by Anne Mather
‘My father’s dead, too, remember?’ he retorted, while Tobie wished the ground would open up and swallow her. ‘And I don’t blame Mother for it.’
‘Your father didn’t choke his guts out on the end of a piece of wire,’ replied Robert succinctly, throwing the remains of his sandwich on to the tray. ‘If he had, you might have viewed the situation entirely differently.’
‘You bastard!’ Mark’s pale features contorted. ‘If your old man was half as objectionable as you are, I’m not surprised Mother walked out on him—’
Robert’s uncoiling from the chair was as swift as it was deadly, and his long fingers curled violently around the collar of Mark’s shirt, almost choking him. ‘You’ll take that back!’ he said, with cold malevolence, and only Tobie had the courage to intervene.
Springing to her feet, she came between them, and it was to Robert she instinctively turned. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she exclaimed, meeting his incensed gaze with appealing insistence, ‘can’t you both remember you have guests in the house?’
Robert stared at her broodingly for several seconds, and she trembled beneath that penetrating appraisal. So had he looked at her before he stormed out of the apartment three years ago, and time stretched as he continued to fight her. But when she put a tentative hand on his chest, his grip on his brother eased, and Mark took the opportunity to drag himself away, tugging at his collar and massaging his reddening flesh.
‘Yes.’ It was Mrs Newman who had spoken, and Tobie had to steel herself to turn and face the other woman. ‘Yes, you boys must stop brawling,’ their mother continued, almost as if it had been as simple as that. ‘Mark, I think you should apologise to Robert for speaking as you did, and Robert, you must try and control that temper of yours. You were always an impulsive boy, acting without thinking. We all have our personal memories of the past to haunt us, but I’m sure after all I’ve done for you, you don’t really bear me a grudge.’
Tobie moved away as Robert sank back into his chair. He seemed exhausted by events, and Cilla came to him at once, asking if there was anything he wanted. Mark, for his part, grumbled but complied, and Tobie was sickened anew when she heard his obedient words of apology. In spite of everything, life would apparently go on as before, and as soon as she could she made her escape, seeking the solace of her own room.
The fact that Robert had arranged to join the Jennings for dinner proved to be a godsend. Tobie did not see how they could have all sat around a table together, so soon after the things that had been said, and instead only she, Mark and his mother shared the long table in the dining room.
Even so, it was not an enjoyable meal. Mrs Newman was evidently brooding over Tobie’s contribution to the scene that had erupted, and despite her mild words earlier she was by no means appeased. Whatever she had said to Robert, whatever impression she had created for Cilla’s benefit, she obviously blamed Tobie for what had happened, and even Mark seemed morose and uncommunicative.
‘When do you leave, darling?’
Mrs Newman addressed her son after dismissing Monique’s offer to serve the coffee, and Tobie tensed at the thought of their anticipated departure.
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Mark responded now, confirming what Tobie already expected. ‘We fly back to Castries, as we did on the way out, but our flight leaves the same evening, so we’ll be back in London the next morning.’
‘Two days.’ His mother shook her head regretfully. ‘Your holiday’s passed so quickly. I seem to have seen nothing of you.’
Mark glanced significantly at Tobie before looking at his mother again. ‘We’ve had quite a lot of time together, Mother,’ he protested. ‘And it won’t be long before I’m back again.’
‘Christmas!’ said Mrs Newman impatiently. ‘Mark, that’s five months away! Oh,’ she sighed, ‘if only you lived here!’
Tobie bent her head. It was evident what Mrs Newman really meant. She wished Mark lived at Soledad instead of Robert, and her indignation swelled when Mark exclaimed:
‘If only Rob would agree to setting up that clinic in Castries! I’d only be a short flight away, and you could come and stay with me.’
His mother nodded. ‘Of course, that would be ideal.’ She shook her head. ‘But you won’t get anywhere if you repeat that scene this afternoon.’
