by Jane Corrie
As Melanie found herself being ushered into a taxi and on the way to the Holiday Inn, where they would be spending the night before taking another plane out to one of the privately owned islands in the Bahamas the following morning, she wondered if she would ever be allowed to come down to earth.
The sudden change from having to count her pennies, and constant worry over her future, had been a little too fast for her to assimilate. She was still in that dream world, but one had to wake up some time, and it wasn't going to be easy after what had happened to her.
The light plane that had taken them out to the island made a smooth landing on a small airstrip and, judging by the size of the island seen from the air by a still jet-lagged Melanie, it was a wonder space had been found for such a feat, for the island seemed tiny, with pink and white dots that denoted houses seemingly crowding all available space. 'Looks like an iced cake, doesn't it?' Celia murmured in her ear, and Melanie had to agree that it was a very apt description.
As soon as they had landed, a car swept into view and drew up beside the plane, and as they got into it, Melanie glanced back at the small runway, then wished that she hadn't, for it was on a high plateau
that looked directly out to sea.
Seeing her look, Julian, correctly assessing her thoughts, said, 'Of course, there are times when the plane can't land. High winds, etcetera.'
Melanie would rather not have known that, and she only hoped that the weather was good when it was time to leave the island, for as the car swept away from the airstrip she got a better look at the landing area perched high above ragged cliffs with the ocean below.
It was only a fifteen-minute run to the hotel, which was more in the nature of a private mansion to Melanie's way of thinking, with ornamental palms lining the long driveway, and balconies from which hung glorious blossoms in bronze urns, the bronze, gleaming in the morning sun, setting off the pale blues and lilacs of some kind of wisteria plant that grew as luxuriantly as daises on an English lawn. A doorman, resplendent in a uniform that would have vied with an Admiral's for splendour, opened the car doors as soon as they arrived.
`Morning, Mr Cridell,' he said cheerily, as he motioned a waiting porter to take their luggage, adding, 'Miss Cridell,' with a nod of familiarity, and favouring Melanie with a glance, as if to place her for future reference.
There was no signing-in to be done here, Melanie found with a slight spurt of surprise as they were ushered in to a lift by yet another employee of the hotel with what almost amounted to a kind of deference by a young man who could well have been the deputy manager. He accompanied them to the penthouse suite, and then left them, saying, 'I think you'll find everything to your satisfaction, sir,' to Julian. From her husband's abrupt nod and dismissal of the man,
Melanie could see that this treatment was not unusual—was, indeed, expected by Julian Cridell. -
The suite was large and roomy, with three bedrooms, and Melanie found herself allotted the one next to Celia's with a communicating door. Julian's room was further down the passage, with a room used as a study in between, and this pleased Melanie, who was grateful for the distance and privacy this arrangement would provide.
The girls left the communicating door open while they unpacked—at least, Melanie started to unpack, while Celia flung herself on her bed, declaring tht she was too tired to bother with that right now, and suggested that they went down to the beach to cool off. But having half unpacked, Melanie said she would finish that first, and join Celia later. 'Go out of the side door, next to the dining-room,' Celiatold her, 'and follow the path round to the left. The beach is hotel property, and you can't miss it,' she added as she gathered up her beach bag and towel and left Melanie to it.
Melanie continued with her unpacking, and as she hung each garment up in the spacious wardrobe, her mind went back to that hectic shopping expedition she had undertaken two days before.
Armed with strict instructions from Julian to put everything on his account, she had shopped with inborn conservatism, feeling like a thief each time she signed a chit from the various departments, torn between her natural inclination to spend as little as possible on each garment, and her wish not to embarrass Julian Cridell by wearing off the peg clothes. Not that that was possible from the establishment she had been sent to, for it was where Celia went. Most of the well-endowed daughters of their social class shopped there, but Melanie had been scanda-
lised by the prices, even though she had no choice but to accept them.
