Caribbean Cocktail

by Jane Corrie

  After giving Cassy the list of guests expected, he added a jovial rider to the effect that if the dinner was up to her usual standard, he envisaged having no trouble with the ensuing business.

  No mention of Sylvia, or Christine—or her mother's illness, thought Cassy wonderingly, for it never failed to surprise her that anyone could be so single-minded. `Sylvia's engaged,' she said abruptly, thinking it was about time some other business was discussed, hers as well as Sylvia's.

  He nodded complacently at this, and Cassy wondered if he had heard what she had said, but he proved that he had by showing her a cablegram. 'Sent me that yesterday,' he said, sounding pleased with himself. `Had that fellow checked out by a golfing friend of mine. Seems he's heading for the big time.' He gave a hoarse chuckle. 'I'll have to polish up a few of my strokes, eh?' he commented to Cassy.

  `What happened over the kennels?' she queried

  quietly. He hadn't given a thought to her affairs, she thought bitterly.

  He had the grace to look somewhat abashed at this. `Sorry about that,' he mumbled. 'By the time I made the offer, it was all over. I acted as soon as I could,' he added quickly, on meeting Cassy's accusing eyes. `When I went over there, the Peel woman was in hospital and two relatives had taken the business over. Er—there's a letter for you somewhere,' he frowned as he put his mind as to where he had left the letter. `In the bureau in the lounge,' he said brightly, as if that would solve everything, and put things right. 'Er —from Mrs Peel,' he added helpfully.

  Thoroughly disgusted, Cassy went in search of the letter. If she hadn't mentioned the kennels, it was doubtful if he would have remembered to tell her about the letter. Not that it would solve anything; the kennels were sold, but it might help her to understand why Mrs Peel had acted as she had.

  Finding the letter, Cassy perused the contents in which. Mrs Peel asked her to forgive her for what must have seemed a thoughtless action on her part in letting the kennels go to the Roses. Everything, she told Cassy, had seemed to happen at once. Her collapse, then a letter from the house agent telling her that the owners of the property she was interested in had had another offer and wanted confirmation still that she was sti interested. other words, she told Cassy, they were not prepared to wait until she had sold her business. As she had sold the business to a member of her family, it had just been a case of transferring the property without the usual long legal wait, and she had been able to buy the cottage she had set her heart on.

  She ended by telling Cassy not to be too downhearted, and not to lose touch with the Roses, since she was convinced that given time, Hilda would lose her enthusiasm for the work entailed, particularly as she would have to play a lone hand in the business, for although agreeing to take it on, her husband had had certain reservations, but knew his wife well enough not to voice them.

  What it amounted to, thought Cassy, was that Mrs Peel was telling her to bide her time, and in all probability her hopes of obtaining ownership of the kennels would be realised.

  It was better than nothing, Cassy told herself; all was not lost yet, it was just a question of waiting. It was all very well for Mrs Peel to tell her to keep in close touch with the kennels, but if she did—if for example she carried on as before, taking on the lion's share of the work load—then it wouldn't be long before Hilda Rose was leaning heavily on her, not only work-wise, but experience-wise too. She had said that she had a lot to learn, hadn't she?

  Cassy sighed deeply. She was in a cleft stick. If she stayed away, she would not be the first in line to take over the business. On the other hand, if she made herself indispensable, the chances were that the new owners would settle in comfortably. 'I'll think about it,' muttered Cassy to herself, and thrust the letter into her dress pocket.

  By the time two days had elapsed, Cassy had made up her mind. She had the plans for the dinner on Friday well in hand, and as this presented no problem for her, she found time hanging on her hands. With all her spare time being taken up by the kennels in the

  past this was a new experience for Cassy, and one that she did not care for at all, since she was apt to find herself thinking about a certain tall man, with grey mocking eyes that seemed to continually haunt her solitude. As with the kennels, she needed time to get over that too, time to get him out of her system, and she wasn't going to do it by hanging around Oaklands.

