Caribbean Cocktail

by Jane Corrie

  `And mine, too,' said Justin in what sounded like a normal voice, yet Cassy saw that his hands were clenched by his side. 'It appears that we have some-

  thing to celebrate besides the championship,' and he strode over to the end of the room and pressed a switch and a miniature bar swung out silently from a wall niche.

  `How the poor live !' commented Sylvia, not realisising that she was rubbing salt into Cassy's wounds, and not seeing the quick sardonic look that Justin gave Cassy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CASSY never knew how she survived the rest of that evening, but somehow she did, and somehow she managed to thank Justin for the dinner with studious politeness when they departed.

  Had Sylvia not been so much in love, or so wrapped up in her future, she would have known that all was not well between Cassy and Justin. The same went for Greg, who was full of plans for the future, the first and foremost being to take Sylvia home with him the following day and introduce her to his parents.

  As it was, Sylvia and Greg had presumed that they had walked in on a love scene between Cassy and Justin, and had no inkling of the true state of affairs, and the unhappy Cassy saw no reason to disillusion them.

  The following morning Cassy wearily booked her passage back to the U.K. There was no point in staying on; she had lost all enthusiasm for further sightseeing, and only wanted to escape from the island that had caused her so much unhappiness.

  Once she was home, everything would fall into perspective, she told herself determinedly. She might even be able to smile about her experiences, although the way she felt at that moment, that day was a long way away.

  Sylvia rang her as she was starting to pack her suitcase, and she winced at the sheer exuberance of her tone. 'We're off at noon,' she told Cassy. 'I suppose

  you'll be staying the whole fortnight?' she said in an amused, knowing tone. 'Poor Dad,' she went on happily. 'Little did he know he'd lose the pair of us. I suppose it depends which one of us gets back first to break the news to him.' She gave a chuckle that made Cassy wince again. 'Anyway, I'll write to him as I promised, and tell him not to worry if he doesn't hear from you for a while.'

  Cassy's hand gripped the receiver hard. As she was leaving precisely one hour after Sylvia and Greg, she would be home long before the letter arrived, and she knew she ought to have told Sylvia this, but she said nothing.

  Mistaking her silence, Sylvia gave another chuckle. `Hey, wake up, Cassy!' she teased. 'Shake some of that stardust out of your eyes.' Then she added, 'No, don't, it's a wonderful feeling, isn't it?' She sighed mistily. `I'll leave you to your dreams. I promise to write and let you know about Greg's people. I only hope they take to me, I suppose it will be a bit of a shock for them. Greg marching in with his bride-to-be, I mean,' she added.

  When Cassy was able to cut through Sylvia's meanderings, she assured her that she had nothing to worry about. She was sure that Greg's people would turn out to be very nice people, and if they were anything like Greg then they would be nice, and how she would look forward to hearing from Sylvia, ending with, 'Well, I'd better get on with my packing. I don't want to miss the booking I was fortunate enough to get at such short notice.'

  `What booking?' demanded Sylvia sharply. 'Why are you going home? Are you going home?'

  Cassy bit her lip in vexation. She was in a haze all right, but not the one envisaged by Sylvia. She frantically sought for some inspiration to cover her temporary lapse, eventually coming up with, 'Well, I've got to do something about the kennels, haven't I?' crossing her fingers in the hope that Sylvia would not seek further enlightenment.

  `Oh, of course,' replied Sylvia, sounding relieved. For a moment I thought—yes, you'll have to straighten things out that end, won't you. Is Justin going with you?'

  'No,' answered Cassy shortly. Not now, not ever !

  `Oh, well, he's got so many business commitments, hasn't he?' Sylvia explained soothingly. 'But if I'm any judge of matters, he won't let you off the hook for long ! '

  She went on to give Cassy a message for her father, and after what seemed an age, Cassy was able to end the conversation.

  At this rate, thought Cassy wretchedly, she wouldn't know truth from fiction. It only wanted Sylvia or Greg to run into Justin to blow the whole charade sky-high.

