by Jane Corrie
At this point, Beth felt a stab of conscience on Nicholas's behalf. He couldn't help being as he was, and in his own rather autocratic way, he had loved her—no, not her, she corrected herself quickly, what he'd wanted to make her. He would certainly have to make a big adjustment to his previous ideas if he wanted her back again. She pulled herself up short on this thought. She wasn't going back—she couldn't! The very idea frightened her, and to stem these thoughts that were beginning to bring the dreadful feeling of claustrophobia on her again, she changed the subject quickly. 'Ought to wear evening dress tonight?' she asked Janice.
Janice nodded, 'I think you'd better,' she said. 'I'm
pretty sure they'll take you to the Falcon.'
`What's that? A pub?' queried Beth.
`Don't let Gavin hear you say that ! ' laughed Janice. 'The Falcon, my love, is the island night spot. It's a sort of night club, and although it's not the only one the island has, it is the most exclusive. If you do go there, take the opportunity of looking at the swimming pool. It's the latest addition, and Gavin plans to hold swimming parties there later on in the year.' She looked at Beth as if a thought had suddenly struck her. 'You do have an evening gown, don't you, pet?' she asked.
`I have two, actually,' replied an amused Beth. 'I won't let you down. Would you like to inspect them?' she asked teasingly.
To her astonishment Janice took her up on her offer, and deciding to humour her, Beth showed her both the gowns. One was a pale green chiffon, with floating skirt and high kimono-style collar, that Nicholas had instantly approved of, for even her dresses had come under his strict scrutiny in the past. The second gown was a white silk, cut on more severe lines, that clung to her slim figure, and was plain, but very sophisticated.
Janice pointed to the green dress. 'Wear that one,' she ordered.
`Very well,' agreed Beth obediently, still amused at Janice's determination to show her off at her best.
When Janice left her to get herself ready for her date with John, Beth gave a little sigh; there was not much doubt that Janice was hoping to marry her off to one of the island's bachelors; that way she could
be absolutely certain of keeping her near her, and while she understood her motives, she also knew that she was in for a big disappointment.
Mr and Mrs Harris arrived on the stroke of eight, and were duly introduced to Beth. It was obvious-that they had expected to meet a younger edition of Janice, by the almost comical surprise registered on their faces as they gazed from Janice's dark hair and slender height, to Beth's long fair-hair and diminutive figure.
Taking full note of their bewilderment, Janice chuckled. 'I didn't give you the family history, did I?' she said. 'Well, I'll enlighten you now. I take after my father—the Scots side of the family; Beth takes after our mother, who was Norwegian.'
Mr Harris, a plump, good natured man, gave his wife a knowing look as he commented, 'All I can say is, they must have been an exceptionally good-looking couple. My, my,' he grinned, 'if half the island's bachelor's aren't running round in circles by this time tomorrow, I'll buy Winifred that summer house she's always on about ! '
His wife, a short, matronly woman with grey-streaked hair and a warm disposition, threw up her hands in mock horror. 'Now I'll never get it,' she complained sadly.
A short while later they were on their way, Beth sitting in between her hosts on the front seat of the spacious American car. They kept up a lively flow of conversation in order to make her feel at ease, for which Beth was grateful. They told her how fond they were of Janice, and how happy they had been When
they had heard about John. 'We couldn't have wished for a better husband for her,' confided Mrs Harris to Beth, who didn't need any assurance on this matter, for she felt the same about John herself. 'And now that you've come, dear—well, I shouldn't think there's anything else she could possibly want.' She patted Beth's hand. 'You must stay, now that you're. here. After all, there are only the two of you now, aren't there? And she really did miss you in those first few months. It was always, "When Beth comes ..." ' She was silent for a moment, then added hastily, 'Well, you're here now, and as I've said, I do hope you'll stay.'
Mr Harris's gaze left the road ahead for a split second as he gave Beth a teasing look. 'It's my guess she'll have no choice in the matter. The young men these days don't wait for visiting cards—look at the way John homed in on Janice. She didn't know it at the time, but he took one look at her, and that was that.'
