by Anne Hampton
‘But you feel you’ve missed a good deal? I suppose you have,’ he added after a small pause, ‘and yet there are a great number of girls who would envy you the life you live.’
The hint of censure did not escape her and she was swift to respond, ‘I know that you are right, Luke. I’m ungrateful and selfish because I sometimes dwell on what might have been had my parents lived. We were so happy and there was love in our home.’
Luke came towards her, and as had happened so often in the past she was finding a resting place for her head against his breast.
‘I don’t deserve you,’ she admitted. ‘It will be my own fault if you tire of all this.’ He made no answer, but just continued to stroke her soft, shining hair. ‘You will marry,’ she insisted. ‘And this will become a memory.’
‘I’m not thinking of marrying yet awhile, so we can let that problem slide.’
‘But one day you must marry.’
‘Perhaps.’ He drew her away and looked into her eyes. ‘Who knows?’
Christine lowered her head, profoundly aware of those inexplicable vibrations again, and a hollowness within her this time, too. Luke married . . . Until now she had treated the possibility lightly, without troubling to form pictures or think deeply about it. But now the picture had assumed a clarity which brought it right home to her. All his love and affection would be lavished on his wife, while she, Christine, would become so unimportant that she would be forgotten altogether—well, perhaps not altogether because they would see each other, both living on Pirates’ Cay. Or would Luke decide to live here, on Grand Bahama, or perhaps in Nassau? Christine’s eyes were bleak as she looked up, forced to do so by a lean brown hand beneath her chin.
‘Lord, Chris, what’s wrong?’ he demanded with a frown of concern.
‘I was imagining you married—Oh, Luke, whatever shall I do without you?’ The words came out on a strangled cry, but instead of sympathy Christine received a thorough shaking.
‘Stop it!’ thundered Luke, ready to shake her again. ‘It was childishness before and now it’s self-pity. If I marry, then is the time for you to wonder! And now—go and unpack! Your room’s over there, the door on the left!’
‘Wonder?’ she was saying to herself as she turned to obey him. ‘What an odd word to use. Wonder . . .’
Why, thought Christine, hadn’t she expected something like this? After all, Miami was little more than a stone’s throw across the Atlantic Ocean and so it was easy for Luke’s girl friend to come over. Probably she had been in the habit of doing so each time Luke was on the island of Grand Bahama. Greta had said that Clarice was glamourous; she had beauty as well, and poise and a certain amount of grace. She had arrived within twenty-four hours of their own arrival and now, as she stood on the balcony of her bedroom, Christine could see them in the pool, swimming close, laughing comrades who obviously found pleasure in each other’s company.
She turned, having come up to change because Luke had insisted she go into the pool, but she felt the invitation to be nothing more than courtesy ... or he might be feeling sorry for her— No, not that any more, she decided. Luke was still impatient if she only mentioned Steve’s name.
She didn’t change, but she went down to the pool patio and took possession of a lounger. She was in bright green shorts and a white cotton sun top which was tight and scanty so that it revealed her tanned arms and throat and most of her back. She noticed the attention of a young man she had seen watching her before. He smiled as their eyes met and she smiled back. A moment later his chair was alongside her lounger and he was introducing himself.
‘Kevin Peyton,’ she repeated. ‘I’m Christine Mead.’
‘Happy to make your acquaintance. I’ve been noticing you for the past two days. You’re with the couple in there, aren’t you?’
She nodded, her eyes going to Luke’s bronzed body as he swam away to the other side of the pool. With that couple . . . The odd one out, gooseberry. She bit her lip, conscious of a new and disturbing emotion she could not have described had her life depended on it.
‘Are you on holiday?’ she asked presently.
‘In a way. But I really came for an interview for a job as assistant manager at the Pioneer Hotel. I thought I’d come a few days beforehand and enjoy a bit of sun.’
‘You’re American. They don’t usually have foreigners in a job a Bahamian can do—at least, that’s the rule applying on Pirates’ Cay, where I come from.’