  But how else could she have handled it? she muttered fiercely, as she threw her clothes into the suitcase. On no occasion had she had a chance to tell the truth. Then she frowned as she remembered the time when she had wanted to put Justin into the picture, and when Sylvia herself had wanted to own up.

  She passed a hand across her forehead. On each occasion there had seemed a perfectly good reason as to why things should have been left as they were-- either to protect Cassy from what she was convinced at the time was autocratic interference on Justin's part,

  and later his dubious attentions. Then there had been Sylvia to consider, and Cassy had been quite right in thinking that he would not have relished being made a fool of; his treatment of her had proved that beyond any doubt.

  He was well named, she thought bitterly; it was pride that had made him act as he had. Not through any romantic or personal reason—pure pride had been his spur. He had wanted an affair with her and she had turned him down. She stopped packing and sat down on the bed. No little wonder he was so put out at Sylvia' s disclosure. He hadn't wanted to believe her; hadn't wanted to admit that he had made a mistake in classing her as a gold-digger, and treating her as such by making that proposition to her.

  Her soft lips twisted wryly. Poor Sylvia! In her eagerness to put things right, she had slightly overdone the explanation, and Cassy had to admit that it would have been hard enough for a man with much less reason than Justin Pride had to swallow the story.

  With a sigh Cassy got up and re-started her packing. Oh, there had been reason enough to go through with it to the bitter end. What purpose would it have served if she had told Sylvia that her mission had failed so miserably? No purpose at all, Cassy thought grimly, except that of making Sylvia as miserable as she was, at a time when she should have been so happy. Eventually she would have to know, but not yet, and Cassy could always fabricate yet another plausible story as to why the so-called romance had failed. By that time Sylvia would presumably be arranging her wedding date, and engrossed with her own life.

  As the plane soared off the runway right on time,

  Cassy sat back and gave a sigh of pure relief, for she had been haunted with a fear that something would turn up at the last minute to prevent her from catching the flight. What, she had no idea—that either Greg or Sylvia would run into Justin perhaps, and that Sylvia would try to put the record straight before she left.

  But all was well, she thought, as her eyes skimmed the skyline that was rapidly dwindling out of sight as the plane gained height. As well as it would ever be, she told herself sadly. Even allowing for the age-old proverb that the course of true love never ran smoothly, she hadn't stood a chance right from the start of her turbulent association with Justin Pride.

  Cassy arrived at Heathrow in the early hours of the following morning, and booked herself into one of the nearby hotels. Now that she was home, there was no great urgency as to the time she arrived, particularly as she had not warned the family of her arrival, so she could return at her leisure.

  The Surrey countryside looked green and fresh to Cassy as her train ate up the last few miles to her destination. Yes,' she was glad to be home, she told herself, in spite of the ache in her heart whenever she thought of Justin, and Sylvia and Greg. Probably at that very moment Sylvia was meeting his parents, but Cassy had no worries on that score for her. It would be hard for anyone to take exception to Sylvia, she was so sweet-natured. Of course it would be a shock for Greg's parents, but after the first startling disclosure, Cassy was sure all would be well.

  It was almost tea time by the time Cassy arrived back at Oaklands, the Mellar family home, and as she watched her cases being taken into the large roomy

 
hall by the young cheerful taxi driver, she was grateful that her uncle would not be back from the City until six, giving her ample time to freshen up and prepare to bring him up to date with his daughter's affairs.

  After she had showered, and changed into a light summer dress, she went in search of Christine, usually at this time to be found in the garden taking tea under the shade of the old oak tree on the edge of the lawn at the rear of the house. However, as she glanced towards the tree and saw no sign of her or any sign of preparation for a garden tea, she went to find Mrs Harland, the housekeeper, to see if she could enlighten her on this most unusual state of affairs, for Christine rarely absented herself from Oaklands. Even, thought Cassy, frowning, if she had presided over some village festivity, she always made a point of taking tea at home, extremely mindful of the fact that her new husband, should he take it into his head to return home earlier than his normal time, could be certain of her welcoming presence.

  Mrs Harland was just on the point of going to the kitchen to make herself a pot of tea when she met Cassy in the hall. 'Why, Cassy ! ' she exclaimed in a voice that showed her pleasure at seeing her. 'When did you get back?'

