by Anne Mather
‘Oh, there’s no need for you to do that,’ protested Ally, and Suzanne echoed her sentiments.
Summoning one of the porters who had been standing beside the convertible talking to an olive-skinned young man who Ally presumed was Julia’s future brother-in-law, she added, ‘Thanks, Mike. I really do appreciate this.’
‘And me,’ put in Ally quickly. ‘It was a lovely flight.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have the chance to thank him again,’ remarked Suzanne smugly. ‘Mike’s going to come and have supper with us one evening while you’re here, aren’t you, darling?’
‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ said Mike, and, intercepting the glance he exchanged with her friend, Ally couldn’t help remembering what he’d said about Suzanne’s propensity for matchmaking. Ally hoped she wasn’t going to have to hurt anyone’s feelings in the days ahead.
The sunlight glinting on the silver paintwork of the plane that was presently making its approach to the island reminded her that it might hold a more immediate danger, however. For a moment, her eyes were glued to the sleek craft and her mouth dried at the prospect of being proved right. But it couldn’t be true, she told herself. The man she’d met so briefly and known so intimately couldn’t be Suzanne’s future son-in-law. Life couldn’t be that cruel.
‘We’ll leave them to it, shall we?’ Suzanne’s hand tucked comfortingly into her arm distracted her attention. ‘You’ll meet him soon enough. Tomorrow, probably. We’ve all been invited to supper at Finisterre. That’s the Ramirezes’ estate. It’s at the other end of the island.’
Ally allowed herself to be drawn towards the pink buggy. The other porters who’d been talking to Carlos Ramirez smiled as she climbed into the buggy beside Suzanne. Carlos, himself, was more intent on the approaching aircraft, but he gave both women a casual wave.
‘They’re such friendly people,’ said Suzanne, albeit a little patronisingly, waving away the dollar notes that Ally wanted her to offer to the porter. ‘I’ve taken care of it,’ she insisted, starting the buggy’s engine. ‘Just relax and enjoy the ride.’
With a careless farewell to her daughter, Suzanne drove through the cluster of palms that backed onto the airport buildings, emerging onto a narrow tarmacked road. Thankfully, the buggy had a canopy to protect its passengers and the breeze caused by the passage of the vehicle through the air helped to cool Ally’s burning cheeks.
Trying to stop thinking about the man they were waiting for at the airport, she looked purposefully about her. There was colour everywhere: in the shadowed hills that rose above the coastal belt and in the transparent movement of the ocean. Flowering plants and shrubs were common, it seemed, with pastel-coloured clapboard houses hiding amongst the trees. Ally saw a lizard scampering up the trunk of what she thought was a fig tree, its green scales disappearing into the foliage. She could even hear the faint rhythm of a steel band, but when she mentioned it to Suzanne, her friend explained that what she could probably hear was someone playing their boom box too loud.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ she said, slowing as they rounded a bend in the road and found an ox-cart labouring ahead of them. ‘Bahamians love music, particularly beat music. It’s an integral part of their lives.’
Ally sighed. ‘And you still love it out here, obviously.’ She paused. ‘I envied you, you know. Leaving England; starting afresh.’
‘Well, there was nothing stopping you and Jeff from doing the same,’ pointed out Suzanne practically. ‘I mean, Jeff being a teacher and all. Teachers are always in demand.’
Ally gave a wry smile. ‘I suppose that’s why he’s gone to work in Canada,’ she said.
‘Oh, Ally!’ Suzanne cast her friend a rueful look. ‘I’m sorry. That was tactless. Still, it’s probably better if we get it out of the way straight off, don’t you think?’
Ally shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
But she sounded a little doubtful and Suzanne stared impatiently at her. ‘You’re not still in love with him, are you?’ she exclaimed. ‘For God’s sake, Ally, it’s been almost two years! You can’t be hoping he might come back?’
‘I’m not.’
