Flame in Fiji

by Gloria Bevan

  "Anyone for the Islander?" The driver's call brought her to instant awareness and gathering up shoulder bag and camera she made her way to the door. The next moment she found herself on a dusty road, her shabby suitcase at her feet, in what appeared to her to be the middle of a tropical nowhere with the warm blue Pacific ocean on one side of her and on the other, a screen of tall coconut palms. Feeling increasingly conscious of the heat, she trudged along in the dust of the road, peering through the greenery. At last with a sense of relief she glimpsed a timber building almost concealed by tall feathery date palms. The long low bungalow showed no evidence of life, but as she went up the steps of the verandah running the width of the house, a man carrying a fishing rod appeared around a corner of the building.

  "Rob !" For a moment Johnny stood transfixed, then he hurried towards her. "Where on earth did you spring from?"

  She laughed and waited for him to reach the top step. "American Airlines, actually, two days ago. I thought I'd stay on for an extra day in Nandi. Your fault — I fell for one of those sea excursions to the outlying islands by schooner that you told me about. I thought you'd be surprised to see me."

  "Surprised isn't the word for it! Come on inside — no, wait, it's cooler out here on the verandah. There's something we've got to get straightened out."

  Could it be the moist enervating heat, she wondered, that

  was beading his bronzed forehead with perspiration? Why was he looking so ... so strained, like a man with something on his mind? A pang of apprehension shot through her, but she made herself smile, say lightly, "You know, the funniest thing happened yesterday. I thought I saw you among the crowd on the wharf at Lautoka —"

  He brushed her words aside with an impatient gesture. "Never mind about that. Look, Rob, there are things you should know." She could barely catch the low words. "Thing is, I've had a spot of trouble."

  "What's wrong? Girl trouble?" she said teasingly.

  "Not exactly, though that comes into it too. I had the idea that if I could only hang on for a while something would turn up, something to tide me over a bad patch, but as things turned out, the only thing that turned up was Kinnear, damn him!"

  "Kinnear!" she echoed blankly. "Oh," enlightenment dawned on her, "now I get it! That was why you didn't want to recognise me on the wharf yesterday. I knew you'd seen me —"

  "Oh, I saw you all right. It really threw me, seeing you standing there on the deck of the Seas pray with him. We'll be seeing enough of him as it is. More than enough," he added in a low tone.

  Her clear gaze swept up to meet his downcast look. "Don't you like him?"

  "Like him? Look here, we'd better have this out right now before we go any further," his wry grin didn't reach his eyes, "put you in the picture about Kinnear. Didn't he let on to you about me? I should have thought he'd have been only too pleased to rub it in!"

  "You know," she murmured bewilderedly, "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

  "I'll tell you. You'll get the news from someone else pretty soon anyway. A lot's been happening out here since I saw you last, Rob. Kinnear, he's taking over here. He's the boss. Do you understand? You and me, we won't count that much!"

  He snapped his fingers angrily.

  She stared at him. "You mean you've sold the guesthouse to David Kinnear?"

  "I wish to heaven I had," he groaned. "No, it's a grimmer outlook than that! You see, it's the money. You remember I told you I borrowed fairly heavily to buy a share in the schooner?"

  "Borrowed? But I thought you had the money —"

  "Well, maybe I didn't make it plain. I forget. Anyway, it's too late now. The bloke I owe the money to is Kinnear. Now do you see how it is? When the schooner was wrecked —"

  She stared at him aghast. "But you didn't tell me —"

  He glanced evasively away. "I meant to write, but anyway it doesn't make any difference now. First week out," he went on moodily, "and she hit a coral reef, holed the side and there wasn't a chance of getting her off. Some natives on one of the islands saw what had happened and came out in outriggers to rescue us. A week later a ship called, picked us up and brought us back to Suva."

  "But wasn't there insurance?"

  He shrugged the question away. "Not enough to make much difference. After that I hadn't much choice in what happened. What could I do but go to the lawyer in town and tell him the sad story? We had a meeting, the boat owners, the lawyer and Kinnear, and the upshot of it all was that Kinnear came up with the bright idea of rearranging the mortgage, and seeing there wasn't a chance of paying back the original money we'd borrowed or even the interest on it, now that the schooner's gone for good, he'd make me another loan —"

  "That was decent of him."

  "Decent of him?" He gave a brief hard laugh. "Don't fool yourself about Kinnear, Rob. He didn't do it for me. It was the only way he could think of to retrieve any of his cash. On his terms, of course. He has all the say. Seeing the old place happens to have such a great location, bang on the beach, handy to an airstrip, he reckons to put up the money on the understanding — wait for it — that he's to be given a

  free hand in updating the whole outfit. He plans to change everything, put in a pool, new plumbing, modem air conditioning, alter the whole layout, make the old Islander into a paying proposition in line with the other resort places that are springing up all along the coast."