It was perhaps as well that Celia had accompanied her, and Melanie suspected that this had been arranged by the astute Julian, who had surmised that she would put price against need, as indeed she would have done if Celia had let her. But she didn't and, having a good sense of dress, insisted on this and that outfit being bought, regardless of price. Evening gowns were also purchases, as Celia said that they dressed for dinner in the Bahamas, and she insisted on Melanie taking five of the lovely dresses presented for inspection.
By now Melanie had got to the smaller of her cases, the one where she had put things that might be needed sooner than the rest of her luggage, and she took out her sundress and swimming costume. The sundress was the only thing that she and Celia had really fallen out over, 'It's much too old for you,' Celia had said caustically when Melanie had plumped for a sedate navy-blue and white dress with a wide sailor-type collar at the back, and Celia had picked up a skimpy green and sea-blue two piece. 'That's more like it,' she had said, but this was one fight Melanie had won, although she noticed that Celia had flung in the other one when they were wrapping up their purchases, with a comment that she might change her mind. Melanie had given her a schoolmarmish look that caused the unrepentant Celia to giggle.
It definitely didn't look too old for her, she thought, as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror, and it did suit her, she told herself as she gathered up her beach bag and towel and left to join Celia on the beach, seeing no sign of Julian as she went through the apartment.
Once on the beach, a long strip of glorious white sand, Melanie sank down on to a deep, comfortable beach-lounger with a matching parasol, several of which were scattered around the beach for the use of the guests. No hunting for deckchairs in this establishment, and no ticket collector demanding payment the minute you had accomplished such a feat, Melanie thought with an inward smile as she glanced across at Celia sitting beside her and at that moment searching in her beach bag that contained books as well as the usual paraphernalia one takes down to the beach.
`You're not going to study, are you, Celia?' she asked, as Celia dragged one of the books out.
Celia's dark eyes met hers contemplatingly. 'I get bored, you know,' she said. 'When Dad joins us, I'll have a swim,' she ended, as she settled down to the book.
At that moment, a girl's voice cut across the white sands. 'Celia Cridell! I didn't know you were here!'
Celia and Melanie both glanced up to see a dark, chubby girl of Celia's age bounding towards them, and Celia looked pleased to see her. 'Hi, Podge,' she said disrespectfully, but the girl grinned.
`Thank goodness you've come!' she said. 'I was getting bored stiff on my own.' She glanced back at a blonde woman a little behind her, and who now joined her. 'It's Celia, Mother,' she said. 'Now you can go off to your bridge if you want,' she told her happily.
The mother gave Celia a nod, and looked around. `Isn't your father here?' she asked, as her glance flickered over Melanie.
Celia smiled. 'He'll be around later,' she said. `Business as usual, you know. Oh, this is my mother—well,' she corrected herself, 'stepmother, Melanie Cridell. Melanie, this is Mrs Winsome and Podge—I
mean Diana,' she amended quickly, seeing the look of annoyance this introduction brought from Mrs Winsome.
Celia's offhand introduction had caught Melanie by surprise, and she found herself undergoing a swift and calculating appraisal from Mrs Winsome, who looked as surprised as Melanie felt. 'Good gracious !' she said, then, s
uddenly collecting herself, murmured something on the lines of it being nice to meet her and took herself off back to the hotel.
Melanie noticed with a touch of exasperation that Celia was very amused at Mrs Winsome's quick departure from the scene. Her guess at the reason was cemented by Celia's light, 'Well, that saves us a lot of introductions,' giving Podge, as she called her, a wicked grin; at Melanie's look of rebuke as she glanced apologetically at Podge, Celia replied, `Oh, Podge doesn't mind, do you, Podge?'
By the answering grin her friend gave her, it appeared that she didn't, and the two friends wandered off towards a group of teenagers watching the preparations of a team of canoeists entering the races that were to be held the following day, according to the notices put up in the hotel lobby.
