Poinciana Road

by Margaret Way

  * * *

  The night sky was studded with a billion tightly clustered stars that were, in fact, vast distances apart. Their light splashed down on planet Earth, exceptionally luminous, as stars always are over the sea. The Milky Way streamed across the sky like a glittering celestial river. The Southern Cross, Jirrunjoonga, the Guiding One in the aboriginal Dreamtime, hung over the house. The brightest star, Alpha Crucis, pointed almost directly at the celestial South Pole.

  Blaine was driving a BMW coupe One Series, a beautiful machine. “Some cars announce their owners,” she remarked as she buckled herself in.

  “On occasions such as this I leave the Range Rover at home. I’m sure you’d rather ride in this?”

  “It’s a great start.” Already the confined space was having an additional impact on her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so close to Blaine in a car. “A lot has happened since I was last here.”

  “It certainly has,” he confirmed with more than a hint of pride in the North’s achievements. “Five of the country’s top ten tourist destinations are in Queensland, three in the tropical North. The Whitsundays are splendid gateways to the Great Barrier Reef. Then there’s the Daintree. The rainforest has the most varieties of plants per square metre on the planet. Can’t forget Magnetic Island either, half national park and bird sanctuary.”

  Mallory knew all these places first-hand. “Captain Cook named Magnetic, as we know, because of its magnetic effect on Endeavour’s compass. However, plenty of people have explored the island with various instruments yet discovered no such effect.”

  “Including me,” Blaine, a yachtsman, said matter-of-factly. “I have a new tourist development underway at Pelican Point,” he said. “I could show you around sometime. No high-rise building. Low-set bungalows in landscaped grounds, maximum privacy.”

  “Unashamedly high end?”

  “Well, yes. The North depends on its tourists. I aim to give them what they want.”

  “The man with the Midas touch.”

  He glanced across at her. “Improving the economy of our region is the top item on my agenda.”

  “And I do applaud you,” she said, jangling her gold bracelets like a tambourine.

  They arrived at the restaurant. The Lotus Garden, designed as a Thai pavilion with its waterfront views, came as a delightful surprise. This was good for the town and its steady influx of tourists.

  They made quite an entrance even if it was unintentional. Neither was the sort of person who would go unnoticed. Mallory couldn’t help but be conscious of the sudden buzz in the air. People were watching. Chairs were even being pushed back to afford better viewing. Most of the tables were taken although it was a weeknight.

  A stunningly beautiful Asian woman wearing a very elegant outfit showed them to their table. The young woman had greeted Blaine in Thai. He responded in the same language. As he’d mentioned, he came here often, obviously as an honoured guest.

  Both of them had to pause here and there, exchanging greetings with people they knew well. No sooner had they moved on than heads bent and voices whispered comments. The whole town of Forrester would know by the morning.

  “This is lovely. I am impressed.” They were seated beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the Coral Sea. Mallory glanced around, studying all the details, feeling the atmosphere, alive, glowing with pleasure in good food and good wine.

  “I’m glad. It’s nice having you here with me.” He leaned towards her as he spoke.

  There was a table between them but he might have been speaking directly into her ear, their faces touching. Excitement whirled through her. If Blaine ever set his mind to seducing her, just for the hell of it, she would have a battle on her hands. “Where do we start?” She picked up the beautifully presented menu, bowing her head over it.

  “We’ll take the March Hare’s advice. Start at the beginning.”

  “I loved Alice in Wonderland,” Mallory confided, with a nostalgic smile. “I identified with Alice. As a child I used to think Wonderland was up with the stars, not down a rabbit hole. The stars were where my mother was.”

  “She was very lovely.”

  Her expression melted as it always did at mention of her mother.

  “The most beautiful woman I had ever seen,” Blaine told her. “She had such an air of refinement about her, a powerful if unconscious allure. It’s no surprise both brothers loved her. Any man would have fallen head over heels in love with her.”

  She gave a melancholy sigh. “My mother was the love of Uncle Robert’s life, only in the end she chose my father.”