  "But we're still the owners . . . aren't we?"

  Once again he gave that short bitter laugh. "Oh yes, we're the owners, and a fat lot of good that will do us ! You can see for yourself the position he's put us in. Now he can do just what he likes with the place, and that goes for you and me too. Sorry, Sis, but I guess I've signed the Islander over to him. But what else could I do? It'll be great, won't it, having him hanging around the place all the time, throwing his weight about, telling me what to do with my own property! I can stay on as manager, he says. Big deal ! You know, just talking to him makes me nervous. He's so darn smiling and friendly, then wham ! Out of the blue he comes up with something like this. Make no mistake, he knows what he's doing, and we can't do anything but play along with him. I'm not so sure that I can stick it !" He turned towards her a dark resentful glance. "What on earth made you latch on to him, of all people, on the schooner?"

  "It was just ... we were both staying at Travelodge — "She checked herself and thought better of the eager confidences she had been about to pour out. "He happened to be going on the Castaway Island cruise too. Oh, it was all right," she assured him quickly, "he didn't know who I was. I just told him my name was Robyn, that was all."

  "All?" All at once she realised the significance of David Kinnear's speculative glance when she had mentioned her brother. Now she knew why the sense of happy comradeship between them had evaporated from that moment. He had suspected all along who she was, she was certain of it, and her mention of Johnny had confirmed her identity beyond all doubt. Writhing inwardly, she heard her own voice saying lightly, boastfully, stupidly it must have seemed to him, "I've got a share in some property here." Oh, that really must have

  amused him. No wonder he had regarded her with that cryptic smile of his. All the time he had been laughing at her.

  Aloud she murmured, "It wasn't your fault that you struck trouble out on the reef and lost the boat." To herself she added, If only it wasn't David Kinnear who's taking everything over. She put into the words the question that plucked at her mind. "When is he coming to see about starting the alterations?"

  "Tomorrow." Johnny spoke through clenched lips.

  She gathered herself together and spoke with more cheerfulness than she felt. "Well, at least we'll be here together."

  He didn't appear to have heard her. "Don't be taken in by that friendly manner of his. He's like that to everyone! Underneath it all he's right out to collect his pound of flesh! And we can't do a thing about it! I've signed over the place — well, fair enough! But if he thinks he can make me into his runabout man ... Just let
him start trying to push me around — or you!" His brooding glance rested on Robyn's troubled face.

  "Don't worry," she said, "I can look after myself !"

  He flung his half-smoked cigarette into the bushes below. "You'd better come inside, take a look around. Choose a room for yourself," he added with heavy sarcasm, "while you can take your pick and before Kinnear begins pulling the whole show to pieces and putting it together again — his way!" He turned to pick up her modest suitcase. "Hope you brought some mosquito repellent with you?"

  She nodded. "I picked up that much information on my way here."

  He kicked open a screen door and they moved into a long dark passage with rooms opening off it on either side. "See what I mean?" He paused to fling open a bedroom door, then another, where there was nothing but the empty shabby rooms, the enervating heat.

  Robyn wiped her moist forehead with her handkerchief. "I can hear voices," she whispered. "Someone's in the room opposite."

  He nodded, leading her past a closed door. "Old faithfuls —a couple of elderly blokes, It's the informal atmosphere here that's the attraction, so they say. Informal's right! The few odd fishermen turn up each season too. It's handy to the fishing grounds, and cheap living. You'll see them —" He stopped short as a door at the end of the hallway opened and a small dark girl stood facing them, trim and attractive in her blue air hostess uniform.

  "Hi, Pam!" Johnny looked taken aback. Clearly Robyn thought he hadn't known that the other girl was in the house. "I wasn't expecting to see you this weekend."

  "I didn't know I was coming here myself until the last minute before the plane left. I got last-minute orders to change with another hostess on the Fiji flight. We got in at midnight. Nice surprise?" Sparkling dark eyes challenged him and Robyn was aware of an unmistakable current of feeling flowing between the other two. If Johnny had fallen in love with this nice dark girl at least luck couldn't be all against him!

  "Pam," he was saying, "my sister Robyn."

  "Your sister?" The other girl's eyes seemed to leave his face with an effort. "I didn't know you had one."

  Robyn smiled. "It's true. Not that I see much of him, but that's something I intend to put right, here on the coast."

  "I can see the resemblance now," Pam said slowly. "You two do look a lot like brother and sister."

  "Actually," Robyn told her ruefully, "We're more like distant relations, very distant. We only see each other every few years or so."

  "Well, I'm off to change out of this uniform and get into something cooler, more in line with the South Pacific image. See you later, Johnny." It seemed to Robyn that the dark eyes were pleading, but the man made no effort to detain her and she turned away.

