Antigua Kiss (6 page)

It was about half an hour's drive from the airport to the wide gateway with the name of the Colony incised on a great block of stone, and a tree-lined drive curving away out of sight.

The car jolted over the bars of a cattle-grid, then swept round the curve to where the branches of a group of tall palms shaded the forecourt of a long, low, single-roofed building. In the centre of this structure a covered walk, open at either end, gave, as the car drew to a halt, an enticing glimpse of a swimming pool.

'The staff will look after you now. I'll see you later, probably,' said Bettina, as a strongly-built, dark- skinned young man, wearing a pale blue tee-shirt with Turtle Creek printed across the chest, stepped forward to open her door for her.

With no word of thanks for this service, she disappeared into the building.

The young man flashed white teeth at Christie and, reaching into the back seat, swung John up and over the side.

'I'll bring your bags for you, ma'am. You'll find Reception in there'—with a gesture in the direction of the walk-through.

'Thank you.' After walking round the front of the car and taking her nephew's hand in hers, Christie approached the polished counter where two attractive Antiguan girls broke off a conversation to bid her good afternoon.

'I'm Mrs Chapman. I believe a room has been reserved for me.'

'Yes, ma'am.' The taller girl took down a key and handed it over, not to Christie, but to the young baggage porter who was already at her elbow with their cases.

He put it in the pocket of his white trousers. 'This way, ma'am.' He handled the two large suitcases with an ease which, as he moved ahead, drew her attention, to the splendour of his physique with very wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.

The fine, athletic build of all the island's young men and the loose-limbed grace of their carriage was something she was to notice repeatedly during her first days in Antigua. Each time she did, it reminded her of Ash's remark about the island being a healthier place for John to grow up than London. But whether broad shoulders and strong muscles were something island life could give to every boy, or were a genetic inheritance peculiar to the Antiguans, she could not be sure. Clearly, in the harsh days of slavery, only the most hardy people had survived the gruelling work in the canefields and the epidemics of the period.

At the inner end of the walk-through, the whole of the large, sparkling free-form pool was revealed to them, with bathers lying stretched out on sun-beds on the paved surround. Instead of skirting the pool, they turned aside and passed through an area of gardens dotted with tall palms where the grass was kept green by sprinklers. Farther on, given privacy from each other by shrubberies, were the holiday cottages, each with its name on a fingerpost where the side path diverged from the main path.

Theirs was called Frangipani Cottage, and Christie concluded that the golden-centred white flowers growing in profusion beside the front door must be those after which it was named.

The door gave into a lobby with an inner door open to show a spacious, dimly lit sitting-room. The half-light was caused by vertical louvred blinds at present arranged to shut out the afternoon sun.

After the young man had left them, Christie made a quick exploration of the rest of the cottage. It consisted of an equally dimly lit bedroom with twin beds, a small but well fitted kitchen and a shower room with a separate lavatory.

Only then did she look for the cords which controlled the blinds in the sitting-room. When the slats slowly opened to reveal the prospect on that side of the cottage, she drew in a sharp breath of pleasure.

Immediately outside the floor-to-ceiling plate glass panels was a flowery verandah with two reclining chairs and four upright chairs arranged round a white table fitted with a furled sunbrella. Beyond, seen between the tall trunks of coconut palms, was the calm and sparkling Caribbean.

'Oh, John—just look!' she exclaimed delightedly. 'I can't wait to have my first dip. I'll find our swimsuits and your armlets, and we'll unpack properly later on.'

It didn't take long to unstrap and unlock the case containing her plain green one-piece and John's stretchy tomato-red briefs with the face of a smiling sun sewn on the behind.

Mindful that the inflatable armlets would expose more of him to the still-powerful rays than was the case with an unsupported swimmer, she insisted he wear an old tee-shirt.

The part of the beach closest to their cottage had fewer people on it than the area near the thatched beach bar, and Christie was glad not to be too near the other holidaymakers. They all seemed enviably tanned, making her doubly self-conscious of the unpleasing pallor of her limbs.

