Honeymoon Island

by Marjorie Lewty

  Oh God, she thought, covering her face with her hands, what am I going to do? All night long her mind had churned backwards and forwards; her father's horrible death, Guy Devereux's revelation, the threat to James's company, to his whole future. And never for an instant had she been able to push away the question that loomed, huge and inescapable over everything else. Would she—could she bring herself to marry Guy Devereux for the sake of saving James's company? Surely, she argued, it wouldn't be the end of the world for him. Surely he could start again somehow, he was still young enough, only in his late thirties.

  She walked out on to the verandah and stood leaning on the wooden rail. The white strip of beach was almost deserted at this hour, except for a group of early-morning swimmers. There was no breeze and the leaves of the coconut palms hung motionless. The blue expanse of water looked serene and peaceful. Yet it could be cruel, too. Lucie bit her lip, turning her back on the fabulous view, and as she did so she heard the sound of a car approaching.

  She spun round. Yes, it was Guy, pulling up the car with a spatter of sand. He got out and came towards her with his long, loping stride and her insides tightened as she waited for him.

  He didn't waste time on greetings. 'Your brother just phoned,' he told her. 'He's on his way.'

  'Oh!' Lucie let out a long sigh of relief and sank into a chair. 'Oh, that's marvellous, when will he arrive?' For the first time in many hours the world seemed to be straightening itself on its axis.

  Guy leaned back against the rail and looked down at her as if he hadn't heard her question. Then he jerked his head back. 'Arrive? Oh, it's uncertain. Depends on how he can link up flights. But Europe is five hours ahead of us, so it's just possible he might get here much later today. Possible, but not likely.'

  'Tomorrow, then?' she asked eagerly.

  'Oh yes, certainly tomorrow.'

  Lucie twisted her fingers together. 'What did he say—what did you tell him?'

  'He was worried about you, and how you were coping. I reassured him on that point. I told him I was looking after you.'

  'You know James? You've met him?'

  Guy shook his head. 'No. I doubt if your father took his managers into his confidence about his financial dealings. I explained my credentials briefly, that was all.'

  'So James doesn't know about the—about the situation?'

  'Not from me, he doesn't.'

  She glanced up uncertainly at him. He was even more curt and indifferent than usual this morning. Why on earth would a man like him want to marry her—her particularly? she wondered again. If he merely wanted a wife there must be dozens— hundreds of girls who would suit him better than she would. Girls who would be impressed by his position and wealth, who would fit gladly into his life-style, who wouldn't object to having a dominating husband—for the sake of the glamour he would provide. Girls who were different in every way from her.

  He might have followed her thoughts. He said, 'Well, have you decided to make the great sacrifice?'

  She braced herself to be as cool and impersonal as he was. 'I've been considering it, but I need to see my brother first before I give you my answer.'

  The dark eyebrows rose. 'I imagined you would want to be in a position to reassure him.'

  'I need to see him first,' she repeated stubbornly. 'Getting married may be merely a useful step for you from a business point of view, but I don't look upon it that way. I hate big business—and money—and everything that goes with it. So really I shouldn't be much use to you as a wife.' She spoke more emotionally than she had intended.

  The dark-blue magnetic eyes settled on her flushed cheeks. 'You might leave me to be the best judge of that,' he said, and in spite of herself she felt a disturbance deep inside her. She was no seventeen-year-old now to be frightened by a sexual challenge, she assured herself. And she had to face the fact that Guy was a very sexy individual. But sex without love—?

  She heard herself say guardedly, 'If I agreed would you undertake to release me after the two-year period if I asked you?'

  Again that faint, tantalising smile. 'If I couldn't manage to satisfy you in two years then I should consider that I'd failed. And I don't include the word failure in my vocabulary.'

  She met his eyes resolutely. 'Would you promise?' she repeated.

  For a moment he seemed to hesitate. Then he said, curtly, 'Yes.'

