The Island Bride

by Jane Corrie

  - She had just picked up her evening bag when the taxi she had hired to take her out to the imposing Morelon residence situated in a prominent position on the hillside overlooking the harbour hooted outside her villa.

  By the time she arrived at her destination, and made arrangements for the taxi to pick her up later, her nerves were as taut as a violin string. She would not get another opportunity like this, come rain or shine she was determined to clear the air as far as Matron was concerned. It would not be a pleasant showdown by any means, and Cara suspected Matron was just as keen to have a private word with her, but for slightly different reasons. The very fact that Cara had managed to survive under the eagle eye of Sister Dufour must have aggravated her considerably. In all probability she had hoped that Cara 'would seek an interview with her and want to know why her nurse had been transferred to another department when she had been perfectly happy where she was. Had it been any other hospital, Cara would undoubtedly have done this, but in her precarious position it was a case of the survival of the fittest, and she knew better than to force an issue on the matter.

  As she entered the wide cool hallway of the elegant villa built in the Spanish style, she was too intent on her thoughts to notice or admire the beautiful arrangement of flowers banked on either side of the inlaid glass partitioned door that led directly into the spacious lounge.

  The noise of chatter and clinking of glasses told

  her the party was well under way even though it was only eight-thirty. As her entrance had not as yet been observed, she took the opportunity of ascertaining that Matron was present, but when her first glance round the room failed to locate her presence, Cara had a nasty suspicion that perhaps this was one occasion that she would not be attending—or worse still, that she had been excluded from, and if this was so, then Cara might as well go straight back to the villa and start packing— since there was no possibility of Matron not knowing about the party. News travelled fast on the island, particularly party news.

  At this point Cara found herself wondering whether Cathy needed any assistance on the health farm back home, but then she caught sight of her quarry as a rather tall man stepped to one side to place a glass on a tray carried by an attendant waiter.

  Pierre, too, came into her vision at this point and when her eyes lighted on the woman standing by his side, Cara felt a flow of relief wash over her. It was Paula, she was absolutely sure. even though she now had a different hair-style from the one she had worn when Cara had first seen her at the airport, but there was no mistaking that lovely, if slightly haughty, face.

  Her relief was followed by a surge of happiness. She had no need to seek out Matron now, and her face broke into a radiant smile at the thought of her reprieve from this unpleasant task. It was at this point that she met Pierre's eyes as he glanced around the company and then made his way towards her.

  `I've been keeping an eye out for you,' he said airily, his smile echoing Cara's. 'You've not been here long, have you?' he asked kindly.

  Cara answered in the same carefree tone, 'No, I've only just arrived.'

  He nodded his dark head as if pleased, then gently caught her arm by the elbow and guided her across the room to where Paula stood. 'Come and meet a friend of mine,' he said, as they joined the lovely dark woman whose eyes had never left Pierre's tall figure as he had gone to greet Cara.

  `Paula, I want you to meet Cara Vernon, she's what you might call an old family friend,' and turning to Cara who held out a welcoming hand towards Paula, 'Cara, this is Paula Ericson, another refugee from the U.K. who's just stopped off for a few weeks to get herself a tan.'

  Paula's lovely violet eyes, that put Cara in mind of a pansy, opened wide at this jocular statement. `Not only a tan, darling,' she murmured throatily in a manner that made Cara feel slightly de trop and not a little embarrassed.

  Cara took due note of the fact that Pierre had not said anything about Paula being a well-known personage, and she wasn't sure whether she ought to mention this when she spoke to her, but on second thoughts decided to follow Pierre's lead and say nothing on those lines. For all she knew Paula might not wish to make the fact known—that way, she would be assured of some privacy.

  `Cara's only just out from the U.K. too, Paula,' Pierre remarked as he smiled at Cara, 'and I trust is settling down well?'

