Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

BOOK: Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1)
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Chapter 68

 

 

Philippe was aware of voices that seemed to be coming from a
long way away. Why were there people in his bedroom when he was trying to
sleep? he thought. His eyelids fluttered open and he struggled to focus on the
two people who were talking in lowered tones by his bedroom door. Realisation
began to dawn on him. This was not his bedroom.

‘Where am I?’ he asked, surprised by the croaking sound that
came out of his own mouth.

The two people by the door turned.

‘I’ll get the nurse,’ said Delphine, hurrying from the room,
while the other woman approached his bed.

As she came closer Philippe could see it was Jo from his publisher’s.

Confused, Philippe asked, ‘What are you doing in Mauritius?’
and then added, ‘I am still in Mauritius, aren’t I?’

Jo perched on the edge of the chair at his bedside and said
soothingly, ‘You’re in the hospital in Port Louis. Do you remember what
happened?’

‘Hospital? Am I sick?’ he croaked.

At that moment a nurse bustled into the room. ‘I’ll have to
ask you to wait outside for a few moments please,’ she said to Jo who
immediately obliged. She then turned her attention to Philippe. ‘How are you feeling?’
she asked, lifting his arm from the bed to take his pulse. ‘You’ve had us all
quite worried.’

‘Why am I here?’

The nurse chose her words carefully. ‘You were involved in
an incident in a bar in Flic en Flac and you were seriously injured.’

Philippe closed his eyes to try and think and in front of
him he could see Jacques’ face taunting him.

‘I think I punched someone,’ Philippe said.

‘Don’t try to talk now,’ instructed the nurse, whose badge
said her name was Grace. ‘Once the doctor has checked you over your sister can
come back in and maybe she can help you piece things together.’

Philippe was about to say that he didn’t have a sister but
realised just in time that Jo must have claimed to be his sibling thinking she
would need to be a relative in order to visit out of hours. He smiled weakly,
wondering if Delphine had claimed to be his half-sister.

‘It’s good to see you smile,’ said Grace. ‘There hasn’t been
much to smile about since you were rushed here on Wednesday.’

‘What day is it?’

‘It’s Saturday,’ Grace replied.

‘Did anyone tell Holly?’ he asked.

‘I think your friend Delphine contacted as many people as
she could.’

‘Is Holly here?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No, only Delphine and your sister, although yesterday there
was another young lady here, Candice.’

The door opened and a man in a white coat entered the room.
‘I’m Dr Lamb,’ he said, ‘and you are a very lucky man.’

He explained to Philippe how the broken glass he had fallen
onto had missed puncturing his heart by a fraction of a millimetre. It had
however caused a massive internal bleed which had required urgent life-saving
surgery upon his arrival at the hospital. All the time Dr Lamb was speaking he
was checking the various monitoring devices that were hooked up to Philippe and
also the chart on the end of his bed listing the medication that was being
administered.

Philippe’s eyes were getting heavy again with sleep. He
wanted to speak to Jo and Delphine but he could feel himself drifting off.

‘Sleep is the best thing for him at this point,’ Doctor Lamb
said to Grace. ‘Please keep his visitors out until he wakes of his own accord,’
he added as he left the room.

 

Chapter 69

 

 

It was barely light as Holly pulled into the driveway of the
Forresters’ home. Robert was already outside, loading two small suitcases into
the boot of his Jaguar. Holly pulled up behind his car and climbed out with her
small overnight bag.

‘You travel light, Holly,’ said Robert, greeting her with a
kiss to each cheek. ‘Something Rosie and I have never quite mastered,’ he added
with a rueful glance towards the luggage in their car boot.

Holly’s face flushed slightly as she realised she had almost
given the game away by only packing for a couple of days when they were
supposed to be away for a week. ‘You’d be surprised how much I have in that
little bag. I guess it’s one of the bonuses of constantly travelling for work.
I’ve learnt to only take what I’m actually going to need.’

‘Rosie is just finishing her tea and toast, have you eaten?’