Beth knew a slight sense of irritation, in spite of their well-meant teasing, and wished they would change the conversation; she was soon rewarded by Mrs Harris's, 'That's the harbour down there,' and Beth, following her gaze, saw the twinkling lights some way below them and realised with a start that they must have been climbing steadily up a hillside, although she couldn't remember seeing any hills on her short excursion with Johnny that morning. Then she recalled the hills behind the harbour. 'Is this where the cannon is?' she asked.
`Yes,' replied Mrs Harris, a little surprised that
Beth knew about the cannon, and Beth explained how she had come to see it. 'It's quite a tourist attraction,' commented Mrs Harris. `Gavin's very proud of it. It dates back to the days of his forefathers. On the odd special occasion, it's fired; all shipping warned, of course,' she chuckled.
Minutes later, they were gliding into a large parking space beside a well-lit ranch-style building. 'This is the Falcon,' Mr Harris remarked as he drew up beside an elegant Daimler, and as he courteously assisted Beth and his wife out of the car, he commented idly. `Not so busy as usual,' looking at the empty spaces in the parking area.
`It's the yacht club do tonight,' Mrs Harris reminded him as they walked towards the entrance of the club. 'I expect they'll be over later,' she added.
`Do you sail, Beth?' Mr Harris asked, as he escorted them into the foyer of the club.
Beth admitted that she was a very bad sailor. Nicholas had tried to get her to take an interest in the sport, as he had been a keen sailor, but the results had not been successful.
`Oh, well,' sympathised Winifred Harris, 'there're lots of other interests here. I'm sure you won't get bored.'
They had by now reached the dining section of the club, and were greeted by several patrons already at dinner. Beth felt the curious looks that followed her as they made their way to a table that had been reserved for them, stopping once or twice to introduce her to particular friends of theirs. As they moved away from one table, a young man dining with his
parents gave a nervous gesture of straightening his tie, and this did not go unnoticed by either of Beth's hosts, and she caught Mrs Harris giving her husband an outrageous wink as they moved on.
When they were settled at their table, Beth took in her surroundings while Mr and Mrs Harris concentrated on the menu. Her glance took in the muted lighting, the carpet into which her feet had sunk, that in itself must have cost a small fortune, let alone the fabulous decor and the exotic arrangements of the numerous flowers the island boasted. In a far corner of the dining room, set on a small dais, was a Hawaiian band, to whose music several couples were dancing on a space immediately adjoining the dining area.
The meal consisted mainly of various seafood specialities, and. Beth was amazed at the variety offered, and managed to eat enough to satisfy her anxious hosts, but had to smilingly refuse the tempting-looking rum babas offered for the sweet.
Lulled by good food and a liberal amount of wine, she found herself beginning to feel sleepy; the soft lilting music took on the role of a lullaby, and she had to blink hard in order to stay awake, and when Mr Harris had to repeat a question twice Mrs Harris became aware of Beth's tiredness.
`You poor child ! ' she exclaimed. 'All that travelling! You must be worn out—I didn't think about that at all.' She turned to her husband. 'We must take her home, John.'
At John Harris's good natured, 'Sure—ready when you are,' Beth felt guilty. The evening had barely begun and here she was, falling asleep on th
em.
`I do apologise,' she said hastily. 'I'm sure if I slip out and freshen up a bit ' adding quickly as she saw the doubt on Mrs Harris's face. 'A drop of cold water works wonders, you know.'
Not quite convinced, her hostess said doubtfully, `Well, we'll see.'
Beth excused herself and slipped out to the powder room; she was determined not to spoil the evening for the Harrises. The powder room lay to the right of the reception area, and passing through the dining room, she noted absently that the place had now filled up and there was hardly a vacant table. As she went through reception, a neon sign pointing the way to the swimming pool caught her eye, and remembering Janice's comments, she decided to take a look at it. Fresh air, she thought, would be more beneficial than a dab of cold water on the face.
