by Maggie Brown
She shook her head.
“If I help you, I want your promise on that.”
“I swear.”
“I’ll take you at your word, Sophie, because I respect you. Why Eurydice is so special, is not because it’s exclusive or a breath of paradise, it’s because people know whatever happens here never leaves the island. It’s something everyone understands when he or she comes here. It’s what they’re paying for. Once that oath is breached, no one will trust us again. People could lose their jobs.”
Sophie gulped. Put like that, she felt dirty and small. “Is it possible to get off the island without anyone finding out? I guess the only solution would be to disappear without anybody knowing I worked for a paper. It would be too public to fly out in the helicopter, and I don’t want Eleanor blamed for bringing me here, even if she did so unknowingly. We don’t have to worry about Graham Fortescue spilling the beans. It wouldn’t be in his best interest to make a fuss. He’s here with a woman not his wife, so he’d be cutting his own throat.”
His quick smile made her feel slightly better. “You’re in luck. In an hour, I’m taking the band back to Mackay. The instruments and tech gear are too big for the helicopter, and I have to pick up supplies. I’ll put you in the end cabin.”
“What if they see me?”
Doug gave a barking laugh. “Slim chance of that. I heard they had a party at Austen’s villa last night, so they’ll be flaked out. Lie low all the same. I’ll make you a cup of tea before we go. The shortbread bickies in the tin will have to do for breakfast.”
While he made the tea, Sophie cleaned herself up in the small shower recess.
“Sooo,” said Doug as she sipped her tea. “Eleanor chucked you out.”
“Yes.”
“Pity. You seemed to be getting on just fine.”
She paused, catching the gleam in his eye over the rim of the cup. For Pete’s sake, does everyone know how I feel about her? “She’s nice. Who wouldn’t like her?”
“Hmmm…I guess you’re going to miss her.”
“I had a magic time with her, but now it’s back to being Sophie Marsh, a nobody.” Sophie blinked away the moisture gathering again in her eyes. “You know Doug, life’s not fair. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I put in more hours than anyone on the paper, but nobody really takes me seriously. My family would prefer I work in the restaurant with my uncle—they think what I do isn’t a real job. My bossy aunt, who rules the family, thinks I should have at least two kids by now and another on the way. My boss claims tabloid trash sells better than serious reporting. My best friend thinks clothes make the woman and hates my dress sense. Now I’ve seriously pissed off a wonderful woman because I was trying to do a job I didn’t want in the first place. Hell, I should just shoot myself and put everyone out of their misery.”
He stared solemnly at her for a long moment, then rose and placed his hands on her shoulders. She could feel the empathy radiating from him. “Come on. Let’s get you onto the boat.”
After they climbed aboard, she stood and looked over the island one last time. Then overcome, she bolted down the steps to the cabins below.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Liar! Liar! The words reverberated in Eleanor’s head like an old CD stuck in a groove. She tossed in the bed, no nearer to sleep than over an hour ago. How could she have been so stupid? She had been made a fool of, humiliated by a two-bit journalist masquerading as a housekeeper. God, how gullible she had been to be taken in by a lovely body, soft lips, and a pair of dark eyes. Her belly twisted, remembering how those lips had skimmed kisses over her skin, nipping and sucking her tender spots until she screamed out her name. Oh dear lord, what was wrong with her. Even after all Sophie had done, she wanted to feel those lips again, wanted a repeat of the heights they had brought her to.
She fought back tears, trying not to relive the moment she had ordered Sophie out of the house. Her look of surprise and distress shouldn’t have upset Eleanor. It vindicated the horror she had felt after that ghastly politician had ripped into her and let her know Sophie’s identity. She looked around the room, hating it now. She hated that Sophie’s scent lingered in the bed, in the bathroom, on the curtains. It was everywhere. But she hated the bed the most, knowing it was where they had made love, had held each other when the ripples of orgasm faded away leaving profound feelings of love and devotion.