  For a long moment they glared at each other like two fencers. Then he straightened up. 'I must go, I have work to do. I'll leave you here to wait for your brother.' He turned without another word and drove away without a backward look.

  Lucie sat stiffly where he had left her. Now she was really on her own. Now there wasn't even James to turn to, because she couldn't tell him the truth. She must make what should be the most important decision of her life with no one to help her.

  Blossom arrived and fussed over her kindly, making her coffee, insisting that she ate some breakfast.

  'I will come back this evening and cook for you,' she promised before she left. 'My brother catches plenty of turtles. I will make you turtle stew—very good.' She rolled her beautiful dark eyes.

  Lucie hadn't the heart to refuse, and indeed she was glad to talk to the pleasant black girl. She told Lucie about her family—her parents had moved to the Caymans from Jamaica five years ago, with their family of three boys and two girls. 'Plenty of jobs here,' Blossom grinned widely. 'More visitors come every year.'

  The hours dragged after Blossom left. Lucie wouldn't go far from the villa in case James telephoned. Guy might have given him the number of the villa. If only she could speak to him, even on the telephone, it would release some of the tension that was building inside her.

  She sat on the verandah in the shade as the sun rose higher and a heat-haze settled over the water. When it got too hot for comfort she stripped off and lay on her bed, hoping to make up some of the sleep she had missed last night. Then she panicked, thinking that Guy might come in unannounced and find her naked. Her heart thudding, she jumped up and put on a blue beach-dress and prowled restlessly from the living-room to the verandah. She dared not venture out on the beach among the sunbathers because she had no sun-tan lotion, and getting herself burned would be idiotic. She had enough to worry about without that.

  Somehow the hours passed. Blossom returned with the promised turtle stew, carried in a covered basket, and after she had gone Lucie managed to eat a tablespoonful of it and tipped the rest down the waste disposal, feeling guilty and ungrateful.

  The sky began to show streaks of flame and palest green as the sun set, out of sight, to the west of the island. Lucie watched, the exquisite colours filling her consciousness for a time with pleasure, and then, suddenly, it was dark.

  She closed the windows against the insects, then turned on the TV and watched an American film without having any idea what it was about. Oh, if only something would happen! If only she weren't alone! Even Guy Devereux's unwelcome presence would be better than this eerie feeling of utter solitude. She closed her eyes and tears trickled behind her lids and down her cheeks.

  A knocking sound had her on her feet and rushing to the door.

  James stood there, big and dear and blessedly familiar, and she threw herself into his arms, jabbering incoherently. He held her tightly as they went into the living-room, arms round each other.

  'Poor little Lucie, what a time you must have had! I got here as soon as I could.'

  'Oh, Jimmy—oh, I'm so glad you're here! I can't tell you—' she gulped, and pressed her head for a moment against his strong shoulder. Then, with an effort, she pulled herself together. She must keep control—keep her wits about her, not give way to self-pity.

  She settled James on a sofa and poured him a glass of his favourite Scotch and sat beside him. 'When did you get here? I didn't dare hope you might make it today.'

  'I didn't think I could, I've been unbelievably lucky with flights.' He glanced at his watch. 'After we landed I went straight to the address the Birmingham offi
ce gave me—it turned out to be the hotel where this bloke Devereux is staying, so I was able to see him and find out where you were and— other things. He didn't want to tell me at first, but I could see from his manner that something was very wrong, something I didn't know about, and I pressed him. I couldn't understand at first why Father's bankers were so involved in all this, but in the end he came out with it.' He was silent for a moment and then said heavily, 'It seems that Father was wiped out—broke.'

  Lucie nodded. 'I know.'

  They stared at each other in silence. Then James said, 'It's bad, Lucie. It's very bad, little girl.' He looked away from her.

  'For you?' she said, very low.

  He turned his head and she was shocked by the exhaustion and desperation she saw there. James had always been optimistic, reassuring, but now he looked—beaten.

  'For all of us,' he said heavily. 'All Father's companies are involved.'

