Dangerous Rhapsody Read online

  He grimaced. ‘Well, don't have. Nobody expects us. I told Annabel I wouldn't be back today.'

  ‘Did you indeed?’ Emma was indignant. ‘Were you so sure your charm would work, whatever I turned out to be?'

  He grinned. ‘Honey, if you'd turned out to be another Louisa Meredith, we most definitely would have returned today.'

  Emma smiled. ‘Oh, well, I suppose one day more or less won't make much difference.'

  They went back to the hotel soon after six. Christopher informed her that his room was on the floor below, and that he would meet her in the bar for a drink before dinner.

  Emma showered, changed into a sleeveless coral chiffon gown which she had made herself for a dance before Christmas, smoothed her dark hair and descended the stairs in high-heeled white sandals. She was glad she had brought the dress with her. Christopher was wearing a white dinner jacket and he looked approvingly at her as she came in.

  ‘Did I tell you that I like the way you dress?’ he asked, as she sipped a glass of some strange concoction which he had provided, the top of which was covered with various slices of different fruit.

  She looked at him over the rim. ‘Mr. Thorne, you're flirting again!'

  ‘No, I'm not. I mean it.’ He grinned. ‘And the name's Chris, in case you forget.'

  ‘I haven't forgotten,’ she replied, and accepted a cigarette. ‘It's been a wonderful day. Thank you.'

  ‘Don't thank me, I should be thanking you,’ he returned. ‘No matter what you may think, I don't find every woman I meet as attractive as you, Emma.'

  ‘Thank you, again.’ Emma glanced away, not wanting him to think she had any intentions of considering this a serious declaration. No matter how likeable he was, and he was indeed very likeable, Emma knew she could never become closely associated with any relation of Damon's.

  After dinner, there was dancing in the ballroom to a rhythmic all-Negro band. The music was streamlined and seductive, and no one could have failed to find their pulses moved by the beat.

  Emma danced with Christopher several times, and twice two older men approached her and she danced with them, much to Christopher's annoyance. But she had to admit she liked dancing with him best for he was a good dancer, and his hands were cool and not hot and sweaty. He held her close, and she could feel his breath on her neck and the faint odour of his after-shave lotion was pleasant to her nose.

  ‘You dance well,’ he said once, looking down at her.

  ‘Well, it's not from practice,’ she said, smiling. ‘I don't attend many dances back home.'

  Patently, he didn't believe her, and she wondered what he would say if she told him the truth about her relationship with Damon. Obviously their association had been forgotten by his family. After all, they had never met her; she was only a name to them, and that was a long time ago.

  At eleven-thirty they stood on the terrace in the light from the hall behind them. It was a wonderful evening. The moon hung crazily in a sky as blue as sapphire velvet, while Emma thought she had never seen so many stars.

  ‘Let's take a Surrey and tour the town at night,’ said Christopher, turning towards her eagerly.

  Emma hesitated, and then shook her head. ‘I don't think we'd better. It's getting late, and tomorrow is going to be quite a day for me. I think I'll go to bed, if you don't mind.'

  Christopher pulled a face. ‘Aw, Emma, that means you're going whether I mind or not.’ He shrugged, and then capitulated. ‘All right. I'll take you to your room.'

  ‘That's not necessary,’ she replied.

  ‘I know it's not. But I'm going to do it all the same,’ he retorted.

  In the elevator, he smiled at her expression. ‘Don't worry. I don't expect to come in. I just want to see you get there safely. There might be some dubious types roaming the corridors.'

  Emma giggled. ‘Honestly, Chris!'

  At her door, he put a hand on either side of her as she leant against the doorpost. ‘You have enjoyed yourself, haven't you?'

  ‘Enormously,’ nodded Emma, smiling.

  ‘Good. Good night, Emma.’ He bent his head and put his mouth to hers. The touch of his lips was cool and pleasant, and Emma responded almost involuntarily. His mouth hardened, and then he drew back. He was breathing rather faster, and he looked a little pale. ‘I'll go,’ he murmured huskily, and squeezing her fingers he walked away along the corridor.