She watched the flashes of lightning through the open door. They were becoming more frequent, the grumbles of thunder louder. The storm would hit soon. She’d better make sure all the windows were shut—with no worry about break-ins, they had become careless about security. After closing the glass door to her balcony, she padded downstairs to check the ground floor.
Once everything was secure, Eleanor strode back to the staircase but then hesitated. Guilt niggled as she looked down the passageway to the back unit. She had been furious when she ordered Sophie out of the house, the sense of betrayal so acute it was as if someone had hacked off one of her limbs. She had given her heart to this woman, only to have it thrown back in her face. All for the sake of a sensational article for some crappy little newspaper. What was it with people that they wanted to read that rubbish anyhow? Why couldn’t they mind their own damn business?
As much as she tried to ignore it, a glimmer of reason kept nagging at the back of her mind. If she were honest, she had to take some blame. She had turned a blind eye to what was obvious. It hadn’t really gelled that Sophie was a domestic—she was too smart, too well read. Eleanor knew Sophie had been trying to tell her something, but she hadn’t wanted to change the status quo, so had cut her off each time. She wished she had listened. If she had been told properly, she wouldn’t have reacted so forcefully. The blow would have been cushioned, not such a shock as learning the truth from a rude man in the middle of a parking lot. It had not only been upsetting, but also grossly humiliating.
She took the first step up the staircase and again paused. With the storm brewing, she should check on Sophie. Ignoring her inner voice that said it was simply an excuse to see her, she pushed open the door of the unit. She froze on the threshold, just able to register in the dark that there was no one in the bed. She fought down panic and snapped on the light. The room was empty, the bed stripped. She flung open the cupboards. The clothes were gone. Eleanor closed her eyes, feeling sick. Sophie had obeyed her to the letter. She had left.
Eleanor ran out back to check the buggy—it was still in the garage. So where would she have gone in the middle of the night? She must have rung either Lisa or Austen to pick her up. But Eleanor hadn’t been able to sleep. She would have heard any activity. With a heavy heart, she took a sleeping tablet before she went back up to bed.
The front doorbell roused Eleanor out of a deep sleep. She patted the other side of the bed. It was empty. Groggily, she opened one eye to check the time. Damn, it was half past nine—why hadn’t Sophie wakened her. Then she remembered with a groan. No Sophie. With a burst of speed, she threw on a T-shirt and pair of shorts and hurried downstairs. Lisa’s cheery face greeted her when she opened the door.
“Lisa, how nice to see you. Come on in.”
“Hi, Eleanor. I’m here to pick up Sophie. She wanted to check the pots with me this morning. She was planning to make you a special lobster dinner tonight.”
Eleanor’s stomach gave a lurch, but she hid her disappointment. Sophie hadn’t gone to Lisa’s last night. “Umm…I think she went over to Austen’s earlier.”
“Austen and the band were at the centre packing up their gear and dismantling the sound and light systems. Sophie wasn’t with them.”
“Oh, then she must have gone for a walk or swim. I took a sleeping tablet and only just woke. What say I give you a ring when she gets home?”
“I’ll have a look around the beach. Maybe she’s waiting for me there. If she’s not, I’ll have to go before it gets too late. Can you tell her I called when she turns up?”
“Shall do,” said Eleanor wea
kly.
When the sound of the buggy faded into the distance, she plopped down heavily onto a chair. Where was she? She doubted Sophie would have rung Deirdre or Doug. She had too much pride to air her dirty laundry. So where had she disappeared to? Surely, she hadn’t actually walked away with all her luggage in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the phone. It was better to suffer some embarrassment than to sit all day wondering. When the familiar voice came on the end of the line, Eleanor spoke quietly and evenly into the receiver, “Eleanor here, Deirdre. You haven’t seen Sophie by any chance?”
“Not this morning. Is she picking something up for you?”
“I slept in and thought she might be there. I expect she’ll turn up shortly. Is there a helicopter coming in by any chance today? The studio is sending me something to sign.”