  “Robb is a dreamer. Life is never safe for dreamers. Your father knew what he wanted and went after it.”

  She made a small sound of distress. “Uncle Robert must have recognised what was happening right under his nose but did nothing. Perhaps he trusted his brother when he shouldn’t have? Maybe he felt certain of my mother?”

  “Robb was born to be disillusioned, Mallory. He’s a romantic, not a realist.”

  “My father dazzled her. He would have been very handsome—he still is—ambitious, very proud of his cleverness, much more forceful than Uncle Robert. A domineering man. I don’t like forceful men.”

  “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.”

  She could sense his impatience with that. “Maybe I’ve relinquished all faith in controlling men. I don’t accept it’s a woman’s role to submit to the alpha male.”

  “Well, certainly not for you,” he said very dryly. “You would bring equal weight to a partnership, my dear Mallory.”

  “I would hope so, otherwise what’s the point?”

  “We’re not meant to be alone.” Blaine sat back, watching the candlelight gild her high cheekbones and put gleams in her velvet-brown eyes. It pleased him she was wearing her long, thick hair loose. It created a glorious cloud around her face and curled over her bare shoulders. “I may be many things, but I’m not a controlling man. I have too much regard for others. Too much regard for women.”

  She looked down at his hand lying on the table; an elegant, long-fingered hand. For a fraught instant she could feel that hand moving slowly, caressingly over her body. His magnetism was very powerful tonight. Quickly she took a sip of water, gaining her some breathing space. “Uncle Robert gave me a few unsettled moments tonight.”

  “Oh?” His black brows rose.

  “He spoke about his love for my mother in such a way she might have been in the room with us. It upset me. It always upsets me. Uncle Robert has spent his life loving a woman who no longer walks the earth. He said he had been going through the motions except for me. I was his sacred trust. I will inherit Moonglade except for a few bequests.”

  “So?” He was aware of the contents of Robert’s will. “Isn’t that what you expected? You’re everything to Robb.”

  She looked away blindly. “I couldn’t help thinking of a few lines from Christopher Marlowe.”

  “Something about a master about to die?”

  “Trust you to guess. The master giving away all his goods. Uncle Robert was staring at me, Blaine, but he wasn’t seeing me at all. He was seeing my mother. It was almost as though I were transparent. How can that be? I have to confess I had an electric sense of her presence. How does one stay in love with a ghost? I thought it only happened in romantic fiction.”

  “Usually with a very unhappy ending.”

  “Only it does happen. I’m witness to that. I read a book by a famous American writer, David Foster Wallace. The title was All Love Stories Are Ghost Stories. I believe it. Why did Uncle Robert mention his will tonight when I was ready to go out? We agreed he’s getting stronger every day. Ted is happy with him. If he looks after himself, Uncle Robert has years to come.”

  “I suppose if one suffers a heart attack well into the sixties, a will is very much on one’s mind. Now, I want you to relax. That’s why we’re here.” Resolutely he picked up the menu. “Do you like it spicy?” he asked.

&nbs
p; “If we’re talking food, yes.”

  “What else could I possibly be talking about?”

  She gave a low gurgle in her throat.

  The sound was so appealing Blaine wanted to hear it over and over again. “Let’s call a truce tonight,” he said, a serious note in his voice.

  She looked back at him, smiled. “It would be a release from the sparring partners. Unless you break it.”

  “So champagne to start,” he suggested. “Beer goes best with Thai. I suggest Singha or Chang for later.”

  * * *

  Thai cuisine is all about balancing flavours: spicy, sweet, salty, bitter, and sour. So close to the Great Barrier Reef there was an abundance of the world’s finest seafood to create the most dynamic dishes. The restaurant was supplied with all manner of poultry, vegetables and salad ingredients, exotic fruits, fresh from local farms including, as Mallory learned, Moonglade Plantation. The French-born, French-trained chef had made it a point of getting to know his suppliers and touring their farms.