She found herself wondering if, by the time Ash returned? she would have achieved a less unappetising colour; her next thought being that it should be a matter of indifference to her whether he found her skin repulsively white or not.

Although it was her nephew's first encounter with the sea, he needed no encouragement to walk into the warm, clear water and try out the bright orange armlets. Soon it was clear that, like the majority of children, he was a natural water-baby who, left to himself, would dog-paddle happily for hours.

Christie had learnt to swim at school, but had not swum a great deal since then, and never in water like this; crystal shot with pearly gleams where it rippled on the powdered coral sand, then shading from palest jade through all the blue-greens to purple above the submerged reefs. There, about fifty yards out, she could see a number of people snorkelling, occasionally blowing plumes of water out of their breathing tubes.

When she and John left the water, she felt more refreshed and relaxed than she could ever remember.

'But we won't sunbathe until later. The sun is still very hot,' she said, mindful of the message left with Bettina by his co-guardian.

A few minutes after their return to the cottage, the telephone rang and a man's voice asked, 'Mrs Chapman?' and then introduced himself as the Manager.

'We shall meet later on. For the moment I merely wish to say

"Welcome", and to urge you to be sure to tell me if you have any problems, or if I can help you in any way.'

'That's very kind of you. Thank you.'

'Not at all. It's our job to ensure you have a perfect vacation. By the way, although we routinely put flowers in all the cottages, Mr Lambard asked for a specially nice arrangement to be prepared for your arrival, Mrs Chapman. You'll also find various supplies, including milk for the little boy, provided for you in the kitchen.'

'Really? Oh, that's very helpful.'

'Some of our guests enjoy a substantial breakfast in the restaurant while they're on holiday. Others prefer to be self-sufficient first thing.

There are times when guests like to socialise with each other at one of the Colony's four bars where we serve all the island specialities such as Pina Colada and Antigua Kiss. But sometimes they want some quiet refreshments on their own verandah. We start them off with a bottle of Antigua's excellent light rum. However, Mr Lambard thought that wine might be more to your taste, and we've carried out his instruction that a bottle of our best French white wine should be placed in your ice-box a short while before your arrival. Now I'll leave you to rest after your journey.'

After she had replaced the receiver, Christie looked around the sitting-room more carefully and saw, in an alcove, a lovely cascading arrangement of apricot and coral bougainvillea with frangipani flowers which had creamy petals edged with red.

She could not help being warmed by his attention to the details of her comfort, particularly when there had been other things on his mind.

She gave John a glass of milk and, seeing that the wine had already had its cork drawn and lightly replaced, succumbed to an impulse to try it, although wine at this hour of the day was far from being her usual style.

Presently she suggested a walk along the beach. Both wearing white shorts and tee-shirts, with plenty of sun cream on their exposed parts, they set out to explore the full length of the beach to the point where it came to an end in the shadow of the wooded headland behind which the sun would eventually sink out of sight.

They paddled most of the way. In places the sand was loose and coarse and clung to their feet in large flakes. Mostly it was fine and firm, a pleasant surface for walking or jogging.

As the working day came to an end, the holidaymakers were joined by islanders arriving in cars and on motorbikes for an evening dip.

Their very dark skins made an effective contrast with the turquoise sea. Although the island had been governed by Britain, and was now an independent State in association with Britain, Christie found that when the Antiguans were chatting and laughing among themselves she could understand only odd words of their conversation.

It was early evening by local time, but hours past the bedtime to which John's body was accustomed, when they went to the restaurant for a light supper of fried snapper and salad.

It was dark when they returned to the cottage by way of the lanternlit paths. The child was asleep within seconds of being tucked into bed, and Christie herself felt drowsy as she returned to the sitting-room to have another glass of wine and to look through a folder of useful information provided by the management.

She had been studying a map of the island, and must have dozed off, when the telephone startled her into wakefulness. It had rung several times before she could pull herself together and recall where she was, and where it was.

'Hello?' she said, somewhat muzzily.