  There was only one solution. She needed work, and there was plenty waiting for her at the kennels. The following morning she presented herself for duty, and received such a fervent welcome from the exhausted Hilda that she was ashamed of herself for not putting in an appearance earlier.

  By the time Friday dawned Cassy had a much clearer idea of what Mrs Peel had been trying to tell her, and had to agree with her assumption that Hilda's sudden decision to take over the kennels was not going to prove a very practical one. For one thing she had entirely forgotten to take into account the salient fact that the boarding kennels were at their busiest during the height of the summer season. As it was now the end of June, Cassy knew that the busiest time was yet to come, and when Hilda blithely told her that they were thinking of joining some friends of theirs in Monte Carlo for a few weeks at the end of July, adding with a smile that by then she would need a holiday, Cassy stared at her blankly.

  'Were you thinking of getting someone in to look after the kennels?' she asked.

  It was Hilda' s turn to look blank now. 'But it will be August then,' she said, then frowned. mean, we can't be expected to keep open all year round, can we?" she appealed to the surprised Cassy.

  `Not all the year round, no,' replied Cassy gently, `but August is the busiest time of the year for most kennels.'

  Hilda stared aghast at her. 'Busier than we are at present?' she demanded incredulously.

  Cassy nodded. 'I'm afraid so,' she answered, and nodded towards a low-slung building a few yards away from the main kennels. 'There's another ten boarding pens in there,' she told the gasping Hilda, 'and Mrs Peel was thinking of having the building enlarged to accommodate the overflow,' she added for good measure, thinking it was as well she knew what she had let herself in for.

  `Overflow !' squeaked Hilda, pushing the inevitable turban further back from her head where it sat looking like a wispy crown on the top of her expensively penned hair.

  `That's my girl,' said an amused voice behind them, and Cassy turned to meet the twinkling eyes of Arthur Rose. 'Having second thoughts, my dear?' he asked the floundering Hilda.

  Hilda swallowed and gave her husband an exasperated look. 'I still think it's a good idea,' she said bravely, and looked back at the waiting Cassy. 'I told you we had a lot to learn, didn't I?' she said slowly. `Does that mean that we don't get a holiday?' she asked in a slightly horror-stricken voice as she envisaged the future.

  Cassy smiled at her. 'Oh, yes,' she replied, 'but you have to choose your time. January or February is usually a quiet time here, or just after Christmas,' she added after giving the matter more thought.

  Hilda stared at her grinning husband. 'You can take

  that grin off your face, Arthur Rose,' she said scoldingly, and sat down heavily on a side bench where they had been making out name labels for the next influx of boarders expected. `We're both in this,' she reminded him.

  `Oh, I don't know about that,' he replied in a mild voice. did have a few reservations, if you remember,' he reminded her gently. 'If I remember rightly,' he said, gazing at nothing in particular, 'you did say that I didn't have to take an interest, and that you could manage. In which case I think I'll join Joan and Philip as previously arranged.'

  'Arthur ! You wouldn't go without me, would you?' appealed Hilda worriedly.

  Cassy listened in some amusement to this exchange of wills between husband and wife. She had caught the slightly teasing quality of Arthur Rose's voice, and decided that she liked him very much. Hilda might think that she had affairs under control, but for all his quiet ways, it was her husband who really had the last word.

  `Cassy?
How would you like to become a partner in the business?' he suddenly asked the surprised Cassy.

  Cassy looked from one to the other of them, not knowing what to say, and saw that Hilda was watching her husband with just as much curiosity. Why, I ...' she began, and looked back at Hilda.

  Hilda smiled and nodded at her. She hadn't been married to Arthur for all those years not to know what was in his mind. Well? Why don't you?' she urged Cassy.

  Well,' gasped the still stupefied Cassy, should

  love to become a partner—that's if you really mean it.'