‘It was a bit too early when I left so I think I’ll wait
until we are on the ferry,’ she said, not wanting to risk her fragile stomach
until she could make an excuse of sea sickness to Robert who, she assumed, knew
nothing of her condition.

‘We should be setting off really,’ she added, checking her
watch. ‘It’s almost six.’

 

 

Three hours later, with Robert’s Jaguar safely parked on the
lower deck of the ferry, the three of them stood on the upper deck as the boat
left the English coast bound for France.

Rosemary was gripping the rail so hard that her knuckles had
turned white. She was fighting back the urge to cry as she watched the towering
white cliffs of Dover receding into the distance while the ferry ploughed
inexorably forward out into the open but crowded water of the English Channel. She
hadn’t expected to feel quite so emotional leaving England. She had spent
almost as much of her life in foreign climes as she had in the country of her
birth but there was a finality to this departure. She shivered.

‘You’re cold, Rosie, let’s get you inside. We don’t want you
coming down with anything while we’re away, and besides, Holly hasn’t had any
breakfast yet.’

The two women exchanged a look as they followed Robert to
the cafeteria. Fortunately Holly had remembered to bring some of her camomile tea
bags with her as the insipid liquid Robert was sipping would almost certainly
have made her feel queasy. She nibbled the corner of a piece of toast while she
listened to Rosemary making the comparison between the ferry and the cruise
ships she had danced on for so many years.

‘As you can imagine the ships were much bigger than this,
although quite small by today’s standards. I sometimes wonder how those
enormous vessels stay afloat. The decor was opulent, similar to a five-star
hotel, and you had to dress in evening gowns for dinner every night, not just
for the Captain’s cocktail party.’

‘Did you ever get sea sick?’ Holly asked.

‘Only right at the very start. We were sailing from
Southampton through the Bay of Biscay and it lived up to its reputation. I wondered
what I had let myself in for. The ship was crashing through mountainous waves
and I sat wrapped in a blanket out on the promenade deck because I didn’t want
to be trapped down in my cabin if the ship sank. I think I had just seen the
original version of
The Poseidon Adventure
, which
wasn’t very smart when you’re about to spend the next six months of your life
at sea.’

‘Had you always wanted to work on a cruise ship?’ Holly
asked.

‘It had never crossed my mind really until I was successful
at the audition. I’ve always loved travelling abroad and in my opinion there is
no better way of seeing lots of different countries and cultures than from the
comfort of a ship.’

‘Can you believe this is the first boat I have ever been
on?’ Holly said. ‘I’ve never even crossed the Thames on a ferry, or been on a
pleasure boat on the River Trent.’

‘Really?’ exclaimed Robert. ‘Well what do you think of it so
far?’

‘So far so good, but you don’t really get much sensation of
movement from in here. I think I’ll go back on deck if you two don’t mind.’

‘You go, Holly. We’ll meet you back at the car when we’re
coming into Calais.’

Holly was feeling fragile but it was not morning sickness or
sea sickness that was causing it. Her mind and heart were in turmoil. She hated
deceiving Robert and wanted to avoid any questions about meeting up with her
Italian friends for as long as possible. As she climbed the steep metal steps
to the outside deck she wondered again if she was doing the right thing by
helping Rosemary. She moved towards the front of the boat and was surprised to
see the French coastline already coming into view across the smooth grey-blue
expanse of water.

La Manche, she thought randomly, wasn’t that what the French
called the English Channel? She had learnt it in geography as a ten-year-old
and it had always helped her remember the French word for sleeve. Fleetingly
she thought of the evening she had spent with Philippe at his house in Tamarina
Bay when he had asked her if she spoke French. She remembered the electricity
between them and the excitement she felt at having finally met someone she
thought was special enough to lay her past to rest. How could I have got it so
wrong? she thought sadly.