  Emma watched him go feeling a pleasant sensation of tiredness combined with a kind of contentment. Her first day in the islands had been a memorable one. Christopher was one of the nicest men she had ever met, and she might, she just might, be going to enjoy her stay here.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAINTE DOMINIQUE’S bay was a small, peaceful island, situated on the Windward side of the Abaco Cays. That morning, as their launch cruised its way towards their destination, Emma had seen dozens of tiny islands and atolls, sprouting out of the sea. She had spent the journey leaning on the rail enthralled with her surroundings. Some of the islands were covered with houses and resembled villages set in water instead of amongst fields. Others were quite deserted, their white beaches seemingly untrodden by human foot.

  It was another wonderfully clear day, and the early morning mist had dissipated leaving a vista of blue sea and sky as far as the eye could see. Now that she was nearing her destination, Emma was beginning to feel twinges of nervousness. It was all very well for Chris to aver that she would receive a very warm welcome, but he was not going to be staying, he would be returning to Sainte Catherine almost immediately, and she would be left alone with strangers.

  The launch could not go right in because of the shallowness of the water, so Christopher and the boatman, a dark-skinned Negro, pulled on thigh-length waders and Christopher carried Emma up on to the sand. The boatman brought her cases, and Christopher took charge of them.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘This way. I should have thought the reliable Miss Meredith would have had Annabel on the beach to meet you.'

  Emma sighed, and followed him up the incline and through a belt of palm trees. They came upon a clearing through the trees where several thatched huts indicated that this was the native village, where the servants who worked at the house were housed.

  Beyond the village, another clump of trees hid the homestead itself.

  Damon Thorne's house was low and modern, without having the type of structure which would be out of place on an island like this. Shutters were bolted back from windows which stood wide to the morning air, while climbing plants in a glory of colour overhung the walls. The gardens in front of the house were a riot of colour also, and Emma recognized oleanders and hibiscus, as well as more common varieties such as roses and nasturtiums. Wide, shallow steps led up to white double doors which at present were standing open, and Christopher glanced at Emma to make sure she was behind him before mounting the steps and waiting for her by the door.

  ‘Go on,’ he said, prodding her into the hall. ‘No one's going to bite you.'

  The hall was cool with a tiled floor and white panelled walls. Doors led off to the various regions of the house while a horseshoe staircase drew attention to a white-balustraded gallery.

  Immediately at their entrance, a tall, slim woman came walking towards them down this beautiful staircase, her eyes cool and aloof, appraising Emma.

  Christopher stood down Emma's suitcases, and grinned. ‘Well, well! If it isn't the inestimable Louisa, herself. How are you, my old love?'

  Louisa Meredith ignored him, and came towards Emma. ‘You must be Miss Harding,’ she said coldly. ‘You were expected yesterday.'

  Emma flushed, disconcerted. ‘Oh, but I understood… I mean… Mr. Thorne seemed to think… ’ She faltered. Then she stiffened her shoulders. ‘You are Annabel's governess, are you not?'

  The woman nodded faintly. ‘It is obvious Mr. Thorne was thinking only of himself. Unfortunately, his action had unexpected consequences.'

  Emma stared at her. ‘In what way?'

  ‘The nu
rse who had charge of Annabel left three days ago. Yesterday, with no one to entertain her, Annabel went exploring alone. Unfortunately, she fell in the swimming pool; she can't swim. Had Henri, one of the servants, not been nearby, she would have drowned.’ She spoke the words in a hard, unfeeling voice, as though she was discussing the weather, and Emma was terribly shocked.

  She did not know what to say. She shook her head. ‘I'm very sorry,’ she said, glancing at Christopher, who grunted unintelligibly.

  ‘When did this happen?’ he asked.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon. As I said, fortunately Henri was passing by, and heard her cries. We thought we had better keep her in bed today, to avoid any ill effects.'

  Christopher grimaced at her. ‘And what were you doing at the time? Polishing your nails?'

  ‘That remark was uncalled-for!’ exclaimed Louisa angrily. Although she was only in her thirties she seemed much older, and Emma thought glumly that she had indeed made an inauspicious start to her duties.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ said Christopher, shrugging, ‘Emma wouldn't have arrived much before tea-time if we had come yesterday, so you can hardly consider her to blame.'

  ‘Did I say I was blaming Miss Harding?'