  Cara returned the smile, taking care to include

  Paula as well. 'Oh, well I do know Totorua, remember, but yes, everything's fine, thank you.' She meant every word; it no longer bothered her that Julia Besson's eagle eyes were upon her, for she could feel them boring into her even though she stood halfway across the room from her.

  In singling her out for an introduction to his Paula, Cara knew Pierre was firing another broadside in her defence and was out to spike Julia's guns. Had it been anyone else but Paula, this preferential treatment might have caused Cara a lot of concern, but now that she was present, Cara had no worries at all, and knew a surge of grateful warmth towards Pierre for his thoughtfulness.

  For a brief interval she found herself chatting to Paula while Pierre circled his guests, and as they made polite conversation, Cara surreptitiously studied the other woman. Her off-white gown of a chiffon-like material was deceptively simple, much like the woman herself, mused Cara as she noted the way her wide eyes only rested on her for a brief second before they drifted away across the room again, presumably in search of Pierre's tall back.

  Although Paula was very gracious to Cara, Cara was not too sure she liked her manner. It hinted at patronage, but Cara shrugged this thought aside. Paula had every right to behave as she did, for she had the world at her feet—even Pierre, and at this thought Cara felt a shadow touch her newfound happiness and gave an inward sigh. Did she realise just how lucky she was? wondered Cara. All that talent, combined with beauty—of course

  her success would be assured, the combination demanded it.

  It was a relief for Cara when Pierre came back to join them, as it meant that she could now drift away and mingle with the other guests. A relief shared by Julia, Cara was certain, for she had had Cara in her sights for some time now, and would jump at the opportunity of a word with her, if that was the right definition for the purpose she had in mind, Cara thought with an inward smile.

  Her plans, however, of mingling with other determent guests came slightly adrift, for Pierre seemed

  to thwart any such move, and an exasperated Cara had to accept the situation. For someone who wanted to help her, he was being extremely uncooperative, she thought glumly, since there was more than an outside chance that Paula would soon be joining Julia in the dislike campaign against her. Men could be so thoughtless at times, Cara thought crossly, for in spite of Paula's slightly off-hand acceptance of her company, it was obvious that she wished her elsewhere, and Cara would have been only too happy to oblige her.

  There was only one recourse left to Cara and she took it by excusing herself from their company and making her way to the powder room, not failing to note Paula's swift and relieved-sounding, 'Of course,' at Cara's removal from the scene.

  Her suspicion that Julia would seize the opportunity of a word with her was proved by her arrival in the powder room shortly afterwards, only biding her time to talk to her while she waited for the only other occupant of the room to finish her toilet.

  Cara took her time in applying the touch-up to

  her lipstick, and making sure her hair was behaving itself and no stray tendrils had escaped from the style she had chosen, while Julia stood beside her intent on the same purpose, but Cara knew by the tight expression on her face that as soon as the door had closed behind the elderly woman who was just about to leave, she would give vent to her feelings.

  `So you hardly knew Monsieur Morelon?' Julia spat out at her as the door shut with a click behind the woman.

  Cara met her furious eyes in the mirror. 'I've not lied to you,' she answered calmly. 'I told you that his father was my father's patron, and as such, he regards m
e as a friend.'

  Julia gave an unladylike snort at this. 'Oh, yes, I admit you've been extremely clever over that bit of it. As to regarding you as a friend—well, that's one way of putting it,' she bit out. 'He's keeping - you, isn't he?'

  Cara's surprise showed in her eyes as she studied the glinting ones of Julia, then her glance moved on to take in her flushed cheeks. There was no doubt about it, she was incensed about something, so incensed she was not thinking clearly or she wouldn't have made such a stupid accusation. It was so stupid that Cara did not stop to analyse why such an accusation had been made, and decided to ignore it. 'I fail to see why you should be so interested in my friendship with Monsieur Morelon,' she said calmly, willing herself not to lose her temper.

