The Orphan's Dream (29 page)

‘I wouldn't say no,' she said demurely. ‘Ta, Cap'n.'

Hubert sank down on a stool by the makeshift bar and drank thirstily. ‘So how did you come to be here, Captain Starke? Did your ship also come to grief on the reef?'

‘We lost a mast in a storm off Havana. The ship was crippled, but we got as far as Key West before another more vicious storm put an end to the poor old girl. Some of us managed to get ashore, but the
Lady Grace
went down in less than half an hour.'

‘That's terrible,' Mirabel said, remembering the shock she had felt and the utter dismay when she had read about the sinking of his ship in
Lloyd's
List
. ‘So how did you get here?'

His expression was guarded. ‘We bought a disused long boat, intending to sail as far north as possible in order to reach a large seaport and get a passage home. Unfortunately the timbers were rotten and we were lucky to get this far.'

‘So you decided to turn native, Captain Starke.' Hubert's voice was tinged with sarcasm, so unusual for him that Mirabel caught her breath. She shot him a wary glance, afraid that he might have sensed that there had been something between herself and Jack, even if it had been one-sided.

Jack raised his glass, seemingly unperturbed. ‘I always take the easy way out, Mr Kettle. Here's to you and your lovely young bride.'

Hubert tossed back the remainder of his drink and rose to his feet. ‘I'd be obliged if you would point us in the direction of a guest house or an inn where we might stay.'

‘There's a hotel being built but it's not finished yet.' Jack's tone was not encouraging.

‘We need to stay somewhere,' Mirabel said softly. ‘My husband has been unwell.'

‘I'm perfectly all right, and ready to continue our journey to the Fakahatchee swamp. There must be somewhere we can stay.' Hubert loosened his collar, swaying on his feet.

Mirabel rushed forward but Bodger was there first and he pressed Hubert down on the stool. ‘Don't worry, guv. Cap'n Starke will find us a berth for a night or two.' He turned to Jack, frowning. ‘The guv needs to rest awhile.'

‘I can see that.' Jack tossed back his drink and abandoned the glass to the chaotic jumble on the table. ‘I think I know the ideal place. If you'll wait here, Mr Kettle, I'll take the ladies with me and they can make the decision. Bodger, stay with him. We won't be long.'

Mirabel followed Jack outside onto the stoop, where the drunken man had fallen asleep with his head lolling to one side. She moved closer to Jack, lowering her voice. ‘I ought to stay and look after Hubert. Gertie could go with you.'

‘I don't want to go wandering round the jungle, Mabel.' Gertie hesitated in the doorway, wringing her hands. ‘I'm scared of spiders and things and if I saw a snake I swear I'd die of fright.'

‘All right.' Mirabel held up her hand. ‘Stay here and help Bodger to look after Mr Kettle. I'll go with Captain Starke.' She was in control of her emotions now, or so she hoped. She braced her shoulders, determined that he would not see the effect he had on her. ‘Lead on.'

Jack walked ahead, leading the way along a dirt road that wound its way through dense vegetation and swaying palms, the like of which Mirabel had never seen. The air was filled with strange sounds, the whirring of insects and the calls of animals that were also foreign to her. She kept close to Jack, walking in silence until she could bear it no longer. ‘Why didn't you send word home?' she demanded, coming to a sudden halt. ‘Why did you let us believe that you were lost at sea?'

He stopped, turning slowly to look at her. ‘Why would you care, Mrs Kettle? You seem to have done pretty well for yourself.'

‘That was uncalled for.' Shocked by the implied criticism and stung by its unfairness, she tossed her head. ‘You don't know anything about my circumstances.'

‘Aren't you forgetting something?' He fixed her with a hard stare. ‘I introduced you to Zilla because I knew she would look after you. She's a tough businesswoman but I knew she would see something more in you than just another of her girls.'

‘No, you didn't.' Mirabel countered angrily. ‘You left me there to fend for myself and that's exactly what I did. Think what you like but I married a good, kind man and it wasn't for his money.'

He curled his lip. ‘So it was a love match, was it? You married a man in his dotage because you'd fallen madly in love with him.'

‘No, of course not.' Mirabel knew she was blushing furiously and she turned her head away, staring into the dense liquid greenness of the forest. ‘I – I like and respect Hubert. It was a marriage of convenience for both of us, and . . .'

