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Sighing deeply, Lorna closed her eyes—and slept. In her oblivion the ravages of her mind ceased to exist, sleep a better tonic than any medicine.

She woke feeling refreshed. The pain was still there, but its intensity had lessened and she looked down, anxious not to miss her first sight of the islands.

The Indian Ocean seemed a strange dark colour, but as they lost height she could see. the deep vivid blue. In the far distance the islands came into sight— a scattering of emeralds on a blue cloth—and as they came nearer she saw that the water lapping their shores was of a different shade, paler and almost transparent. She felt excited, forgetting for a spell yesterday’s disturbing events and looking forward to seeing Margo and Pieter again. .

Now they were circling the largest of the islands. Lorna could pick out the landing strip, towns, jetties, fishing boats and coves with white sand, mountains and clumps of trees. The earth came rushing up to meet them at alarming rate and Lorna braced herself despite the restraining seat belt. It was a pleasant surprise to find they had actually landed and she had felt nothing.

They were through Customs in no time at all and the next moment Margo was running forward to meet her. Lorna hugged her sister—a tanned, beautiful Margo who was obviously so happy, and Margo said: “Am I glad you’re here? I thought you’d never make it.”

Lorna laughed. “You don’t think I’d miss your wedding? Although I had my doubts when the plane was delayed yesterday,” and surveying Margo critically, “Being in love suits you—I’ve never seen you look so happy.”

“Being loved, you mean,” responded Margo lightly. “I wish I could say the same for you. You don’t look too good. I thought the voyage was supposed to be a holiday?”

Lorna’s face shadowed, but she did not want to spoil Margo’s happiness at this moment. “I’m all right. I didn’t sleep too well last night, that’s all— strange bed and all that, you know. Where’s Pieter?”

Margo tossed her head. “He’s coming. I left him down by the harbour talking to one of his friends. You can’t get him away from ships. Oh, it’s good to see you, Lorna,” squeezing her arm. “I’m happy here, but I miss not having my family.”

“You have Pieter. Isn’t he enough?”

Margo smiled. “Sure, but there are some things you can’t discuss, even with the man you’re going to marry—like my wedding gown, for instance. It’s an absolute dream—I’m dying to show you. Ah, here he is.”

Pieter strode swiftly towards them, not quite so tall as Ashley, but just as dark. He had grown a moustache since leaving England which made him look older, but his dynamic personality was by no means changed. He pumped Lorna’s hand vigorously. “Glad you made it at last. How was the voyage?”

“Marvellous,” smiled Lorna.

“I prefer to fly myself, much as I love boats. Time’s money to me. I shan’t be able to stay on Verva much longer. I might manage our wedding,” with a sly grin at Margo, “but after that we’ll be off.” He put his arm around her fondly. “Still looking forward to travelling with me?”

“Of course, it will be great fun.”

“Hark at her,” Pieter snorted. “Fun indeed! It’s your bread and butter we’ll be earning, my girl, not one long holiday.”

‘Yes, darling,” murmured Margo submissively, before saying to Lorna, “That’s all the man ever thinks of—work. Thank goodness you’re here. Maybe he’ll forget it for a while.”

Lorna was delighted to see how happy they were and decided not to say anything to Margo for the time being about Ashley. After all, he had successfully if not intentionally succeeded in rekindling her hatred, so no good purpose would be served by forcing Margo to drag up her unhappy past. The least said the better. No doubt in the future they would both have a good laugh about the whole affair, but at the moment it was all too new and painful to consider lightly. Her blood boiled merely thinking about him and resolutely she pushed him to the back of her mind.

Pieter lost no time in getting them on to his boat, and Lorna’s impression of Mahe was vague. She was aware of the towering peaks of Les Trois Freres, of the unexpected mixture of modem buildings and tin shanties, of the friendly smiles of the Seychellois, but that was all. As she climbed aboard Pieter’s luxury cabin cruiser Lorna determined to return at the first available opportunity to discover for herself the beauty of this island—a decision forgotten a few hours later as Verva hove into sight.