Ally was relieved to find she meant it. After what had happened last night, she was finding it incredibly difficult to even remember what Jeff looked like, let alone anything else. But she couldn’t tell Suzanne that; couldn’t tell her anything if what she half suspected was true. Not that it was, she assured herself firmly. She was just feeling guilty because of the way things had turned out.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ Suzanne declared now. ‘I want you to regard this holiday as a new start. At least you and Jeff never came here together, so it has no bad associations. And I know Pete’s looking forward to your visit. We’ve both wanted to show you the hotel for so long.’
‘I know.’ Ally took a deep breath. ‘And I’ve wanted to come here. I’m really looking forward to this holiday. As you say, it’s exactly what I need.’
Suzanne looked pleased, but they were approaching the outskirts of a small town and for a while she had to concentrate on her driving. Other vehicles, carts and bicycles as well as a number of cars and mini-buses, clogged the narrow streets, and pedestrians showed little concern for their safety.
‘This is San Cristobál town,’ Suzanne explained, when she got the chance, blowing her horn at an elderly Chrysler saloon that had just lumbered into her path. ‘Honestly,’ she fumed, ‘driving here is becoming impossible.’ She pressed her horn again and leaned over her door to remonstrate with the driver. ‘Look where you’re going, can’t you? And get that rattletrap out of my way!’
Ally had to smile at her friend’s frustration. She’d forgotten how short-tempered Suzanne could be. But it was difficult negotiating between stalls piled high with fruit and vegetables, and the pungent scent of seafood was very strong.
‘It’s not much further, thank goodness,’ Suzanne said, after steering round the obstacles. ‘It’s market day and people come into town from all over the island to shop. It’s not usually so busy. But there are quite a few shops selling clothes and souvenirs. We get our share of tourists on the island, though I have to say that most people are employed by the Ramirezes in one capacity or another.’
Ally took a deep breath, deciding it was now or never. ‘Um—you never did tell me what Julia’s boyfriend is called.’
‘Oh—Rafael,’ said Suzanne at once. ‘Rafael Ramirez, of course. You’ll like him, Ally. He’s a darling. He and Julia have known one another for years.’
Ally expelled the breath she’d been holding. ‘Rafael?’ she said faintly. ‘What an unusual name.’
‘Mmm.’ Suzanne was reflective. ‘Not that anyone except his parents calls him anything but Raul these days.’
Ally stood on her balcony gazing out at the view. The room she’d been allocated overlooked the sandy cove that gave the hotel its name. Beyond the balcony, a stretch of sundried turf gave onto a sandy bluff that appeared to fall away rather sharply to the beach below. To the west of the cove, a rocky outcrop provided a natural barrier, while to the south the land curved round as she’d seen from the air, sheltering the cove from the ocean. It was the perfect spot for bathing and Ally assured herself that she’d spend many hours improving her swimming skills in those calm waters.
If she ever got up the courage to leave her room, of course, she reminded herself grimly. God, she couldn’t believe how unlucky she’d been. After last night, she’d been sure that nothing worse could happen to her, but she’d been wrong. Of all the men she might have met, why had she had the misfortune to encounter Raul Ramirez? It had to be him. She had no doubts on that score. What troubled her most was why he’d singled her out for his attentions.
She sighed, turning her back on the view and resting her hips on the wrought-iron handrail. She didn’t delude herself by thinking that it was her appearance that had attracted him. Apart from anything else, there was the age difference, and the fact that she’d been suspicious of him from the st
art. Unless he got his kicks from seducing immature older women. Perhaps he’d felt sorry for her. She’d been so obviously out of her depth.
Unless… She frowned. Suzanne had said that she’d asked him to look out for her. But that had been at the airport, not at the airport hotel. And besides, she’d told him her name was Diana. Or she had to begin with. When he’d invited her to have dinner with him, he could have had no idea who she was.
But later… Her cheeks suffused with colour. He had known who she was then. She’d told him. So that meant that when he’d gone to bed with her, he’d known exactly who she was.