Tobie hid her incredulity as Mark nodded, propping his head on one hand. ‘I know, I know. But you didn’t think I was going to let him get away with that, did you? Sarcastic swine! I could have knocked his teeth down his throat!’
Mrs Newman stretched out her hand and squeezed his arm. ‘I understand, darling. But I don’t bruise that easily. Robert’s father couldn’t hurt me, and neither can his son. Relax, I can handle Robert.’
Tobie abruptly pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ she announced through stiff lips, and without waiting for anyone’s permission, she left the room.
Outside, the night air was blessedly cool and clean, after the cloying atmosphere that surrounded the Newmans. She was past caring what they thought of her behaviour. She just knew she had to get out of the house, and she took several gulps of air before descending the steps to the courtyard below.
Since she had come to Emerald Cay her whole world seemed to have been turned on its head. Everything had seemed so clean-cut, back in London. She liked Mark, she enjoyed his companionship, and she thought she loved him. The fact that he was Robert’s half-brother had played some part in her attraction towards him, she could not deny that, but after what had happened—or rather, what she thought had happened—she expected to feel only contempt when they met. Indeed, she had anticipated their meeting with a certain amount of satisfaction, and she had intended to exploit her relationship with Mark to the hilt.
Looking back on her thoughts now, she realised how foolish they had been. What she had deluded herself was contempt was in fact jealousy, and had Robert been the same man she had first fallen in love with, she doubted she would have survived so long. She dreaded to think what a fool of herself she would have made if he had been his old arrogant self, sweeping aside her shield of detachment and making her see how she really felt. What price now her fine boast of self-assurance, the protection she thought Mark’s love would give her? Faced with reality, she would not have stood a chance, and only Robert’s amnesia had saved her.
Yet ‘saved’ her was not perhaps the most suitable word. His physical disability had created doubts more painful than she could have imagined. It had altered the situation so completely, she had been cast adrift on an uncharted sea, facing dangers she had not anticipated, finding emotion her only weapon. What did Robert want of her? Why had he humiliated her so? And how much did he remember of those months before the crash?
‘Tobie …’
The unexpected use of her name brought her round with a start, her heart pounding in her ears enough to deafen her. In the light reflected from the fountain that tumbled into its stone basin, she saw that Mark had come to join her, and knew an unwelcome sense of anticlimax as he came to stand beside her.
‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he said, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Mother’s gone to bed. She wasn’t feeling very well, and I thought you and I should have a talk.’
‘Oh, yes?’
Tobie tried to sound casual, and Mark nodded. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed, gesturing towards the steps, and they began to climb together. ‘Mother told me something before dinner that I found rather disquieting, and I wanted to speak to you about it.’
Tobie’s mouth felt dry. She couldn’t imagine what Mrs Newman might have said to cause Mark to look so solemn, and she sought about desperately in her mind for a solution.
‘It has to do with Rob,’ Mark went on, and Tobie stiffened.
‘Rob—Robert?’
‘That’s right.’ Mark sighed, glancing sideways at her. ‘She told me that she believes you knew Rob before you came here.’ He paused, and when Tobie didn’t immediately say
anything, he went on: ‘She says she’s almost sure she’s seen a portrait of you in Rob’s studio.’
Tobie’s face flooded with colour, but fortunately the moonlight protected her. However, he was waiting for an answer, and somehow she had to give him one.
‘When—when did she decide this?’ she asked, playing for time, and Mark reluctantly explained.
‘It was that night—the night the Jennings ate with us. She overheard old Harvey asking if he could have seen you somewhere, and it alerted a chord in her memory.’
Tobie could have said that Mrs Newman had waited long enough before voicing her doubts. But perhaps she had known all along. Certainly Tobie had had that feeling. And now, two nights before they were due to leave, she was prepared to sow the seeds of suspicion in Mark’s mind. Perhaps she thought Tobie would lie to him. It would obviously be easier, and then later his mother could expose her for the liar she undoubtedly was. But why create such a situation, particularly after the row Mark and Robert had just had?