Once outside, the air was fresh without being cold, and Beth caught her breath when she saw the pool, now completely isolated, although tables and chairs had been placed on the gleaming mosaic tiles that surrounded it. Of course, a swimming pool was a swimming pool, but Beth had never seen anything like this. It reminded her of fables from the Arabian Nights. Small coloured lanterns hung in the dense shrubbery that screened the pool, giving it a fairy tale effect, and as she wandered along the sides of the pool, intrigued by the reflection of the softly coloured lights in the still water, the fragrant scent of the flowers drifted past her and she gave a sigh of pure contentment. She would have dearly loved to be able to stay in that place of enchantment.
As she looked up at the brilliant sky, seeing how even the stars were reflected in the water, her peace was suddenly shattered by an American voice somewhere behind her. 'How about joining a lonely sailor for a drink, honey?'
Beth turned to locate the owner of the voice, and saw that the man was sitting at one of the tables close up to the shrubbery, and partially in shadow. Judging by the slurred voice, she deduced the man was drunk, and she politely declined the offer, feeling a stab of annoyance at the way her peaceful interlude had been shattered. Then she made her way back towards the club entrance.
She had not got far when her arm was caught in a vicelike grip. 'Come on, honey. I've enough in the bottle for two,' he cajoled.
The man was, as Beth had thought, very much the worse for drink, and even though she was completely alone with him, it did not occur to her to be afraid. She had the sense to know that losing her temper with him would only make matters worse, so she tried the rational approach. 'I'm with some friends,' she explained, 'and they'll be waiting for me to join them. Would you mind letting go of my arm?' she requested politely.
To her relief he complied, but only to clasp her round the waist instead, and Beth almost reeled from the smell of whisky on his breath. 'If you're lonely, why not come back and meet my friends?' she asked, mentally patting herself on the back for such a brilliant solution to the problem.
He laughed, and she winced as she caught the full
blast of the whisky fumes, then still keeping a firm hold on her waist, he waggled an accusing finger towards the entrance of the club. 'They won't let me in, see? Not got a monkey suit, see?' he mumbled.
Beth was not so easily beaten. 'Shall I bring my friends out here?' she asked hopefully.
The only response was an uncomfortable tightening of the arm around her waist. `Nope. Just you and me, honey,' he answered, crushing Beth's last hope.
She sighed inwardly; from now on she'd have to play it by ear. If she could just get him to release his grip on her ... 'All right, then,' she replied airily, 'just one drink, then I must go.'
As they turned towards his table, he released his grip on her, as she had hoped he would, and when they were about level with the entrance to the club she made her dash for freedom, but there were several tables to negotiate first, and she collided with one of them as her floating skirt caught the edge of another, making her stop to untangle it.
`Got you! ' cried the triumphant sailor as he hauled her back to him, quite obviously enjoying himself hugely.
Unfortunately Beth was in no good mood to humour him. Chances were that she had ruined the dress, and a slight tearing sound coming from the skirt as the man pulled her towards him confirmed her suspicion, and she struck out at him with clenched fists. Will you let me go?' she demanded furiously, but vainly, as her words were having as much effect on him as her small clenched fists were.
The next minute she found herself hammering away
at thin air, and the sailor was measuring his length on the mosaic tiles in front of her. Beth stared down at him, then back at her clenched fists in wonderment, and jumped when a voice close to her said, 'When your friend sobers up, I advise you to find another club. This type of conduct is not tolerated here.'
Beth gasped, stung by the cold arrogance of the voice she had heard once before. She had no need to look at him to ascertain who he was. The harbourmaster—or Admiral, as Jimmy's father had dubbed him—was a very busy bee, she thought. 'He's not my friend,' she got out stiffly, feeling a little sorry for the sailor.
She might have known that her words would have no effect on the man. They hadn't before, and they wouldn't now, she thought furiously, and what business was it of his, anyway? Was he an official chucker-out of the Falcon's exclusive premises? His next words confirmed this thought.
`I don't blame you for disowning him,' he drawled maddeningly, But my advice remains the same. There are plenty of places that cater for this kind of patronage in the town.'