  Not very long ago,' smiled Cassy, feeling a warm glow towards the housekeeper. At least she was pleased to see her. It was nice to know someone was ! 'I've been looking for Mrs Mellar. She's all right, isn't she?' she asked.

  Mrs Harland nodded quickly. 'She is, but her mother isn't so good,' she answered. But come on, I need a cup of tea, and I'm sure you do,' she shook her

  head in a sorrowful way. 'They can't make tea in those foreign places. You've probably forgotten what a good cup of tea tastes like.'

  When the tea was made, Mrs Harland commented on Cassy's tan, that she said suited her, and that the holiday had obviously done her pod, and how was Sylvia, and was she really going to stay out there? Knowing her of old, Cassy knew she would have to satisfy her curiosity before much progress was made in any other direction, such as why Christine was not at Oaklands.

  Cassy replied to each question, giving only a slight nod to the 'you must have enjoyed yourself,' question —the least said about that the better ! She told her of Sylvia's engagement to a well-known golfer, and warned her not to say anything about it until she had had a chance to tell Mr Mellar.

  The delighted response this news produced slightly compensated Cassy for the delayed news she was waiting for, and she answered a few more questions as to how the romance started, and how soon she could expect to meet the future bridegroom, and would they be living in this country? The answer to the last question was almost certain to be no, but Cassy could only assume this; she did not know for certain, and said as much. It was a question of wait and see, but no doubt Sylvia would soon enlighten them on this.

  After all this, Cassy had to remind Mrs Harland of her earlier quest. Where was Christine?

  With a sigh of regret, Mrs Harland brought her mind back to what she would consider mundane affairs. 'She's had to go to Essex. Her mother's very poorly; she left yesterday, and doesn't expect to be back for at least a week. Mr Mellar,' she told Cassy with a gleam

  of irony in her eye, 'was very put out about it. Seems he's giving an important dinner on Friday.' She patted Cassy's hand. 'Still, he won't worry now that you're here,' she remarked complacently.

  Back to square one, thought Cassy crossly, as she left Mrs Harland to her sentimental musings of orange blossom and rice. Trust her uncle to put his needs before those of others ! In all probability Christine had been made to feel a traitor in leaving him at what he would consider an inopportune time ! She was pleased that for once Christine had surprisingly stuck to her guns. Was the bid for the equality of the sexes making itself felt at last in the Mellar stronghold? First herself, then Sylvia, and now Christine ! Poor Uncle George ! Still, she mused, she could find time to arrange the dinner for him, as undoubtedly he would expect her to, but after that she would devote all her time to the kennels.

  A glance at her watch told her that she had another hour to wait before she could expect to see her uncle, but Cassy could not wait that long before she knew for certain that the kennels were going to be hers. After collecting the present she had brought back for Mrs Peel, an ornamental brush set with mother-of-pearl backs, she slipped out of the house and taking her usual short cut through the back of Oaklands, made her way to the kennels.

  Hearing the sound of excited barking and extra activity she knew that it was feeding time, and rounded the corner that brought her to the kennels expecting to see Mrs Peel in the thick of the activity. The activity was there all right, but not Mrs Peel; instead Cassy found herself looking at a middle-aged woman who had

  wrapped her hair up in a turban-like scarf and was shouting for someone called Arthur to come to lend a hand.

  On catching sight of the surprised Cassy, the woman smiled at her. 'You're Cassy Aden, aren't you?' she asked. 'Enid told me you'd be around as soon as you got back. My, I must say I could do with some help, at that.' She stared at the pile of feeding bowls lined up in front of her, then did a quick count, and frowned in annoyance. 'Arthur, bring another two bowls, will you?' she shouted back at the still invisible Arthur.

  Cassy knew she was expected to help with mixing the dogs' feed, but somehow her legs seemed too weak to comply with the action needed, for something told her that whoever this woman was, she was the new owner of the kennels.

