by Jean Harrod
Both he and Maggie looked at her.
Jess could see they were reeling with shock over the Governor’s accident, and didn’t know what to do about the party.
“Are the guests still coming?” she asked.
David nodded. “Just a few expats living here.” He hesitated. “The locals don’t socialise with us much.”
“Is the food all prepared?”
Maggie nodded.
Jess turned to David. “Socialising is probably the last thing you want to do, but shouldn’t we try and carry on as normal? It seems to me that you’ve done everything you can for the Governor. He’s in the US getting the best possible medical treatment. There’s nothing more you can do for him now.”
David nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.” He sighed. “I don’t suppose London will let me leave in the morning, not now.”
Jess heard the sadness in his voice.
“Trust me, David, you need to be there.” She paused. “Look, I don’t know much about these islands, or our operation here.” The truth was she knew absolutely nothing except what she’d read in the background brief. “But I can tick things over while you’re away. As long as we’re not expecting any crisis.”
His eyes brightened. “Really?”
She nodded. “Why don’t you ring London? Tell them I’ve arrived, and I’m happy to hold the fort while you’re away.”
He looked at her. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll talk to them too if you want.”
“And Sally’s here to help you of course,” he said, eagerly.
“Sally?”
“The Governor’s PA.”
“Of course.” Jess knew from the brief the Governor’s PA was the only other UK-based member of staff, although there were several local administrators. “That settles it then.” She smiled at David. “If London are happy, so am I.”
“Thanks, Jess.” He dashed into the house to phone.
When she turned back, Maggie was staring at her wide-eyed. “No, Miss Jessica!” She shook her head. “No!”
Jess gave her a reassuring smile. “Now don’t you worry, Maggie. We’ll be fine here on our own, for a while.”
5
By the time Jess had showered and changed, the darkness of night had swept in. She threw open her bedroom shutters and windows, and looked up at the velvety black sky and bright stars. The sound of the sea lapping onto the shore, and the crickets’ nocturnal song, reminded her just how much she loved the feel of the tropics.
The original plan had been for her to live in David’s house in town while he was away. Now, with the Governor’s accident, David wanted her to stay at the Residence rather than leave it empty. That was fine with her. It would be convenient to have the office at the end of the drive. Anyway, the Residence was a charming old house. It seemed to sigh with age every time she took a step on the waxed floorboards, or turned on a squeaky tap. Even the wardrobe doors groaned when opened, and the dressing table drawers had expanded so much with the humidity she could hardly move them. There was no air conditioning, but that didn’t bother her. The draught from the ceiling fan kept the air moving. A net hanging from the ceiling over her double bed, and fly-screens over the windows, suggested there was a mosquito problem.
A strange feeling came over her. It had only been a short plane ride from Washington, but she felt she’d gone back in time, to a bygone age…
Smashing crockery broke the spell. She looked down to the courtyard, where Maggie was muttering under her breath and reaching for a broom to sweep up what looked like pieces of a broken plate.
Poor Maggie. She must be upset about the Governor, Jess thought, as she slipped out of her bedroom to go and help with the preparations. On the landing, a crystal chandelier hung over the staircase, lighting the way. She looked at the portraits of previous Governors mounted along the wall as she went down the stairs. But there was no picture of the present Governor, Michael Grant. He’d probably only take his place on the wall after he’d finished the job. If he ever came back.
Like her, the Governor was a British diplomat, only more senior. He chaired the local Government which, apart from him, was made up entirely of local islanders. Although both she and the Governor were members of the Foreign Office, she’d never met Michael Grant before.
Stopping at the phone in the hallway, she decided to give Simon a quick call to let him know she was there. It might be too late after dinner. She hesitated as she picked up the receiver. She was still troubled by the look in his eyes when she’d told him she was coming down here for a couple of months. Of course she should have discussed it with him first. And she would have, if London hadn’t demanded an immediate answer. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that he would mind, being so busy with his own job.
She took a deep breath and dialled his Washington office. No reply. She tried their home number. No reply there either. When she got no reply from his mobile, she felt uneasy. She knew he didn’t have a work function, because they were supposed to have been going out to dinner, to celebrate the anniversary of their second year together. He’d arranged it, saying they needed a night out for a change, to talk. Of course she’d apologised for spoiling his dinner plans, but he’d told her not to worry about it.
So where was he now?
She redialled their home phone number to leave a voicemail. The first thing he always did when he got home was check that machine.
“Hi Simon, I’ve tried your office as well, but I guess you’re out for the evening… Well, I’m here… Amazing place! I feel like Robinson Crusoe… except I arrived to terrible news. The Governor was seriously injured in a car crash this morning. He’s been flown out to a Miami hospital… David Evans, the person I’m replacing, is still hoping to go to the UK in the morning so I may be holding the fort on my own for a while… Oh, and my mobile doesn’t work here. That’s why you haven’t been able to get me if you’ve been trying. I’ll get a new one tomorrow and text you the number… I’m staying at the Governor’s Residence by the way… There’s a dinner party tonight to introduce me to some expats. I don’t know what time it’ll finish. It may be too late for me to phone again after that. If so, I’ll catch you in the morning… Sleep tight…”
She put the receiver back, feeling a bit more cheerful. Simon would be fine once he’d got used to the idea of her working down here. It had been a surprise, that’s all. Anyway, it was only for a couple of months, and that would fly by.