‘You live in the Bahamas, then?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Lucky! So you don’t hold out much hope of my getting the job?’
‘Hope?’ She shrugged her shoulders, thinking it rather strange that he should bring her opinion into it. She didn’t care one way or the other, but of course she was too polite to say so. ‘I might be wrong,’ she eventually said, ‘but they usually think of their own people first.’
‘I want to be optimistic, though. I feel the hotel owner wouldn’t have asked me to come if there’s no chance.’
‘I agree, so it might be that the owner can pull some strings.’ Her eyes strayed to the pool again; Luke and Clarice were sitting on the side, very close together.
‘It’s not much fun being on my own here.’ He turned towards her, an expectant look in his deep-set grey eyes. ‘I know you’re with that couple, but would you break away this evening and dine with me?’
‘No, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why? I daresay they’d welcome a chance to be alone—’ He stopped, appearing almost comical in his dismay. ‘I must be a fool to have said a thing like that. I’m so sorry—I mean, if they—’
‘It’s all right,’ she broke in coldly. ‘There’s no need to apologise.’ She reached for the book she had brought down with her and dropped on the ground. ‘If you’ll excuse me?’ She rose and walked away but he followed, much to her annoyance.
‘I really am sorry, Christine—’
‘Don’t call me Christine,’ she snapped. ‘And kindly leave me alone.’
But he still followed on her brisk pace and in the lobby she turned. He was looking extremely crestfallen and contrite. Christine felt sorry for him even though she was still angry. She supposed it was humiliation which was really affecting her, making her feel so uncomfortable. Did Luke want to be alone with Clarice? No need to ask if the girl wanted him all to herself, for although she had been friendly towards Christine, there was an underlying resentment of her presence which Christine was quick to sense. She wondered what explanation Luke had given to the girl. Christine hadn’t asked him but she would, at the first opportunity.
‘Say you forgive me,’ Kevin was saying in a humble tone.
‘Forget it,’ she said and managed a smile. ‘We can all be guilty of a slip of the tongue.’
Half an hour later Luke was asking why she hadn’t come into the pool. He and Christine were in the luxurious sitting room of the suite; the window was wide open with only the insect netting between them and the flower-draped balcony which looked out over the marina.
‘I didn’t want to—to intrude.’
Luke, who was now in buff-coloured slacks and a casual overshirt, opened his eyes wide at her sullen tone. ‘That’s an odd word to use, isn’t it?’
‘Clarice and you—’ She broke off and began again. ‘I’m not happy at playing gooseberry.’
An exasperated sigh issued from his lips. ‘What the devil’s got into you now?’ he demanded, coming close to tower above her. ‘You came here with me and it’s my duty to see you enjoy yourself!’
‘Duty?’ She lifted her eyes, saw him frown as he guessed she was close to tears. ‘Why should you feel you have a duty towards me? It’s natural that you want to be with Clarice, and if I’d known she was coming here, then I’d have stayed at home. You should have told me she was going to be with us.’
‘I didn’t know she was coming here,’ he snapped. ‘I phoned her when we arrived and it was a mistake—’ Glowering at Christine as if it were her
fault he had made the slip, he swung away abruptly to the other side of the room but turned to face her. ‘She decided to come over—’
‘Without asking you?’ interrupted Christine.
‘Yes—she didn’t know I had anyone with me.’
‘I see.’
‘You don’t see at all! However, it doesn’t matter. That you resent her is plain but there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s here and you can get used to the idea. She’s been friendly towards you and she’s mentioned what a charming child you are, so why this antagonism?’
‘She called me a child?’ No answer from Luke, who merely threw her an impatient glance. ‘I’m not antagonistic,’ she went on to deny. ‘Nor do I resent her being here. What troubles me is the knowledge that you and she would prefer to be alone. It’s a pity I came with you,’ she added. Then, stung to a retort by his sudden gleam of contempt, she threw in for good measure, ‘I’m sorry I’ve cramped your style!’
