“Yes! No, I just thought … I was asleep. I thought he…”
“He was in your dream?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes it’s him. First it’s Kevin, and then it’s him. It changes. That’s why it’s so frightening.”
“But you weren’t frightened when you thought I was him,” Ethan pointed out.
“Oh no! I knew I’d been dreaming then, and I thought…” She moved back onto the pillows. “I’m sorry, I woke you both. It’s just a silly dream.”
“A recurring one?” Ethan asked, standing up. He was wearing a short dark robe. Celeste was in her nightdress.
“Yes,” Rennie said. “But it hasn’t come so often since I’ve been here. I dream about … about going through the glass. The odd thing about it is, I don’t actually remember that part at all. Kevin had knocked me out before it happened.”
“Would you like a drink or something to help you go back to sleep?” Celeste asked.
“No. I’ll be fine now.”
A few days later she was helping Celeste to mix some paints in the studio when the other woman said casually, “Did you mention your bad dreams to Henry?”
“I haven’t had any since that night I woke you.”
Celeste said, in the same casual tone, “Grant’s not a man who would want to hurt someone on purpose.”
“What makes you think that he did?”
“That dream isn’t so hard to figure out, Rennie,” Celeste said. “Kevin injured you quite deliberately. In the dream the man sometimes changes from Kevin to Grant.”
Rennie said, her hands stilling, “I saw Grant just before — the other thing happened. I suppose that’s why they’ve got muddled in my mind.”
“I see.”
Rennie looked up, and saw that she did. Celeste didn’t need to know the details. But she knew about the pain. Rennie blinked, trying to hold back the tears, but Celeste put down the paintbrush in her hand and said, “Oh, my dear.” And held out her arms.
Rennie went into them and cried her heart out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rennie had received letters from her family and sent back brief, cheerful replies in a slightly wavering hand. She was feeling better, the island was beautiful, Celeste and Ethan were being very kind, Henry was keeping an eye on her health…
She wrote to Toby and Ellen too, telling them she was having a holiday on a lovely Pacific island, and thanked them again for their card. She didn’t want them to think that like their mother she had disappeared from their lives. Folding the page into an envelope, she brushed away tears. She had a sudden longing to hold Ellen’s warm little body close, to be the privileged recipient of one of Toby’s rare hugs.
She borrowed a bicycle that Janice Palmer, the doctor’s wife, had stored in her garage. “I used to ride it,” Janice told her, “but the old bones are a bit creaky now. You’re welcome to it as long as you’re here.”
She found beaches, and a deserted bay where the waves crashed around jagged black rocks and there was no beach to speak of, only a small shelf of black pebbles that rolled and drifted under the receding water and made little clicking noises. There were spiky spiral shells and spotted cowries and other more ordinary shells among the stones. And she picked some of the tropical flowers from the trees and took them home to put in vases. But they didn’t last.
The local people were friendly, and though sometimes her scars drew curious looks, but nobody stared or asked questions.
She went into town one day with Ethan to collect the mail. When they got back Celeste was on the terrace. Ethan kissed her and tossed a pile of letters into her lap.
Rennie was sitting on the steps reading a letter from Shane when Celeste said, “I’ve a message for you, Rennie.”
Rennie looked up, meeting Celeste’s slightly troubled eyes.
“From Grant. He sends you his love.”
Rennie felt a quiver of expression cross her face. “Thank you,” she said distantly.
She wished he had not sent that careless, conventional greeting, crass in the circumstances, and strangely unlike him.
She examined her feelings, probing as one might probe a tooth that had a tendency to ache, trying to find the spot that hurt.
Nothing. She felt nothing. Just a strangely numb blankness. It had stopped hurting.
That was good, wasn’t it? This hollow emptiness had to be better than the seesaw emotions that had plagued her ever since meeting Grant Morrison. She was really on the way to healing now.
“Are you all right, Rennie?” Ethan was looking at her piercingly.
She smiled at him. “Yes, of course. Would you two like me to cook tonight? I know a great chilli con carne recipe, and we could eat it out here on the terrace. It’s going to be a beautiful evening.”
They sat on the terrace after dinner until the stars came out and the sea lost its sunset glow and turned to dark pewter.
Ethan said, “How about a swim?”
Celeste smiled at him. “Lovely idea.”
“And you, Rennie?”
“I’ll go and change,” she said promptly. Then paused as the other two exchanged a glance of secret amusement. She looked at them, and guessed, “You don’t wear swimsuits?”
“Not always. It’s accepted here,” Ethan said.
“It’s okay, Rennie,” Celeste told her as she hesitated “It took me a while to get used to it. I’m coming in to change, too.”
The water was incredibly warm, and seemed to caress her body as she entered it, following Ethan and Celeste. They swam close to each other, and Ethan warned her, “Don’t go out too far. You can lose your bearings at night.”
Rennie splashed about lazily, then turned on her back, looking at the stars flung prodigally across the dark sky. The water lapped at her shoulders, and her hair floated on its surface. From the land came a faint perfume of flowers that she had never noticed in the daytime.