Melanie, still a little disturbed by the quick introduction and the ensuing results, settled back in her lounger, glad of the parasol over her head, for the rays of the sun were really strong. She would have to get used to that sort of thing, she told herself. Things would soon settle down again, she thought. It was only the initial stage that would be uncomfortable for her. Whether it was her imagination or not, she wasn't sure, but it did seem to her that she was attracting a lot of notice from the passers-by as they went down to the shore for a swim.
She was just drifting off into a sun-soaked doze when Julian's voice awakened her, asking why she hadn't gone in for a dip, and casting an experienced eye over her neat sundress.
Melanie sat up, now fully awake. 'Oh, I'm afraid I can't swim,' she said. 'I never learnt, you know,' she added apologetically.
Julian's grey eyes, half closed because of the sun rays, looked beyond her to where Celia was now in animated conversation with one of the boat crew. `Well, we shall have to teach you, won't we?' he said.
Melanie thought about it. She wasn't sure that she wanted to learn to swim. She had got on very nicely without that particular art so far in her life, and thought that it was a bit late to indulge in it. Besides, she didn't particularly want to look stupid in front of those all too sophisticated people. 'I'd rather not, if you don't mind,' she said firmly. 'I'm perfectly happy just sunbathing.'
Julian glanced down at her briefly, and Melanie had a feeling that her reply had irritated him, and she was a bit puzzled by this. She was, after all, only stating her preference in the matter, not challenging his authority.
`I do mind,' he said abruptly. 'Everyone should learn to swim. Particularly on these islands. It can make the difference between life and death. I'll teach you.'
It was not a suggestion but an order, and a surprised Melanie watched his tall lithe figure in swimming trunks stride away from her towards Celia, and a few minutes later saw them take to the water together.
So far, Melanie was not having a very restful morning. She felt vaguely uneasy at the change in Julian's attitude towards her, which smacked of male
domination over his charges, and this was a new experience for her, for she had been mistress of her own destiny for many years. She wasn't too sure that she appreciated this situation, well meant or otherwise!
At that moment, her all-too-short period of peace was shattered by the arrival of a grossly fat woman, followed by a meek-looking maid who placed her lounger beside Melanie's at the woman's imperative bidding. Then the woman settled down to engage Melanie in conversation.
This sudden invasion of her territory was startling enough to Melanie without finding herself bemusedly staring at the woman's apparel, for she wore a black lacy dress complete with a diamond choker—aptly named in this case, as the folds of her triple chins almost hid the sparkling jewels, and, as if this weren't enough, rings and bracelets to match. In fact, she looked like a walking bank, and a fascinated Melanie found herself wondering if she had a tiara on under that huge sun-hat she was wearing!
`I'm Lydia Hounslow Holmes,' said the woman in a deep, gruff voice, holding out a fat, heavily ringed hand towards Melanie. 'I understand you're the new Mrs Cridell.'
Melanie swallowed back an urge to giggle at the unorthodox introduction, and, managing to quell her amusement, took the proffered hand. 'How do you do?' she said politely, then found herself undergoing a hard, cynical examination.
Hmph! Not what I would call Julian's taste at all,' the woman murmured, half to herself. 'Looks more like a games teacher to me.'
Melanie again felt that awful urge to laugh. Really, the woman was eccentric!
`Not much to say for yourself, have you?' Mrs Hounslow Holmes commented. `Daresay you'll do. Don't take any notice of the cats around here. Been holding out for Cridell for years. Met Zara yet?' she suddenly flung out at Melanie, who recovered in time to realise that she was referring to Julian's ex-wife.
`Er—no,' she got out, wondering just who this imperious old woman was.
`You will!' the old lady commented with what Melanie felt was a certain amount of pleasurable anticipation. 'Just remember to duck if she's anywhere near a moveable object,' she added, chuckling hugely at this unasked-for advice,then she turned to the maid, still hovering in the background, who assisted her off the lounger with well-practised ease. Leaving the utterly bemused Melanie gazing after them, as the small procession made their regal way back to the hotel.
