Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1)

by Roberts, Julia

  He drove back to Tamarina Bay carefully and let himself into the house. He went through to the kitchen to brew some coffee and stopped in his tracks. There was a paper bag containing fresh croissants holding down a scrawled note:

  I thought you might need these to soak up the alcohol. Hope you’re okay.

  Delphine.

  Again Philippe marvelled at how different Delphine and her brother Jacques were. She had a heart of gold and he was going to miss her. Even though the last thing he felt like doing was eating, he took Delphine’s advice and began to nibble on one of the freshly baked croissants. Leaving a trail of crumbs Hansel and Gretel would have been proud of he crossed over to the French doors and opened them to let some air into the room. He was going to sit out on the verandah in the shade but decided to check his email first. His heart leapt when he saw there was one from Holly:

  How COULD you? I can’t believe you’ve done this. I trusted you.

  NEVER try to contact me again... I’m blocking you from my email.

  Philippe stared at the screen in disbelief. How the hell could Holly have found out about last night... unless? He looked down at the croissant crumbs scattered on his desk... no, it couldn’t be Delphine.

  Chapter 54

  The bath had not helped. Holly had lain up to her neck in the warm scented water with tears streaming down her cheeks wondering if she had over-reacted by sending Philippe the email without giving him a chance to explain. She was angry at Philippe for taking advantage of the Holly he thought she was, the one who had been recently widowed. But that wasn’t the real Holly and she was partly to blame for not trusting him enough to tell him the truth that he was the first person she had been intimate with since Gareth had left her twenty years previously. If he had known the depth of her feelings for him, if she had said those three little words, would he have behaved differently?

  Then she thought about the graphic descriptions of their lovemaking, even her most private feelings whispered to him in the throes of passion, written in black and white for the world to see, and she realised that was what really stung. The words, her words, had been uttered by a high-class hooker in his book.

  Holly could feel the bitter taste of bile rising into her mouth. She felt physically sick and emotionally violated. There was no acceptable excuse that Philippe could give for his total lack of respect for her feelings, whoever he thought she was.

  The email had been the right thing to do. She never wanted to see or hear from him again. There had been such a sense of finality when she had pressed send and then blocked him. At least he has no other way of contacting me, she thought, always assuming he would want to. That was the bit she found hardest to accept. He had been so keen to see her again knowing that he had written about their most private moments. Maybe he needed to do some research for another book, she thought sarcastically, thankful she hadn’t given him her phone number or address and that he had no idea about her work.

  A thought occurred to her. Would Philippe be brazen enough to try and get her contact details from the Forresters? The moment she thought it she knew that if he did want to contact her that is exactly what he would do.

  She climbed out of the bath, almost slipping on the shiny surface in her haste, wrapped her towelling bathrobe around herself without bothering to dry with a towel first and rushed downstairs to phone Robert and Rosemary giving no thought to what she was going to say. Robert must have been standing next to the phone because he answered on the first ring.

  ‘Hello,’ he said in a hushed tone.

  ‘Robert, it’s Holly. Have I caught you at a bad moment?’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Holly.’ Holly could hear Robert close the door to the living room. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said in a more normal tone. ‘Rosie’s just having a nap on the sofa.’

  ‘I didn’t wake her, did I?’

  ‘No I think I caught the phone in time. Everything all right, you sound a bit flustered?’

  ‘Erm... yes. Actually I was just ringing to say I can come over today if you’d still like me to. I got through my work quicker than expected.’

  ‘We’d love you to come of course but it’s four fifteen, so if you leave now you’ll be stuck in all the rush hour traffic on the M25. Why don’t you come a bit later for dinner and stay over as you were planning on visiting tomorrow anyway?’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, if you’re sure I’m not putting you to any trouble,’ Holly said, relieved that she wouldn’t be spending the evening alone.

  ‘No trouble at all, Rosemary will be delighted.’

  ‘Okay, well I’ll try and get there just after seven. One other thing,’ Holly said, trying to keep her voice as natural as possible, ‘Philippe and I have split up.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Holly. I thought you two were really well suited.’

  So did I, thought Holly, but instead said, ‘Oh you know... just a holiday romance. If... if Philippe asks you for my phone number can you tell him you can’t give it out without asking me first. Sorry to land this on you with everything else you have going on.’

  ‘Of course. I would never give your number to anyone without your permission.’

  ‘Thanks, Robert, I appreciate that. I’ll see you a bit later then.’

  As Holly put the phone back in it’s cradle she noticed a green car pulling up outside the house. She ran to the front door and flung it open as a tall blond young man reached into the back seat for his duffle bag.

  ‘Harry!’ she cried, flinging her arms around her son and promptly bursting into tears.

  Harry ushered his mum back into the house and then stood in the cramped hallway holding her until her sobs subsided.

  ‘Not quite the reaction I was expecting, Mum,’ he said, trying to lighten the mood. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Sorry, Harry. You just caught me at a bad moment and I was so surprised to see you. I was just overwhelmed. What are you doing here anyway?’

  He steered her through to the kitchen and sat her down on a chair while he filled the kettle and put it on to boil.

