The Daughter

by Michelle Frances

  Kate leaned over the table. ‘Get you!’ she said to Iris.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve danced since 1987, when Geoff took me to a knees-up at the rugby club.’ Iris looked pink-cheeked and happy. Her eyes shone.

  ‘So, go on. Spill. Who is he?’

  ‘His name is Errol and he’s a local.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘He likes going fishing at the weekends.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘His nephew is the founding pilot of the air-service company we took to get here. Small world, eh?’

  ‘Small island. It’s nice,’ said Kate, glancing around, ‘everyone seems to know each other. So, are you planning to catch up with him again?’

  Iris laughed loudly. ‘Oh, you are funny. We are here to get your information,’ she said firmly. ‘And on that note, this jet lag has really got to me. Time to call it a night?’

  Kate agreed. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. A make-or-break day.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Kate looked at herself critically in the mirror. There was a fine line between ‘tourist’ and ‘professional in a hot climate’. The short-sleeved top was basic but had a collar, the shorts – correction, culottes – were often cited in style pages as the thing to wear in heat when working, and so what if they had a large flowery print on them, and on her feet were beaded two-strap sandals. Who was she kidding? They were flip-flops. Nice ones, but flip-flops, nonetheless. She didn’t own anything smarter. It would have to do.

  She went to knock on the interconnecting door and Iris answered in a pair of linen trousers and a blouse.

  ‘Oh, hello, love. Are you about to get changed?’

  ‘I am changed,’ said Kate.

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Iris quickly. ‘Don’t mind me. I haven’t got my glasses on.’

  ‘Are we ready?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Lead the way.’

  They had a different taxi driver this time, which added to Kate’s nerves. She’d grown attached to Magic in the short time they’d known him, and she’d automatically expected him to be there again. It threw her when he wasn’t.

  The driver took them to The Valley, the island’s tiny capital, where on the outskirts lay Crocus Hill, home to Government House. He dropped them off outside the building and they smoothed trousers and straightened blouses. As they walked up the white-stone steps, a smiling security guard held open the door. They stepped into an air-conditioned room dominated by a large curved wooden desk. On the top was a huge vase of frangipani in pink and yellow, their sweet tropical-fruit scent permeating the room. A uniformed lady stood up behind the desk. ‘Good morning. How can I help you, ladies?’

  ‘Ah, hello,’ started Kate. ‘I’m here with my . . . mother,’ she said, indicating Iris, and was relieved to see Iris nod along, ‘and we’re looking to register our company here in this beautiful island. We have a few questions, though, and we would like to speak to the Registrar of Companies if he or she were available?’

  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  ‘Not exactly . . . no. We were kind of hoping to be able to pop in.’

  ‘He’s very busy . . .’

  ‘Of course! We realize he must be an extremely busy man but still . . . we were hopeful? It would only be for a few minutes.’

  The receptionist deliberated for a bit and then said, ‘I’ll try his line. Would you like to take a seat?’

  Iris and Kate each took a chair while the receptionist spoke on the phone. They tried to listen in but were too far away to make out what she was saying.

  ‘Maybe he’s looking for a nice distraction from work first thing on a Monday morning,’ said Iris, optimistically.

  ‘Maybe first thing on a Monday is just too annoying a time,’ said Kate. ‘We should have waited until after lunch when his belly will be full and he’ll be in a good mood.’

  The receptionist, still on the phone, looked over at them at that point and Iris smiled at her. ‘Look confident,’ she whispered to Kate under her breath.

  The phone was replaced, and the receptionist walked over to them. ‘He’ll see you now,’ she said, and Kate’s heart leapt. ‘If you just go down this corridor, it’s the third door on the left,’ she said, pointing them in the right direction.

  Kate and Iris walked down the wide, carpeted corridor with its bright cream walls and large, white-painted doors until they got to the one that had a brass nameplate with the words ‘Registrar of Companies’ on it.