By the time she got out into the courtyard, Maggie had already swept up and gone. But David was there, lining up glasses along the bar.
“What did London say?” she asked.
“They didn’t like the idea of me leaving you on your own, but they agreed I could go.”
“I should think so too.”
He nodded and started cleaning the glasses with a tea towel to remove any smears. “I’m booked on the first flight out in the morning.”
She watched him. “Do I need to write barman into my job description too?”
He smiled for the first time. “The Governor’s driver usually does all this. He’s driver, aide-de-camp, butler, barman, you name it. But he’s so upset about the Governor’s accident, he can’t work.”
She frowned. “I didn’t think he was in the car.”
“He wasn’t. That’s why he’s so troubled. Poor man. He feels if he’d been driving, the accident would never have happened.” He paused. “God knows what the Governor was doing up on the Ridge before dawn.”
“What exactly is the Ridge?” she asked.
“The highest point on the island,” David explained. “There’s an old lighthouse up there and the remains of a former US naval base. Developers have been building more houses up on the high ground in recent years, where it’s safer.” He glanced over. “These islands sit smack bang in the hurricane belt. They’re so flat, they’re vulnerable to tidal waves that can follow these storms.” He paused. “You should read the disaster management file as a priority in t
he morning, Jess. Familiarise yourself with the hurricane procedures. We’ve just come into the season.”
“Hurricanes? Oh great!”
David smiled again. “Don’t worry. It’s been years since there’s been a direct hit. Now, Ma’am.” He wrapped the tea towel over his arm. “What can I get you?”
Jess laughed “Gin and tonic please.” She pulled up a rattan bar stool. “And while we’ve got a few minutes, can you fill me in on who’s coming this evening?”
David measured out some gin and poured it into a glass. “The most senior guest is Dominic Canning, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, and his wife Rebekah. Her name is spelt with the biblical kah at the end, as she will remind you if you ever get it wrong.” He bent down to get a can of tonic from the fridge under the bar. “The position of Chief Justice has always been held by a Brit. Dominic’s a retired British barrister.”
“I guess it’s important to keep an impartial judiciary.”
“Exactly!” He paused. “Rebekah’s his third wife.” He gave Jess a knowing look. “High maintenance. Fond of the grog too.”
She nodded. “So, where’s the Governor’s wife?”
“Oh, Jayne took their young son Sam back to the UK for a week to pick up their daughter from boarding school. They were all supposed to be coming back together to spend the summer holidays here with the Governor.” He sighed. “She’s left the kids with their grandparents in the UK, and is on her way to the Governor’s bedside in Miami.”
A familiar sadness settled on Jess. “How awful for them.”
“Yeah.” David pushed her drink towards her. “Apart from the Governor’s PA Sally, the other three guests are all American. There aren’t many Brits on this island.”
“So I’ve noticed. This could be another State of America for all the UK presence.”
“Shame, isn’t it? But we have no economic or strategic interests here.” He paused. “Problem is, the islanders want to remain British.”
“So I read in my background brief.”
“They like having British passports, the safety net of British defence, foreign affairs, that sort of thing. And local politics can be partisan and poisonous. They might not trust us much, but they trust each other even less.”
She smiled.
“It’s a bit like the Falklands really,” he went on. “Until the people here vote to become independent, we won’t leave.”
“Must be a bit of an uphill struggle, trying to get anything done though?”
“Spot on,” he said, wearily. “They like the security of being a British Overseas Territory, but they don’t want British officials here. They especially don’t want us running things, or telling them what to do.”
She gave a wry smile. “So, tell me, who are these American guests?”
“Two are brothers – Brad and Charles Regan. They run the local dive company. Brad’s lived on Grand Turk for years. Came over as a young man, loved the diving and set up a business. He runs the day to day operation, mostly for tourists.” He glanced at Jess. “His brother Charles is a New York banker. I think he’s the financial backer. The business can’t make that much money because we don’t get the volume of tourists over here that Provo does. Charles is a pretty competent diver though. Visits as often as he can.”
Jess nodded. “Are they bringing wives?”
“No.” David shook his head. “Charles is divorced. His ex-wife lives in New York with the kids. And Brad has never married. Well, not as far as I know anyway.” He smiled. “He likes the ladies, and they like him – if you get my meaning.”
Jess nodded. “So who’s the third American?”
“Carrie Lynch.” David’s eyes lit up when he mentioned her name. “She runs the local kindergarten. She came down here on holiday, and fell in love with the island too. There was no kindergarten, so she set one up. Runs it with the help of a couple of local women.” He counted on his fingers. “Oh, and of course, the Governor’s PA Sally is coming too, which makes eight of us.” He glanced up. “We’ll need to keep an eye on Sally tonight. She’s very upset about the Governor’s accident.”
Jess wasn’t quite sure what he meant about keeping an eye on Sally, and he didn’t explain.