Which made it all so much worse, so much more sordid. How could he have done it? How could he have slept with her knowing full well that she was going to stay with his girlfriend’s parents? God, it just got worse and worse. What was she going to do?
Leaving the balcony, she walked into the bedroom, looking about her with hot, tear-filled eyes. It was such a lovely room, with light pine furniture and a gaily patterned bedspread that matched the long curtains at the French windows. A jug of purple lilies stood on a bureau, looking suitably exotic, and in the adjoining bathroom there was a basket filled with shampoos and conditioners and all manner of cosmetic aids to beauty.
Suzanne and her husband had gone out of their way to make her feel at home, she thought unhappily. They obviously wanted her to feel loved and pampered and they’d given her one of the best rooms in the hotel. At present, she was supposed to be spoiling herself with a lazy bath and resting for a couple of hours before the evening meal. But how could she relax here? How could she stay knowing that she’d betrayed their trust?
She supposed she could argue that she hadn’t known who Raul was when they’d been together. She could explain that she’d given him a false name to begin with and that it hadn’t been until much later that she’d confessed who she really was. But what good would that do? she asked herself. It would still destroy whatever confidence Julia had in him, and, however she tried to avoid it, Ally couldn’t forget that it had been she who had invited Raul into her room.
Of course, he could have refused. But he hadn’t. And she didn’t want to believe he’d only done it because he felt sorry for her. She had to wonder if he was in the habit of indulging in one-night stands. Did he often go away on his own? How well did Julia really know the man she intended to marry?
Ally blew out a breath. Raul’s activities were really nothing to do with her. Not unless she intended to tell Suzanne and Peter about the night before, and somehow she knew she wouldn’t do that. No matter how despicable his behaviour had been, she had to remain silent. She couldn’t betray him without betraying herself.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t stay here. Somehow, some way, she was going to have to find an excuse for leaving. It was devastating, but she was going to have to ring Sam and ask her to come up with a reason for her to return to England. She needn’t tell her daughter the truth, of course. Just that things hadn’t worked out as she’d planned and she was eager to come home.
She shuddered. The decision made, a feeling of intense depression swept over her. She’d so looked forward to coming here and now she was having to leave in the most cowardly way. It was bound to cause a rift with Suzanne, whatever excuse she came up with, and there was always the awful possibility that Raul might decide to confess to Julia and destroy what little credibility she had left.
She swallowed a little sickly. He wouldn’t, she told herself. He wouldn’t want to hurt the Davises any more than she did. What had happened had been an accident, an aberration, the result of propinquity, and an over-indulgence in alcohol on both their parts. It didn’t matter that he’d known who she was when he’d made love to her. He’d obviously had a violent attack of conscience soon afterwards. That was why he’d left this morning before she was even awake.
Her lips twisted. Was that true? she wondered bitterly. Or was she only fooling herself? Where had his conscience been when he’d awakened her again and again all through the long hours of the night? He’d shown little concern for Julia when he’d been lying between her thighs, covering her face with hot passionate kisses. Oh, God! She trembled. No matter what happened, she knew she’d never forget him or his lovemaking.
But this was getting her nowhere. For tonight, at least, she was compelled to act as if she was looking forward to her holiday. No one would believe that Sam would ring and ask her to return home within hours of her arrival. Not unless there was some dire emergency and that was something she didn’t want to convey. No, for the moment she had to behave normally, if that was at all possible. And hope that Raul’s family would be as eager to see him as Julia, thus removing any danger of him turning up at Smuggler’s Cove tonight.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALLY squeezed the salt water out of her hair and slung a towel about her shoulders. She’d enjoyed her swim. The water was cool and delicious at this time of day, but she’d decided it was getting too hot to stay on the beach any longer. It was only her second day of sunbathing and she didn’t want to risk getting burned. Several of her fellow guests at the hotel were exhibiting the after-effects of over-exposure and the results looked very painful.