'If you sleep now, you'll find yourself wide awake at three in the morning.'

. The speaker had no need to announce himself for her to distinguish his deep, lazy-sounding voice from the slightly Americanised briskness of the Manager's delivery.

'Ash . . . where are you?' she asked, still confused. He sounded as if he might be calling from the main block.

'Still in Montserrat. I'm sorry I wasn't at the airport to meet you. How was your flight?'

'Fine, thank you, and your friend Miss Long was there to take us under her wing.'

'It's Mrs Long, actually, although the marriage has broken up now.'

'Oh, I see. She introduced herself as Bettina Long, and I didn't notice what rings, if any, she was wearing. There was so much else to take in. This is a lovely place, Ash . . . Turtle Creek, I mean. Thank you for the special flowers and the wine. It was probably the wine which sent me to sleep just now. Oh, goodness'—after a glance at her watch—'It wasn't "just now". It was over two hours ago!'

'I'm sorry I woke you, but I couldn't get to the phone before, and I wanted to be sure you'd arrived safely.'

'It's a good thing you did wake me,' she said, 'otherwise I might have spent all night in this chair and woken up cramped.'

'Oh, you're not in bed yet?'

'Not yet.'

'I hope you've acquired some cooler night things than the ones you were wearing when I stayed with you in London. This is no climate for thick pyjamas.'

Christie remembered the morning he had lingered in her bedroom, somehow contriving to make her as uneasy as a middle-aged spinster in Victorian times.

'Naturally I haven't brought them,' she said stiffly.

'What have you brought instead?'

She suspected him of teasing her. 'A cotton nightie made for me by Margaret Kelly. Isn't it rather expensive, telephoning from another island?' she added. 'Oughtn't we to keep this call short?'

'Perhaps you're right. I can't say yet when I'll be back, but I'll be there as soon as I can. Goodnight, Christiana. If you do wake up in the small hours, go for a stroll on the beach. It may be cooler, but I'm sure your new nightdress is very little less decorous than those pyjamas.'

On this mocking note he rang off, leaving her farewell unspoken and her hand clenched on the receiver more tightly than it had been before his derisive parting shot.

Christie did wake in the small hours, but even if she had felt inclined to go for a solitary walk on the now moonlit beach, she would not have done so in case John, too, should wake and be frightened at finding himself alone in a strange place.

However when, at half past six, it was light outside and the child was still soundly asleep, she crept out of bed and went to retrieve her swimsuit from the line in the small screened patio outside the kitchen door.

Apart from two men, one of whom was raking the sand while the other arranged the sun-beds in orderly groups, she had the beach to herself.

The sun was gilding the clouds—not the low grey unbroken clouds of a European winter, but scattered white cottonwool clouds—but had not yet risen above the low hills of the hinterland when she walked into the sea.

At waist-depth, she flung herself forward, the water momentarily cool to her sleep-warmed body, but only for a moment. She began to swim a vigorous breast-stroke, moving parallel to the shore, counting the strokes until, at a hundred, she let her feet sink to the sand and stood up, her breathing quickened by the unaccustomed exercise.

The beach was in full sunshine when she emerged from the sea to walk to the end and then back again. Half way back to Frangipani Cottage, she said, 'Good morning' to an elderly couple who, judging by the pallor of their skin, were also new arrivals whose bodies had yet to adjust to the change of time zone.

She found her nephew awake, but untroubled by her disappearance.

He was sitting on the verandah in his pyjamas, watching and being watched by a black bird smaller than an English blackbird and much less nervous of humans.

Later, when they had breakfast, they had an audience of these birds, and they also found out the purpose of a wickerwork globe which hung from a bracket on the wall. It was not, as Christie had first thought, an outdoor light fitting. Inside was a dish of sugar, and through the gaps in the wicker flew little birds with bright yellow breasts.

At lunchtime, from a waiter in the restaurant, she learned that the impudent black birds were greckels, and the smaller birds were bananaquits, known in Antigua as yellowbirds.