Dangerous Shadows

by Whitelaw, Stella

  “Will you excuse me? It’s the heat.”

  “You need some fresh air.”

  Danielle floated over to Holly, her face alight with happiness. “You’ve met Luke, then? Isn’t he going to be a gorgeous bridegroom? Isn’t he the most wonderful man in the world? I’m so lucky.”

  Holly could barely string two words together. They choked her. “Gorgeous,” she agreed. “So lucky.”

  “I can’t wait for the wedding,” Danielle prattled on. “Not long now. But so many things to do. Oh, there are the Grants. They are into real estate on the island and they have one of those big plantation houses. Enormous apparently. I must go and speak to them. We might need a house! See you later, Holly. Have fun.”

  Everyone seemed to be having fun, or wishing her fun. Holly had never felt less like having fun. Her insides felt hollow.

  Luke was still the same attractive man she had once thought herself to be in love with. It was obvious that he had no such feelings for her. Their meeting this evening had been quite normal on the surface. She had managed to hide her churning emotions. Luke had been his usual charming, thoughtful self.

  She slipped out onto the wide veranda that went round all sides of Tiger Bay Plantation House. The coolness of the evening fell on her overheated skin like a blessing. The sky was a quilt of black velvet, dotted with millions of twinkling stars, and far away was the crescent of a new moon hung by its own moonbeam.

  It took her breath away. It was so beautiful. Only seconds ago, she had been devastated. Meeting Luke again and in such circumstances, a few days before his wedding to Danielle, had thrown her to the wolves. But now, standing alone on this veranda, the calmness and beauty of the night was momentarily healing. Holly let the cool night air wash over her and the twinkling stars beam radar messages to her heart. She didn’t understand what they were saying, but she felt their calming influence. Perhaps there were other mortals on this same earth, or on another planet, feeling as betrayed as she felt. It was a little comforting.

  “Penny for them,” said a voice at her elbow.

  Holly turned abruptly, half spilling her drink.

  “Sorry, did I make you jump? How very stupid of me. I was so pleased to see you here. I thought I would never see you again, that our paths would never cross even on this small island. But they have. My prayers have been answered.”

  It was strange hearing this voice and not being able to put a face or a body to it. Holly tried to focus.

  Holly could only see a silhouette of a young man. He was not very tall, but muscular, lean and athletic looking. His brownish hair hadn’t seen a comb. He was wearing a loose fawn suit, still crumpled from its last wear or bad packing.

  “Do I know you?” asked Holly, finding the polite words from somewhere. She did not want to be disturbed. Like Greta Garbo, she wanted to be left alone.

  “Don’t you remember? At the airport, the carousel? Waiting for our luggage? We flew out on the same plane from London.”

  “Ah yes, of course,” said Holly, still trying to be polite. She remembered him. “Did you find your luggage and your surf boards?”

  “Finally, thank goodness. I thought I’d lost them for good but they turned up. The Atlantic coast is really wild. You must drive out for a look. Miles of cliffs, headlands and turbulent rollers and surf. It’s so different from this flat Platinum coast line, made for tourists. It looks like Brittany or Cornwall. And along there is where Sam Lord used to lure ships to the reef by hanging lanterns in the palm trees.”

  Holly was momentarily distracted. “Sam Lord? Who’s he?”

  “A famous buccaneer. Early nineteenth century, I think. When the ships ran aground on the shoals, Sam Lord and his men, mostly slaves, took possession of whatever cargo was washed ashore. He built a castle, Sam Lord’s Castle, with the proceeds of his evil deeds. It’s a classy restaurant now.”

  “That’s an awful story,” said Holly, shuddering. “What a cruel man.”

  “I’ll take you to see it. We could have dinner there one evening.”

  “Hold on a moment. I don’t even know who you are and you certainly don’t know who I am.” Holly was amused but taken aback at the speed of the young man’s dating technique. Perhaps he was like her, out of his depth at this party.

  “Then it’s time for introductions,” he said with confidence. “Stay there a moment, please. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Holly wondered if this was the moment to disappear. If she hurried upstairs now she could be undressed and in bed in sixty seconds, hoping that sleep would swiftly take her away to oblivion.