Luke gritted his teeth. ‘You have not cramped my style! If I want to be alone with Clarice all I’ve to do is pack you off back to Pirates’ Cay on the next flight out!’
Christine’s lips quivered. ‘Luke . . . this is the first time you and I have quarrelled.’
His eyes were almost hostile. ‘It’ll not be the last if you go on like this. It’s the crush you have on Steve, and the sooner you make up your mind to forget him the sooner you’ll be a nice person again. As it is—you’re peevish and truculent and bad-tempered—’ He wagged a finger at her threateningly. ‘You’ve said you wished I were your guardian, your adoptive father. Well, you can thank your lucky stars that I’m not, because if I were I’d throw you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserve.’
She stared, the hot blood surging into her cheeks. ‘Why, you—!’ she began, then broke off as the door opened.
‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ came the voice of Clarice at its sweetest as she sailed into the room. ‘But I forgot to tell you, Luke, darling, that I’ve a hair appointment in ten minutes and so I could be a little late for lunch. Shall we make it for a quarter past one instead of one o’clock?’ While speaking to Luke her eyes were nevertheless flickering to the angry, flushed face of the girl who was standing in the middle of the room, her fists tightly clenched at her sides.
‘That’ll be all right, Clarice; we’ll be in the lounge having an aperitif.’
‘I shan’t be having lunch,’ from Christine tautly. ‘I’m not hungry,’ and with that she turned away, swiftly, because her eyes were brimming with tears of self-pity and anger.
She bumped into Kevin as she came out of the lift. ‘Oh—hello,’ she greeted him. ‘Er—about this evening. Is the invitation still on?’
‘Of course,’ he replied eagerly. ‘You’ll have dinner with me?’
‘I’d love to.’ She paused fractionally. ‘Lunch—I’m on my own for the rest of the day.’
She was being horrid and she knew it. For it was not Luke’s fault that Clarice was here, but as long as she was he had to be gracious to her. What did she, Christine, expect him to do—tell the girl to go off and entertain herself, because he had a young friend with him? I’m rotten, decided Christine and tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks, tears of regret that she could even think of being so hateful with her dearest Luke.
Chapter Four
Luke’s face was set in rigid lines and there was a wrathful thrust to his voice as he said, ‘You’ll have dinner with Clarice and me— No more arguments!’ he added when Christine opened her mouth to interrupt. ‘You’re here in my care; your father would never have allowed you to come on your own—’
‘I am eighteen!’ she cried indignantly.
‘And please don’t interrupt me,’ rasped Luke, sending her a glowering glance. ‘Your father put you in my care and he’ll expect me to look after you. There’ll be no dining out for you with this man you’ve picked up at the poolside.’
‘I didn’t pick him up!’
‘No? Then he picked you up. What’s the difference? The argument’s ended,’ he said repressively and walked with unhurried steps to the cocktail cabinet to pour himself a drink.
‘Do you suppose I shall let Kevin down just because you are adopting this dictatorial manner with me?’ Defiance edged her tone but in her heart there was pain. What was happening to her and Luke these days? He had never been like this with her before . . . but, she was quick to own, neither had she been like this with him. She had always treated him with respect, remembering that he was older; she had always accepted his advice, admitting he was wiser; she had always allowed herself to be bent to his will, because of his mastery—gentle mastery it was true, but his word was to be obeyed for all that. But now . . . She was defiant, but why? It was a question she was unable to answer and she felt ashamed because the more she dwelt on her behaviour the less excuse she could find for it. Luke had poured the drink and was holding the glass in his long fingers, twirling it as if to see the oily surface catch the light.
‘Did you want a drink?’ he asked.
‘You’ve ignored my question, Luke.’
‘I’ve said my last concerning the matter of whom you are dining with. You’ll do as I say, Chris, and forget this date you have made.’
She bit her lip, aware of his austere withdrawal as he sat down and put the glass on a side table close to his chair. He seemed no longer interested in her and she wondered if he had forgotten he’d asked her to have a drink.
‘I feel the odd one out,’ she said at last. ‘Surely you want to be with your girl friend—alone with her, I mean?’