  'Don't act the innocent with me,' ground out Julia, 'I heard a very interesting story the other day that explained quite a lot of things. Why you

  got the villa, for one thing. I suppose you're hoping for a civilised ceremony eventually, but if he's anything like his father, he won't be that easy to tie down. I only hope,' she spat out, hardly able to contain her fury, 'that you get the same treatment as my mother—left without a penny! '

  tinder her slight tan Cara's face went white; either Julia had lost her senses or she did know something about the past, and Cara was very much afraid it was the latter. She seemed very sure of her facts—sure enough to accuse Cara of being Pierre's mistress, only here her imagination had soared beyond the realms of fact and jealousy had coloured her thinking processes. Cara tried to reason out how Julia had come by the knowledge of what had taken place between Pierre and herself six years ago, since she could not see Maaua breaking her promise to her. There must have been someone else working at the hospital who had come from the village, and it could have been anyone; there were many locals employed in various capacities there.

  In a sense Cara was glad it was out, and it was now up to her to bring the incident into proper perspective. She managed to inject a jocular note into her voice. 'What a lot of fuss over nothing! I fail to see why such a ridiculous incident should cause you so much speculation. I can assure you that neither Pierre Morelon or myself attached any importance to it then or now,' she added, meeting Julia's eyes firmly, as if warning her not to make a issue of it.

  'I'm sure that Monsieur Morelon would have wanted things that way,' Julia said suggestively,

  totally ignoring Cara's warning eyes, 'but that wouldn't have suited you, would it? I'd say you'd timed your reappearance here quite nicely. Pierre Morelon's now a very rich man and under the circumstances he hadn't much option but to offer you the villa.'

  Cara gave a quick gasp of amazement. It was bad enough being accused of being Pierre's mistress, but to suggest that she was blackmailing him as well was more than she was prepared to take. 'I would take another look at the facts,' she advised Julia coldly, now as furious as her opponent, 'and you'll find that there's absolutely no evidence to support your outrageous accusation.'

  She took a deep breath in order to calm herself down, for she wanted to scream and shout at this woman who had harboured such vindictive thoughts about her simply because she had lost out on a private scheme of her own. 'The decision to lease the villa to me was taken by Monsieur Morelon, and was not due to any pressure on my part, but as a gesture of friendship between his family and mine. If you still don't believe me, do you think he would have invited me here tonight to meet his fiancée if there was a grain of truth in what you've insinuated? Of course he wouldn't!' she added scornfully.

  There was no doubt that Julia had received a shock, and for a moment Cara felt sorry for her, but there was no other way she could prove her point.

  'That must have been quite a shock for you,' spat out Julia spitefully, only just managing to control her feelings. 'I can't see her taking second place, she looks as if she knows her way around. No wonder

  he made a point of keeping you with them all evening—he couldn't take the risk of you letting something slip, could he?'

  Cara stared at her in fascinated curiosity. She really believed what she was saying, she thought. It was as if she were reasoning it all out in her mind and had spoken her thoughts aloud, much as Cara was apt to do herself. So much for her earlier attempts to straighten things out! It was useless to try and get through such determined reasoning, and Cara was too weary to try. 'Have it your way, then,' she said quietly, and on these words she left the fuming Julia to vent her last fusillade at the empty room, and made her way back to the party.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CARA did not stay long at the party after her shattering encounter with Julia Besson, and begged a lift back to town from an elderly couple she had met at the previous party. Her excuse of a headache was a true one; for her head was buzzing with the unpleasant implications that had been levelled at her.

  Even though she knew that Julia's outburst had been born out of spite and sheer unhappiness, it did not lessen her distaste of the situation that she had unwittingly landed in.

  As soon as she arrived back at the villa, she closed the door behind her with a grateful sigh and leant against the solid woodwork. The little villa seemed to welcome her back and as she gazed at the dainty occasional table in the hall that accommodated the telephone, beside which she had placed a bowl of sweet-scented frangipani of a delicate primrose colour, her eyes misted over.