“There’s one due in at two.”
“Fine. I’ll come down later on then. Bye for now.” Eleanor placed the phone back in its cradle, at a loss how to proceed. Sophie seemed to have disappeared into thin air. If she wasn’t on the chopper this afternoon, then the only other way to get out was by sea. And there wasn’t a shuttle service to the mainland for guests, so unless she hitched a ride on a boat somehow, she had to go by air. Eleanor’s only recourse was to wait until this afternoon.
After wandering lost around the house for an hour, and still tired, she went back upstairs, stretched out fully clothed on top of the bed and dropped off. Hours later, she woke from shivery, disturbing dreams to the whopping sound of whirring blades overhead. After a dash to the loo, she hurried to the buggy.
The helicopter was still sitting on the landing pad when she reached the point. When she saw an elderly couple were the only passengers about to board, disappointment rolled through her. No Sophie.
She felt like screaming out a swearword, but instead smiled sweetly at the pilot who gazed at her enquiringly. “I’m expecting a document, Captain, so I thought I’d pop down myself.”
“Sorry, Ms. Godwin. There’s nothing for you.”
“Oh well,” she said overbrightly. “Maybe tomorrow.” Fresh out of ideas, despondently she headed home.
By the time evening fell, she was resigned to the fact that Sophie wasn’t coming back. Thinking about her only made Eleanor alternately angry and weepy, so she poured herself a glass of red and switched on the TV. The six thirty news had just begun when the doorbell rang. Heart thumping, she ran down the hallway and flung it open. For a moment, Eleanor couldn’t comprehend why she was here, but then remembered. Damn! She’d invited her to dinner. Self-consciously, she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her shirt before she stiffened her spine that seemed to want to buckle, and forced a smile. “Austen. Come on in.”
Austen’s eyes raked over her, top to toe. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Ellie?”
Eleanor felt herself deflate. She knew she must look a sight: her eyes felt gritty and puffy, her hair was a mess and her nose runny. It took an effort not to blubber. “I’m a bit sick. I forgot you were coming. Sorry, I haven’t prepared anything. I’ll get you a drink and rustle something up.”
“Where’s Sophie?”
“She’s…she’s not here anymore.”
“What! How come?”
“I…we…It doesn’t matter. She’s gone for good.”
Austen looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What did you damn-well do to her?”
“Stop playing that blame game,” Eleanor snapped, offended. “What makes you think it’s my fault? For your information, it turns out she’s a reporter. A spy.”
“Holy s-h-i-t. I knew there was something suss about her. I’ve never had a housekeeper that hot.”
“For heaven’s sake, Austen, must you reduce everything down to sex?”
To her annoyance, Austen chuckled. “And you never noticed?”
“Don’t be such a smart aleck. There’s beer in the fridge, or a Shiraz is open on the kitchen bench. I think Sophie froze a couple of dinners. I’ll microwave something.”
“A beer will be good.” After twisting the cap off, she tilted her head toward the terrace. “We can eat later. Let’s sit outside and you can tell me all about it. You were happy as a pig in mud when you left last night.”
Eleanor filled her glass before following her into the open air. Once they were seated, she took a long drink before she set her glass on the silver coaster on the table. “We were ambushed in the parking lot by a dreadful politician. Apparently, Sophie is a political reporter for the Brisbane Morning Globe and it seems she wrote a disparaging article about him. Coupled with the fact he hates her, he’s here with a woman who’s not his wife so you can imagine he wasn’t too pleased to see her.”
“They had a fight?”
“Very harsh words. He even had the audacity to ask me if I was mad.”
Austen gave a whoop. “I wish I’d seen that. Did you peg him back to size?”
Eleanor bared her teeth. “If I have the misfortune to run into him again and he says one more word, he won’t know what hit him. I have a few connections who can make his life miserable.”
“So what’s happening with Sophie?”
“I told her to go.”
“Just like that—scram, vamoose, bugger off, you’re sacked babe? What did she say?”
