Flame in Fiji

by Gloria Bevan

  To Robyn school years were a dreary succession of holidays spent with relatives where she felt she wasn't really welcome. It would have been more bearable if only she and Johnny could have been together during the term breaks, but he was four years her senior and they had been separated from the time of the break-up of their parents' marriage.

  Then out of the blue had come a letter from Fiji. Robyn had read the dry legal phrasing through twice before fully taking in the meaning of it all. For it informed her of the death of her father, Andrew Carlisle, and went on to state that under the terms of the will she and her brother John were now joint owners of a guesthouse situated on the Coral Coast of Fiji in the Pacific group. There was in addition a small legacy for them both.

  Johnny received the news the same week. He wrote her from a small coastal town in the north where he was employed as one of the crew of a fishing vessel. "I'm going out there right away to see what the place is like. If it's okay I may stay and manage it. Why don't you get a school friend to come with you and take a trip out to Fiji in the holidays? Don't forget the place is half yours !"

  That was four years ago and in all that time she hadn't made the journey out to the islands to see her brother. She had been content to leave the management of the property in his hands, at least until she reached the age of twenty-one. Occasionally, and always at Christmas time, she received word from him. Once he enclosed in his letter a colour snap depicting a hot blue sea, white sand, tossing coconut palms. But he wasn't a good correspondent. His scribbled notes gave little information about the guesthouse he now managed and she gathered that his interest was all with the sea. The letters were filled with accounts of deep-sea fishing, of giant tortoises, of trading schooners voyaging around the scattered islands, meetings with yachtsmen whose oceangoing craft had brought them half way across the world to the warm reef-enclosed waters of the South Pacific.

  As for herself, she had inherited her father's sketching ability and it had never occurred to her to earn her living in any other way than in some form of art work. Fortunately a scholarship awarded her on leaving college had given her a course at art school and the dwindling profits from a half-share in a far-away guesthouse on a South Pacific coast had met expenses for living costs plus the few extras she allowed herself on a spartan budget. Shortly after gaining her Diploma of Fine Arts she began work in the studio of the city's most progressive store. She enjoyed fashion drawing and might have been content to stay indefinitely, had not Johnny come strolling into the store to see her on one bleak winter day. Johnny! So strong and bronzed, his thatch of light hair bleached straw-colour by the hot Fijian sunlight, the rakish grin she remembered so well.

  Had it not been for the undeniable likeness between them no one in the studio would have believed her when she had told them she was going out to lunch with her brother! Oh, it was wonderful to see him again ! That was one of the disadvantages of a lonely, unwanted childhood. It did things to you, made you cling to the few relatives you possessed, be over-anxious to trust anyone you liked, like the boy-friends with whom she had imagined herself to be wildly in love. Until with a painful shock had come the realisation that actually she was enamoured of an idealistic picture built up in her own mind. Not like Johnny. She'd never be disappointed in him. He would never let her down.

  Together they went out into the street, lashed with slanting winter rains and crowded with lunch-hour shoppers hurrying by beneath umbrellas. Robyn led the way to a coffee lounge not far from the studio and they chose a table by a window.

  "You know something? You've changed quite a bit since I saw you last!" His teasing glance rested on the pale composed face, the serious grey eyes. "If it hadn't been for the same old freckles —"

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "Look who's talking!" She was thinking that during the years of absence he had altered almost beyond belief. He hadn't returned to New Zealand since going out to Fiji to claim his inheritance. The Johnny she remembered had been a tall gangling youth with a deprecating manner, but now ... He was heavier, broader. She noticed the muscles that rippled along the strong, darkly-tanned arms. The uncertain young man to whom she had bade goodbye at the wharf all those years ago was now a man, a Johnny head-in-air. And what of herself? Did he see in her a self-sufficient young woman, at least to outward appearances, in place of the shy introspective art student?