To Lorna it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Lush green tree-covered mountains rose from turquoise waters and as they drew nearer wide sandy beaches and a scattering of houses came into view. Most dominant of all was The White House. Ashley had not exaggerated when he said it stood out like a landmark. Even from this distance it attracted Lorna’s attention. Built on severe geometrical lines, it nevertheless did not mar the island’s aesthetic charm. In fact, thought Lorna, it added a kind of regal splendour.

A narrow jetty ran out from the shore. Pieter steered skilfully alongside, jumping out and securely fastening the boat to her moorings before helping Lorna and Margo to climb ashore.

Lorna drew a deep breath of sheer pleasure and ran along the concrete mole to the soft white sand. Takamaka trees and coconut palms bordered the beach, all leaning drunkenly to one side. Through a gap in the trees Lorna could see a series of steps hewn out of the granite leading up to The White House. The building was higher than it had appeared from the sea and Lorna craned her neck to see more clearly. However, the fronds from the trees hampered her vision and all that was visible was occasional glimpses of white.

Margo and Pieter caught her up. “Welcome to Verva,” smiled Pieter. “May your stay be a happy one. It’s very quiet here, as I expect you already know, although with Margo’s elaborate plans for the wedding we haven’t been exactly idle.”

“It’s like a dream,” Lorna said excitedly. “I keep thinking I shall wake up and find myself back home. Everything’s so perfect.”

“You wait until you see the house,” put in Margo, “then you really will think you’re dreaming.”

They hurried to catch up with Pieter, who strode ahead through the trees, carrying Lorna’s cases effortlessly. She didn’t envy him climbing those steps with such a load and wondered why with all his wealth he hadn’t a man for such a job. Surprisingly he turned to one side at the foot of the steps, following a narrow path until they reached what looked to Lorna like the white-painted doors of a garage. Instead it was a lift. Lorna was amazed at this feat of engineering, but once inside its pine-clad walls, with deep blue carpet underfoot and hidden lights casting a golden glow over their faces, Lorna forgot they were rising through sheer rock.

Within a few seconds the doors slid open and Lorna found herself in a room at the front of the house. Cane tables and chairs were the only furniture and sliding glass doors stood open leading on to a terrace made out of local stone. Lorna stepped through, spellbound. In front stretched a vast expanse of shiny blue ocean and below the hillside fell steeply away. A low balustrade was all that separated her from the sheer drop. To one side the steps rose up, incredibly dangerous to Lorna’s inquisitive eyes. She drew back, dizzy.

Margo’s laughter reached her. “Well, satisfied yourself? Some view, isn’t it?”

“It’s unbelievable! You weren’t exaggerating when you wrote and said you’d found paradise. These flowers, they’re beautiful.” As she touched them a white frangipani blossom fell into her hand and she tucked it into her hair.

“Mind you,” continued Margo, “I shan’t be sorry to leave once we’re married. I couldn’t remain her indefinitely. It’s all right now while I have so much to do, but if Pieter went on his travels and left me here I should go mad in a week.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” exclaimed Lorna. “Just imagine —the peace and relaxation. It’s like being in a world of your own.”

“You can say that again! But I bet even you, with your more modest ideals, would grow tired of Verva after a time.”

“I doubt it,” asserted Lorna, turning again to survey what little was visible of the island from the terrace. She could see the house stretching to her right with what seemed endless windows, each one with its own balcony supported on white stone pillars.

“You sound as though you’re running away from something,” said Margo. “What’s been happening?”

Lorna felt hot colour steal into her cheeks and tried to make her voice sound normal. “Nothing— what could have happened? You know I’ve always enjoyed peace and quiet.”

“And I also know that there’s something wrong. But it can wait. Come, I’ll show you to your room. Pieter’s had your cases taken up.”

Lorna had not even noticed he had disappeared, but now she followed her sister into a wide hall which appeared to run the entire length-of the house.

White louvred doors opened off on either side. ‘This is the dining room,” said Margo, “and here’s Pieter’s study, and the library, and the games room.”

“I’ll never remember which room is which,” laughed Lorna, “they all look the same to me.”

“You’ll soon get used to it,” Margo smiled. “I thought the same at first, but now it’s easy. I made a habit of counting the doors. The dining room’s the fifth on your left as you come down the stairs, the garden room you can’t miss because it’s at the end. My favourite lounge is the third on the right and so one. It’s easy really. Anyway, there’ll always be someone about to help you. If not, just open all the doors until you find the one you want. There’s no chance of getting lost with only this one corridor.”