When Ethan said, “We’re going in,” she went with them reluctantly. Her limbs felt pleasantly relaxed. She felt she could have stayed floating out there for hours.
Ethan had his arm about his wife’s shoulders as they left the water, and he picked up a towel and put it round her. “Warm enough?” he asked.
“Yes. It isn’t cold. I love the beach in moonlight.”
Rennie rubbed at her hair, and wiped her arms and legs. She saw the look that Ethan gave Celeste, and her suddenly lowered lids, before he slowly picked up his towel, wrapping it about his waist. Celeste lifted a corner of hers and bent her head to dry her hair.
“I can find my own way back,” Rennie said, “if you two want to stay here for a while and enjoy the moonlight.”
“Take the torch,” Ethan said. “We know our way in the dark.”
“Ethan,” Celeste remonstrated, “We can’t let Rennie — “
“It’s okay,” Rennie assured her. “It’s lovely here, but I’m tired.”
She heard Celeste’s low, laughing reproaches as she climbed the path with the torchlight bobbing ahead. Ethan’s deep, teasing voice answered, and then there was silence. She smiled, a little sadly. Glad for them, in their obvious contentment with each other. Sad for herself. But one day, perhaps there would be someone for her, too. Someone who would make her feel again. Even make her feel the way she had when Grant kissed her and held her. And who would feel the same way about her.
“Do you think I could get a job here?” she asked Ethan and Celeste.
Surprised, Ethan said, “What about your bar exams? You need to take them in a few months don’t you?”
Rennie shrugged. “I thought I might take a year off. I’ve missed out on the job I was hoping for, anyway. I don’t want to outstay my welcome, but if you can put up with me a little longer, once I’m working I’ll find board in Conneston.”
They protested that of course she was welcome to stay as long as she liked.
In a few months she was scheduled for more plastic surgery, but she would think about that when it was time.
/> She was drowsing in the shade after a swim, her wet hair drying on her shoulders, when she became aware of someone else on the beach. She lifted her head, expecting to see Ethan or Celeste, or perhaps the Palmers. They usually took a stroll at low tide, or in the late afternoon.
The newcomer was wearing grey slacks and a short-sleeved blue shirt. Perhaps the other neighbour had returned, the writer who had been away. Celeste had taken her to see his house, perched among the trees on the side of the steep slope.
But this man was standing at the foot of the path to Ethan and Celeste’s house, shading his eyes with a hand, looking along the beach away from her. Then he turned, and she gasped with shock as his eyes found her, and he started to walk in her direction.
Her heart began pounding like a jackhammer. What was Grant doing here? She jack-knifed into a sitting position, then scrambled to her feet, casting round wildly for some sanctuary. She took two steps back, then turned and ran.
“Rennie!” He called twice, but she took no notice. Her feet raced along the sand, her breath sobbing. There was a path ahead, winding into the trees and uphill. The path to the writer’s house. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. She took it.
“Rennie!”
She ran up the slope, slowing as she reached some steps. She tripped on one, fell and scrambled to her feet again. She could hear Grant’s footfalls on the path.
She was at the top of the steps before he caught her, swinging her round to face him with a hand on her arm, his face incredulous .
“Rennie, what the hell is all this about? You’re not frightened of me?”
Not hearing the pain in his voice, she tried to push him away, panting, flinging her head back and turning from him, her damp hair swinging into her eyes and across her face.
He grabbed her other arm, gave her a little shake. “Rennie, for God’s sake! Stop it!”
He wasn’t letting her go. She went still, her head averted from him, trying to take in the fact of him being here. Trying not to think what it meant.
His voice suddenly gentle, he said, “Is it the scar?”
She didn’t answer, and he lifted one hand and pushed the hair back from her face, and turned it so that he could inspect the ugly mark.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. She shivered as he dipped his head and deliberately put his lips to the scar, with the utmost tenderness. “I don’t give a damn what you look like.”
“And I don’t give a damn what you think!” Rennie flashed. She twisted away from him and retreated up the path, making their eyes almost on a level. “What are you doing here, anyway? Ethan and Celeste never mentioned you were coming.”
He put his hands into his pockets. “I have a standing invitation,” he said. “Like you, I decided to take them up on it.”
“I’m using the spare bedroom.”
“Celeste says she has a couch in her studio that I can use.”
“Did she invite you?” Rennie demanded, feeling betrayed.
He seemed to hesitate. “No. Not exactly.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To see you.” He watched her, looking for her reaction.
“Okay, you’ve seen me,” she said stonily. “Now leave me alone!”
He said, after a moment of bewildered silence, “This isn’t quite the welcome I expected.”
What had he expected? That she would fall into his arms? Fat chance, she thought scornfully. Her days of mooning like a schoolgirl, making a fool of herself over a man — particularly this man — were over. She said, “Tough. We don’t always get what we expect in this life.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, that’s what makes it interesting. Where does this path lead to?”
“A house. It’s empty just now. The owner’s away.”
“So you weren’t running to him for protection.”
“I wasn’t running to anything.”
“No. You were running away, weren’t you? From me.”