  ‘You implied it. Oh, well, shut up about it. Where is the kid? I may as well see her before I leave.’ He walked towards the stairs. ‘Come on, Emma, I'll introduce you. Leave your cases. Louisa, get someone to take the cases to Emma's room. If you tell me where she's sleeping, I'll show her that too.'

  ‘I'm not the housekeeper here,’ retorted Louisa, turning away.

  Christopher compressed his lips. ‘No, ma'am, you're not. But either you do as I say, or I'll personally make it my business to report you to Mr. Thorne.'

  Louisa did not look disturbed. In fact, if anything, her face assumed a rather smug expression. ‘That may not be as difficult as you may think,’ she remarked slyly. ‘Naturally, I had to wire Mr. Thorne of Annabel's accident. I sent the cable this morning, and of course I had to tell him that Miss Harding had not yet arrived.'

  ‘You… ’ Christopher bit off an epithet. ‘Emma, come along. I can't stand any more of this.'

  Emma followed him up the stairs. Her mind was in a turmoil. She felt an acute sense of guilt, no matter how Christopher might try to spare her feelings. She only hoped the rest of the staff were not all going to be as antagonistic towards her as Louisa Meredith obviously was.

  Christopher led the way along a wide, pile-carpeted corridor to Annabel's bedroom. Opening the door, he looked in, and seeing the child, he said: ‘Hello, Annabella!'

  The squeal of laughter this aroused caught Emma's heart as she followed him into the room. Annabel Thorne was sitting in the centre of an enormous bed which dominated a room decorated unmistakably for a young girl. Pink roses on the wallpaper were repeated on the satin bedspread, while one corner of the room had been taken over by a playhouse, the open door of which revealed a miniature kitchen and dining-room with a sink and cooker, tables and chairs. Annabel, herself, was small and very dark, like Damon, with long hair and a small elfinish face. She was dressed in blue, brushednylon pyjamas, and was looking straight at her father's cousin with undoubted pleasure in her expression.

  Maybe, with her father being away so much, she transferred much of her affections to Christopher, thought Emma shrewdly. But she also felt a sense of relief; after Damon's peremptory demands, she had convinced herself his daughter must be a problem child, requiring specialized nursing.

  ‘Chris, Chris,’ she was saying now. ‘You're back! How marvellous! Have you brought Miss Harding with you?'

  ‘Yes, she's here.’ Chris drew Emma forward, indicating she should sit down on the bed. ‘She's very nice, too, so don't you misbehave yourself and have her sent away.'

  Annabel giggled, and reached for Emma's hand. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Annabel,’ said Emma gently. ‘And how are you after your dip?'

  Annabel's face sobered. ‘Wasn't it terribly naughty? Miss Meredith nearly had a fit. Tansy was upset too, but she didn't go mad, and send Daddy a cable and everything. He'll be furious, and I'll get into trouble.'

  ‘With due cause,’ exclaimed Chris severely. ‘Good heavens, young Annabel, you could have been drowned!'

  ‘I know. I know. Miss Meredith has told me all about it. Anyway, she makes me stay in the house all the time now Brenda's gone. Brenda was nice. She let me go anywhere.'

  ‘Yes, but she was with you,’ Chris reminded her. ‘Anyway, don't worry about it any more. Miss Harding will be able to take you out now. As for your father; he's in Hong Kong. I doubt whether he'll fly several thousand miles just to chastise you.'

  ‘I hope not,’ Annabel sighed.

  ‘Well, chicken, I must go. Got to see Helen, and let her know I'm back. I'll be back to see you later. Look after Miss Harding, won't you.'

  After he had gone, Emma wondered who Helen was. He hadn't mentioned her before. Was she his sister, his housekeeper, maybe? She shook her head. Doubtless she would find out in good time. She only hoped Damon Thorne did not decide to return to Sainte Dominique. She had hoped to be settled in here before she had to encounter him again. His presence aroused too many memories, and she was afraid of her own feelings, in spite of the past.

  Annabel distracted her by reaching out a questing hand and lifting a huge doll from the end of the bed. ‘This is Patricia,’ she said, breaking the silence which had fallen since Chris's departure. ‘Don't you think she's very pretty?'

  Emma bit back the words which sprang to her lips. The doll's hair was half torn out, and matted, its arms and legs scratched and chipped; its face was battered and quite ugly.