  `Oh, we mean it all right,' Arthur assured her firmly. `The place was bedlam until you put in an appearance. We can see now just how much you helped Enid, without,' he added significantly, 'any remuneration.'

  `Oh, well,' replied Cassy, embarrassed, 'it gave me something to do, and I loved the work.'

  `Also,' Arthur went on firmly, 'I received strict orders from Enid that you were to have first offer at taking over should things not work out for us. I understand,' he added gently, 'that was what you hoped to do when Enid retired.'

  `Arthur !' gasped Hilda. 'You didn't tell me this.'

  Giving his wife a loving if slightly exasperated look, he replied gently, 'Would it have made any difference at the time, if I had? You know what you're like when you get the bit between your teeth. You would have accused me of trying to put you off, so I said nothing.'

  Cassy was now horribly embarrassed and wished she could find some excuse to make herself scarce, but the labels had to be ready for the next day and she was only half-way through.

  Sensing her embarrassment, Hilda smiled at her. `Don't mind us, Cassy. Arthur's right as usual, and I am sorry I didn't know about your interest in the business—in taking over, I mean. I suppose I just thought you were amusing yourself with the work.' She gave Cassy an appraising look, taking in her slight figure in the well-fitting jeans and her simple blouse top, then her gaze rested on her slightly flushed face framed by her curly chestnut hair. 'It never occurred to me that someone like you would consider making the kennels a career. You're young and very pretty, and for goodness' sake what's wrong with the male popula-

  tion around here?' she demanded. 'You ought to have been snapped up long ago.'

  Cassy's blush deepened, and Arthur coughed delicately. 'I think that's Cassy's business, Hilda, she's probably not met the right one yet. Now, how about a cup of coffee to celebrate the partnership?' he suggested lightly.

  Cassy quickly volunteered to make it, and was able to depart from what had been a heart-aching observation, albeit innocent, on Hilda's behalf. As for Arthur's comment about her not meeting the right one—well, she had —Justin was right for her, but she was wrong for him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CASSY went back to Oaklands a little earlier than her usual time in order to start the final preparations for the dinner that evening. She knew she ought to have been overjoyed at the way things had turned out, yet somehow her spirits remained at a low level. Even the thought that it was now certain that she would be in sole possession of the kennels before much more time had elapsed failed to give her the uplift such news would have given her before her trip to the Bahamas.

  Would it always be like this, she wondered miserably; had that one trip completely ruined her life? Only if she let it, she reminded herself firmly. Things had happened so fast, she hadn't had time to get herself acclimatised. In another week's time she would wonder why she had let herself get so low, and how stupid it was of her to moon over someone who didn't care one whit about her. Her pride would see to that, and she had no intention of falling into a well of selfpity—not for the likes of Justin Pride—or anyone !

  Having decided that the best thing she could do was to put the past firmly behind her, and not allow herself the luxury of even one thought connected with a tropical setting, Cassy's strong resolve collapsed on sight of the beautiful amber dress hanging up in her wardrobe, as she searched for something to wear at the dinner.

  Her eyes misted over as she touched the ripped por-

  tion of the zip at the back of the dress. Justin had wanted to destroy the dress, and had ahnost succeeded in doing so. It could be stitched up again, of course, but Cassy knew she would never repair it, for she would never wear it again.

  She shook the wetness away from her eyes and continued with her search for something suitable to wear at the dinner, since her uncle had made her Christine's deputy for the evening. This task was not new to Cassy, she had acted as hostess on many occasions in the past before her uncle's remarriage, and had been only too pleased to pass on the duty to Christine.

  It didn't really matter what she wore, she thought as her eyes passed over several dresses. It really only depended which dress was ready to wear without pressing, and she chose her apricot velvet. It always looked fresh, and the heavy velvet folds of the skirt never creased, making it an ideal choice.

  When she was dressed, she went down to the dining room to see if the correct number of places had been laid, and to study the list of guests, for she would be expected to name each guest correctly as she circled the gathering in the lounge, serving drinks before dinner was announced.