  ‘Tea?’

  Holly nodded.

  ‘My lecturer called in sick this morning and they couldn’t get a replacement at such short notice so I’ve got a couple of days off. I decided I’d come home to see my mum and no I haven’t brought any dirty washing. I thought maybe you could take me to meet Robert Forrester as you mentioned you might be away next week.’

  ‘Actually that was who I was on the phone to when you pulled up outside. I’ve just arranged to go to theirs for dinner tonight and to stay over. If I ring Robert back I might be able to cancel before he tells Rosemary. I would hate to disappoint her.’

  ‘Do you have to cancel? Couldn’t you just ask if I could tag along?’ Harry asked, handing his mum her cup of tea. ‘You did say he was keen to meet me.’

  Holly looked at her son who was clearly a bit star-struck at the thought of meeting such an eminent architect.

  ‘Well I could ask if it’s all right for you to come to dinner but we’ll have to drive back here tonight, I wouldn’t want to put them to any trouble making up an extra bed. I’ll call them in a little while, Rosemary was sleeping and I don’t want to risk disturbing her. She really is very sick, Harry.’

  ‘Is that why you were so upset, Mum?’

  Holly never lied to her son, and she wasn’t about to start now. ‘No, Harry. I’ve broken things off with Philippe.’

  ‘Why? When we spoke last night you were all loved up and couldn’t wait to see him. What’s happened?’

  Holly chose her words carefully.

  ‘I found out that he has done something which shows a total lack of respect for me.’

  ‘Has he been seeing someone else?’ Harry asked in a threatening tone.

  ‘Not exactly. Look, I don’t really want to talk about it at the moment but suffice to say he has made me feel like a complete idiot. I just want him out of my life without a trace, erased from my memory as if I never met him. I thought
he was someone special but he’s not. That’s all.’

  ‘Okay, Mum, but if you change your mind and want to talk I’m a big boy now.’

  Holly looked at the earnest young man sat next to her on the sofa, the image of his father the last time she had seen him, but different in so many ways. She was sure Gareth would have approved of the way she had raised their son. It will be a very lucky girl who ends up with my Harry, she thought, her heart swelling with pride, before realising that all mothers must think that about their boys, maybe even Philippe’s maman.

  Chapter 55

  Philippe sat staring at his computer screen. He had read the words over and over again. At first he had thought that maybe Holly was bluffing about blocking his emails but he had tried sending one and it had been returned by the postmaster, and besides how could he possibly expect her to forgive him after sleeping with someone else.

  One word kept running through his mind: why? Why would Delphine tell Holly about his unfaithfulness? It didn’t make sense. Delphine had been his friend since he arrived in Mauritius and she knew that he had fallen in love with Holly because he had told her. Unless... Oh no, he thought, is Delphine secretly in love with me and will do anything to stop me leaving? He decided that must be it. That must be how Holly had found out, and so quickly too. He checked his sent box looking for an email sent to Holly by Delphine from his computer but there was nothing. She must have written Holly’s email address down and emailed her from somewhere else. You’re being ridiculous, he told himself, you’re clutching at straws. Delphine loves her husband and she is much too nice a person to do anything like this.

  Then another thought occurred to him. What if Delphine had not been alone when she had brought the croissants for him? Maybe while Delphine was leaving the scrawled note in the kitchen, her brother Jacques was reading through his emails and it was he who had taken Holly’s email address to tell her what her darling Philippe had been up to in her absence? The more Philippe thought about it the more he convinced himself that this is what must have happened. He had never liked Jacques and the feeling was obviously mutual and now this low-life had found a way to punish him. He had set him up with Candice deliberately, when Philippe was in no condition to say no, and then he had emailed Holly and told her.

  ‘The bastard!’ Philippe shouted, anger rising in him. ‘The low-life, sleazy, cheating bastard!’

  Philippe was pacing the room now, punching his fist into his hand, wishing all the time it was Jacques’ smarmy face. There must be something I can do, he thought, I can’t just let Holly go without a fight.

  With sudden clarity, Philippe grabbed his car keys and headed back into town to look for Jacques. He would confront him and force him to send Holly another email, telling her that the whole thing was a set-up when Philippe was too inebriated to know better. Holly will understand he convinced himself, she’ll give me another chance, he thought desperately.

  The tyres of the old BMW screeched to a halt in the car park of the Dolphin Bar. Philippe strode across the sun-hardened earth and pushed the swing doors of the bar open aggressively. He didn’t need to ask where Jacques was, he could see him in the far corner of the room laughing and joking with some friends.

  Probably laughing at my expense, fumed Philippe irrationally, marching over to them.

  ‘What the hell did you do that for?’ demanded Philippe.

  Jacques looked surprised. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes you damn well do. You set me up with that dancer just so you could email my girlfriend and tell her I’ve cheated on her.’

  ‘Why would I do that, Philippe?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been wondering. Did it give you some kind of thrill to know that you’re wrecking my life?’

  ‘I think you are still drunk from last night, my friend.’

  ‘I am not your bloody friend, and I am not drunk. I just need you to email Holly again and tell her you set me up,’ Philippe shouted.