‘I’m quite happy with the situation as it is.’ He looked at her over the rim of his glass he had now ricked up. ‘And if I’m not complaining, then why should you?’
‘It’s not a complaint,’ she denied. ‘I just feel—well, out of it.’
Rubbish!’ His anger was dissolving but impatience took its place, it’s this thing about Steve—’
‘It has nothing to do with Steve,’ she said. ‘It’s me—the way I feel.’ She swung around, expecting to see Clarice come into the room but the door was swinging open on its own. She moved to close it, murmuring, ‘I thought it was Clarice.’
‘She’ll not be coming here; she’s to meet us in the lounge in half an hour.’
‘She’s not coming here—why?’
‘Because I haven’t invited her.’
‘Does she need to be invited, then?’
‘Of course, seeing that this is my private sitting room.’
Christine frowned in puzzlement. ‘But if she’s your girl friend, then she’ll feel she has a right to come and go, surely?’
‘Just how serious do you imagine my friendship is with Clarice?’ he asked, leaning forward to lift his glass again.
‘It isn’t serious?’ A leaden weight was lifting with every second that passed.
‘Not at the moment,’ answered Luke calmly, but after a slight pause he added, fixing his eyes on hers with an inscrutable expression, ‘For the future—who knows?’
‘It could become serious, you mean?’
‘Perhaps.’ Abruptly he changed the subject. ‘I think you had better phone this Kevin and tell him you’ve changed your mind. While you do that I’ll pour you a drink. Martini?’
‘Yes, please.’ She hesitated, feeling sorry for Kevin. ‘I—’
‘Use this phone,’ he said, flicking a hand towards it. There’s no need for you to go to your bedroom. It isn’t as if you’ve anything private to say.’
She sent him a speaking glance and saw his mouth curve in amusement. With a sigh of resignation she did as he told her. Kevin was disappointed and would have plied her with questions but she said on a note of finality, ‘I’m very sorry, Kevin, but it isn’t possible. I ought not to have made the date. Good-bye.’
‘Your drink, dear,’ Luke said as she turned.
Dear . . .
‘We’re friends again, Luke?’ The tremor in her voice brought a slight frown t
o his brow.
‘Is it so important to you that we be friends?’ he asked and her eyes widened to their fullest extent.
‘You know it is. I’ve said so many times that I need you, Luke,’ she added seriously, ‘you’re all I’ve got.’
‘What about your father?’
‘He loves me, yes, but he’s always occupied with business—well, almost always.’ There was a note of despondency in her voice but she forced a smile to her lips. ‘No, Luke, it is you I depend on; you’re my one sure prop and if I lost you . . .’ Her voice trailed to silence as she thought of Clarice and the possibility of his evenutally marrying her. But it would not be yet—not for a long while, she thought, judging by his attitude and the way he had spoken about her.
‘You’re a strange girl,’ murmured Luke with a sigh. ‘I once believed I understood you but now—’ He shook head and added ruefully, ‘You baffle me, Chris, and yet I know that you don’t mean to be perverse.’ The tender years, he mused as he sipped his drink, years of bewilderment, uncertainty and insecurity. He ought not to lose his patience with her. ‘Come here,’ he said gently as he got to his feet.
Startled, she stared at him, but then rose and went to him, her slender frame delightfully clad in a long evening dress of clinging satin that accentuated its youthful curves.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
‘Just to kiss you and let you know we’re friends again.’
Tears filled her eyes as emotion flooded over her. ‘Oh, Luke—you’re so—so kind to me!’
‘Not always, I’m afraid. I’m only human, though, and I’m a man. Those are the excuses I offer for sometimes losing my temper with you.’
He had reached her; he took her arms in his hands and she tilted her face, vitally conscious of increased heartbeats and racing pulse.
‘What did your words mean?’ she asked before his lips touched hers. He kissed her gently and held her close. Her hands came up to meet at the back of his neck.
‘You will understand them one day, my dear,’ he answered, holding her at arm’s length.