  ‘I… why… of course, Annabel, she's beautiful,’ she said, accepting Patricia when Annabel handed her to her. ‘What beautiful clothes she's wearing. Is this your favourite dolly?'

  Annabel nodded, satisfied. ‘Yes, I've had her since I was three. She was with me when… when… ’ She halted, and Emma silently completed the sentence. Poor Patricia. No wonder she looked so distressed. ‘Will I be able to get up tomorrow? Miss Meredith said I must stay here today, because of the shock I got yesterday, but I won't have to stay here tomorrow, will I? Not now you're here.'

  Emma smiled. ‘Of course not. Tomorrow morning, you and I will take a walk round the island, and you can tell me all about it.'

  ‘All right.’ Annabel sounded pleased. ‘I used to know it quite well. Before… well… before the accident, we came here often, Daddy and I.'

  There was a sound from the doorway, and an elderly woman came into the room. She was leaning heavily on a stick, but her wrinkled features were bright and alert, and she smiled warmly at Emma, who rose abruptly to her feet.

  Annabel had an acute sense of presence. ‘Is that you, Tansy?’ she asked, and the old woman answered:

  ‘Yes, I'm here. I've come to show your new nurse her room. I expect she would like a wash before lunch.'

  Emma nodded appreciatively, and Annabel said: ‘Can she have lunch here, with me? Can she, Tansy, can she?'

  ‘If she wants to, I don't see why not,’ replied the older woman. She turned to Emma fully. ‘As you've heard, everyone calls me Tansy. My real name is Hester Tansfield, but you can call me Tansy like the rest. You're Emma Harding, is that right?'

  ‘Yes, how do you do?’ Emma glanced back at Annabel. ‘I'm awfully sorry I didn't get here yesterday. The accident… it must have been dreadful.'

  ‘Ay, away with you. We get over these little troubles, don't we, Annabel love? It was a dreadful thing, but accidents will happen, and only that creature Meredith panicked herself silly. Cabling Mr. Thorne indeed! Sure, he'll think the child was injured in some way. She wasn't in the water above thirty seconds.'

  Emma reserved judgment. Tansy was old, and so long as Annabel had suffered no physical harm she did not seem to mind. Emma was more concerned with the mental reaction Annabel might have had. In her state, the sudden submersion in water, the terrifying paralysis th
e fall must have brought upon her, all added up to quite a frightening experience. She determined that at the first opportunity she would teach Annabel to swim. Then accidents of that type would never happen again.

  During lunch Annabel gave Emma a comprehensive description of her life here on Sainte Dominique.

  ‘I usually work with Miss Meredith during the mornings,’ she said, ‘then I rest after lunch for an hour, and then Brenda, Miss Lawson, you know, she used to take me for walks, and sometimes we had Carlos take us out in the launch. Carlos lives here, his wife is Rosa, she works in the kitchens. I expect you'll get to know them all in time.'

  Emma smiled. ‘I hope I shall. Tell me, Annabel, honestly now, do you see anything at all? Any shapes, or shades, or colours of any kind?'

  Annabel shook her head. ‘No, nothing. It's just black, that's all.’ She shrugged. ‘I've got used to it now. It was awful at first, but now I don't mind so much. Everyone is so kind, and Daddy… well… he used to worry about me a lot. But that was no good, was it? I mean it wasn't his fault, or anything. So I decided I might as well accept it.'

  Her way of talking was very adult. Her accident had obviously cut her off from relationships with children of her own age, and living constantly with adults had prematurely increased her vocabulary.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Emma, helping herself to a fresh peach, ‘are there no other children on the island, with whom you could be friendly? I mean, what do you do for playmates?'

  Annabel sighed. ‘I have none. No one would want to play with me, anyway. I'm blind. I can't run after a ball, or swim or anything.'

  Emma felt an overwhelming sense of compassion. ‘But, darling,’ she exclaimed, unconsciously allying herself with the child's point of view, ‘there's no possible reason why you shouldn't swim, and play, like other children. After all, lots of blind people swim and water-ski and do all the things any sighted person can do. There are people in London who go about every day doing exactly as sighted people do. After all, like you, most blind people have very acute senses, and they use them to good effect. It's good that you've accepted your condition, but now don't you think you ought to try to live naturally with it?'