sighed wistfully. “Oh, to have such an exciting career... honestly I envy you so.”
“I’m not sure you’d envy me if you saw the tiny apartment I work out of and the state of my bank account. Still, I enjoy it most of the time.”
“And why wouldn’t you!? You get to hang out at places like this, poke about in everyone else’s business and get paid for it! Sounds divine.”
Roxy laughed again. “Well, since you put it like that...”
“I have to say, though, I’m with Helen on this one. I can not believe Abi has hired you. She’s normally so private. You know, I had an Elle magazine shoot all lined up for the wedding? They were going to do a pictorial piece—Wade was thrilled, Helen, too. But Abi put a stop to it. Outright refused.”
“So your wedding was held here? At Dormay?”
“God yes, could hardly have it at Wade’s joint and be all red and welty in my strapless Vera Wang.”
“And Abi wouldn’t let the cameras in?”
“Not even one.”
Maya held one long leg up and studied it approvingly.
“They’re banned, normally, you know? You do know that?”
She dropped the leg down and swung around to face Roxy, shifting onto her stomach as she did so.
“You can’t go around randomly taking shots of people here, can’t use cell phones either—not that they work here, anyway. It’s all to do with Abi’s precious Privacy Policy. A load of bollocks! Still, you’d think she’d make this one exception. For Wade, if not for me. She also banned the Elle journalist. So embarrassing. It’s not like I’m Gisele Bundchen you know? I was lucky to get that offer, and she went and ruined it. For all of us. Although I have to say, I think Helen was angrier than I was! She didn’t speak to her mother for the entire wedding. Honestly, you’d think it was her special day!”
She peeled herself off the towel and stood up.
“Come on, all this sun is starting to drag me down, or maybe it’s all the chatter about my dreary wedding. I need a drink and a cigarette. Desperately. Let’s head up for cocktails.”
“Is it that time, already?” Roxy sat up alarmed.
“Well, not strictly, sweetie, but we can rendezvous in my room if you like. My mini-fridge is bursting with delights!”
Roxy gathered her things, carefully placing the shell into her bag.
“Would love to, Maya, but Abi and I have another session about now. I’d better get ready.”
“Oh well, your loss. I’ll see you at crappy hour on the main veranda then.”
They made their way back to the hotel and followed each other through the lobby and up the internal stairs to the first floor. Maya headed off for her room at the front, directly parallel to Roxy’s, and the writer wondered how an over-staying local managed to score such a premier suite. That one would have a startling view of the ocean in front. Perhaps Wade insisted on it, she thought, or paid generously for the privilege. (Although, hadn’t Doc mentioned something about money troubles?) Roxy looked around. She had not yet worked out where everyone was sleeping, but she could tell Doc had the back room in the opposite corner to hers, as he had stuck a sign on his door that read: ‘Doctors Rooms’. Pretty obvious. She also guessed that the Zimmermans—the only paying guests—would have been given one of the two best rooms in the front, beside Maya, and that Helen, Josh and Abi all resided up the next flight of stairs where a small sign had been posted with the words ‘Private access only’. Even though Joshua was part local, she couldn’t really picture him heading back to those grass huts at night.
As for Luc?Roxy shrugged, unlocked her door and slipped back in. Pricking up her ears, she could hear nothing, so she crept over to the window and peeked out. All was now quiet except for Maurice who was carrying a pitcher of water over to the table, no doubt for her next session with Abi. Roxy pulled the fresh shell from her bag and placed it on the window ledge next to the coral. She was starting quite a nice collection.
Roxy glanced at the clock. It was 10 minutes before 3pm so she jumped into the shower then changed back into her sundress and wedges, ran a quick comb through her hair and some lip balm across her sun-kissed lips, grabbed her gear and returned to the patio.
Fortunately, Abi had yet to arrive so Roxy settled into a chair and got her equipment in place. She was determined to appear professional even if she was in holiday heaven.
“Sorry, sorry!” called Abi, taking her own seat beside her. “Pour us a glass will you, Roxy. It’s stinkin’ hot today. You seem to be handling the heat well, for a tourist.”
“Yes, I’m very impressed with myself.” She fill
ed both glasses with the cool water. “But I did just have a lovely swim at main beach, so I was cheating a little.”
“Ah, main beach. My favourite place in the world. Okay, then, we’d better get started, I don’t have a lot of time this arvo suddenly. More dramas.” She sighed heavily. “So, where were we?”
“We were discussing your childhood in Australia. You finished by saying—”
“Oh, never mind with that now. I’d like to talk about Dormay.”
“Well, sure, but I have to say it’s often better, certainly easier, to go chronologically, starting with your early days. Still, if you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer.”
There was no room for negotiation so Roxy clicked ‘play/record’ on her small device, positioned it right under Abi’s ample chin, then sat back and waited for her to begin. Abi took a long sip of her water again and then smiled dreamily.
“I fell in love with this place from the first moment I saw it.”
“When was that?”
“Exactly 40 years ago last June. I was a patrol officer’s wife. Did you know that?
“No, I didn’t.”
“His name was Jed Lilton, he worked for the Australian Government and was based at the mainland, working to set up hospitals, schools, roads that sort of thing. Good worker, crap husband. When he wasn’t beating me to a pulp he was having his way with the local housegirls or haus girls I think they spell it. Started playing up on me in the first month.”
“Oh Abi, I’m so sorry.”
“Well don’t be! It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I gave him the flick and went out on my own. I’d fallen in love with the area instantly, of course, how could you not? Didn’t have a lot of dosh, though, so when an opportunity came up to manage the plantation on Dormay I jumped at it.”
“So Dormay was a plantation first. What kind?”
“Copra, love. Coconuts. They had a good little business going but it was too much work for the old Kiwi guy who used to run it. He was exhausted and couldn’t hand it over fast enough. I had no experience, of course, but that didn’t seem to matter. The local workers here helped showed me the ropes. I bought the place a few years after that. For a song if truth be told. I soon realised there was more money in tourism than coconuts, so I did the old house up and opened the doors. Never looked back.”
A Plot To Die For Page 6