  'Couldn't you—couldn't you somehow save the company—make a—what do they call it?—a cooperative, or something?' Lucie urged.

  He shook his head slowly. 'Not a hope. We've been running dry of capital for some time. You can't keep a business going if you're coming up against a cash-flow shortage all the time. One or two bad debts can tip it over the edge. I've been working like stink for months filling the order book. I hoped to make Father see reason about putting more capital into the company. And now—' He spread out his hands hopelessly.

  'I see,' Lucie said in a small voice. She didn't really understand the business jargon, but she could see it was as bad as it could be.

  But a short time later she knew that she was mistaken. It was even worse.

  'I think I'll try to contact Angela,' James said abruptly, going over to the phone. As he started to dial Lucie stood up and went out to the kitchen and put the coffee percolator on. There was something in her brother's expression that told her that this could be a very private conversation.

  She closed the door. If he got through to Angela she would hear him talking, but not what he said. But there wasn't a sound from the next room. She waited for what seemed ages and was probably about ten minutes and then she went back into the living-room.

  James was sitting slumped in a corner of the sofa. He shook his head as she asked, 'No reply? But won't she be in bed now? It must be early in the morning in England.'

  'The phone's by the bed,' said James. 'She's not there.'

  'Not—' Lucie's voice faltered. 'You mean—?'

  'I mean Angela's left me,' he said, and for a moment Lucie thought he was going to cry.

  She went and sat on the sofa by him and took his cold hand in hers. So often James had given her comfort, now she must try to help him. She didn't ask any questions, but after a time James began to talk, in an odd expressionless voice, as if he were thinking aloud.

  'It's the old story, I suppose I've seen it coming for some time. I've hardly been at home except to fall into bed, exhausted, for weeks. Wives won't take that these days, you can't expect them to.'

  Couldn't you? Lucie thought. That wasn't her idea of marriage. Couldn't you expect a wife to under-stand and support her husband when he was in difficulties? She felt a violent surge of anger towards the pretty, self-centred Angela whom James loved. He was too good for her, too understanding, she thought almost bitterly. But he loved her, and that was that.

  'It came to a head when I had to leave for this last trip. It was our wedding anniversary later that week and I'd forgotten about it.' He sighed deeply. 'She said, "If you go, I shan't be here when you come back." She's threatened to leave before—this time it seems she's done it.'

  'But—but where would she go—and what about the girls?'

  'To her mother's, I suppose.' James's voice was infinitely weary. 'And the girls would go there at the weekend. I'd hoped—if this European trip went well—to persuade Father to back the company. If I could have had the funds to take on another couple of men in the department I could have taken it a bit more easily—been home more—you know. Given Angela a better life.'

  'But now—with all this happening—' He shook his head and half smiled as his eyes met Lucie's, and she thought she had never seen anything as moving as that half-smile. 'It's the end of the road, Lucie,' he said. 'For Martin's Containers—and for me.' His head drooped and he stared wretchedly at his hands.

  Lucie drew in a short breath. 'James—'

  Something he heard in her voice made him lift his head. 'Yes?'

  'Didn't Guy Devereux say anything to you about—any plans he might have for your company? About the possibility of saving it?'

  'No.' He looked blank.

  'I think there might be a chance,' she said. 'He told me yesterday that as it was going to be a—a family matter your company might get special consideration.'

  James frowned. 'What on earth does that mean, Lucie?'

  'This is going to be a surprise to you, Jimmy, it's been a surprise to me. But that's how these things happen sometimes.'

  She threw back her head as she smiled at him. 'Jimmy, wish me joy. Guy and I are going to be married. He'll be your brother-in-law.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'Married?' James's wide brow creased into a frown of amazement; he gaped at her, stunned. 'This isn't a joke, Lucie?'

  She shook her head, willing herself to smile happily.

  'But you've only known the man a couple of days—how can you—?'

  'Oh no, Jimmy, we've known each other much longer than that. We met in Paris, years ago. And then when we saw each other again here it was—' she shrugged '—just one of those things. You know how it is.'