She was still gazing after them when Julian and Celia rejoined her, and Julian, his eyes following Melanie's, asked acrimoniously, 'What did that old devil want?'
Melanie blinked. She had still not recovered. 'Oh, she just wanted to meet me—I think,' she added doubtfully.
Julian started to dry himself with his towel, and flung Celia's towel to her. 'No doubt,' he said ironically. 'She's the island gossip. You'll have to watch out for her in future,' he added meaningly.
That wasn't all she had to watch out for, Melanie thought sardonically, recalling the old woman's comments on his ex-wife!
`Well, she lost out this time,' said Celia, throwing her towel down after drying herself, and flinging herself down next to Melanie. 'Mrs Winsome beat her
to it. She couldn't get back to the hotel fast enough,' she added with a chuckle.
Julian dropped his towel back on the sand and settled down the other side of Melanie, making her in some odd way feel surrounded. 'They've not much more to do,' he said, glancing up at Melanie in an almost apologetic way. 'Too much leisure and money to go with it.'
Vas the Duchess wearing her jewels?' Celia asked. `Not that I could imagine her without them,' she mused, as she searched in her beach bag for some suntan lotion, which she then started to apply to her arms and legs.
Melanie, watching her, nodded. 'Are they real?' she asked. 'I was completely dazzled !'
Celia, having finished oiling her arms and legs, handed Melanie the lotion and turned over to have her back done. 'This used to be Dad's job,' she said. 'It's yours now. Oh, they're real enough. She doesn't believe in hiding her treasures away. It's a way of intimidating people, I suppose; everybody falls over themselves to give her good service,' she added.
Melanie, carefully applying the lotion to Celia's already honey-coloured back, replied thoughtfully, 'I should think she would be afraid of being robbed. I know I would.'
Julian's deep voice interposed with, 'Not here. No one would dare. The staff are hand-picked, and paid well enough to prevent dishonesty.'
Melanie was surprised that Julian had heard the conversation, for she had thought that he was asleep. Having finished Celia's back, she started to put the top on the bottle ready to return it to the holdall.
`Dad next,' Celia said, as she turned round and settled back comfortably on the white sand.
Melanie was about to hand the lotion to Julian when Celia said in a drowsy voice, 'I do his back, so you'll have to do his, too,' and opened one eye to observe Melanie's startled expression.
Really, Celia could be infuriating at times, Melanie thought, and she could have smacked her for placing her in such an embarrassing position. All she could hope for was that Julian would let her off the hook, as she ignored Celia's words and handed
him the bottle, hoping that he would feign sleep.
Her hopes, however, were short-lived, for she found him regarding her with what looked suspiciously like a twinkle in his grey eyes. `If you would be so kind,' he said gravely, and turned over to present her with his strong, powerful shoulders.
Gulping down her nervousness, Melanie had no choice but to apply the lotion to his already reddening skin.
`You've a nice touch,' Julian remarked gratefully when she had finished, and totally embarrassed, Melanie hid her confusion by busying herself with putting the top on the bottle and stowing it away in the holdall. This slight but discomfiting incident was only the beginning of what Melanie had in store, had she but known it, and the next few days proved even more trying for her.
At her husband's insistence, she had to mix in the company of people she had nothing in common with. She could understand his wish for everything to appear as normal as possible, but it did put her in an unenviable position, and she found conversation difficult in such sophisticated company, more so since the topics consisted only of diversions and distractions to what seemed a pointless existence. Too much money, and too much time on their hands, and
Melanie suspected that she was the one that was supplying most of their entertainment.
In a way this was understandable; the hotel was like a small village community. Everybody knew everybody else's business, and a newcomer was a source of avid interest until everything was known about him or her. Under the circumstances, it wasn't easy for Melanie to take things in her stride, but she was much too sensible a person to let them get her down. Even so, there were times when she wondered if Julian was putting her through a commando training course by dropping her in at the deep end and seeing if she could survive!