  An exuberantly Italian waiter attended them during the meal. Instead of a main course they decided to work their way through a series of delicious starters, small portions that allowed them to taste a range of the most succulent morsels the chef had to offer: chargrilled lemongrass prawns, sea scallops, crab, steamed leaf-wrapped Red Emperor, green mango, banana blossom salads. Again both chose a light dessert, a trio of sorbets, the vibrant pink of pomegranate, golden mango, white lychee, finishing with a Thai iced coffee.

  Mallory was finishing her very good iced coffee when her attention, along with the rest of the room, was caught by a late-arriving couple moving into the dining room. “Speak of the devil! Surely that’s Selma with a very prosperous-looking man who’ve just walked in?” she exclaimed. “Don’t turn around.”

  “I’m not planning to.” His reply was short.

  “You’ve never said. Do you miss her? I mean you’ve known her even longer than me.”

  “We’re still friends.”

  She hadn’t outgrown her games after all. “Hard to be still friends with a woman like Selma. Jason is definitely not friendly with me. She looks very glamorous. The man with her is many years older. It’s not her father.”

  “Time to go, Mallory, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Give it a minute. They’re coming our way.”

  “You’re enjoying this?” His eyes glinted.

  “Of course I am. Isn’t that wicked? But don’t worry, I’m here as backup.”

  “Backup for what?”

  “Selma doesn’t look cured.” Her tone gentled. “She was seriously in love with you.”

  “Love affairs are never easy, Mallory,” he retaliated. “You ought to know that. Yours didn’t work for you, either.”

  “There you go again, having the last word when I thought we’d called a truce.”

  Selma, in all her glimmering glory, and her escort arrived at their table. Blaine rose to his impressive height, but Selma was the first to speak, an aggressively confident woman. “Darling, I thought maybe I’d see you tonight.” She planted a kiss on either cheek, then for good measure a third kiss, allowing her full red lips to graze the side of his mouth. “I hope you haven’t forgotten the twenty-fifth?” she enquired archly, trailing her hand slowly down his white jacket sleeve.

  “I have to give it a bit of thought, Selma. The twenty-fifth?” Blaine assumed surprise.

  “You’re joking, of course. It’s my birthday. The big three-oh,” she reminded him with a touch of grimness.

  “Of course it is!” he responded, as though he needed no further reminder. “Every woman would wish to look like you at thirty or any age, Selma.”

  Indeed they would, Mallory thought. Selma looked marvellous. Her long mane of dark hair, straightened from its natural curl, gleamed like black satin. Her make-up was perfect. She wore a short silver evening dress featuring a peplum. An assortment of serious jewellery added to the dazzle. It was miles over the top for the occasion, but it created a memory that would be hard to erase.

  “Thank you, darling.” Selma flashed Mallory a smile full of practised charm. “And this is Mallory, of course.”

  Who the heck else?

  “How are you, Selma? It’s been a long time,” Mallory responded pleasantly.

  “Not easy to come back, I would think?” Something like malice flowed down Selma’s glowing face.

  “On the contrary, I’m delighted to be back.”

  Selma turned away. “I’d like you both to meet a good friend of mine from Hong Kong, Arnold Youngberg. Arnie, meet friends of mine, Mallory James and Blaine Forrester.”

  The two men went through the ritual of shaking hands though Mallory, so very sensitive to Blaine’s reactions, could see his heart wasn’t in it. Selma’s companion was now openly checking her out. His glance screamed serial womaniser.

  “Evening, ma’am.” He bowed slightly. Mallory smiled, but did not offer her hand. She had seen his aura.

  “Might we join you for a few moments?” Selma purred, taking their acquiescence for granted.

  “That would have been nice, Selma.” Blaine’s response was suave. “But Mallory doesn’t like to leave her uncle alone for long. You must have heard he suffered a recent heart attack?”

  “Goodness, that’s why you’ve come back here?” Selma, ears pricked like a pointer, visibly relaxed. Obviously the reason neutralised any possible concerns Selma might have had about Mallory’s homecoming. “How long do you plan on staying?”

