Spell of the Island (13 page)

Chapter Eight

The following morning Emma went for a swim before breakfast; the sun was already painting the tropical landscape with gold, and bright birds darted about, stealing colour, changing it.

So peaceful! Yet Emma’s mind was in turmoil. She had lain awake, and when eventually in the early hours her restlessness had ceased, it was only because she had half made up her mind to stay in Mauritius, accepting Paul’s offer.

But with the light of day a very different aspect presented itself, and she saw vividly the time when Paul tired of her, when the first signs would be indifference, perhaps a sharp word, or even worse,
long silences. And then that dreaded moment when he would say it was all ended.

And she would leave, her life shattered, for no other man could ever replace him.

She entered the water, so warm and smooth around her honey-tanned flesh; she tried to forget everything and live for the moment. But fate decreed otherwise. She saw Paul swinging along, towel dangling, wrap open and belt trailing on the sand. Tall, erect, striding along with that especial athletic grace which stamped him as nobility. His head was held high, shoulders broad and square. Emma swam to the shore, hoping to get her wrap, pick up her towel, and with no more than a brief and polite ‘good morning’ make her escape.

Paul reached the place where she had left her things before she did, and she bit her lip. His face was set and stern, eyes hard and steely dark. She guessed he was thinking of last night.

‘Good morning,’ she said into the silence. ‘You’re—going in for a swim. You’re early . . . I’m j-just coming out. . . .’ The disjointed sentences brought a slight relaxing of his features as the ghost of a smile touched his mouth.

‘Running away, as usual.’ Paul’s voice was sardonic, his eyes inscrutable as they wavered from her flushed face to the delicate outline of her breasts and then back again.

‘I’m not escaping, as you term it,’ denied Emma, trying to recover her composure. ‘I’ve had my swim, so naturally I want to go in and have my shower.’

‘Had your swim?’ The straight black brows were raised. ‘You haven’t been in the water for more than three minutes at most.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I was at my bedroom window when you came from the chateau. It didn’t take more than three minutes for me to get into my trunks and coat, so—’

‘You followed me deliberately?’

‘It’s nice to have company on one’s early morning swim,’ was his suave response. ‘Come on—’

‘No! I’m going in!’

‘You’re the most hot-tempered woman I have ever known.’ His voice was mild and unfathomable.

Emma said, looking down to where he stood in front of her wrap, if you’ll step aside, I can get my things.’

At that he gave a low laugh which erased any sternness that had remained.

‘Afraid to get them? Afraid of coming too close?’

Emma clenched her fists.

‘Just what do you get out of this game you play with me?’ she demanded.

‘Strangely, not very much,’ was his astonishing admission and he seemed to heave a sigh.

The moment was tense, electric, with Emma having the strange conviction that if only she could adopt the right attitude, say the right thing, her whole future would be affected. What was this elusive thing within her? Perhaps her subconscious was urging her to accept Paul’s offer . . . perhaps if she did so, Paul, instead of tiring of her, would come to realise he could not do without her. The idea persisted, but yet, she could not produce the words she believed Paul wanted to hear.

She spoke into the silence, asking again if he
would move, and adding before he could speak, ‘If you want company on your swim, then why didn’t you ask your girl friend to come with you?’ Emma could not have explained those words, for she hated the idea that Eileen was in fact Paul’s girl friend. She saw the dark eyes flicker curiously, the slight tilt of the head as if in silent inquiry, the unfathomable set of the mouth.

‘And what,’ came the smooth voice at last, ‘has given you the idea that Eileen is my girl friend?’

As there was no drawing back now, Emma found herself saying, aware now that she had referred to Eileen as his girl friend in order to note his reaction.

‘I took it for granted. Your mother seems to like her,’ she added, feeling somewhat specious, since she would not have said this had she not overheard that conversation between mother and son.

‘My mother likes her?’ with that lift of an eyebrow again. ‘I wasn’t aware that you’d had an opportunity to observe my mother’s attitude towards Eileen,’ he said with an enigmatic inflection. ‘Apart from your dining with us on one occasion, where else can your observations have been made?’

She averted her eyes, aware of colour tinting her cheeks. How easily this man could always set her at a disadvantage!