‘Yes, I can see that.' He shrugged and walked on.

She hurried after him. ‘No, you don't. You're the same as everyone else, making a judgement simply because it doesn't suit your way of thinking. I'm happy with Hubert, very happy.'

‘If you say so, Mrs Kettle.' He quickened his pace, leaving her little alternative but to follow.

Inwardly fuming she did her best to keep up with him, although her long skirts hampered her movements and her tight stays made it difficult to catch her breath. The searing heat and the strangeness of their surroundings only added to the maelstrom of emotions that she thought she had well in hand, but which kept returning to choke her with unshed tears. She was furious with Jack for not caring and furious with herself for caring too much.

After a while she was too hot and tired to think of anything other than her own discomfort. In his cotton shirt with his sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular forearms, and his long legs encased in loose-fitting trousers, Jack was better dressed for the climate, and he strode on without looking back. She kept up with him out of pride as well as necessity, but eventually the road widened as they reached a small settlement of single-storey wooden houses. Wood smoke curled into the air and the scent of roasting meat made her mouth water. Jack walked up to one of the clapboard buildings, rapped on the door and waited. Moments later it was opened by a smiling black woman, her large frame enveloped in a cotton-print gown and her hair tied up in a colourful turban. They exchanged a few words and Jack turned his head, beckoning to Mirabel. ‘Come and meet the kind lady who has agreed to take you in.' He made it sound like a huge favour and this irritated Mirabel even more. She walked slowly towards them.

‘Mama Lou, this is Mrs Kettle.'

Mama Lou beamed at Mirabel, inclining her head. ‘It's a pleasure to meet you.'

‘And you, Mama Lou.' Mirabel shook her hand. ‘Did Captain Starke explain that my husband is not in the best of health?'

‘Indeed he did, honey. I have a cabin out back where he can rest undisturbed.'

‘It's only a short stay,' Mirabel said hastily. ‘We'll be travelling on as soon as we can arrange transport to take us to the Fakahatchee swamp.'

Mama Lou threw back her head and laughed. ‘Then I guess you'll still be here when the Bay View House Hotel finally opens. You might be its first guests, although I can tell you you'll get the best food here. I'm famous for my conch fritters and johnnycake.'

‘I can vouch for that.' Jack's lazy smile embraced Mirabel for a brief moment before he turned away, addressing himself to Mama Lou. ‘I'll bring them here now, if that's all right with you?'

‘Sure, Jack.' Mama Lou held her hand out to Mirabel. ‘Come in, honey, and rest yourself. You shouldn't be out walking in the heat of noon. It ain't the thing for no one, least of all a fair-skinned lady like you.'

Mirabel had been about to follow Jack but she opted to stay. The thought of trudging back to the shore in the blistering heat outweighed her feelings of responsibility for Hubert; after all, he had Bodger and Gertie to take care of him. She stepped into the relative cool of Mama Lou's house.

Their accommodation turned out to be two cabins at the rear of the property. In the shade of a huge avocado tree skinny hens pecked at the dry soil and goats munched on the sparse vegetation. Each cabin contained two beds draped with mosquito netting, and a washstand. It was not the height of luxury but the bedding was clean and the floors were swept daily by one of Mama Lou's daughters, who volunteered to do their laundry for a small price: a service that was invaluable as sweat-soaked garments smelled unpleasant and were uncomfortable to wear.

Mirabel and Gertie shared one of the cabins, while Hubert and Bodger took the other. Jack, it seemed, had accommodation elsewhere, and having settled them in he had made himself scarce. Mirabel was at a loss to understand his attitude towards her. He seemed indifferent, but if he cared so little for her why would he have taken her marriage to Hubert so much to heart? She could not explain it and she did not choose to confide in Gertie, who was notoriously tactless and bad at keeping secrets. Besides which, Hubert was giving her cause for concern. He had recovered from the sickness that laid him low during their sea voyages, but he had developed a fever and spent most of his time lying on his wooden bunk, his needs cared for by Bodger. Mirabel found herself barred from the cabin at Hubert's command in case what he had was contagious, but Bodger declared himself to be immune to all foreign diseases.