‘Well?’ Mark was waiting. ‘Is it true? Does Rob have a picture of you in his studio?’
Tobie sighed. ‘I don’t know, do I?’
‘Perhaps I should have said, could he have a picture of you in his studio?’ Mark corrected himself harshly. ‘Tobie, has Rob painted you?’
Tobie licked her lips. ‘You mean—before I came here?’
‘You know what I mean.’
Tobie sighed. ‘Yes.’
Mark stopped to stare at her. ‘You mean—you and Rob—’
‘I mean I knew Robert in London some years ago.’ Tobie shook her head. ‘But he doesn’t remember.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mark was sceptical.
‘I mean he’s forgotten. It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.’
Mark’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean? You didn’t tell me you knew Rob.’
‘You didn’t ask me,’ said Tobie evenly.
‘But how—what—’
‘Does it matter?’ Tobie moved her shoulders wearily.
‘Of course it matters.’ Mark’s anger had not subsided. ‘My God! And you let me think you were such an innocent!’
Tobie gasped. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Mark’s lips twisted. ‘I know my brother. I know what kind of reputation he had before the accident. He wouldn’t be content as I was to wait before he got you into his bed!’
Tobie raised her hand to slap his sneering face, and then let it fall. Why should she feel so resentful of his words? They were true. Robert had seduced her—and she had let him.
‘Well?’ Mark was furious. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? I can see it in your face. And you’d have married me without telling me!’
‘No!’
Tobie was adamant now, and he stared at her suspiciously. ‘What do you mean—no? I haven’t heard this before. If it hadn’t been for Mother—’
‘I mean, no. No, I’m not going to marry you, Mark,’ declared Tobie firmly. ‘I never said I would. You only assumed it.’
Mark was open-mouthed. ‘But—but—this holiday—’
‘—was intended to be just that,’ said Tobie quietly. ‘And I’m grateful—’
‘Grateful!’ Mark was shouting now. ‘You let me bring you out here, spend money on you—’
‘I’ll pay you back,’ said Tobie unsteadily, straightening her shoulders. ‘If you’ll let me know how much the air fare—’
‘How can you pay me back for staying here?’ he demanded shrilly. ‘This is a private island. My mother’s home—’
‘And Robert’s, too,’ Tobie was stung to respond. ‘And as your mother keeps reminding me, it was he who invited me here, wasn’t it? So perhaps it’s Robert I should reimburse!’
She would have turned away then, but Mark’s heavy hand on her shoulder spun her round. ‘And I suppose you and Rob have had some cosy times together at my expense,’ he muttered grimly. ‘You—you bitch!’
Tobie shook her head again. ‘Mark, Robert doesn’t even like me. Believe it—it’s true. And now, if you’ll excuse me—’
‘What about me? What about us?’
Mark came after her, stopping her again. ‘I won’t let you walk out on me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Tobie was staggered.
‘I mean why shouldn’t I have what everyone else seems to be offered so freely?’ His eyes dropped insinuatively down over her slender body. ‘Yes, I’ve been a fool, I can see that. You obviously respond to rougher treatment.’
His hand groped inexpertly for her bodice, brushing against the rounded curve of her breast, and Tobie was appalled. With a backward step she endeavoured to pull away from him, but her heels were high and she lost her balance, falling heavily against his chest.
‘That’s better,’ he mumbled, his mouth seeking the warm hollows of her neck, while his fingers fumbled at the fastening of her dress. ‘You know I could forgive you almost anything, Tobie, when you’re near to me like this, but after we’re married, I’ll kill you if I ever find you with another man!’