Instead, he looked at his watch. “I’ll pop through to the kitchen and get more ice before everyone arrives.” And with that, he disappeared into the house.
Jess spotted a pad and pencil at the end of the bar and went over to get it. She’d picked up a tip from an Ambassador’s wife, a wonderful hostess, who’d advised her to keep a list of guests’ names in her pocket and check it regularly. That way she’d never find herself in the embarrassing position of forgetting one of her guests’ names.
Jess always followed that advice, and now wrote out a list of this evening’s dinner guests in the pad.
(UK) Dominic Canning (Chief Justice), and wife Rebekah.
(UK) Sally – Governor’s PA – and David, Head of Governor’s Office.
(US) Brad Regan (dive company) – his brother Charles Regan (New York banker).
(US) Carrie Lynch – teacher/owns kindergarten.
Jess tore out the piece of paper, folded it up and slipped it into her skirt pocket. She sat back on the bar stool and took a long sip of her gin and tonic. Delicious! Hearing the whine of a mosquito, she flapped it away from her ear. She was worried now about being bitten. Her long, black skirt covered her legs and ankles, but her strappy top exposed her arms. She was about to go into the house to find some insect repellent when she heard heavy footsteps on the verandah. She got up and walked over to greet the first guest.
When the man turned the corner and saw her, his eyes widened. “The lady on the plane!”
Jess recognised him at once – Blond Ponytail. She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Jessica Turner, and you must be…”
“Brad Regan.” He spoke with a soft American accent as he shook her hand.
He was still wearing his hair in a ponytail, which she’d normally have thought naff for a man who looked to be in his 40s. But, wearing a printed shirt loose over dark trousers, he seemed at ease with himself. She liked that about him. “You run the dive company, I believe?”
“You’re well informed, Jessica.”
His whole face lit up when he smiled. She could see why he was a hit with the ladies.
“Call me, Jess.”
“Do you dive, Jess?”
“Afraid not.”
“Then you’re missing something special.” He pointed in the direction of the ocean. “Just a few hundred yards offshore, the seabed suddenly drops to 7,000 feet. We call it the wall.” He paused. “You must let me take you out there. It’s fantastic.”
She shivered. “I’m not a fan of the deep and what’s out there.”
“There’s very little in the deep,” he said. “The sea-life exists all around the coral reefs and inside, where the food is, although you can see the migrating whales pass through the Columbus Passage during the winter.”
“The Columbus Passage?”
“It’s a deep water trench that runs between the Caicos Bank and the Turks Bank.” He paused. “It’s sometimes called The Turks Islands Passage. Here, let me show you.” He beckoned her to follow him behind the bar where an old map of the islands hung on the back wall. He traced his finger along the map. “The Turks and Caicos Islands run directly south of the Bahamas, and south-east of Miami.”
Jess knew the geography from the map attached to her background brief, but she let him tell her anyway.
“There are lots of islands in the chain, but only a few are inhabited.” He pointed to them.
“The Islands of West Caicos, Providenciales, North Caicos, Middle Caicos, East Caicos and South Caicos all sit in a sort of semi-circle on the northern edge of the Caicos Bank.” He moved his finger to the east. “And here’s Grand Turk, where we are, sitting on top of the Turks Bank, and Salt Cay lies just south of us.” He ran his finger over the ocean between the Caicos Bank and the Turks Bank. “Her
e’s the Columbus Passage.”
“Ah, I see.”
He looked at her. “These two Banks are like flattened mountain summits. The islands sit above sea level, with shallow water all around them. As you get to the edge of the two banks, it’s like going over a cliff. That’s where our 7,000 feet drop comes in.”
Jess gave an involuntary shiver.
He grinned at her reaction. “It’s wonderful out there, Jess. Please let me teach you to dive.”
Jess couldn’t think of anything worse. But he was so enthusiastic, she heard herself say, “Maybe I’ll give it a go sometime.”
“How about Saturday?”
She hesitated.
“Hi Brad!” David called out, as he returned with a large bucket of ice. “I see you two have met.”
Jess was glad of the interruption. “Brad was on the same plane as me coming over from Provo.” She stopped, wondering whether to mention the scene with the child and Big Shot in the terminal.
But she didn’t have to because Brad got in first. “You’ll have to forgive Roger Pearson,” he said. “He’s just been appointed Immigration Minister. It’s turned his head a little.”
“A little?” David walked back behind the bar, with a sour look on his face. Clearly he didn’t think much of Roger Pearson either.
Jess frowned. “The surname Pearson seems familiar.”
Brad laughed. “The Pearson family are a dynasty over here. Half the islanders have British surnames from colonial days.” He turned to David, serious now. “How’s the Governor? Have you heard anything more about what actually happened?”
David shook his head. “It was a hit and run. A vehicle slammed into the Governor’s Land Rover at the crossroads on his way down from the Ridge early this morning. The police think it was the truck that was stolen from the supermarket compound late last night. They’re out looking for it now.” He shook his head. “Probably kids out joyriding… bloody idiots!”
Brad frowned. “What was the Governor doing up there in the early hours?”