  Kate took a breath then knocked with purpose. The door was opened wide and both Kate and Iris’s bright, businesslike smiles morphed into bewilderment.

  ‘What an unexpected surprise,’ said Errol, breaking the silence. Then, realizing they were all three just looking at each other, he beckoned them in. ‘Please, do take a seat.’

  He got them both a cup of water from the cooler in the corner of the room and then took a small chair next to them. ‘How very nice to see you again. I had no idea you were here on business.’

  Iris took a sip of her water. ‘Ah, yes,’ she said awkwardly, ‘well, it’s both. Business and pleasure.’ She smiled at him, remembering her dance the night before.

  ‘So, you are considering registering your company in our island?’

  ‘Yes . . . well, it’s Kate’s really,’ said Iris. ‘I’m just here for moral support.’

  Both Iris and Errol were looking at her. Kate cleared her throat. Tried to gather herself.

  ‘Well, you see, the thing is . . .’ started Kate.

  ‘Yes?’ said Errol.

  ‘There’s a particular question I had.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Something I really need to know.’

  He smiled. ‘Hit me with it.’

  Kate couldn’t form the words and stared helplessly at him.

  Iris sighed impatiently. ‘Kate needs to know the listed director of a company registered here so that she can sue him or her for some really bad stuff that’s been going on back home.’

  Open-mouthed, Kate looked at her.

  Iris shrugged. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ She turned to Errol. ‘I didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush.’

  Errol sat back in his chair. ‘I see. I’m sorry, ladies, but I am unable to give out any information. Even if I wanted to, I am not allowed to.’

  Iris leaned forward earnestly. ‘But what this person’s responsible for . . . it’s really bad, Errol. There’s a little lad back home who’s desperately ill with cancer. And he’s not the only one.’

  Errol paused, and a flicker of compassion crossed his face. ‘Have you involved the police?’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Kate.

  ‘I’m deeply sorry, truly I am—’

  ‘The company’s called Foxgold,’ interrupted Kate.

  Errol stopped still. Kate clocked his look of recognition and wondered if he was going to mention his error in emailing the forensic accountant, but he said nothing.

  ‘I just need to know the name of the director. Please.’

  Errol held up his hands. ‘I am sorry, but I cannot help.’

  ‘What about if you just got it up on your computer over there?’ said Iris brightly, pointing at his desk. ‘Then maybe you get an urge to go to the little boys’ room . . .?’

  Amused, Errol shook his head. ‘I have a very strong bladder.’

  Iris held up her cup. ‘Drink some water?’

  Errol stood. ‘Ladies,’ he said firmly. ‘I take it you don’t have any questions about registering your own company?’

  Neither needed to answer.

  ‘It has been delightful to see you both again,’ he said, looking at Iris, ‘and if I can help in any other way, I am at your disposal.’ He held Iris’s hands and kissed the top gallantly.

  Five minutes later, they were walking back down the front steps.

  ‘So that’s that,’ said Iris. ‘At least we tried.’

  Kate’s eyes gleamed. ‘It’s not over yet,’ she said.

&nb
sp; ‘What? But you heard him – he’s not allowed to say a sausage. Probably breaking the law.’

  ‘Yes, I heard him, but I also saw the way he was looking at you. You, Iris, are the key to this whole thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you need to take him to dinner – I’ll pay – talk to him, get to know him a bit, see if you can—’

  ‘Are you pimping me out?’ exclaimed Iris indignantly.

  Kate feigned shock. ‘What are you suggesting? I prefer, “using our persuasion tactics”.’

  Iris held her gaze for a moment and then, head held high, began to walk back to the waiting taxi.

  Smiling, Kate quickly followed then took Iris’s arm, gave it a squeeze. With Iris’s help, this might just work.

  FIFTY-SIX

  ‘Now are you sure you’re happy with this?’ asked Kate. Iris was waiting outside the hotel for her taxi to take her to one of the island’s restaurants, where she had arranged to meet Errol for dinner after she’d called him that afternoon.