Beth stared up at the man beside her. 'Cater for this ...' she began indignantly, but as before, she was not allowed to finish the sentence.
`Haven't I seen you somewhere before?' demanded the man, giving her an intent look.
Grateful for the shadows, Beth moved a little way back from him. 'I don't think so,' she said quickly, purposely keeping her voice low. At the rate things
were going she felt it would be better if the man did not recognise her.
It wasn't her night; for the second time that evening, she found her arm grasped and steered firmly into the light.
`I thought so ! ' he said acidly. 'Out to paint the town red, are you? Well, young lady, I suggest you do it elsewhere, although what the devil your parents are doing letting you wander around at this time of night is beyond me.'
Beth stared back at him, not knowing which annoyed her most; the fastidious expression on his face, or the autocratic lift of his left eyebrow. Just like Nicholas, she thought. 'As I happen to be over twenty-one, I would say it's none of your business ! ' she bit back scathingly, and shook off his hand on her arm as if it had been some poisonous insect. 'If you've no objection, I'll join my friends in the club,' she added meaningly, showing him that at least she had friends.
`And I would like to meet these friends of yours,' he drawled, watching her with narrowed eyes, his whole attitude suggesting that she was lying, and endearing her yet closer to him
Her hands clenched by her side as she attempted to keep a tight rein on her temper, for the urge to rave and shout at him was sorely tempting, yet she knew it would not serve her purpose—not with this man, so she swallowed her anger and managed an icy, 'I only came out to look at the pool,' and looking back at the sailor still recovering from what must have been a knock-out punch, she went on, 'and there he was.' She favoured the man beside her with a look of
hauteur. 'I thank you for your timely intervention. I am not,' she added scathingly, 'entirely devoid of manners.'
Her wide grey-green eyes, now shooting off light green sparks, met the insolent blue ones squarely, and to her fury she watched him take a cool inventory of her, from her face to her gown, and pass on slowly down the rest of her, and she repaid the doubtful compliment by doing the same thing. He was immaculately dressed in evening wear. His startlingly white shirt had a frilled front, and although Beth knew this was a quirk of fashion, she did not like them, and much preferred the plain style, and felt a mad urge to tell him so. However, she held her tongue and went on with her appraisal, at the end of which
she had to admit grudgingly that in spite of the frilled shirt, he was a magnificent specimen of manhood—and he knows it, she thought bitingly.
She looked up to find him watching her, acknowledging her assessment by a slight lift of the eyebrow, and she waited, for what she felt ought to be an apology from him for his high-handed behaviour. She waited in vain, and it occurred to her after a moment's silence that he was waiting for her to lead the way back into the club—so he hadn't believed her! she thought furiously, and was about to utter a withering comment on this when the sailor decided to join the party.
Lurching to his feet, he demanded, 'What are you doing with my girl?' and without waiting for an answer, lunged at the man beside Beth.
Sidestepping neatly, the man caught the sailor
deftly by his uniform collar, and Beth saw that he had an unfair advantage, for he was at least four inches taller than the other man. However, she did not stop to put her point of view for the opportunity of fading out of the scene was too good to miss, and she sidled gradually towards the club doors.
`You stop right where you are,' commanded her tormentor. 'So you didn't know him, eh? Well, I haven't finished with you yet.'
Beth felt like screaming; she couldn't win. She would have to wait until he had dealt with the sailor, then take him to meet Mr and Mrs Harris. She could derive no satisfaction from this thought, for it was certain that Janice would get to hear about the whole wretched incident, and not only that, what had happened that morning as well. She sighed. Probably Janice's boss as well; she could only hope he had a sense of humour. Of all the insufferable types to tangle with, she had had to choose this one, and she could well imagine the report he would give of their two meetings. It all depended, she pondered miserably, just what position he held in the island's hierarchy, and even then it would be Janice's word against his. At this thought she brightened visibly; the wretched man must have dulled her wits; she had nothing to worry about. He was entirely in the wrong on both counts—well, perhaps not both counts, she conceded grudgingly, but certainly on this one !