  But the young man had returned. He moved sideways and the lights from the drawing room lit up his face. He was pleasant looking, not good-looking, but his features were uniform and his cleft chin gave him a certain hawkish look. He was holding two flutes of champagne.

  “I saw that your glass was empty,” he said. “There’s always time for a refill. I’m Barry Armitage, best man at this wedding. The keeper of the ring. Fury will rain from the heavens if I lose it in the sand.”

  “I’m Holly Gray, chief bridesmaid, holder of bouquet and train if there is to be one. More fury will rain if I trip over train, drop bouquet in the sand.”

  “Then we have a lot in common. This is fate. It has to be fate. Hello, bridesmaid.” Barry was grinning at her.

  “Hello, best man.”

  Holly felt a smile lightening her face. He was infectiously pleasant. She could not be unkind to him, or inflict her distraction or depression on him. This was certainly high calibre acting. Perhaps she would win an Emmy Award.

  “So is Luke Kenyon a friend? Your brother? A colleague?”

  “None of those. I’m a cameraman by profession, athlete by preference. We won an award for some programme. He joked that I would have to continue the support if he ever got married. When I heard he’d got engaged, I reminded him.”

  “I shall need your support on the day,” Holly went on quickly. “I understand it’s to be a beach wedding. Sand is not my favourite mode of support.”

  “Don’t you worry,” said Barry. “I’ll be there. It will be my prime responsibility, looking after fragile, pale-faced bridesmaid, tripping over long dress. You’ve no colour at all. Are you all right?”

  “Long flight,” said Holly, trying to laugh it off. “And I was tired before I flew out. All the last minute things I had to do.”

  “Well, you look absolutely stunning, if I may say so. That black dress is classy. I think I am going to enjoy this wedding, after all. Weddings are not my usual thing. They are a bit old-fashioned and all that. It’s my first one, in fact.”

  “Extremely old-fashioned,” Holly agreed and then regretted her words. She didn’t want this young man to think she was too liberated in her ways; that she was programmed to go along with the wedding hand-outs, like an extra slice of cake or finishing up the champagne.

  “But it might catch on,” Barry added. “In the right circumstances.”

  “So what’s he like to work with?” Holly asked. “Luke Kenyon.” It was hard to even say his name. The man she loved. The man she had loved forever.

  “He’s cool. We’ve worked together for many years. He always gets me on his team if there’s something special. I’m a good cameraman. Find the angles, the lighting Then we won this award in New York.”

  “Did you come to London when he did the classic film series, some years ago? Ealing Studios and all that. Passport to Pimlico.”

  “I missed that job. Nasty dose of malaria. We’d been filming in Africa and I didn’t have all the right jabs. Otherwise I would have been there. Apparently it was a successful series. Luke was sorry to leave London. He really liked it there.”

  But not that sorry, thought Holly. He’d left in a rush, no time to say good-bye to his Girl Friday. No explanation. Nothing but an email and a note.

  “Perhaps he had a lot on his mind,” said Holly, saying the first thing that came into her head. It must be the second brimming g
lass of champagne.

  “Oh yes, he certainly had a lot on his mind. Luke was very worried about some relationship. He was cut up about something, hardly spoke. He threw himself into his work to take his mind of the situation. It was like being chained to a maniac. We had to slow him down or he would have made himself ill.”

  “Well, I’m glad that you did,” she said. “Slow him down, that is. He looks all right now. Lean and healthy.”

  “Maybe that’s Danielle’s influence. He needs company. She doesn’t take anything seriously. That girl’s a bundle of fun!”

  Holly looked back into the crowded drawing room. So many people laughing and talking. Then she caught sight of Luke.

  Luke looked more than all right. He looked at ease, confident, happy. This marriage was obviously what he wanted. He and Danielle were perfect for each other. Holly had to be pleased for her cousin, but it was hard. For a moment she felt impatient with her cousin’s light-heartedness.