  ‘I’m a widow, he’s a widower, we’re both free to have dinner with whomever we want,’ said Iris.

  ‘You know I don’t mean that.’

  ‘I honestly don’t think that me buying him a plate of lobster is going to make him change his mind. He made it perfectly clear earlier he couldn’t say anything.’

  ‘Not lobster, Iris, you. It’s obvious he has a soft spot for you.’

  ‘Pah,’ said Iris, waving a hand dismissively.

  ‘Could you just try?’

  ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’

  Magic drove up to the front of the hotel, jumped out and opened the back door of the cab. ‘Are you ready for your magical mystery tour?’

  Iris climbed in and Magic shut the door. He looked at Kate in surprise.

  ‘You’re not coming?’

  ‘Not tonight, she’s not,’ said Iris.

  Kate leaned down to the open window and kissed Iris on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll be waiting. Come and see me when you get back.’

  Iris batted her away and Magic drove off. Kate watched the car go, and quietly crossed her fingers.

  She had dinner alone in the hotel restaurant and then took a drink out to the pool area. Even at night, the temperature was in the high twenties, but the near-flat island meant there was always a cooling breeze.

  Her phone beeped, and she looked to see if it was Iris, but it was Grace texting to say that there’d been a marked improvement in Arnie. Thank God, thought Kate, texting her back.

  Afterwards, she sat there quiet and alone, listening to the waves end their journey on the beach. She wondered what Iris was doing right at that moment, what she was saying to Errol, what he was saying to her. She suddenly felt a desperate sense of panic, for although they’d casually asked Magic and one or two of the hotel staff what Errol was like, and they’d all glowed with respect when talking about him, she’d essentially sent Iris off alone with a strange man.

  Once again, she’d found herself doing the unthinkable, realizing it long after the event and unable to undo it. It worried her that she had become so reckless, that she didn’t know where her own boundaries lay anymore. She had a sudden overwhelming sense of wanting this all to end. To have the relief of a finish line.

  Maybe they were having a great time.

  Maybe Iris would perform a miracle.

  ‘What time is it?’ asked Iris as she walked back into the hotel later that night after being dropped off by Magic.

  ‘Eleven thirty!’ admonished Kate. ‘I was about to jump in a cab and come and find you.’ It was true: she’d come into the lobby an hour ago and had peered into the darkness beyond the hotel several times, looking hopefully for the lights of a car.

  ‘Eleven thirty?’ said Iris, astounded. ‘Never!’ She squinted at her watch, but unable to see properly, got her glasses out of her handbag. ‘Is it really eleven thirty? Good Lord! The time’s flown by.’

  ‘You enjoyed yourself, then?’

  ‘Oh, Kate, I did. He’s such a good conversationalist.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’ Kate couldn’t keep the hope from her voice.

  Iris’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry. I tried, I really did, but he just said the same thing and then it got a bit awkward and I had to apologize and—’ She saw Kate’s face. ‘I feel like I’ve let you down.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Don’t think that.’ Kate squeezed her friend’s hand tight.

  ‘I’m suddenly very tired. Would you take me up to my room?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Of course.’

  She accompanied Iris upstairs, waited while she went to the bathroom, then saw she got into bed. Iris closed her eyes and so Kate turned the light off at the doorway into her own room.

  ‘Night,’ she called into the dark.

  ‘Goodnight, Kate,’ said Iris.

  Kate slipped into her room, cleaned her teeth then got under the sheets. She lay there for a while, not really thinking or planning, just letting the disappointment and the emptiness wash over her.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  ‘Errol’s invited us fishing,’ said Iris, placing her linen napkin on her knee. They were sitting outside enjoying a late breakfast. Iris cut a piece from her sliced mango and ate it delicately.

  ‘Fishing?’

  ‘Yes, Errol wants to take us. Both of us.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tomorrow. He’s got a half-day. He wants to pick us up in his car, drive to the beach and we’ll go out in his boat.’