  The Dolphin Bar had cleared of all people except those at Jacques’ table.

  ‘I have no idea who this Holly is.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ raged Philippe.

  ‘That’s the last time I do you a favour,’ said Jacques, remaining calm. ‘I thought you liked Candice.’

  ‘This is not about Candice this is about you interfering in my life. You have to tell Holly what you did or I’ll... I’ll...’

  ‘You’ll what, Philippe?’

  Philippe lunged across the small round table, launching his fist in the direction of Jacques’ face but Jacques was too quick for him and stepped backwards avoiding the contact. Philippe clattered to the floor amidst the sound of smashing glass which brought Denis rushing from behind the bar.

  ‘Break it up, break it up,’ he said, his large bulk positioned in front of Jacques to prevent the fight from getting out of hand.

  Jacques held his hands up. ‘I didn’t start this one.’

  ‘I know. I saw what happened. Maybe you should head home and I’ll sort this out with Philippe.’

  As Jacques and his friends headed towards the exit, Denis turned to help Philippe up. He had known this mild-mannered Frenchman for almost a year and had never seen him raise his voice, let alone his fist before. Whatever had caused the outburst must be pretty serious.

  ‘Come on Philippe, let’s get you tidied up,’ he said, but Philippe didn’t move.

  Denis leaned down into the jumble of table, chairs and broken glass to take hold of Philippe’s arm. As he started to lift him off the floor he noticed a bright red stain spreading rapidly across Philippe’s white linen shirt. It wasn’t red wine.

  ‘Oh my God, somebody call an ambulance,’ he shouted.

  Chapter 56

  The traffic on the M25 was flowing freely by the time Harry steered Toby, his old green Corsa, on to it at junction 12. He had insisted on driving as he thought his mother was too agitated to concentrate and Holly had put up no resistance.

  Holly had left it about an hour before calling Robert back to ask if it was okay to bring an extra guest to dinner and Robert had been very enthusiastic, saying that another distraction might keep Rosemary’s spirits up. He had also insisted that they both stay over, despite Holly’s protestations, as they always had rooms made up ready for unexpected guests. This wasn’t exactly true, but he knew where the clean bedding was and making up two beds rather than one was no big deal.

  Harry knew a short cut via Bracknell, which avoided the busiest bit of the M25 near Heathrow airport, so they were making very good time. He was chatting excitedly about meeting Robert, which was just as well as Holly didn’t feel like talking.

  ‘If your friend is as sick as you say she is, Mum, you’re going to have to cheer up a bit otherwise she’ll feel even worse.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll put on a brave face in front of Rosemary. They were responsible for introducing me to Philippe in the first place so the last thing I want them to feel is guilt now that we have broken up,’ she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

  ‘What’s wrong with Rosemary?’

  Holly sighed.

  ‘She has leukaemia.’

  ‘I thought it was usually kids who got leukaemia,’ Harry said, remembering a school friend of his whose younger brother had spent months in hospital undergoing chemotherapy causing him to lose all his hair.

  ‘So did I until I met Rosemary, but apparently there are lots of different types of leukaemia that can strike anyone at any age. The form she has is quite rare, only a few hundred cases a year in the UK, and is usually controllable with the new drugs that are being developed all the time. The really sad thing is she was responding well to treatment but then she developed a mutation that is even rarer and very difficult to treat.’

  ‘So how are they treating her now?’

  ‘Well at the moment they are experimenting with different drugs administered intravenously but if they don’t work there is nothing else they can do.’

  ‘Isn
’t it leukaemia where you can have a stem cell transplant?’

  ‘She’s not well enough. I think she was on a register for a while but they couldn’t find a match and now she is too weak for them to even consider the operation.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I can tell she has made a real impression on you. It would have been nice for you to have her as a kind of surrogate mother.’

  Holly shot a sidelong glance at her son. When he was very young he had come home from school one day with a project to complete about his family. It had been awkward enough for him not having a father but then having to explain to him that his granddad was dead and that his grandma was no longer in contact with them would have floored most children. Not Harry. His project had been called, ‘My Mum is All the Family I Need’. The teacher had been moved to tears by some of the things seven-year-old Harry had written about his relationship with his mum and had awarded him the highest mark in the class.

  ‘Do you ever think about your grandma?’

  ‘Why would I, Mum? She obviously never thinks about her grandson.’

  ‘She never knew you, Harry. When Dad died she never wanted to lay eyes on either of us again.’

  ‘It’s her loss, Mum. We didn’t need her, we have each other. We’ll always have each other.’

  Holly turned to look out of the window, her eyes misting with tears. She knew one day Harry would have a wife and family of his own and she wanted that for him. Maybe that was why she had rushed headlong into the relationship with Philippe. She couldn’t bear the thought of being alone when Harry was ready to spread his wings.

  As though he knew what she was thinking and with a wisdom way beyond his nineteen years he said, ‘Don’t take things too seriously too soon in relationships, Mum, they have to be built on trust and trust is earned over time. Maybe things were just moving too fast between you and the Frenchman.’