Salty sea spray splashed onto her face and mixed with the
salty tears that were already there. I feel so emotional right now, she
thought, how do I know I’m doing the right thing in helping Rosemary to take
her own life? It’s not too late to change my mind. I can make an excuse that I
don’t feel well and say I have to go home. Robert would believe me because he
knows I was vomiting earlier in the week. Will I be able to live with a clear
conscience if I go ahead with this? Will I be able to if I don’t? If only there
was someone else I could ask for guidance. She lifted her gaze to the almost
cloudless blue sky. Two fluffy white clouds merged momentarily to form a cloud
that looked like a giant white feather. Holly gasped.

This wasn’t about her, it was about helping a friend in
desperate need. She had promised Rosemary and she wasn’t about to break that
promise.

‘Thank you, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘I love you.’

 

Chapter 70

 

 

Jo had been waiting patiently in the hospital’s relatives
room for Philippe to wake and be allowed visitors. The nurse had warned her
that it might be a long wait as Dr Lamb had instructed that Philippe must be
allowed to sleep until he woke naturally. Thank goodness it’s Saturday, she
thought, at least I’m not missing work.

She had spoken with Delphine about the brawl at the Dolphin
Bar but the Mauritian woman hadn’t been present at the time so was only able to
give her a bare bones account of what had happened, although Jo got the feeling
that she was holding something back. When Jo asked if the police had been in to
question Philippe she detected a look of panic in the other woman’s eyes before
she replied that the incident hadn’t been reported to the police as the victim
wasn’t pressing charges. That’s odd, Jo had thought, I know I would press
charges if someone had tried to punch me without provocation.

After their conversation she had suggested that Delphine go
home for a rest as she looked shattered and there was no point them both
hanging around in the visitor room. It wasn’t a totally kind and thoughtful
gesture. She needed to spend time with Philippe alone and explain to him her
view that maybe this was not the best time to reveal his true identity. There
was no way of knowing if anyone had captured the attack on their mobile phone.
If they had, and subsequently made the connection that the perpetrator was a
famous author, it could adversely affect sales of the book. Worse, someone
might even consider blackmail to keep the whole thing quiet. Again Jo wondered
what on earth had caused Philippe to lunge at this local guy.

These days it was completely out of character but when she
had first met Philippe, when they were both working for the same newspaper, he
frequently got drunk and could be quite aggressive if someone expressed an
opinion that differed from his own.

Jo was fresh out of university and had immediately fallen
for his blond good looks and his charming French accent, which she later
discovered he laid on more thickly when he was trying to impress a female. It
had worked. They had dated for several months, but although they had fun and
great sex – just the thought of which caused a stirring deep in her belly –
there was never the feeling that theirs was a relationship that was going
anywhere. Philippe had been the main reason she had eventually left the
newspaper and moved into publishing and, considering her meteoric rise with
Ripped, he had done her a massive favour professionally, despite breaking her
heart.

It had come as a big surprise when, having not heard from
him in twelve years, he sent her the manuscript of his first book for an opinion
before he started approaching literary agents. It was so good that Jo had
instantly negotiated a three-book deal for him, negating the need for an agent,
something of a rarity in modern publishing. He had never claimed that
Maman
was written about his own young life but Jo had her
suspicions and realised, after reading it, that was probably why he found
committing to a relationship so difficult. He hadn’t found a woman he felt he
could trust.

Philippe had been afraid that some of his newspaper
colleagues would ridicule the subject matter of
Maman
,
so together they had come up with the idea to write under the pen name of
Veronica Phillips and keep the author’s identity a secret. The mystery
surrounding the author had added to the success of his book and Jo was
confident that revealing ‘she’ was actually a ‘he’ would be a great future
publicity stunt. Now this scrape Philippe had got himself into had ruined the
planned revelation for the
Tiffany
book launch.
Fortunately, this new book is so good it will sell itself, she thought. We’ll
save the reveal for his next book which, if this one is anything to go by,
won’t be for at least another eighteen months, by which time this entire
incident will be long forgotten.