  The names of the Swedish contingent looked a little awe-inspiring to Cassy, and she hoped that she would be able to make a presentable stab at their pronunciation.

  For a Mellar dinner party, it was a very small gathering; but that fact did not detract from the importance of the occasion, and Cassy knew that her uncle would expect a high standard, particularly in the cuisine line.

  As she slipped through to the kitchen to have a

  word with the cook, Cassy was grateful that she was not expected to sit down to dinner with them, as. Christine would have done. Her role was simply to see that everything ran smoothly, and that liquid refreshment was continually on tap.

  The fact that it was such a relatively small dinner party presented no difficulty in the kitchen, and things were well in hand by the time Cassy arrived, and all she had to do was drift in, and out again, giving Cook an airy wave of the hand as she left her to it.

  Dinner was to be served at eight-thirty, and by eight all the guests had arrived—at least all the guests who were sitting down to dinner, but there would be another member of the Danielsson group who would be joining them later in the evening to take part in the business discussion following, and Cassy was directed to watch out for his arrival.

  The dinner went smoothly, and afterwards Cassy passed the complimentary remarks on to a gratified cook, and gave a sigh of relief herself. The business part of the evening was about to begin and she could bow out of the proceedings—at least, she could when the Swedish contingent was complete. She glanced at her watch and thought that it was about time the man put in an appearance if he was coming.

  As if on cue the front door bell chimed and Cassy, giving a satisfied nod, went to answer the door.

  The man swept in, and Cassy, not really looking at him, directed him to the study, then realised that she would have to have his name even though she had not had a great success with the others, and turned to face him as they reached the door of the study with a smile of greeting on her face, a smile that froze into im-

  mobility when she met the cold grey eyes of Justin Pride.

  `You!' she whispered. 'What are you doing here?'

  Justin's white teeth gleamed, as he smiled back at her, although the smile did not reach his eyes. 'As Managing Director of Danielsson's, I'm expected to put in an appearance,' he answered laconically.

  `I don't believe it ! ' gasped Cassy, although she did believe it. He was not the type of man to play games, not this kind of game anyway.

  He stood there looking at her with one eyebrow raised, obviously waiting to be admitted into the study, and Cassy, looking quickly away from those mocking eyes of his, opened the door for him, but it was beyond her power to announce him.

  It was a second or two before his arrival was noticed, as the men were in deep discussio
n, and Cassy, turning to make her departure, found her wrist caught by Justin's strong hand and held by her side, the folds of the dress hiding the action from observation. 'Which of those two old buffoons is it?' he asked her irreverently in a low voice.

  Trying to disentangle her hand from his steely hold, Cassy saw that his malevolent gaze was on her uncle and old Mr Sanderson, his company secretary. 'If it's the one in the pin-stripe, I think I shall strangle you,' he went on in that sotto voce tone that only she could hear. 'I'll probably strangle you anyway,' he added softly, as his presence was suddenly spotted and he released her hand and moved forward into the room.

  Bemused, Cassy heard the senior member of the Swedish team say, 'Glad you could make it; nice to have you aboard, sir,' as he shook his hand warmly,

  and Cassy closed the door with hands that trembled.

  The thick fog that had descended upon her senses on sight of Justin simply refused to leave her and no amount of shaking of the head cleared it. How could he be Managing Director of Danielsson's and owner of several luxury hotels in the Bahamas? It didn't make sense, yet he had been recognised and warmly welcomed by Danielsson's directors. As improbable as it had sounded, he had told the truth—not that he had any reason to lie to her, but it did rather overreach the bounds of credulity.

  Cassy stared at the lightly patterned wallpaper in her room as if she had never seen it before. Did Sylvia know of his connection with the Swedish firm? Then she shook her head slowly; even if she had done, she hadn't known about the latest developments, and if she had, it wouldn't have meant anything to her. Like Cassy, she had nothing to do with her father's business affairs.