Paradise Island

by Hilary Wilde

  anything for small girls ... Deborah's nannie whohad remarked that Mrs. Lindstrom was looking for a wealthy husband and was taking Deborah along as "ammunition". Could Mrs. Lindstrom have her eyes on Roland Harvey? Lauren was instantly ashamed of such a catty thought, but it had reminded her of something.'I hope Mrs. Lindstrom won't recognize me "she said. Nick helped himself to lobster. "I doubt it. Shes only seen you once, and you look so very different now." He frowned. "Maybe it would be wiser if you stuck to the role of Natalie all the time ... He paused, seeing the dismayed lookonLauren'8 face and he smiled. "All right, honey child, but remember you must never get the two girls mixed up. When you are Lauren Roubin, slip out the back way and keep to the family beach. When you are Natalie Natal, stay in the luxury setting and act like Natalie." He nodded as the waiter refilled his glass with wine. "And, Lauren, remember that every day at three o'clock we practise.""I'm like Cinderella, only for me the clock strikes at three," Lauren said, and laughed. Nick laughed as well. "Never forget it, orelse!" He pretended to scowl. Lauren slept deeply that night, exhausted mentally as well as physically. She was surprised to see the time when she opened her eyes and sawClaudia there with a tray of tea. She did not want to waste one moment of the lovely day, so she showered and dressed while waiting for herbreakfast of coffee and rolls, which she ate on thebalcony. High up, she had a lovely view of theisland and could plainly see the "family" lagoon Nick had described. It looked lovelythe narrow strip of land running out in a half-circle in the sea, with the tall palms waving slowly. Laughterand voices drifted up to her. 30

  Looking in the mirror, she smiled at herself. Itwas good to be Lauren Roubin again. She had washed the gold rinse and lacquer out of her hair and now it swung to her shoulders, curling under, in gleaming ash-blonde silkiness. She had applied. sunburn lotion to her face, neck and shoulders because Nick had warned her against getting burned. She wore her new green swim-suit and green and white striped shorts, a white shirt, and a white towelling coat. How very young she looked, she thought discontentedly, and then reminded herself that it was a good thing in a way, for no one would connect one so young-looking with the sophisticated painted beauty that was Natalie Natal. As a last disguise, she wore dark glasses, then she used the service lift to get down to the ground floor and out through a smallside entrance so that there would be no likelihood of meeting Deborah or her mother. It would be terrible if she met them and they recognized her. Despite the-great heat, she shivered. She could not bear it if Roland Harvey sent her home! Outside, the bright sunlight made her pause for a moment, not sure which way to go. There were men and women and children, all wearing sun-suits or swim-suits, wandering about. It was all utterly lovelyso very colourful. The blaze of the flowers, the deep green of the well-caredfor lawns, .all the colours of the gay clothes. On a large lawn, there was a Chinese pagoda type of summer-house. Everywhere there was chatter and laughter, and sweet exotic scents from the flowers. Lauren decided that she would follow the way most of the children were going, for surely that should lead to the family beach? She could still see the small village of white chalets and catch glimpses of the pretty dark-skinned maids cleaning them.She had taken only a few steps when some31 thing hurtled against her, clutching her, crying in a familiar voice: "Miss Woubin, Miss Woubin!" Catching her breath with .dismay, Lauren stared down into the upturned, tear-stained face of Deborah. "Why, Deborah darling!" Lauren said, trying to sound pleased. A shadow seemed to block out the sunlight, and Lauren shivered as she saw that it was Mrs. Lindstrom herselftall, slim, incredibly elegant in a lilac-coloured silk sun-suit, her eyes hidden by dark glasses but her voice expressing her surprise. "It is Miss Roubin, isn't it? I certainly didn't expect to see you here, and when Deborah said she saw youwhat on earth are you doing here?" Miss Lindstrom asked, her voice tart. Fortunately she gave Lauren no time to answer, for she went on: "Oh, of course, I remember. I heard they were arranging to give the children dancing lessons. I suppose that's why. This must seem a great 'change to you, Miss Roubin." There was a hint of condescension in her voice. "Oh, it is, Mrs, Lindstrom," Lauren said eagerly, grateful for the fact that Mrs. Lindstrom seemed to have answered her own question to her complete satisfaction. "It is wonderfulout of this world." Deborah was clutching her hand tightly. "Come and see the sands and tiny shells and" "Don't bother Miss Roubin, monkey," Mrs. Lindstrom said sharply. The joy was wiped off the child's freckled face. Her lower lip trembled. "But, Mummy," Deborah said wistfully, "Miss Woubin likes being bovered, don't you, Miss Woubin?" Lauren laughed and smiled at Mrs. Lindstrom. "Deborah is right. Might I borrow her, Mrs. 32 Lindstrom? It's my first day here and I'm a bit lost." The quick relief Mrs. Lindstrom betrayed was instantly hidden. "If you're sure she won't be a nuisance. Her lunch hour is twelve o'clock and then she has an hour's rest." "I'll bring her back in good time," Lauren promised. Deborah, still clutching her hand, was jumping about excitedly, the words tumbling out of her mouth as they walked along the wide pathway that led to the lagoon and beach. They kept meeting people Deborah knew, and she kept saying: "This is my Miss Woubin. She teaches me dancing." Lauren was not sure whether to laugh or cry. Miss Roubin would certainly be well-known now! Was it going to be possible, after all, to keep Lauren and Natalie as two separate people? Supposing Mrs. Lindstrom recognized her tonight as she danced? The fragrance of jasmine teased her nose, the brilliant crimson of the poinsettias delighted her eyes, and Deborah's sticky fingers clinging to hers promised companionship, so Lauren decided to forget her worry for the time being. She could talk to Nick about it that afternoon. For the moment, she was going to enjoy herself. Just in case . . . just in case they were not allowed to stay! The wide half-circle of beach was dazzling white in the bright sunshine. Huge striped red and white sunshades were propped in the sand, tilted to throw welcome shade. With the air of an old-timer, Deborah picked one up from a pile and told Lauren they would go over to a certain big rock where the best shells were found. Lauren looked obediently in the direction indicated and saw a strangely-shaped rock, balanced on one