  A wave of belated sorrow swept over her and the tears threatened to ruin her mascara. Desolation emptied her heart. She had to get away.

  “I’m so sorry, Barry, but I must go. Jet-lag is catching up. That big bed beckons. It’s been nice meeting you.”

  “But I shall see you again soon?” he asked. “I really do want to see you.” He looked quite serious. “I’d like to get to know you. Go surfing, sometime?”

  “At the rehearsal? There is bound to be a rehearsal. Don’t all weddings have a rehearsal, even beach weddings?”

  “I’ve no idea,” he said, taking her empty glass. “Sleep well, bridesmaid. See you tomorrow.”

  He moved to kiss her cheek, but she side-stepped him. She could not bear the thought of him being that close. No man would ever get close to her again.

  Holly didn’t speak to Luke again. But she saw him as she went upstairs. He was standing with Danielle, his arm around her waist. His head was bent as he listened to what she had to say. Luke was as good as married to her cousin.

  It was her worst-case dreamscape. Would she ever be able to survive this nightmare?

  *

  “So she’s on a flight to Barbados? Can you get me on the next flight? I don’t care if it is full. Find me a seat, first class. I shall complain to your manager. Don’t you know who I am? I’m a celebrity.”

  He folded his phone shut and flicked through other airlines on his laptop. He wasn’t going to fly in a cheap seat. He’d got used to leg room and luxury. At least he’d only have to pay for one seat. He’d managed to get rid of the last leggy blonde. All they wanted was to be seen at celebrity parties and enjoy expensive meals out.

  Spongers, all of them. He didn’t see the irony of that thought. He’d pawned his Rolex to get some ready cash for the flight.

  Maybe he could find some other way to get to Barbados. He flicked through the cruise ships leaving soon. It might take longer but there would be better pickings. There was a cruise ship leaving Southampton tomorrow evening. He’d got plenty of time to get to the docks.

  He phoned one of his past girlfriends, a minor movie star. She did bit parts. “Fancy giving me a lift down to Southampton tomorrow in your posh sports car?” he asked. “We could stop on the way.”

  “Get lost,” she said and put the phone down.

  *

  Gloriana II was a beautiful ocean liner, clean lines, proud bow, tier upon tier of decks with private balconies. Her in-dock flags were fluttering in the breeze. Passengers were arriving in droves, laden with luggage.

  A white-coated steward was showing the Colonel to his cabin, wheeling his luggage. He had an outside cabin but no balcony. He preferred to mix with people. He had enough time on his own in his house in West Sussex.

  “Can you make sure that I share a table in the dining room?” the Colonel asked. “I don’t like eating on my own.”

  “Please ask as you go in the dining room, sir. They will be able to help you.”

  “Thank you.” He didn’t tip. It wasn’t necessary. It was all included.

  The Colonel leaned onto the windowsill. The dockside was bustling. A military brass band in red uniforms was playing them off. He looked at his watch. He had time to go up on deck, get a complimentary glass of champagne. He had a feeling this was going to be a good cruise. There were no streamers to throw these days. Something to do with Health & Safety. All these regulations.

  Chapter Four

  Waking up in Barbados was like waking up in paradise. Holly stretched under the cool white sheet and wondered if she was dreaming. The sheet was soft and silky on her bare skin. It had been too hot to sleep in anything except the shortest cotton nightgown.

  Memories came flooding back. Luke had been by her side last night, talking to her, showing an interest in her new job, reminding her with every word how much she missed him. And Danielle had been at his side, adding her own amusing comments with adoring glances.

  “Luke will know where to come when he wants Hundreds of Beautiful Girls,” she giggled. “Did he tell you he might be doing a revival of Mack and Mabel on Broadway?”

  Holly felt the old familiar stab. Luke had taken her to see Mack and Mabel, the original version, in London. The sadness of the ending had brought tears to her eyes, and Luke had watched her during the curtain calls, appalled that the show had made her cry.

  “But he loved her so much,” she had wept. “And he never told her.”

  “And he should have told her?”