‘Forget it,’ she almost snapped, more angry with herself than him, for it was she who had capriciously mentioned Eileen.

‘Evasion, eh?’ There was a hint of mockery in the rich voice now. He bent to pick up her wrap. ‘I wonder what made you mention Eileen in the first place?’ he murmured inscrutably. And, without
affording her a chance to reply—even had she a reply ready, which of course she hadn’t—he added almost imperiously, ‘Turn around and I’ll help you into this covering. Your embarrassment is obvious to me, though I doubt if you yourself are aware of it.’ Again that mockery, tinged with amusement this time as his eyes flickered to where her hands lay clasped below her stomach, in an unconscious position of modesty. Naturally his remark made her blush, and she would have snatched the beach coat from him, but he deftly caught her wrist, jerking her to him. The kiss was brief and hard.

‘Pity we can be seen from the house,’ he said as with warm hands on her damp shoulders, he turned her round.

‘I wish I could understand you,’ said Emma in a sort of petulant, complaining voice when having put the wrap on her, he began tying the belt, his dark eyes boring into her, an impassiveness about them which was as puzzling as the almost tender curve of his mouth.

Did he care—? No . . . was he
beginning
to care? If she became his mistress would he learn to love her? Was the risk too great or should she take a gamble where the result would be all or nothing?

Paul had finished tying the belt and drew away. Emma sensed that he had been considering her words but that he had now dismissed them from his mind. His next words confirmed this.

‘Are you sure you want to go? Three minutes in the water’s not much.’

‘Yes, I want to go—’ She stopped, half wishing she hadn’t lied because in any case Paul, with his keen
perception, would be well aware that, deep down, she really did want to swim with him. Again his words were a confirmation of her thoughts.

‘You’re a great little fighter, Emma, but it’s not very pleasant to go against your inclinations.’

‘You’re so smart, aren’t you!’ she flashed, that temper flaring again. ‘And swelled-headed.’

‘Not swelled-headed,’ he denied. ‘Just perceptive of your transparency.’ His voice was bland and faintly mocking. Emma set her teeth and flashed back at him,

‘I wish
you
were as transparent, but you’re an enigma! You seem to enjoy being mysterious! Well, I shan’t have to put up with it for much longer, thank heaven!’ and with that impolite remark she picked up her towel and walked swiftly away from him.

While having breakfast with Louise and Jeremy, Emma suggested that she and Louise go into Port Louis after Jeremy was dropped at school, as Emma wanted to buy a couple more presents for friends with whom she worked.

‘I can’t,’ returned Louise, obviously disappointed, it’s a short day for Jeremy. The little ones finish at noon, because the older ones are having their sports’ practice this afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Emma became thoughtful. ‘You could drop me in Port Louis, though, if you don’t mind going all that way, and I could get a taxi back.’

Louise was hesitating, and just as Emma was about to say it didn’t matter, she would drop the idea, her sister spoke.

‘I feel I should spend this morning getting all
Jeremy’s clothes in order, and the nursery looking spick-and-span, ready for the next nanny. I’d hate to think that Paul could find anything to complain about.’

Emma nodded in agreement.

‘I’ll not bother, then,’ she decided. ‘I’ll help you with the nursery.’

‘You could go both ways by taxi,’ suggested Louise but then added that it would be expensive.

‘Too expensive,’ agreed Emma and gave up the idea of going into town.

But it was to transpire that, by some strange coincidence, and just as if he had known of Emma’s desire, Paul came to her as she sat on a lounger in the sunshine, reading a book. Louise had asked if she wanted to go with her to school, for the ride, but Emma had declined. She would relax in the garden, she decided. She glanced up as Paul approached, surprised at his smile in view of the way she had spoken to him earlier. It seemed he had not taken offence by it.

‘I don’t suppose you’d like to go into town?’ he asked, eyes flickering and interested as they took in the revealing sun top and brief shorts. Not difficult to see where his sensuous thoughts were! ‘Eileen and I are going into Port Louis. She has some shopping to do, and I have some business I want to attend to.’

Yes, he had an office in Port Louis, recalled Emma, and he had an apartment there as well. . . .

