Hurricane Hole

by John Kerr

  For a moment Ericsson caught Hamilton in the intense gaze of his pale-blue eyes and then said, ‘Ah … Mr Hamilton. I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.’

  ‘Likewise.’ Hamilton adopted a casual pose with one hand in his pocket as he took a sip of his drink. ‘Maybe we can find time to meet.’

  ‘I should like that,’ said Ericsson. ‘You know these other guests?’

  After Evelyn politely introduced Tom to the local Nassau couples, who struck him as rather coarse in their manners and their poorly concealed interest, especially the wives, in the fact that he was escorting the beautiful, aristocratic, and married Mrs Shawcross, he gently insisted that they move on to the bar. Once they were out of earshot, Hamilton said, ‘Tell me about Ericsson. Is it true what they say about him?’

  ‘What do they say about him?’ asked Evelyn.

  ‘That he’s a friend of Göring, for instance. That he thinks it was a mistake for England to take on Hitler.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Evelyn in an off-hand way. ‘What difference does it make? We’re in the war, aren’t we? Why should it matter what a wealthy man from Sweden, which is neutral, after all, thinks about it? He’s quite charming and doing a great deal of good for the poor Bahamians…’

  ‘OK,’ said Hamilton, holding up a conciliatory hand. ‘Sorry I asked. Now, who is that,’ he asked, motioning with his glass, ‘talking with the duke and duchess?’

  ‘Sir Harry Oakes. Would you care to meet him?’

  It would have been highly presumptuous for anyone other than Evelyn Shawcross to interrupt a private conversation between the former king and the wealthiest man in the empire. The duke, dispelling any doubts about his feelings, greeted her warmly with a welcoming smile and kiss. ‘Please, go on,’ he instructed Oakes as Hamilton stood somewhat awkwardly at Evelyn’s side.

  ‘Well, Governor,’ said Oakes, ‘I think you might want to beef up security around here. A lot of dough’s been spent out there at Oakes Field, and if I was you, I’d be goddamn worried the Germans might pull something. Oh,’ he said, noticing Hamilton.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Evelyn, ‘Let me introduce Tom Hamilton. Sir Harry Oakes.’

  ‘Hamilton,’ said Oakes with a frown. ‘I knew your old man.’

  ‘Really?’ said Hamilton, as he stepped forward to shake hands.

  ‘Yep. Helluva wildcatter from Oklahoma. My kind of man.’

  After giving Hamilton a puzzled look, the duke said, ‘Well, Sir Harry, I take your point. I shall have to speak to our chief of security. But I must say’ – he gave Oakes a look of royal condescension – ‘I rather doubt the Germans would have any interest in our charming little island.’

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ said the duchess, who was clinging to her husband’s arm, ‘but it’s time we served our guests their supper. You must lead the way.’

  After following Evelyn to the dining-room, Hamilton discovered that they were seated at the table of honour, with Evelyn next to the duke and Hamilton beside Mrs Ericsson. As he stood with his hands on the back of his chair, he observed the elaborate table decorations made of holly and white roses around bright red candles. Once all the ladies were in their places, the duke took his seat, and on cue the men sat down, Ericsson next to the duchess, and Evelyn’s friend Alastair Mackintosh was paired with an attractive middle-aged woman. Hamilton noticed that Sir Harry Oakes was seated with the duchess’s Aunt Bessie at the next table, whereas his daughter Nancy and Alfred de Marigny had been banished to a table on the far side of the room. Dinner was served, wild duck in addition to the usual roast beef. Though the surrounding tables were soon buzzing with conversation, the duke’s table remained awkwardly silent as his guests waited upon his grace to lead the way. As it happened, he was more concerned with the tenderness of his duck and the bouquet of his wine, and it fell upon the duchess to comment first on the delightful weather and then the dreadful scarcity of fashionable clothes, with Paris shut off from the world. The duke in due course called on Mackintosh to repeat a clever story he’d told in the duck blind, which led to a general discussion of the quality of the game on the table, the excellence of the wine and, at last, to a long and tedious discussion of the crayfish cannery Ericsson was operating on Grand Bahama.