  As if tuned in on her line of thought he shot her a grin. "Four years can make a heck of a lot of difference! You never got around to coming out to see the old place?" Leaning for: ward, he extended a crumpled cigarette packet. "Why don't

  you make the trip out there, Rob? It's not what you'd call five-star accommodation exactly, but it's somewhere to put up." He held a flame to her cigarette, then his own. "Or is there some guy here that you just can't bear to tear yourself away from?"

  "No, nothing like that."

  He laughed. "You sound pretty definite about it."

  "Oh, I am! There almost was, once or twice last year, but they fizzled out in the end."

  "Not too much damage done?"

  Laughingly she met his gaze. "None at all! My own fault really, I guess. I keep on expecting too much of people, then when they let me down, as they usually do in the end, I get horribly disappointed."

  He nodded. "You always were a funny little kid. A tiger for loyalty, with a positive talent for wasting your affection on the wrong people!" He sent her a wry grin. "Don't overdo the pedestal thing with me, will you, Rob? It won't work ! "

  "Oh, I know you!" Her tone was affectionate, utterly confident. "It's so good to see you." The soft eager tones rushed on. "When did you get here? How long can you stay?"

  "It's just a quick trip this time, I'm afraid. I've got to zip back in a hurry. Just came over to pick up some rigging for a schooner I'm interested in. I wanted to have a word with you, put you in the picture about how things are going over in Fiji, financially, that is. What I'm trying to say," a serious note threaded the light tones, "well, I guess you must have been wondering about the funds lately from the old place —or the lack of them?"

  "Oh, that ..." For the regular half-yearly cheques from the lawyer in Fiji had dwindled steadily over the past two years. But she had known it wouldn't be Johnny's fault that profits were now so small, almost non-existent. He would be doing his best. "Well," she said lightly, "it doesn't matter so much now that I've got a job, but I was awfully grateful for those remittances all the time I was at art school. I just couldn't have managed without them."

  Leaning back in his chair, he studied her through a screen of cigarette smoke. "I might have known."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, just that you'd take after the old man. One of us was bound to want to go around splashing paint on to canvas, like him! Boy, was he keen! You should see the place out at the coast! Daubs of local scenery hanging on every wall in the house and canvases by the dozen stacked outside in the shed. Not that I blame the old man altogether. Colour isn't just colour out there, it's extravagant, flamboyant, unbelievable ! You've simply got to come out to the old Islander and see for yourself !"

  "The Islander? I'd forgotten the name of the guesthouse —"

  "If you could call it a guesthouse." He gave a short bitter laugh. "The old wreck's just about paying its way nowadays and that's all!"

  "Oh dear," she put the worrying thought into words. "How do you manage about the staff ... I mean, their wages?"

  A shrug of broad shoulders. "Labour's cheap out in my part of the world, and they're a good crowd. I'm lucky enough to have a first-class helper, a woman who fills in for me while I'm away. Eve, Mrs. Daley, she'll be on the job now. She's been at the place for years, even when Dad was alive."

  "But how about all the other expenses?"

  "Oh, I get along. There are swags of fish just waiting to be netted in the bay. Food's cheap at the markets in Suva and tropical fruit trees grow wild around the place." He waved his cigarette carelessly. "Coconuts, paw-paw, bananas, all that stuff." />
  "All the same, it must be an awful struggle to keep the place going?"

  "Not too bad. Most weeks I can pick up the odd dollar on the side. Often there's a trading schooner on the look-out for a crew or the odd photographer or tourist wanting someone to act as guide on a boat trip around the islands. That's about it, except for the coral boat. That brings in a bit, when I'm around to take her out."

  "Coral boat?"

  He nodded. "Didn't I tell you? She went with the place at the time when I took over years ago. Not a bad old tub, the Katrina —"

  "Katrina! That was Mother's name."

  "I know." The laughter died out of his face. "From what I've heard along the Coral Coast, Dad never bothered with women after they parted. You don't ever think of parents as people somehow, do you? You never know ... never will know now . . . Oh well

  "Why do you call her the coral boat?"