  'Yes, I know how it is,' he said, and she thought she heard an unusual touch of cynicism in his voice.

  'Probably it wouldn't have happened so quickly if it hadn't been for—for the accident. But Guy's been so marvellous—he's looked after me and done everything that had to be done, and last night we had dinner together and we decided that there was no point in waiting.'

  James nodded. 'I see.'

  'Aren't you going to say you're glad? Oh, Jimmy dear, please say you're glad!' Lucie put a hand on his arm, pleading with him. 'I know it's been a shock, but I really am very happy.' She must convince him. It would spoil everything if he guessed the truth.

  He squeezed her hand, then he leaned over and kissed her. 'If it's what you want, of course I'm glad, little sister.' He used the old pet name of her childhood. 'It's just that—' he paused, weighing his words. 'I expect Devereux's a very good man and he can give you all the material things in life. But somehow, I shouldn't have thought—' He broke off again. 'What about Peter? What happened to him?'

  Lucie pulled a face, 'Oh, Peter. That's over, it was never anything very much. He came out here with me and he wanted us to be engaged, but it wouldn't have worked. He left after the party.'

  'That was very sudden, wasn't it?'

  She said, 'He saw how it was with Guy and me.' But had that been the real reason? For the first time since she had read Peter's letter yesterday morning she wondered exactly why he had disappeared so suddenly. He and Guy had talked that night, at the hotel. Had Guy disclosed that Warren Martin's financial empire was in ruins, that there would be no rich inheritance for his daughter? Was money the reason why Peter had suggested coming here with her—had proposed marriage—had said he loved her? Because he had just found out that she had a millionaire father living in the Cayman Islands?

  There was a silence. James's thoughts had evidently taken a different turn, because he said, a little awkwardly, 'How was it with Father, Lucie? Was it difficult for you, meeting him again?'

  She nodded sadly. 'A bit, at first. But—oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad I came. We—sort of—made up our quarrel and he was so sweet to me, you wouldn't believe. He didn't seem like the same man.' She blinked away quick tears. 'It's so awful that he had to go like that—I'm sure if he'd lived he would have managed to get out of this financial mess he seems to have left behind.'

  'I wonder,' James said slo
wly, and they were both silent again.

  Then Lucie summoned up an encouraging smile from somewhere and said, 'But it's going to be all right for you, Jimmy, I know it is. You and Guy must get together and make plans.' She added rather timidly, 'And Angela will come round, I'm sure she will. She really loves you, Jimmy—I expect she just got bored with her own company, with the girls away at school.'

  James patted her hand. 'I expect it'll work out somehow,' he said wearily. 'We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?' Then he cheered up with an obvious effort. 'Anyway, something good seems to have come out of all this mess, Lucie, if you're going to be happy. You are, aren't you?' he added, watching her face carefully.

  'I'm going to be blissfully happy,' she said. 'Guy's the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.'

  They both turned as there was a slight movement from the direction of the doorway. Guy Devereux stood there, smiling broadly. He looked as if he had been there for some time. 'Right on cue to hear what a lover likes to hear!' He came into the room. 'Forgive me for walking in unannounced—the door was open.' He put his arm round Lucie. 'How are you, darling?'

  'Fine,' she said automatically. 'I'm fine.' He was going to kiss her, and she panicked. His head came down and as his mouth touched hers she drew away instinctively, but the pressure of his lips told her everything he wasn't saying: that she was his possession now—he made the rules and she obeyed. He kept his mouth against hers until, with a tiny sigh, she relaxed and her lips softened and responded to his. And in that split second her heart seemed to miss a beat and then start to race, and she knew that she wanted him to go on kissing her.

  He released her but kept an arm round her waist. 'You've broken the glad news to your brother, darling. I hope he's not too stunned.' He turned to James. 'I'd have told you earlier, but I thought Lucie would like to tell you herself. I'm afraid we've rushed things rather, but the circumstances have been somewhat traumatic, as you can imagine.'