‘I—am—not—going—to—marry—you!’ Tobie got out breathlessly, struggling to free herself. ‘Mark, for God’s sake, have some sense! Do you want your mother to come out here and find us? What do you think she would say—’
‘Mother’s gone to bed, I’ve told you,’ Mark retorted, losing patience with the lacing at the front of her chemise dress, and tearing the cords from their holes in his haste. ‘Mmm, Tobie, you’re beautiful! Let me kiss those delectable breasts—’
The sound of a car engine was like the sweetest music to Tobie’s ears, even if it was the noisy chugging of the Mini. It drove into the courtyard below them, the tyres squealing as Cilla applied the brakes, and even Mark was forced to take notice of its significance.
‘All right,’ he said, as she tore herself away from him. ‘I’ll let you go for now. But don’t lock your door, unless you want me to break it down.’
Tobie stared at him, her face pale, her eyes huge in the moonlight, and then, without a word, she turned away and ran into the house, clutching the remains of her bodice about her, tempted to go straight to his mother and tell her what her precious son had done.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BUT of course she didn’t. It would have been too humiliating to tell anyone what had happened, and in her room she paced the floor in real desperation. This was what came of seeking revenge, she thought bitterly. The whole situation had recoiled on her, and now she had nowhere, and no one, to turn to.
She wondered how long it would be before Mark came to find her. She had no doubts that he would come. The alcohol on his breath had convinced her that he had been imbibing rather freely, and his mother’s words about Tobie and his brother had been enough to arouse a totally uncharacteristic bravado. She didn’t really blame Mark for his behaviour; she blamed his mother. Without her encouragement, he would never have treated Tobie so outrageously. But that didn’t alter the fact that he was half drunk and aggressive, and unlikely to think sensibly until the morning.
Standing in the shadows by the open window, she stared unhappily into the darkness. Could she appeal to Robert for assistance? Dared she approach him? And what explanations might he demand that she was ill-prepared to give? Besides, why should she assume he was any different from his brother? He had humiliated her enough in the past. How could she abase herself further, by confessing she was incapable of handling her own life?
Raising a hand to push the heavy weight of her hair back from her hot forehead, she saw the reflection of the moonlight glinting on the yacht, moored down in the harbour. The Ariadne was shifting gently on the swell—and suddenly Tobie knew what she was going to do.
Quickly, shedding her torn gown, she rummaged through her wardrobe and brought out a pair of purple denim jeans and a matching silk shirt. Pulling them on, she found her cork-soled sandals and snatched up a cream sweater, in case it was cold later, before leaving her room.
It was nerve-racking threading her way bac
k to the central landing, but she didn’t know of any other way out of the villa. It was worse because she didn’t exactly know where Mark’s rooms were situated, and she could only hope he would wait until the household was asleep before coming after her.
The house seemed quiet enough, but every sound she made was magnified in her ears. She wondered what she would do if Mark stepped out in front of her, and suffered a dozen imaginary shocks when the moonlight played tricks on her. But at last she reached the stairs, and after only a cursory examination of the hall below, she sped down them on winged feet.
She would have to let herself out of the garden room, she decided. She dared not risk making any noise, and the french windows on to the patio were well oiled and silent. Outside, she delayed a moment to close the doors again before running past the pool and down the steps to the courtyard.
It was only as she set off down the road to the harbour that she considered the recklessness of what she was doing. She was a stranger here. She hadn’t anticipated what she would do if anyone accosted her, and in the dark shadows between the tall hedges she wondered if Mark’s attentions might not be preferable to an assailant’s!
She need not have worried. She reached the harbour without mishap, and to her relief there was no one hanging about the boats tied up beside the jetty. The only sounds came from one of the whitewashed cottages, a rhythmic throbbing of calypso music that was curiously soothing, and after a hasty glance around she untied a small rowing boat and dropped silently down into its shallow draught.
It was further to the yacht than she remembered, or perhaps it was simply that her arms were not as strong as Mark’s. However, at last she reached the side of the vessel, and securing the rowing boat with its rope she climbed quickly up on to the deck.
She remembered Mark had told her there was a generator on board, but even had she known how to switch it on she wouldn’t have done so. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, and if anyone at the villa saw lights gleaming from the portholes they would probably assume the worst.