  "Wake up, Rob ! That's what she is. She was specially built for the purpose of coral viewing. She's got glass observation panels along the bottom so that passengers can get a good view of what's going on down there below the coral reef."

  She gazed at him entranced. "Do you take her out much?"

  He threw her a rueful grin. "Too much for my liking ! Dad used to make a bit extra that way to keep him going when the guesthouse was operating. When I came along I carried on with it. Then when they built the new top-luxury hotel around the point the South Pacific guests wanted to come along too. They arrive in a mini-bus and I take them out over the reef, tell them all about the fish and coral and marine life. It's a drag, but it brings in a little extra cash. Tell you what —why don't you come out and stay awhile, six months, a year! You could take over the running of the coral boat."

  "But I wouldn't know a thing about it! You were the one who was brought up in Auckland where every back yard has a boat of some sort pulled up behind the house. I only wish I could sail a boat —"

  "You can make up for it now! Come out to the old Islander and I'll show you how in three easy lessons. You'd pick it up in no time at all. Ever taken the controls of a motor boat?"

  She shook her head. "I told you, you were the one who lived within sound of the sea."

  "Nothing to it. I'll show you. It only brings in a few dollars a week," he murmured negligently, "but at least it's regular. They tell me that years ago when Dad first took it over the old Islander was quite a place, never without a crowd staying and every room booked in advance, but that was before Fiji started to put itself on the tourist map in a big way! Now the big resort hotels have got everything laid on. Poor old Dad, at the time he made out the will he probably thought he was leaving us something worthwhile. Maybe it was a paying outfit then, but now, let's face it, it's nothing but a rundown old place on the coast road. Oh, a great location, I grant you, bang on the water's edge with a terrific potential, but what it needs is to be updated. It's crying out for a pool, modern furnishings, a decent system of air conditioning, proper plumbing. All that would cost a packet! But I've got an idea, one that's going to solve all our financial problems. You see, Rob," he leaned forward, his grey eyes alight with enthusiasm, his voice tinged with excitement, "this brainwave of mine is a real money-spinner and if I can swing it, believe me, our money troubles will be over for good !"

  She regarded him with questioning eyes as he swept on. "I've managed to raise enough cash to buy myself a share in a schooner. She's a beaut, one of the finest craft in her class I've ever come across and just the ticket for what we want her for. I've got a crew all jacked up. I'm the skipper and two of my mates who helped put up the money to buy her are in it too. We'll sign on a couple of Fijian boys as well."

  "But how —"

  "Oh, there'll be plenty of ways to make her pay for herself once we get her fitted up. One thing I've got in mind is making regular trips out to the islands lying just off the coast. The overseas promotions are putting up real tourist attractions on these little islands. They've built restaurants, provided boats for the use of guests. You can live quite cheaply and comfortably in a bure —"

  "What's a bure?"

  "It's a native but thatched with coconut palm. You can

  put up in one, fish, collect shells, explore the reefs, swim in the lagoon; stay for a day, a week, a month and really get the feeling of the islands. Thing is, the time's just right now for someone to provide more regular boat services, and guess who's going to do it! All I have to do now is to settle up the legal details for the purchase of the schooner with a guy in Wellington, and we'll be in business! There are lots of other ways we can make ourselves useful with the boat out there too," he ran on enthusiastically. "We'll be in the market for trading around the islands, picking up supplies of copra, coconut, bananas ... what have you. There's always a lot doing in that line. When everything's tied up legally we're going to take her for a few weeks' cruise around the islands, just to see how she makes out." He grinned. "Well, that's the excuse for giving ourselves a holiday!"

  "Good luck, then ! I hope it's a big success !"

  "Don't worry, it will be!"

  She'd always envied her brother his confidence in his own powers to carry out any scheme to which he set his mind.