  The villa, like the island, had held out so much promise of happiness to her, yet none of it had come about. From the very moment she had stepped off the plane she had been made to follow a pattern of seemingly predestined moves. At no time had she been allowed to sit back and savour what she had dreamed would be her triumphant return to the island she thought of as home. It was as if the fates were in a hurry to get something over with

  and were pushing her towards the culmination of whatever they had in store for her. Ought she to have stayed in England, was she not wanted here? Cara shook her head bewilderedly; she didn't know the answer, so it was no use dwelling on such morbid thoughts. In all probability, she told herself stoutly, she was suffering from shock, for Julia had shocked her. Cara had never harboured hate or vindictive thoughts against anyone in her life, although she had come very close to it when Pierre had forced her out of her hiding place shortly after her father had died.

  Pierre! Cara suddenly blinked as his name entered her consciousness. She must talk to him He had to know about the rumour that would shortly be circulating the island fanned by the avenging Julia, for only he would know how to deal with it.

  Cara chewed her bottom lip in anxiety as she looked at her watch. 'There was no chance of a private talk with him that evening, his guests would still be present and would not start to leave for at least another hour. With a sigh she acknowledged the fact that there was nothing she could do that evening, and would have to leave the problem to look after itself until the following evening. A tiny prick of pain told her she had pierced her soft lower lip in her anxious worry. How was she going to get Pierre to visit her at the villa—what excuse could she make for such a visit, particularly as Paula was there—in all probability staying at Pierre's home—and what if he brought her with him! Cara swallowed on this thought; explaining things to Pierre was embarrassing enough, but to

  have Paula standing by his side while she did so was too painful to envisage.

  In fact the more she thought about it the more panic-stricken she became. How does one start such a conversation? 'Oh, by the way, if you hear any rumour about my being your mistress don't take any notice of it, it's just Julia Besson's way of trying to make trouble for you.' Her nails dug into her palm as she envisaged the reaction this calm statement would evoke—how can one be casual about a thing like that? She couldn't—no more than she could see herself calmly discussing the matter.

  Her frantic mind explored other possibilities, such as sitting tight and saying nothing, but she couldn't in all fairness do that. She owed Pierre some allegiance, and forewarned was forearmed, particularly as Paula was there. Jul
ia couldn't have picked a better time for stirring up trouble, she thought miserably, since Pierre would now have the worry of the rumour reaching Paula's ears and this, Cara thought shrewdly, would suit Julia's purpose admirably. In a way it was her fault, Cara reminded herself miserably; if she hadn't taken it upon herself to put her in the picture, Julia would have confined her vindictive attack to Cara. Now however, thanks to a self-preserving action of hers, Julia had two targets to aim at. It all depended on how much Paula loved Pierre, and whether she allowed a spiteful woman to break up the romance. Even if Julia did not succeed, she would have planted the seeds of suspicion, and facts were facts, Cara conceded unhappily. Pierre had arranged for Cara to live in the villa—though it was doubtful if he would have done if she had only mentioned a

  certain incident to him—so it all came back to her and what was really gross negligence on her part— she hadn't given Pierre a chance!

  She would write to him! The thought brightened her outlook for a moment or so; it would be less embarrassing for them both if she did that. She could drop the letter in at his office the following day—she could even explain why she had not mentioned the incident that had given rise to so much speculation, say that in her opinion it hadn't been of any significance, and she was sure that he would have been of the same opinion. And he would have been, she whispered fiercely to herself, if it hadn't been for a certain person's intervention!

  Oh, it was no good! Even if she took the trouble to write to him, he would still have to see her and discuss the best way to handle the situation, as embarrassing as it was, there was no other way.

  Tomorrow perhaps she would see things differently, be able to come up with a few ideas herself maybe, but she was too tired then to cope with the startling turn of events. She would go to bed and hope that she would be able to sleep, although she very much doubted this, but there was little else she could do at that late hour.