  Through it all Hamilton occasionally made eye contact with Evelyn, who appeared to be relishing her private conversation with the duke. More than anything, he was struck by the duchess’s charm; though not pretty, she carried herself in a confident, handsome way, with intelligent eyes, and dark hair parted in the centre and brushed back in a way that complemented her prominent cheekbones. In addition to the remarkable necklace, he was fascinated by the jewel-encrusted flamingo brooch pinned to the shoulder of her lavender gown. Because he’d been straining to hear Evelyn’s conversation with Ericsson, he was somewhat startled when the duchess looked directly at him and asked, ‘What brought you to Nassau, Mr Hamilton?’

  ‘Well,’ he began, noticing that all three men at the table were staring at him, ‘I came out to investigate a business venture—’

  ‘A speculation in real estate,’ interjected Mackintosh, ‘according to Evelyn.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Hamilton. ‘Possibly buying some property opposite town, on Hog Island, for development after the war.’

  ‘What sort of development?’ asked Ericsson.

  ‘Assuming I can convince the authorities to build a bridge, a first-class hotel with a casino.’

  The mention of a casino aroused the duke’s interest. ‘Rather an intriguing idea,’ he commented with a smile. ‘An alternative to that wretchedly corrupt Havana.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Hamilton, ‘a nice winter resort for the right sort of people, from Great Britain as well as the East Coast, where we’re not likely to legalize gambling any time soon.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Mr Hamilton,’ said Ericsson in his heavy accent, ‘I see several obstacles to this scheme. In the first place, this terrible war is continuing with no end in sight, and secondly, you may find it rather difficult to purchase this property.’ He smiled unexpectedly.

  ‘Yes,’ said the duchess, ‘it’s well known that dear Nils owns virtually all of Hog Island.’

  ‘That may be,’ said Hamilton, who noticed that Evelyn was closely following every word. ‘But perhaps, your highness,’ he suggested, turning to the duke, ‘there might still be a way to bring the war to an early conclusion, at least as far as Germany is concerned.’ In the silence that followed, Hamilton held the duke in his gaze.

  ‘I for one,’ said the duke solemnly, ‘regard it as a tragic mistake to sacrifice the lives of so many of our finest sons and the destruction of our greatest landmarks in what will likely prove to be a useless struggle with Germany, when the real threat to our civilization, nay, our way of life, comes from the Soviets.’

  ‘Here, here,’ said Ericsson, raising his glass.

  ‘And so, to answer your question, Mr Hamilton,’ continued the duke, ‘yes, I believe we should rely on diplomacy, and not force of arms, to bring an end to the war. And then, perhaps,’ he concluded, ‘you might pursue this interesting idea of yours, providing Nils will co-operate.’

  As dessert was being served, music drifted from the ballroom, a surprisingly good band, thought Hamilton, as he tapped his foot, capable of a good rendition of the latest swing tunes. The guests politely waited on the duke and duchess to finish their desserts and then followed them into the ballroom, admiringly standing back in a wide circle as the royal couple made a graceful turn around the parquet. As the duchess glided past in a flawless foxtrot, an audible gasp escaped several of the Nassau ladies, while others couldn’t help but gape at her exquisite gown and jewels. The duke’s Christmas ball was unquestionably the high point of the season, and the dance floor was soon overflowing with couples, turning and spinning to the up-tempo beat. Hamilton danced cheek-to-cheek with Evelyn, observing with a wry smile the antics of the local Bay Street Boys and their déclassé wives as t
hey tried to outshine one another. He also noticed the rather appalling way Alfred de Marigny groped an attractive, middle-aged woman as they slowly danced past, while young Nancy was unhappily paired with de Videlou. The warmth of Evelyn’s cheek, the fragrance of her perfume, the sensation of her body pressing close soon overwhelmed his awareness of everything around them. As the music died away, Hamilton stared into Evelyn’s eyes, reluctant to let go of her hand, and said, ‘Let’s get a breath of fresh air.’ Evelyn, who clearly knew her way around the mansion, led him down a quiet corridor, passing through French doors onto a veranda overlooking the lawn and gardens. Without illumination, they stood in the shadows, enjoying the cool night air and silence, broken only by the chirr of crickets and an imperceptible calypso melody in the distance. Leaning against a column, Hamilton stared into the darkness. ‘This is perfect,’ he said, turning to face Evelyn. ‘I’d about had my fill of that crowd.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re beginning to understand,’ she said, ‘what it’s like for me here.’