‘I did intend going into town,’ she admitted, not too keen on going along with Eileen but at the same time knowing she would feel better if she did get the presents she wanted. ‘But Louise couldn’t come, as Jeremy finishes school at noon today.’ She had laid
her book aside on the grass and was sitting upright. He could feast his eyes on
less
that way!

‘Then you must come along with us. I shall be coming back at about three this afternoon.’

Emma slanted him an upward glance.

‘You?’ she said. ‘Won’t Eileen be coming back with you?’

Paul quirked her a perceptive smile and shook his head.

‘No, she’s staying in Port Louis tonight with a friend. So you’ll have me all to yourself on the way back,’ he added in some amusement after a slight pause.

He expected an acid retort from Emma and was not disappointed. But in her anger Emma spoke words that left her wide open to a riposte that sent the blood rushing to her face.

‘That’ll be an exciting experience for me!’

‘I can make it so, Emma . . . so exciting you’ll remember it for a long time. As you once said, there are lots of lonely places between here and town.’

‘I don’t want your lift after all,’ she snapped, putting cool palms to her hot cheeks. ‘I’ve changed my mind!’

‘Don’t be silly.’ A dramatic change in him all at once and she rather thought that he regretted goading her to the point where she would refuse his offer of a lift. ‘You know very well I’ll not molest you—’

‘Do I? A statement like that amazes me! Your memory must be very short.’

‘Let us not start another slanging match, Emma. If I give you my promise, will that put your mind at rest?’

The temptation to remain stubborn was very
great, simply because she knew for sure that he would continue in his efforts to persuade her, and she would like to see just how far he would go. However, she decided against it and said more quietly, ‘All right, I’ll come with you.’

‘Good. I shall be leaving in about half an hour.’ He smiled down at her, and her heart caught. What an incomprehensible man he was! Suddenly she was recalling something she had read which was on a temple at Delphi in Greece: ‘Know Thyself.’

Emma was of the opinion, as she watched him striding away over the lawn, that Paul Fanchette did not know himself!

‘So how,’ she murmured quite audibly, ‘can I expect to know or understand him?’

Eileen was already in the front passenger seat when Emma arrived at the place where Paul usually left his car, and as he came up at that same moment he opened a rear door for her. Emma smiled as she glanced up, and he responded. But during the drive his conversation was mainly with the lovely girl sitting beside him. On reaching Port Louis he wasted no time in leaving the girls as, glancing at his watch, he realised he was already a little late for his appointment. Eileen suggested they go into a nearby cafe and have morning coffee, and Emma reluctantly agreed, much preferring to go off immediately on her own. She was to be back at the car at three, and she wanted to have a wander around the town before making her purchases.

The cafe was outdoors, beneath the trees in the square. Eileen was soon asking Emma questions
about herself, her interest seeming to be out of all proportion. Emma passed most of them off effectively and without being too cool with the girl. But when she was asked what she thought of Paul, she stiffened immediately and said with a chill inflection, ‘I wouldn’t dream of passing an opinion on my sister’s employer, Miss Jennings. Such a thing would be quite out of place.’ Finality in her tone but little did she know that, later, she was to say something about Paul that the girl would carry to him—later but not today.

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked,’ was all Eileen said to that, and for the next ten minutes or so the conversation was scanty and confined to the merits of the town.

Glad to get away, Emma made for the museum after having seen a sign directing people to it. She wanted to see the life-like model of the famous dodo, a bird made extinct in the seventeenth century when the island was occupied by those who obviously had destructive tendencies. And its name had since then been inseparable from that of Mauritius, its being figured in the Arms of the island and incorporated in many tourist souvenirs. She felt sad as she stood there, staring at the model, and a copy of a painting done by Savery in 1625, sad that it should be extinct. It could not fly and apart from its destruction by men, it seemingly fell prey to the newly-introduced pigs.

‘Dead as a dodo. . . .’ How apt the saying!

From the museum she went to the shops and strolled along, merely window-gazing at first, enjoy
ing novel experiences and the warm sunshine. A small cafe tempted her to take a snack lunch before setting out to look for the presents she wanted. The choice was limitless, with lovely things both from Europe and the East. For one friend who made all her own clothes she bought a dress length of embroidered satin, and for the other friend a set of Indian costume jewelry—necklace, bracelet and earrings—which were packed in a velvet-lined gift box.