During the next few days Mama Lou kept them amused with her constant stream of chatter and fed them delicious meals, eaten outside on a wooden bench in the shade of the tree. In the evenings lanterns hung from its branches, and large colourful moths fluttered around them attracted by their flickering light. The air was filled with the aroma of roasting goat meat and exotic spices, and the workers from the Bahamas who had come to build the hotel could be heard singing as they cooked their supper over wood fires. Bodger joined Mirabel and Gertie for meals and when he was not tending to Hubert he went off on his own, returning late in the evening. Gertie shrugged her thin shoulders and said it was none of her business what her brother did in his own time, but Mirabel suspected that he joined Jack and the other men in the beach shack to smoke and drink rum.

After several days of enforced idleness Mirabel had had enough. First thing in the morning, before the heat struck the land like a flaming torch, she set off in search of Jack. She found him on the stoop of the shack, talking to a scruffy-looking individual whose shaggy grey beard and tow-coloured hair made him look like Robinson Crusoe. They stopped talking as she approached and the man stared at her, looking her up and down as if he had not seen a woman for a very long time.

‘You didn't tell me you had a lady here, Jack.'

‘Mrs Kettle, may I introduce Bill Bundy?' Jack stepped down to stand beside Mirabel, placing himself squarely between them. ‘Bill is a plant collector. He would have something in common with your husband.'

Bill Bundy seized Mirabel's hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Madam, it's an honour to meet you.'

Mirabel snatched her hand free. The look in his eyes seemed to strip her down to her chemise, sending a shiver down her spine. ‘How do you do, Mr Bundy?' She moved a little closer to Jack.

‘All the better for seeing a pretty young woman. Your husband is a damned lucky man to have a wife willing to accompany him on such a journey.'

‘He is indeed,' Jack said casually. ‘You'll excuse us, Bundy, but we have business to discuss.'

‘I bet you have.' Bundy gazed fixedly at Mirabel's breasts as he backed into the shack. ‘I hope to see you again, Mrs Kettle.'

‘How did he get here?' Mirabel demanded. ‘Where did he come from?'

‘I don't know. I didn't bother to ask him, but I do know that Bundy has made it his life's work to explore places where he knows he can find rare plant specimens. He ships them back to England and makes a small fortune, although I doubt if he is ever at home long enough to spend it.'

She glanced out to sea, realising with a sudden feeling of panic that the
Angelina
had sailed. ‘So he must have travelled overland,' she said thoughtfully. ‘We might do the same if he would be willing to act as our guide. Hubert could get his ghost orchid after all.'

‘That's important to you, isn't it, Mirabel?'

‘It's why we came here,' she said simply.

‘What the hell possessed Kettle to bring you on such a wild goose chase?'

She met his angry gaze with a frown. ‘What is it to you anyway? And why are you still here? Do you intend to spend the rest of your life living like this?' She encompassed their surroundings with a wave of her hands.

‘Why would Mrs Hubert Kettle worry about someone like me?'

‘I think that you can't forgive me for rising above the misfortunes that beset me at home. You were happy to leave me in a house of ill repute, regardless of what might happen to me after you'd gone back to sea.'

He grasped her by the wrist, locking his fingers together as if he would never let her go. ‘You were able to take care of yourself as far as I can see. You did well to trap an old man into marrying you.'

She wrenched her hand free. ‘How dare you talk to me like that? You've no idea what I went through.'

‘Ahem.' Bill Bundy emerged from the shack. ‘Excuse me for interrupting this domestic spat, but it's getting boring. However, I believe I heard the young lady mention ghost orchids?'

Jack's lips curved in a rueful smile. ‘My apologies, Mrs Kettle. I seem to have spoken out of turn.'

‘Never mind that, mate,' Bundy said, chuckling. ‘I don't care if your fancy runs to married women, but I sense a bit of business coming my way and I need some money to get me back to England.' He advanced on them purposefully. ‘You and me need to have a talk, little lady.'

Jack stepped in between them. ‘Don't trust this chap, Mirabel. He'll take your money and disappear with it.'

‘That ain't fair, Jack.' Bundy screwed up his face. ‘Sticks and stones, mate.' He turned to Mirabel with a gap-toothed grin. ‘Take me to your husband, ma'am. If he's so intent on finding the ghost orchid, I'm his man. I could find me way across the wilderness blindfold, and I can take you there in three days, four at the most. Of course we'd have to talk money.'