  ‘But I don’t know how to fish.’

  Iris smiled. ‘I’m sure it doesn’t matter.’ She continued to eat her breakfast leisurely.

  Kate watched her, envious of how Iris was adapting to this island’s way of life. Relaxed. Stress-free. Of course it didn’t matter if she knew how to fish or not. She cut a piece of fresh pineapple on her plate. Put it in her mouth. Chewed it. Relax. Enjoy. Take in the indescribably beautiful beach just a few metres from your table. She swallowed hard. Took a sip of water to stop the coughing.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Iris.

  ‘Fine,’ grimaced Kate, hitting her sternum with a closed fist.

  ‘It’ll be lovely, they all have these colourful boats, apparently. Handmade.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘There’s just one thing,’ said Iris.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I get seasick.’

  ‘You do?’ Kate thought about Iris’s previous lack of travel. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘When I was a child, my mother took me to the Isle of Wight. On the ferry.’

  ‘Maybe you’ve changed. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘It was. But I don’t think so.’

  Kate stared. ‘So why . . . You agreed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So we could still talk to him. Bend him to our will.’

  Kate looked at her and started to laugh. ‘You’d get seasick just to do that?’

  ‘There’s no just about it. It’s very important.’

  Kate smiled. ‘So . . . a bit of sightseeing today?’

  They decided to explore some of the island’s history and took a taxi to the Heritage Museum, painstakingly curated by a local man, who took great pride in his work. The tiny museum was full of old photographs and artefacts that traced the island’s history over the last four centuries, covering everything from the Anguilla Revolution to a visit by the Queen in the 1960s.

  As they drove across the island, Kate was struck by how relaxed it was. No casinos – none of the massive cruise ships stopped in Anguilla. It was totally unspoilt.

  The next afternoon, Errol drove them out to Island Harbour, where numerous brightly coloured, hand-crafted fishing boats lined the quay. They were helped aboard Errol’s blue-and-yellow boat and once they’d motored out of the small harbour, he hoisted the huge white sail. It thwacked in the breeze, driving the little boat along the flat turquoise sea.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Kate as
ked Iris, quietly.

  ‘Fine!’ said Iris. She gazed around. ‘There are no waves, well, none to really speak of. That must be the difference between here and the Isle of Wight!’

  ‘I thought we wouldn’t go far today,’ said Errol. ‘Just half a mile north-west to a good spot I know. Take it nice and easy.’

  Kate looked behind her at the shrinking island as they sailed away. A few chilled-out fishermen at the harbour waved to her and it was impossible not to smile and wave back. She brought her gaze back to the water, watching the boat cut through the clear blue. Then, to her amazement, she spotted something smooth and flat swim rapidly past. Two – three! – stingrays.

  ‘Look!’ she exclaimed and, smiling, Iris leaned over to see.

  It wasn’t long before Errol was slackening the sail and they were slowing down. Anguilla was now a small green jewel in the distance. Errol dropped the anchor and the little yellow-and-blue boat rocked gently on the water.

  Kate listened: nothing.

  The peace had its own beauty, had the power to move her as much as the aquamarine water or the warm sunshine. She closed her eyes for a moment, let it wash over her.

  When she opened them, Errol had baited up two fishing lines. Iris took one and Kate watched as he instructed her how to use it, holding her arms as she cast off. He found a battered, sun-bleached cushion for her to sit on and made sure she had the place on the boat that was in the shade.

  Then he turned to Kate, indicated the other line. ‘Would you like to try?’

  Actually, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be still, to just be in this place.

  He understood, and cast his line alongside Iris’s. Kate could hear them talking in soft tones. Gentle, harmonious. Often, they were just quiet, too.

  She leaned over the boat and let her hands fall into the clear water. It was so warm, it surprised her. Then, to her delight, a turtle – at least half a metre long – swam past her and under the boat.