  “Of course he should have told her,” said Holly. “That’s what she wanted to hear. It’s like that film Forever Young, when Mel Gibson never told Helen. Then she got knocked over and was in a coma.”

  Luke had nodded, teasing her. “I’ll remember that. It’s what the woman always wants to hear. In case they get knocked over.”

  Or abducted, thought Holly suddenly, out of nowhere. Luke had never said anything to her. He had never even got near to saying a single word of endearment. They had talked about everything under the sun, except their relationship. They pretended that it was perfect in every way and that was how they wanted it. No romance, no commitment, but excellent friends.

  Danielle came racing into the bedroom, flinging open the curtains and the window. She was wearing a miniscule gold and white swim suit with cut-away sides and cut away high legs. Her smooth skin had a lovely even tan.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she called out. “We’re going for an early swim before it gets too hot. Sometimes the sand on the beach is too hot for bare feet.”

  “You mean a swim in the sea?” said Holly, surfacing slowly. “We’re going for a swim?”

  “It’s a glorious day and you mustn’t waste a single moment. Three weeks will be gone in a flash, especially when there’s everything to arrange for the wedding. We are going to be so busy. You must swim every chance that you get.”

  Holly swung her legs out of bed. They looked pale beside Danielle’s skin. A slight tan would improve them. She hunted for a swimsuit in the chest of drawers. It was a plain black one piece with wide straps.

  “Heavens, that’s an old granny swimsuit,” said Danielle, pulling a face. “We must get you something snazzier than that.”

  “It’s perfectly suitable for an early morning swim.”

  “Thank goodness no one will see us. The lifeguards won’t be on duty yet. Now I know a lifeguard who is really hunky. Wait till you see him.”

  Holly followed Danielle downstairs and out into the garden. There was a path through the garden and then down some steps onto the beach. The stretch of pale sand was un-trodden.

  Casuarina trees and takamaka trees swept down from the land, fringing the sand. The sea stretched in an endless wave of turquoise, tiny ripples washing the shore. An early morning swim was the perfect idea. Holly had never seen such idyllic sea. She wanted to drown in it; well, not exactly drown, but at least duck her head under. “You’d drown in ten metres,” said a voice in her head.

  “What a gorgeous beach,” said Holly. “It’s perfect.”

&
nbsp; “That’s why I want my wedding here.”

  They ran across the sand and splashed into the lapping wavelets. The water was cool but only for the first few moments, then it was warm and deliciously soft as Holly ducked under and let the sea wash over her head. She didn’t have expensive extensions to worry about.

  She struck out, swimming strongly, towards the open sea. It was bliss. No wonder so many people came to Barbados for their holidays. One day she might come again, when all the pain was over. She might even be able to laugh at herself, at her love for a man who wasn’t interested in her.

  Holly took a deep breath and dived down, opening her eyes. The water was so clear she could see all the little creatures scuttling about on the sea bed. Tiny multi-coloured fishes darted by. Crabs covered themselves in sand. Starfish floated lazily, not really caring. It was enchanting. She held onto her breath for as long as possible before shooting back to the surface.

  She thrashed around for a moment, wondering where was the shore. It seemed a long way away. Danielle was floating on her back. Holly could only see a bobbing head. Holly had always been a good swimmer from schooldays. She was the one who had surfed in Cornwall, dived from the top board, got her life-savers badge at the local pool.

  She kept her eyes on the line of trees sweeping the distant sand. She was a little out of practice but the co-ordination soon came back. The exercise would wake her up. This would give her a good appetite for breakfast. She decided she would swim every morning and get fit.

  Danielle was already out of the sea, towelling herself down and putting on a brief towelling robe by the time Holly reached the shore.

  “Holly, you went out way too far. Don’t you know that the rip tide is dangerous? The current is so strong, it could sweep you away.”

  “How could I know about rip tides? I only arrived yesterday.”

  “Never mind, but be careful in future. They are dangerous. It’s best to keep near the shore line. Let’s go and have breakfast,” said Danielle. “Lily will have put it out on the terrace for us. There’s nothing nicer than breakfast on the terrace. But first, let me show you where the wedding will be held.”