  point precariously, reminding her irresistibly of a ballerina learning to stand on her points. "Does your mummy bring you here?" she asked Deborah curiously, as the warm sand filtered through her sandals and between her toes. Deborah looked startled. "Oh, no, my mummy hates the sand. I come with my fwiend." She said it importantly. Lauren wondered who was Deborah's "friend". Probably a little girl of the same age group. Lauren spread her white beach coat on the hot sand and lay down, and Deborah struggled to stick the sunshade in the sand. With Lauren's aid, they managed, and tilted it to keep the sun off Lauren's face. "I'll get you some shells," Deborah promised, and raced off towards the water's edge where the sea trickled in so very gently, forming tiny scallops of white. Lauren relaxed, closing her tiny eyes, feeling the blessed warmth of the sun on her body. Oh, what bliss! And how very different from London in a fog! How lucky she was ... if only her luck held. If only Deborah and Mrs. Lindstrom hadn't seen her . . . She must have dozed, for Deborah's shrill little voice awoke .her from her dreams. Lauren opened her eyes and stared up into the face of a man. A man with grey-blue eyes, a man with dark red, disciplined hair. A man with a stern mouth who unexpectedly smiled. "I'm afraid we woke you up," he said crisply. Lauren struggled to wake up properly. There had been nothing hostile in the voice, yet Nick had said Roland Harvey hated and avoided young women. She sat up, starting at him stupidly, rubbing her hand over her sleepy eyes, trying to concentrate. His sun-tanned body was clad in white shorts and he had a large red and white towel 34 over one shoulder. Even as she stared at him, he slid on his dark glasses and she could no longer see the expression in his eyes. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you," he said a little stiffly. "Of course not," she said, suddenly confused as she realized at long last she was actually speaking to Roland Harvey himself. "I'm afraid I was drowsy. I didn't mean to be rude, Mr. Harvey." He smiled, a warm human smile that amazed her. Somehow she had always thought of him as rather inhumannot quite the same as
the rest of the people in the world. She had also thought he would be hard, cold. "Of course you weren't rude. I know how strange one feels when one first wakes up. You know who I am?" "Well, of course, II saw you in London . . . you were lecturing . . ." "You came to one of my lectures?" he sounded surprised. "Yes, andand I've read your books." "May I?" he asked, and taking her silence as consent, sat down on the sand by her side. "Well, Miss Roubin" He paused, still staring at her. If only she could see the expression in those hidden eyes. Stop being scared, she told herself. He knows you as Deborah's friend, the little dancing teacher, Miss Roubin. He hasn't any idea that he saw you dancing last night. Don't panic, as Nick would say. He was stretched out on the sand by her side, leaning on one elbow. "Don't tell me you actually read my books?" he said, and there was a strange smile on his mouth. Her cheeks burned. "But I have read them," she said indignantly, stung by his amusement. "I'll be honest ... I didn't want to go to this lec35 ture, but I went to please a girl who shares my room at the hostel, and II enjoyed the lecture so much that next day I went to the library and got out your books." He was still gazing at her, but she struggled on. He had to believe her, she thought confusedly. Somehow it was terribly important to make him know she was telling the truth. "I liked the book about the mountains best. You really made me feel the excitement of itthe strugglethe challenge . . ." "I believe you're telling the truth," he said, his voice surprised. "Of course I am," she said, suddenly cross. "Why should I lie to you?" "Why not?" he asked. "Plenty of people do." He smiled. This time it was the sort of smile she hatedsarcastic, sceptical. "My dear Miss Roubin," he went on, seeming to bite his words in half, so crisply did he speak. "If you knew the number of pretty young women who tell me they've read my books and yet who couldn't name a single one of them, you'd understand my surprise." She sat up, her cheeks red, her eyes flashing. "I'm not lying to you. You can test me. Go on. I'd like you to. Ask me the titles of your books, what they are about ..." "I really don't think that's necessary," he said stiffly. "Oh, but it is," Lauren said earnestly. What was the matter with her? she wondered. How confused she felt. "I've read The Blue Eagles, The Island That Wasn't, and The River Without An End. -I know Tarketi, your guide, and Mahomet, the man who always lied to you . . ." "Please, please, Miss Roubin," he protested, and she saw that he was laughing. "You've completely convinced me. You really have read my books." 36