“Where is everyone?” Lorna was puzzled by the apparent emptiness of the house.

“Resting. Pieter’s gone to rouse one of the parlourmaids to bring us a cup of tea and some sandwiches —we still have English habits, you see. Pieter insists on that. Although you must try some of the local dishes while you’re here. Dan the cook and Elsie the housekeeper are the ones you’re most likely to encounter, and you’ll have your own personal maid, of course.”

They turned sharply right up a wide flight of stairs, on to a square landing, then right and up again until they were in a corridor identical to the one below, red fitted carpet and pale gold walls, their only adornment being elaborate gold lamps fixed at regular intervals.

“It’s like a hotel,” gasped Lorna. Everything was orderly and regular and starkly simple, yet she liked it. Simple it might be, but not cheap, she thought. The carpet alone must be worth a fortune.

“That’s Pieter,” laughed Margo. “Everything has to be severely uncluttered. He has no time for trimmings, as he calls them. Take the house itself—it’s nothing more than a rectangular box. Yet it’s got character, you must admit. I don’t know how he does it.” .

“It must be the location,” nodded Lorna. “Imagine this house in the suburbs of London. It would be a monstrosity.”

“I agree, and yet here it’s just right. I love it. Here we are—this is your room, next to mine.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Lorna. “It’s beautiful!” Decorated entirely in pale turquoise with a carpet of deep blue, it seemed like a reflection of the sea itself.

Margo smiled complacently. “The bathroom’s through here.”

Here again a turquoise bath with gold fittings and towels in a deeper shade of blue. “It’s absolute heaven!” Lorna collapsed on to the bed. “I’ve never had such luxury in my life. I shan’t want to go home, I can see.”

“You’ll soon get used to it,” said Margo. “I’ll leave you to wash and change now. Come down when you’re ready and we'll have tea in my favourite lounge,” adding cheekily over her shoulder, “the third on your right.”

Alone, Lorna drew up the blinds which had been shading the room from the brilliant sunshine. She stepped out on to the balcony, holding one of the pillars for safety as she looked down. It felt like being suspended in space and she stepped back quickly. It was almost like the cable car ride with Ashley, only then she had not been afraid.

For the first time since reaching Verva Lorna allowed her thoughts to dwell on Ashley. Why was it that a man could appear charming and considerate yet have this completely despicable side to his nature? It was as though he couldn’t help himself, as though he had to befriend every pretty girl he chanced to meet regardless of his future intentions. She wondered whether he would ever take any of his women seriously enough to get married. Avril seemed to think she had some prior hold over him, yet Lorna could not imagine him marrying a woman of her type— unless he was so blinded by love that he could not see her faults. That must be it, she thought. Why else would she go to his villa? And if he did intend marrying Avril why had he invited Lorna home? It all pointed to the man’s capricious nature, to the whims and fancies he was used to having fulfilled.

It must have been a shock to discover that Lorna had walked out on him, but she regretted none of her actions. She was only too thankful that she had escaped before making a complete fool of herself. Had Avril not been present at the airport who knew what might have happened? He could be very persuasive if he tried and at that time Lorna had still thought herself to be in love with him. Now she knew it must have been sheer infatuation. One could not turn from love to hatred in a split second !

Only the loss of the brooch saddened her. She had loved its fragile beauty. It was the prettiest piece of jewellery she had ever possessed. Yet in the circumstances it would have been impossible to keep it. She wondered briefly what he had done with the rose. It hurt to think he might have given it to Avril; that even now she might be flaunting the flower on her dress. The other girl could not possibly appreciate its charm as Lorna had. To her it would merely be another adornment.

Thinking about Ashley had spoilt her initial enthusiasm for the island, but she showered and changed and feeling refreshed, if not so happy as previously, found her way down to Margo’s lounge. She knew it would only be a matter of time before her sister began asking questions, but hoped no one would mention Ashley this afternoon. Memories were still too painful for her to hide her feelings. It was ironical that both Margo and herself should suffer heartache at the hands of the same man, but for both her sister’s and her future brother-in-law’s sake she must pretend that all was well.