Fastening an ankle-length wrap that was patterned in vivid shades of green and purple about her waist, she picked up her sandals and started across the sand. One or two people from the hotel nodded to her as she passed and she reflected wistfully that in other circumstances she’d have considered herself very lucky to be here. Everyone was so nice, so friendly, and it was becoming incredibly easy to delude herself into thinking that perhaps she didn’t have to leave, after all.
She hadn’t seen Raul since her arrival, thank goodness. Perhaps he was ashamed of what had happened and was staying out of sight, she mused. Even the invitation to Finisterre had been postponed, saving Ally the need to find an excuse for declining that, too. Ostensibly, his mother was unwell, but Ally wondered if he’d told his family some half-truth about meeting her in London to explain why he didn’t want to see her again.
But what could he have said? He could hardly have told his parents that he’d met her if he hadn’t told Julia, and Suzanne’s daughter would have told her mother in that case. In fact, Julia had been extremely friendly towards Ally, as if to make up for the offhand way she’d greeted her on her arrival, and Ally couldn’t believe she knew anything about their encounter, whatever spin Raul might have put on it.
‘Leaving so soon?’
She’d almost reached the flight of stone steps that wound up to the hotel when someone spoke to her, and, turning, she found another of the hotel guests behind her. She didn’t know his name, but she had seen him in the lobby that morning, a man slightly older than herself, she guessed, with a lean athletic figure that was belied by his receding hairline.
‘Yes,’ Ally answered ruefully, indicating the slight redness that was evident on her bare shoulders. ‘I’m afraid it’s getting too hot for me.’
‘And me,’ agreed her companion. ‘I’ll never go brown, even if I stay out here all day. You’re like me. Your skin’s too fair for all this heat.’
Ally started to say that she hoped to go brown eventually and then changed her mind. She doubted if he was really interested. He was just being polite, making friends with a fellow holidaymaker. So instead, she said, ‘Well, I’m not complaining. It’s so beautiful here, and after the awful weather we’ve been having back home…’
‘Oh, I know.’ Her companion followed her up the steps, his arm brushing hers as she reached for the handrail. ‘My name’s Tom Adams, by the way. I just arrived yesterday afternoon.’
Ally nodded, managing not to react too violently to the deliberate way he kept close to her on the climb. ‘Alison Sloan,’ she said, not without some misgivings. And then, with rather more enthusiasm. ‘Are you holidaying with your wife, Mr Adams?’
‘I’m a widower.’ They had reached the top of the stairs now and he fell into step beside her as they crossed the grass to the hotel. ‘My w
ife died seven months ago,’ he added. ‘It was cancer, of course. Isn’t it always? She was only forty-nine.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Ally felt mean now for doubting his intentions. The man was obviously in need of sympathy and had had nothing more than that in mind. ‘I suppose this is your first holiday without her. Were—were you married for long?’
‘Twenty-eight years,’ he replied, his hand cupping her elbow as they mounted the three shallow steps into the hotel. ‘It’s a long time, Mrs Sloan. Dare I ask if you’re a widow yourself?’
Removing her elbow from his grasp, Ally tried not to feel too annoyed at the familiarity and shook her head. ‘I’m divorced,’ she said shortly. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower. Salt water makes you feel so sticky, doesn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Tom Adams folded his arms with some diffidence. ‘I’m not keen on swimming on my own.’ Then, pushing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, he added, ‘Perhaps we could meet up for a drink later? Not before lunch, of course. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do this morning. But, perhaps this evening?’
‘Well, I—’
Ally was wondering what she could say to let him down without offending him when she became aware of someone watching them from the other side of the lobby. Several tall palms were gathered together in ornamental pots at the foot of the stairs that led up to the mezzanine area, and with a strange sense of déjà vu she saw a man standing in their shadow, his shoulder propped against the balustrade.
It was Raul.
For a moment, Ally lost the power of speech. Her throat dried and her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. She must have lost colour, too, because the man beside her stepped towards her instinctively. Grasping her arm, he said, ‘Are you all right, Mrs Sloan—Alison? Oh, dear, I think you have had too much sun, after all.’