She debated saying she hadn’t recognised him. But he wouldn’t believe her. He had called her by name and must know she had heard.
He said, “An interesting reaction, if a bit disconcerting.”
“You startled me,” she said. “It was just an instinct.”
“Blind panic? Not like you, Rennie. Surely you’ve always been the type to rush headlong at problems, not away from them.”
“Yes,” she said, “and look what it got me!” She touched her scarred cheek. “I’ve learned my lesson, thank you.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “I didn’t understand.”
“You still don’t. Will you get out of my way, please? I’m cold and my shirt and towel are on the beach.”
He stepped aside, and followed her as she walked back down to the sand. Trying to ignore his presence, she pulled the cotton shirt on over her swimsuit, and picked up the towel.
He said, “This may not be the time, but I need to talk to you.”
“It certainly isn’t,” she said shortly. “And whatever your needs are, I don’t know that I want to hear about them.”
She made to leave and he caught her arm. “Rennie, your parents are wondering why you don’t want to come home — “
She jerked away from him. “When they ask me why, I’ll tell them!”
“I’m asking why.”
“It’s none of your damned business!”
He nodded curtly. “I accept that. But I’ve come a long way to talk to you — “
“Did they ask you to?”
“No.”
“And neither did I,” she told him cuttingly. “I admit that there was a time when I’d have been over the moon at the idea of your travelling a thousand miles just to talk to me, but I grew out of that. I’m not the naive teenager who thought you were God’s gift. I’m a different person now. And if you’ve had a change of heart, it’s a bit late.”
She left him standing on the sand, and climbed the path to the house on her own.
“I hope we haven’t embarrassed you, Rennie,” Celeste said, coming into her room later.
“It’s your home.” Rennie answered. “You’re entitled to invite whatever guests you like. Grant said he has a standing invitation.”
“He does.” Celeste looked a little uncomfortable. “But I should confess that I … hinted you might like to see him.”
Rennie said, “I know you meant well.”
Celeste sighed. “Ethan told me not to interfere. Oh, Rennie, I am sorry! I can tell him to go — “
“No, of course not!” He was their guest, just as she was, and she knew they would hate to be inhospitable. Especially since Grant had come such a long way. “It’s not that important,” she said. “How long is he planning to stay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, he can’t stay that long, surely? He has two children back home.”
Over supper, she asked him about the children. “They’ll be missing you,” she added.
The way he looked at her indicated that the faint note of censure in her tone had not gone unnoticed. “They’re fine,” he assured her. “But they miss you, too,” he added, turning the accusation back to her. “It was good of you to write to them. They were a bit worried. Mrs Beddoe is living in temporarily, and Jean’s unmarried sister is in Auckland for a few weeks. She had plans for outings with them, which they seemed to be looking forward to.”
“It’s none of my business,” she said. “I’m just a little surprised that you feel able to leave them while you have a holiday.”
She knew she was being unfair. Grant was a conscientious father and he wouldn’t have left them if he hadn’t felt confident that they could handle the separation.
“The children have come through this last year very well. You had a lot to do with that.”
“I just did what I was paid for,” Rennie said, and saw his mouth tighten.
Ethan cast her a glance of sharp amusement. “Don’t be too modest, young Rennie,” he advised.
“Genuine compliments are rare currency, and not to be undervalued.”
Rennie smiled at him. She must try to behave, and not make things awkward for him and Celeste. “How’s your latest computer programme going?” she asked. “I heard you talking to yourself this afternoon in your workroom. Celeste says that’s a bad sign.”
He glanced at his wife’s bland face. “Giving away secrets? Shame on you. I had a problem,” he answered Rennie, “but I think I’ve solved it. I’ll have to test it out tomorrow.”
“What is it supposed to do, anyway?”
Grant looked at her thoughtfully as she listened to Ethan’s explanations with every indication of breathless fascination. Then he turned his attention quietly to Celeste.
She managed to avoid being alone with Grant for two days, but of course on the whole island there was not enough room to hide forever if one person was determined to track another down.
She had been fossicking among the rock pools near the beach below the house, watching the sea anemones waving their innocent-looking tendrils to attract unwary little fish, and the hermit crabs moving slowly across the rocky floor. There was a very large pool quite a long way around the headland that was great for swimming. The water freshened with each tide and warmed to almost body heat in the sun before the next tide came in.
She slipped in and stroked lazily about for a while, then dried herself off and applied a coat of sunscreen before lying down on the flat, smooth shelf above the pool. No one would disturb her now. It was only possible to reach this particular place at low tide.
When she felt a shadow fall across her face, she thought it was a cloud passing over the sun. Then she heard a sound that was different from the waves swirling about the base of the rock shelf, and her eyes flew open.
“Yes,” Grant said, as he sat beside her and hooked an arm about an upraised knee. “It’s me.”
“How did you get here?” she demanded, sitting up.
A wave rushed in to hiss and rumble around the rocks, spray slapping onto the flat shelf.
Grant shrugged. “The same way you did, I suppose. Got a bit wet in the process.” He glanced ruefully down. The drill trousers he wore were darkened with water.
The Older Man Page 21