Jo yawned. She was really tired from the flight and the jet
lag but this conversation with Philippe needed to be face to face so there
would be no argument. Her flight back to London was booked for the following
morning but, if necessary, she could take the evening flight and still be back
at her desk on Monday morning. The sacrifice for being successful in my career,
she thought. I have no life apart from chasing wayward authors halfway round
the world. Even as she thought it Jo knew that she wouldn’t have done it for
anyone else and that in truth she hoped that Philippe had sought her out when
he had written his first book not just because Ripped was such a great
publishing house, but because he still had feelings for her too.

There was a quiet tap on the door and Grace popped her head
round. ‘You can go back in now, he’s just woken up.’

Jo picked up her overnight bag and followed the nurse back
along the corridor to Philippe’s room. He was propped up on his pillows looking
better than when she had seen him a few hours previously.

He was obviously feeling a little better too as he winked
and greeted her with, ‘Hello, sis.’

‘I’ll give you fifteen minutes and then come back and see
how he’s doing,’ said Grace, closing the door behind her.

Although she was relieved to see him looking so much better
Jo had already decided that she needed to be quite stern with him.

‘What the hell were you doing punching someone in a bar?’
she demanded.

‘Trying to punch someone,’ he corrected. ‘I’m obviously out
of practice.’

‘It’s not funny, Phil. We’re already right up to the
deadline on your book and I was seriously considering the possibility of having
to delay its publication.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘The red mist just descended. I
suppose you could call it a crime of passion.’

He went on to explain the circumstances that had led up to
the altercation with Jacques in the Dolphin Bar. ‘I was so stupid,’ he said. ‘I
found the perfect woman and then I lost her again through a drunken mistake.’

I’m the stupid one, thought Jo, chasing halfway round the
world in the hope that since they had come back into each other’s lives,
Philippe might realise that she was the one.

Barely able to conceal her dreadful disappointment she
asked, ‘So is Tiffany her real name?’

‘No. It’s Holly.’

That’s an odd coincidence, Jo thought. I had my friend Holly
lined up to copy edit Philippe’s book. ‘Has anyone told her you’re in
hospital?’

‘Delphine tried but she has blocked me from emailing her.’

‘But you must have a phone number for her?’

‘No. She works for a charity so she doesn’t earn much money
and she didn’t want to be tempted to call me long distance. We were supposed to
be reunited on Thursday and then I went and cocked it up.’

Philippe was starting to get upset, and Jo knew she didn’t
have much more time with him before Grace came back to check his stats. At
which point I will probably be told to leave, she thought.

‘It’s okay, Phil,’ she said, trying to calm him. ‘I’ll try
and find her and tell her what has happened, although you haven’t given me much
to go on. Which charity does she work for?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said despairingly. ‘We didn’t really talk
about work.’

‘Well, I’ll do what I can. Holly isn’t a common name but
I’ll need her last name. You do have it?’

‘No, but the Plantation House hotel will know.’

‘Good thinking, I’ll email them when I get home. Now
listen,’ she said. ‘About the book. I think it’s strong enough without the big
“Veronica Phillips is a man” reveal and in the circumstances we don’t want to
risk any adverse publicity. I suggest we continue to keep your identity secret
until your next book is done. What do you think?’

The effort of all the talking had tired Philippe and his
eyes were starting to close as he nestled back into his pillows.

‘Do what ever you think is best, Jo, but promise me you’ll
try and find Holly.’

‘You need to rest now,’ Jo said, as she stood and leaned
over to kiss his forehead, before turning away abruptly, tears prickling the
back of her eyes. Why couldn’t he love me the way he loves this Holly woman?
she thought, her hopes for rekindling their relationship totally crushed.

Weariness enveloped her as she trudged to the front of the
hospital and fell into the back of a waiting cab to go to her hotel. At least
I’ll be on the morning flight, she thought, now I know there is no point me
hanging around here.

Jo was not a vindictive person so she would try and find
Philippe’s new love, but she didn’t see any need to rush.

BOOK: Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1)
9.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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