Heat flushed across Eleanor’s face. She had another drink to delay answering. Austen stared at her for a second. “You did give her a chance to explain, didn’t you?”
“Not in so many words. I…ah…felt betrayed, and very angry, so I…um…ordered her out of the house.”
“Where did she go?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t drive her anywhere?”
“No.”
“When did she go? Damn Ellie, this is like extracting teeth. Just tell me what happened,” said Austen, clearly exasperated.
Eleanor threw her hands up in the air. “Okay I’ll tell you. I don’t know where she is. She’s disappeared. I went down to her room an hour after I said those things and she was gone. With all her luggage. The buggy was in the garage so she must have walked.”
“In that thunderstorm?” said Austen incredulously. “Geez, you’re one heartless bossy grouch. You’d give the Christmas Grinch a run for his money. You make a big play for her, and in the next breath order her to go without a chance to explain. You have no idea what makes her tick, do you? What did you think was going to happen when you told her to go? Naturally, she wasn’t going to hang around. She has more self-worth than that.”
Under normal circumstances, Eleanor wouldn’t have taken that from Austen. She was hardly one to sermonise on how to treat women. But this time she bit her tongue, knowing there was truth in what she was saying. “Only part of this is my fault. Sophie had every opportunity to tell me who she was. You’re forgetting the crux of this unfortunate business. She’s a reporter in my house under false pretences, with the express purpose to spy on me for a newspaper article. Whether she would have written a tell-all is immaterial.”
“I know. But once you became lovers, it changed everything. It wouldn’t have been all roses for her. I can imagine she’s been going through hell trying to get up the courage to tell you.”
“Yes, I believe she did try, but I didn’t really give her an opportunity. What do you think I should do?”
“It’s too late, Ellie. My guess is that she’ll be long since gone by now.”
“How could she get off the island? She wasn’t flown out.”
“The band went out by boat this morning. I bet she was on it.”
Eleanor blinked at her in surprise, letting out a painful breath as she bowed to the inevitable. Sophie was out of her life. “That must be the explanation. She’s nowhere on the island.”
“This could come back and bite you on the backside,” said Austen with a frown. “She knows your secret about Maria.”
“She doesn’t know who she is exactly.”
“She knows you had the
affair in Rome. If she’s any sort of journalist, it won’t take much digging to identify her.”
Eleanor stared out over the sea, lost in her memories. “She won’t write about it. Sophie won’t betray my trust—she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.” She turned to look at Austen with a sad smile. “You know, I don’t really care whether she prints it or not. Through my failure to forgive, I’ve lost the woman I adore and that’s infinitely worse. Everything else pales in comparison. I actually don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Sophie, why didn’t you let me know you were back?” Brie stood at the door with her arms folded, censorious. “Let’s have coffee at that new place in the mall and you can tell me all about your assignment. I’ve been simply livid with jealousy.”
“I’m only here to work on the article and then I’m taking a break.” Sophie kept her eyes on the computer screen while she continued to pound the keys. “I’ve got a present for you.”
“Something you picked up on the island?” asked Brie. She dropped down into the chair opposite, eagerly.
“Oh, much better than that…you’re going to love this one. I’m going to let you publish them in your name, but I’ll make it quite clear to Owen I supplied you with them.” She turned from the keyboard, opened the folder and spread the pictures onto the desktop.
Sophie was enormously proud of the images of Austen. Photography was one of her keenest hobbies, a pursuit that had come in very handy as a journalist. In fact, she’d considered it as a career at one point. Brie’s quick intake of breath confirmed how good they were.
“They’re fabulous,” Brie said in a hushed voice. “My God, Soph. I’ve never seen anything like them. How on earth did you persuade her to pose?”
Sophie shrugged. “We became friends.”
“You’re friends with Austen Farleigh? Really? Wow, go girl! Have you shown Owen yet?”
“Nope. I’m going to finish this article and give him everything. Then I’m going to tell him where he can stick his job.”