  "We can't miss ! But that's no reason why you shouldn't make the trip out and stay at the coast any old time." As she glanced down at her wristwatch and began to gather up handbag and umbrella, he went on persuasively, "It won't make any difference to you! I'll be back to the house in between trips, wherever I happen to be, and you'll be okay with Mrs. Daley. She'll look after you. Might be an idea to wait until August, though, when the weather's right and the trade winds cool things down a bit."

  When they were back at the door of the studio he pushed into her hand a sealed envelope. "Your share in advance of the profits to come ! Why don't you use it for a trip over to the Islander? It's about time !"

  "But I can't take this —"

  "You will, you know ! It's yours and I'm not arguing about it!" A tanned hand raised to his forehead in a smiling gesture of farewell and he had gone, striding away into the rain swept street before she could make any further protest.

  During the following week Robyn found that her meeting with Johnny had left her with a curious feeling of restlessness. It wasn't long before she made up her mind to resign from her job at the studio and take that trip to Fiji. What matter if her brother happened to be away on his trading schooner? She would wait in the guesthouse — their guesthouse — until he returned. But August ... three whole months away. That was far too long to wait. She would go right now, leave winter behind her and fly into the sun.

  With a start she came back to the present. Heavens, what was she thinking of, staying here dreaming when the bus was due to leave the hotel in a few minutes ! Swiftly she spilled the contents of her overnight bag on to the mahogany bureau beside the single red hibiscus blossom lying there. A touch of waterproof mascara to her lashes, a smear of suntan lotion to arms and legs, then she thrust towel and swimsuit into the bag, snatched up mauve-tinted sunglasses and hurried towards the foyer. Soon she was purchasing a ticket that included in the cost transport to nearby Lautoka, a cruise on the Seas pray to Castaway Island and a Polynesian dinner there. "You're only just in time," the smiling young Fijian girl receptionist told her.

  "You can give me one of those too !" Surely she recognised the pleasant accents. Startled, Robyn glanced over her shoulder to meet David Kinnear's smiling glance. It was such a heart-warming look that suddenly she was glad she had decided on this particular day cruise. To have a companion on the trip would make the outing even more enjoyable.

  When he had purchased his ticket they strolled towards the entrance with its banks of climbing tropical greenery. Glancing towards the stack of luggage piled against the wall, she said, "I can see your name on the label of one of the bags."

  He nodded. "I'm pushing off today. Then it's over to Suva for a couple of days before I begin work on the new job down the coast. And you're —"

  "Oh,
I'm staying the night here, then I'll be taking the bus to the Coral Coast in the morning."

  "A good place to stay if you want to relax, sunbathe —where are you putting up?"

  "Me? Oh, at the Islander." She was gazing around her at the patchwork of green. "All that sugar cane. I wonder which is the month when it's cut —"

  "The Islander!" At the incredulous tone of his voice she glanced towards him in surprise.

  "Why, what's wrong with that?"

  But he had recovered himself and was saying evenly. "Nothing, nothing at all ! It's comfortable enough, so they tell me — that is if you want to cut expenses and can put up with the old style of accommodation. It's certainly got a terrific situation, right on the beach. Anyway, you can always move on somewhere else if it doesn't suit you."

  "I wouldn't want to go anywhere else!" At that moment a tourist bus moved up the concreted slope towards them and Robyn made her way out into the sunshine. David Kinnear followed her as she mounted the high steps of the air-conditioned vehicle, then seated himself at her side.

  The windows afforded a wide view and she gazed eagerly ahead to the grassy green slopes with their perfumed tropical bushes. Presently they sped up a rise, then drew in at the entrance of an older type of guesthouse where a group stood waiting on an open verandah festooned in a blazing curtain of purple bougainvillaea. Soon they were moving along the road leading to the harbour, passing oxen grazing along the lush grass of the roadside. As they travelled in the shade of a long avenue of towering banyan trees with their trailing aerial roots, he said, "That's the one I was telling you about."

  Laughing, she said, "Bula?"