  He thought about saying, why not come with me back to the US? To New York, or Miami? In the next instant he realized how wrong it would be, and a wave of guilt passed over him.

  ‘Tom,’ she said with a concerned look, ‘is something wrong?’

  ‘It’s just,’ he said with a sigh, ‘that I’m crazy about you, and I shouldn’t be.’

  Taking a half-step toward him, she clasped her arms around him and kissed him, lightly at first but then with a rising passion they both surrendered to.

  ‘Evelyn,’ he whispered when they broke at last, ‘I—’

  ‘Hush,’ she said, as she stared urgently into his eyes, ‘don’t say it.’ She kissed him again, and he held her tight, his hands wandering from her bare shoulders to the nape of her neck that elicited a murmur of delight. ‘Let’s go,’ she said softly. ‘Will you take me home?’

  Pulling away slightly while he held her, he looked questioningly into her eyes. He was about to answer when suddenly he was aware of motion at the other end of the veranda. ‘What is it?’ she whispered. Hamilton stared into the darkness, able to make out the orange tip of a cigarette and the outline of someone in the shadows. He whispered, ‘We’ve got company.’ In the next instant, a set of French doors flew open, and another form appeared in the darkness.

  ‘So there you are!’ a man said angrily. He slammed the doors.

  ‘Yes, here I am.’ Hamilton recognized the voice of Alfred de Marigny, who added drunkenly, ‘And what of it?’

  ‘I saw you with your hands all over that woman,’ said the other man. From his tone of voice Hamilton surmised that it was Sir Harry Oakes.

  ‘We were dancing,’ said de Marigny. ‘This is a dance, is it not?’

  ‘Well, Nancy saw it too, and the poor kid’s all upset.’

  ‘Oh, it’s Nancy you’re concerned about?’ asked de Marigny sarcastically.

  ‘You’re goddamn right! I know your type, de Marigny. You’re nothing but a sex fiend.’

  ‘After what you did to poor Nancy, don’t think you can lecture me—’

  ‘What I did?’

  ‘Murdering her baby,’ said de Marigny in a louder voice. ‘It broke her heart.’

  ‘You sonofabitch,’ said Oakes. ‘I should bust your mouth.’

  ‘Do you think I’m afraid of an old man? Hah. You make me laugh.’

  ‘You sorry French bastard. What do you want? Money? I’ll pay you money, but I want you out of here, do you hear me? Gone, for good!’

  Hamilton, his arm around Evelyn’s waist, could dimly see that Oakes had taken a step toward de Marigny and had menacingly raised his fist.

  ‘I don’t want your money, you old fool,’ replied de Marigny. ‘You can’t pay enough money for what you’ve done to Nancy and me. Why don’t you just leave us alone?’

  ‘I’m not done with you, de Marigny,’ said Oakes, advancing another step. ‘Nobody crosses me and gets away with it,’ he snarled, shoving de Marigny’s shoulder. De Marigny suddenly stood up to his full height and pushed the much shorter Oakes backward, who lost his balance.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ shouted de Marigny. ‘If you bother me again, I’ll kill you!’

  Evelyn clutched Hamilton, her face pressing against his shoulder. ‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered. A light came on in the hallway and other voices could be heard. The door opened and Nancy appeared in the pale yellow light, holding a hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh, Daddy!’ she said. ‘Freddie, is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s all right,’ said de Marigny sullenly. ‘We’re going,’ he announced, taking her by the arm. Sir Harry watched with a malevolent expression as de Marigny led his daughter away. And then, as he straightened his jacket, he noticed Hamilton and Evelyn standing in the shadows. With an inscrutable look, he turned and quickly walked inside.

  ‘How terrible,’ said Evelyn. ‘Tom, please, I want to go.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead and giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I’ll have you back at Greycliff in no time.’

  Standing under the porch light, Evelyn fished in her handbag for her key. ‘There,’ she said, taking it out. ‘I was hoping not to wake Samuel.’ Hamilton nodded, preferring that the servants knew as little as possible about his comings and goings.

  ‘Let me,’ he said. He turned the key and followed Evelyn into the darkened entrance hall. She reached for the switch and turned on the light and, with an encouraging smile, took his hand and started up the stairs.