  `I'm Hilda Rose,' volunteered the woman. 'You'll be meeting my husband in a minute, if I can tear him away from that novel he's supposed to be writing,' she said, with an amused, indulgent smile. 'Enid said she couldn't have managed without your help,' she added, and Cassy wondered if this was meant to spur her into action, but still stood there. 'She's my aunt, you know,' she went on, now obviously a little puzzled by Cassy's inactivity, and the slightly stupefied expression on her face.

  `Of course!' she exclaimed after she had given the matter a little thought. 'You wouldn't have heard. She was taken ill, you know. She hadn't been too good for quite a while, but I expect you know that. We had no idea that her health was so bad, and it was just as well for her that we were visiting at the time she collapsed.'

  At Cassy's startled look, she hurriedly assured her, `Oh, she's all right now, she just needs plenty of rest— no more of this work, though, so Arthur and I took over. She told us she'd been wanting to sell out anyway, since she'd found a place she wanted to buy.'

  Cassy nodded. She couldn't think of anything to say. If she hadn't gone in search of Sylvia, she would have been on the spot when Mrs Peel collapsed, and she had no doubt at all that the kennels would now have been hers, instead of belonging to this stranger, even though she was a relative of Mrs Peel.

  `Oh, Arthur, do get a move on !' shouted Hilda Rose, and cast an anxious glance at Cassy. 'You will come and help us out, won't you? Please do; there's lots we have to learn, and as you can see, my husband isn't exactly raring to go. He wasn't quite so keen on the idea as I was. He's just retired, you see, and I couldn't bear the idea of having him around all the time—not that I see him, if you know what I mean, he shuts himself in his study working on this book he's been threatening to write for years, but it leaves me entirely on my own, and I must do something.'

  Cassy gave another brief nod, and wished she could think of something soothing to say, or at least promise to help out, but she desperately needed some soothing words herself. Not until then did she realise just how much she had been counting on the kennels, or ownership of the kennels, to help to erase her unhappiness. She had planned to throw herself into the work heart and soul, and not give one single thought to anything else. In the end she managed to say, 'I'm afraid I can't stop today, but I'll try and give you a hand whenever I can,' and on that flexible premise she left Mrs

  Rose, still demanding her husband's presence.

  When Cassy had got over her stark disappointment, she thought of her uncle. He couldn't have made the offer in time, for she could not see Mrs Peel allowing anyone else to
take over, not if she had received a definite offer for the business. It all depended, she thought, on when Mrs Peel had collapsed, and by the sound of things it must have been shortly after Cassy had left for the Bahamas.

  A lot, she thought bitterly, could happen in a few hours. If only Mrs Rose and her husband hadn't happened to visit on that day, and Mrs Rose hadn't had the brilliant idea of taking over. After a few seconds' thought on these lines, Cassy gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking of ! It was just as well that they were there to be able to help out—so in a way it was providence. Providential for. Mrs Peel, bad luck for Cassy, who now wondered pessimistically if things would ever be right for her.

  Her uncle viewed her return with a vast amount of relief—he was thinking of the dinner party, thought Cassy sardonically while she suffered a hearty pat on the back and a, 'Good girl, knew I could rely on you,' and went on to tell her about the trouble he was having with a few renegade shareholders. 'Think they've got me by the short hairs,' he said grimly, 'and there's been some offloading behind the scenes. Danielsson's want a merger, and if that's not on, they're preparing for a take-over.' He pulled at his lower lip. 'Mind you, there's something to be said for an amalgamation. The firm's steady enough, that's certain, and I'd keep control my end.'

  Cassy listened, knowing there was no point in try-

  ing to divert the conversation back to a more personal one. As for the offloading of shares—well, she for one would seriously consider selling out to this Swedish firm if it turned out that her uncle had let her down over the matter of the kennels !

  `I thought it might be a good idea if we all got round the table and thrashed the whole thing out,' went on her uncle, having no idea of the traitorous thoughts going through Cassy's head. 'And to that end I've invited them here for a conference. Dinner first, then we'll get down to business. That way it will remain confidential until a decision has been made, one way or the other. Danielsson's are in favour of this—they don't want a rush on the market any more than we do.'