  “An indefinite period.” Mallory calmly took her vintage evening purse in hand. Selma had been eyeing it. It was just like her to have noticed it once had belonged to Coco Chanel. One didn’t have to peer closely to see the conjoined C’s. “It’s lovely to see you again, Selma. Nice to meet you, Mr. Youngberg.”

  “Arnie, please.” Youngberg was on the short side, top heavy, dark hair receding fast, a luxuriant Genghis Khan type moustache to compensate. His tailored suit was expensive, the double-breasted jacket hiding what Mallory suspected was a football-shaped paunch. Unabashed, he continued to stare at Mallory like a man who had found a 9-carat diamond rolling around the restaurant floor.

  He broke off his scrutiny to address Blaine. “Maybe we could meet up in the next few days, Forrester? Have a drink? Discuss a little business. I’m staying with Selma. You know the number.”

  “Of course he does.” Selma trilled as if at a huge joke. “I’d really love for you to come to my little birthday party, Mallory, while you’re in town.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, Selma, but I must decline. I want to spend as much time as possible with Uncle Robert.”

  “Of course you do. I understand completely,” Selma retorted. “I mean we haven’t seen you in well over what—six years?”

  “Roughly about the time you and Blaine broke off your engagement.”

  “And Jason Cartwright got that Kathy Burch pregnant,” Selma ripped in.

  Arnie Youngberg moved with alacrity to hold Mallory’s chair, pre-empting Blaine.

  “Let me help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May I say you’re one helluva of a beautiful woman?” His smile was positively wolfish.

  “No, you may not.”

  Selma made a heroic effort to maintain her fixed smile. Selma was peeved, an awful word but it seemed to fit.

  Blaine was still laughing as they made it out into the night. “That put old Arnie in his place.”

  “Horrible man. I’m going to test our truce by telling you he has a bad aura.”

  “Ah, the auras, again. Never goes away.”

  “‘Sad, but true.”

  “So you still see them?” His tone was light, smooth, teasing.

  “Science will hit on an explanation sooner or later and then won’t you feel foolish?”

  “No way!” He looked up at the glittering sky. “It’s early. Care to go for a stroll?”

  “It might take the edge off that remark,” she said. “Besid
es, we have to do something after that wonderful dinner.”

  “I’m pleased you enjoyed it.”

  “I did.” She turned to front the quicksilver sea. “Isn’t this just heaven!”

  “You wouldn’t find it anywhere else.”

  “And you get to live here.”

  “There’s nothing stopping you from making a life here,” he said. “You could continue your work.”

  “I know.” For once she didn’t want to talk about her work. The beauty of the night was heightening the strange rush inside her. She could feel the breeze blowing off Coral Sea enveloping her body. The scent of salt and the greenness of the offshore islands was in the air. She could hear the lapping of the inrushing waves; see the froth of white lace decorating the shoreline. She had swum in those waves, dived from Blaine’s yacht into a measureless blue sea.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m part of all this, just as you are. This is the absolute best. My heart’s choice.”

  “And mine. There can’t be too many parts of the world that are more beautiful.”

  “Remember when we used to go scuba diving?” she asked, dreamily. “It was you, not Uncle Robert, who introduced me to our wonderful undersea world. The kingdom of coral. As bright, as beautiful and diverse as the most beautiful flowers. I remember the clouds of dazzling little fish with colours that defied description flashing past us, swarming in great numbers into those lacey sea fans. Paradise beneath the sea!”

  “Nothing to stop us doing it all again.”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  “Why wait?”

  Why wait indeed. She had the oddest feeling she was undergoing an emotional, even a physical change. She had a heightened awareness of her body, warm, sleek, satiny flesh. She felt womanly, alluring. It was almost unbelievable.

  “Selma seemed quite anxious to see the back of me,” she said, convinced that was so. “Actually I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her. Maybe she has hopes the two of you can get together again?” Was she about to mess it up as usual?

  “Mallory, I won’t play the game.” He cut her off. “You know as well as I do, there’s no coming back.”