  Once they were alone, Evelyn turned on several lamps and said, ‘There’s ice and glasses in the bar,’ she said. ‘I’d love a nightcap.’ After a few moments she joined him on the veranda.

  ‘I hope Scotch is all right,’ he said, handing her a glass.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘After that nasty encounter, I could use a whisky.’

  ‘Awfully bad blood between those two,’ said Hamilton.

  ‘It’s a shame the duchess felt compelled to invite de Marigny,’ said Evelyn, ‘but the aristocracy looks after its own, and he does have a title….’

  Hamilton stared into the darkness beyond the railing and then drew close to Evelyn. ‘There was something I didn’t follow,’ he said. ‘The part about murdering her baby?’

  ‘According to the gossip,’ said Evelyn, ‘Nancy was pregnant when they eloped. She was just seventeen, and de Marigny in his thirties and twice-married. Evidently,’ Evelyn continued, ‘her father spirited her away to a Miami hospital, where they aborted the pregnancy. Despite de Marigny’s strenuous objection.’

  ‘I didn’t think that was legal,’ said Hamilton.

  ‘It isn’t. But if you’re Sir Harry Oakes … In any case, the poor girl was disconsolate and has never forgiven her father. Oh, Tom, it’s so awful. I thought de Marigny was going to hit him.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ said Hamilton. Placing both arms around her, he leaned down to give her a slow kiss that both of them knew would quickly burn out of control. ‘Evelyn,’ he murmured, ‘we shouldn’t. Tell me to leave, please.’

  ‘No, no,’ she pleaded, fumbling with the studs of his shirt, ‘don’t leave me.’

  Placing both hands gently around her face he kissed her again, surrendering to desire that quickly overwhelmed what was left of his inhibitions or virtuous intentions. She hastily tore open his shirt, running her hands over his back and shoulders while he traced the outline of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric of her gown. ‘Mmm,’ she said with a shiver. Taking him by the hand, she led him quickly, wordlessly, to her bed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ROLLING OVER ON his side, Tom Hamilton shivered in the cool draught from the open window and pulled the warm quilt up around his chest. In the darkness, with eyes closed, he dreamily imagined he was back home, in his own bed, not the hotel room which, after more than six weeks, he’d grown weary of … No, he suddenly realized, his eyes snapping open. Where was he? First light glowed outside the shuttere
d windows, a glow too dim to illuminate the shadows. Clutching the bedcovers, he squinted into the darkness and reached over to pat the sheets next to him. Taking a deep breath, he detected a trace of her perfume, and it all came back to … bringing Evelyn home and then making love for what seemed like hours until they collapsed in contented exhaustion. The vivid memory was accompanied by a sharp jolt of guilt and remorse. If Evelyn were my wife, he considered unhappily … But where was Evelyn? Just enough light filtered into the room to make out what presumably was a closet door. Conscious of his nakedness, Hamilton hastily threw back the covers and hurried to the closet where he found a cotton robe on a hook. Switching on a lamp, he discovered his clothes neatly folded on a chair and his wallet, money-clip, and watch laid out on the dresser. Examining himself in the mirror, he was doing his best to straighten his hair when the door opened and Evelyn backed into her bedroom.

  ‘Room service,’ she said brightly, holding a tray with orange juice and coffee. ‘Too bad,’ she added. ‘You found your robe. I was rather hoping to breakfast with a naked man.’

  ‘You’re up early,’ said Hamilton sleepily, as he helped her with the tray.

  ‘I usually am. But for some reason, I awoke this morning feeling wonderfully refreshed.’

  Hamilton leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You are wonderful,’ he said. ‘Mmm … smell that coffee.’

  ‘Let’s enjoy it on the balcony. It’s lovely looking out on the garden this time of day.’

  In a sheer peignoir, with her dark hair brushed back and just a touch of make-up, Evelyn seemed even more beautiful than in her ball gown, nestled beside him on the sofa with one slender leg crossed over the other. ‘In less than a week,’ she said, putting her cup aside, ‘it will be Christmas. Mother and Father will be here soon. Tom … what about you?’

  He stared into her eyes, thinking how much he hated the web of deceptions. And how much he wished he could stay, though he knew it meant becoming hopelessly entangled in an affair. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ve run into something of a brick wall with my plans to buy that property. And frankly, I’ve got business back home that needs looking after.’