  She sank back on her elbows, feeling suddenly exhausted and aware that she had been almost rude to him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harvey," she said nervously. "It was just that whenwhen you suggested I might be lying . . ." His face was grave. "I think I should apologize, but I didn't mean to accuse you. It's simply that I've got so used to people pretending that they have read my books that I'm afraid I'm alittle sceptical." "Miss Woubin! Miss Woubin!" Deborah was racing towards them, shouting. Then she flung herself on the ground between them, smiling at them both. "You're both my fwiends, so you must be fwiends. Isn't that wight?" she asked eagerly. Lauren and Roland Harvey exchanged a significant smile. "Of course we must be friends, poppet," Lauren said, but it all seemed unreallike an impossible dream. "Miss Roubin and I are already good friends," Roland Harvey said quietly. "She has read my books and, I hope, enjoyed them." "Oh, I did," Lauren said earnestly. "They opened up a new world to me." "A new world?" he asked, turning to her. Deborah was leaning against him, sorting out the shells she had gathered. Lauren felt herself colouring. "I mean ... it made me see what sort of an exciting world it can be. My life is so very ordinaryso unadventurous. Yours is so different. It reminds me of my father's life, helps me understand him better." "Your father's life?" She hesitated. Was she boring him? Was he just being polite? Deborah looked up,-her eyes bright with interest. 37

  "Is your father an explorer, Miss Woubin?" Lauren smiled at her. "No, poppet, but he is or wasa deep sea diver. He used to go down deep into the sea, Deborah, and find all sorts of treasures." "Chests of gold?" Deborah asked eagerly. Lauren laughed. "Well, not exactly, but old coins, old bits of pottery that had been 'buried in the sea for hundreds of years ..." "He has retired?" Roland Harvey asked quietly. Lauren looked at him. "Yes. He got the bends very badly and it affected his heart, so he had no choice. He hates it. I expect you would." Roland Harvey nodded. "I certainly would. What does he do with himself all day?" "Oh, he fishes, and he's a keen gardener; then he lectures at the local schoolsoh, and he runs the Sea Scouts and he trains deep sea divers occasionally." "In other words, he sublimates his needs," Roland Harvey said thoughtfully. "A wise and clever man. Your mother must have been glad when he had to retire." Lauren looked thoughtful. "I suppose she was in a way, but it didn't strike me at the time. I do remember that' when Dad came home he always got a fine welcome, but I know she was worried, too, when he had to retire. I remember her saying that he had always been free arid she didn't know how he would manage." "Your mother sounds a most unusual woman, Miss Roubin," Roland Harvey said slowly. "Didn't she hate him diving, wanting him to stop?" The question was put casually, but Lauren sensed a purpose behind the question.' "Wasn't she alarmed for his safety ?" Lauren frowned as she tried to remember. "I suppose she must have been, but she never told us children, though we always knew when Dad was on a dangerous job." 38

  "How did you know?" Roland Harvey asked quietly. Lauren half-closed her eyes, remembering . . . Those days when she lived at home, going to the local convent school and loving her ballet lessons. That was before she joined the Barton School of Ballet and went to live in London. "I remember that she would have a thorough spring-cleaning of the house. We used to moan like mad because all our cupboards and drawers had to be turned out, and . .. and she used to hum a lot. That was a sure sign. It was sometimes as if she couldn't stop." "You weren't afraid for your father?" Startled, Lauren looked at the big, handsome man by her side. "Oh no! You see, to us Dad was someone very special. He was so tall and so strong and he knew everything. We were all sure that nothing could hurt him. We used to get impatient with Mummy and say she fussed. I can understand better now." Roland Harvey was tracing something in the white sand with his finger. "I have a theory that men who live dangerously should never marry," he said slowly. Lauren caught her breath. Was this what it had all been leading up to? She glanced at the child, but Deborah was engrossed in examining and sorting her shells, her face absorbed. "Don't you think," Lauren began nervously, "that the choice should be made by the woman? I mean, if you love someone very much, you obvi ously won't expect him to give up his life's work just because . . .because you're afraid for him." With a quick movement, Roland Harvey took off his dark glasses and looked at her. "Wouldn't you? Yes, you. Miss Roubin." Hi& voice was hard. "It's so easy to talk, but if you loved a man who lived dangerously, wouldn't you expect him 39

  to give it up and settle down to a safe existence in some dull suburb?" / Her hand flew nervously to her throat at the unexpected attack. "I've never thought about it. II think if I loved him . . . enough to want to marry him, I would want him to be happy." He stared at her, his strange blue-grey eyes suddenly cold and accusing. He put on his glasses "and turned away. "It's so easy to talk, but I don't suppose you even know what it means to love someone. You're probably like all womenselfish, possessive, demanding." His voice was bitter, and as he spoke he was on his feet with a quick easy movement. His hand lightly ruffled Deborah's hair as she stared up at him. "Take care of yourself, Deborah," he said gently. "I'll see you again very soon." Then he gave a funny little bow to Lauren. "Doubtless we shall meet again, Miss Roubin, as we share a mutual friend. It has been an interesting conversation, but think over what I've just said and I think you'll find that you would be no different from any other woman." He lifted his hand in salute and walked away. Lauren lay back on the sand, resting on one elbow, and watched his effortless rapid strides cover the blinding white sand. What a strange conversation it had become, and why was he so bitter? How odd that they should have so quickly reached the stage of discussing love and marriage. Was he right? If she loved a man, would she want
to tie him down to a safe job? Could she bear calmly to kiss him goodbye as if he were going to a safe desk in an office, but knowing in truth that he might never return? Could she be calm and accept his daily battle with death? Could she be strong as her mother had been and leave him free to do what he liked? 40

  "He is nice, isn't he. Miss Woubin?" Deborah said. She smiled at Lauren and there was a happy, proud note in her voice. "He's goiny to be my new daddy." Lauren stared at the freckled, sandy-haired child who looked so sure of herself. "Your new daddy?" she echoed. Deborah nodded. She gave a sudden impish grin. "Swear 'cross your heart not to tell anyone, Miss Woubin. Mummy told me it was still a secwet." "A secret?" She seemed only able to echo Deborah's words. The most absurd sort of desolation filled her. Deborah nooded violently. "M'm ... they don't want anyone to know yet, not even me." She grinned again. "Mummy wants him to settle down and stop his gadding about." The words sounded strange on the young lips. Lauren looked at her watch. "Goodness, darling, you'll be late for lunch. I'll take you back." Deborah dusted the sand off her hands and stood up, giving an angelic smile. "Please don't bover, .Miss Woubin. I know my way and I'm quite used to looking after me." She dusted the sand off her small body. "I'll see you later?" she askerf wistfully. Lauren hesitated for a moment. "I'll be here until three o'clock, but then I'll have to go," she said. Deborah beamed. "I'll see you as soon as I've had my rest," she promised, and darted off, her small legs flying across the sand. Left alone, Lauren closed her eyes. There were things she must think abouta decision she must make. But she knew that already she had made it. Now she must get Nick to agree. Somehow she must make him understand. 41