  Robyn looked after her. She had taken an immediate liking to this small sturdy-looking girl with an air of vitality. "She's nice," she volunteered as they strolled on down the passage.

  "Oh, Pam's okay." Apparently Johnny was disinclined to enlarge on the subject of the vivacious-looking air hostess. Yet Robyn got an impression that there was something deeper than mere friendship between the two. Perhaps they had quarrelled. She forgot the matter as she entered a large dining room with coconut matting on the floor. Small bamboo tables were set with woven fibre mats and above her head a large revolving fan stirred the humid atmosphere.

  "Here she is, Eve! My sister Robyn I was telling you about."

  "Oh, hello!" A middle-aged woman who had been bending over an office desk turned and stepped towards them. She wore a cool loose frock of crisp cotton patterned in a native design. Robyn saw a keen-eyed woman with neat short-cropped grey hair, a deeply tanned skin — and a smile that was warm with welcome. "If only you'd let us know you were on your way, we would have gone in to the airport and collected you. Has Johnny shown you over the place yet?"

  "Oh yes, thank you. He's —" She stopped short, her attention caught by the vivid flame, orange and apricot shadings of an oil painting hanging on the opposite wall. Pushing a damp lock of hair back from her flushed forehead, she moved across the room and looked up towards the sunset scene.

  "The fans aren't very efficient," Mrs. Daley apologised, "but they're better than nothing. Yes, that's one of your father's paintings." She cameto stand at Robyn's side. "What do you think of it?"

  "It's certainly ... colourful." That at least was the truth. She could scarcely voice her opinion that much as her father must have enjoyed his hobby, this wasn't the work of a professional painter. Far from it. The garish colours ... and the perspective .. .

  "He loved painting sunsets," the older woman was saying, "they fascinated him."

  Robyn asked gently, "Did he sell any of his pictures?"

  "Oh no! He always said he couldn't bear to part with one of them!"

  "You knew him well, then?"

  "My goodness, yes! I've been at the Islander for years and years. Andrew and I used to run the place together."

  "What was he like, Mrs. Daley? I mean, what sort of a man was he?"

  "Oh, a bit of a dreamer, not very practical when it came to managing money. Things like that. But I was able to give

  [him a hand there. At least the place used to pay its own way with a little bit over in those days. That was before the tourist boom hit Fiji. Nowadays tourists can choose between any number of luxury resorts on the islands. But we still have a few regulars who turn up each season, thank heaven. And once David Kinnear gets going on making the alterations here, things will be very different! They say he's the top man in architecture in Fiji, with an international reputation in his own line and a real flair for the designing of new complexes. He's quite gifted too, I believe, when it comes to interior design. All the overseas travel promoters are rushing to sign him up to design their new world-class hotels." Her voice rang with enthusiasm. "I do think Johnny had all the luck in the world in managing to get him to do over the old Islander!"

  Robyn reflected that it was fortunate that this cheerful woman hadn't caught the sardonic twist of her brother's lips. She brought her mind back to the clear tones.

  "Once he's modernised it and arranged the decoration and furnishings, everything will be different! Just the fact of his having had the commission for the work will be recommendation enough for the travel agents and tourist heads. They tell me that once he starts work on a place, he doesn't lose any time. Gets the plans drawn up and workmen started on the job right away!" She turned a bright face towards Johnny. "Can you believe that in just a few months we'll be on top again, the place crowded with tourists, and all the improvements we've always wanted but never thought we'd get. A decent system of air-conditioning, a big swimming pool in front of the house, an open-air restaurant where we can put

  on island dinners and entertainments. We were awfully fortunate to get his services. I mean, a man like David Kinnear."

  Johnny muttered something unintelligible. So his loyal helper had no idea of the true position regarding the changes to be made in the guesthouse, Robyn mused, or the fact that Johnny had no choice in the matter of renovations. At his dark expression she half expected him to break into an angry tirade. She laid a hand on his brown arm. "How about this tour of inspection we're on?"

  He swung towards her. "We're on our way. See you at lunch, Eve."

  When they had seen the big old kitchen where Fijian youths were busily preparing salads and cold meats at a long table in the centre of the room, Johnny led the way towards the bathrooms, then moved out of a door into brilliant sunshine. He waved a careless hand towards a cluster of outbuildings. "You wouldn't be interested in anything there. There're just storage sheds, somewhere to keep the deep freeze, odds and ends, nothing you'd want to see."

  "But I do ! Didn't you say that some of Dad's pictures were out there?"

  "Some ! If you're going to go through that lot you'll be here for the rest of the day." He pushed open a rickety door and she peered into the dimness of a cluttered timber shed. "There you are, stacked against the wall, dozens of them. They're all yours ! Help yours
elf !"

  Eagerly Robyn bent to pick up a large canvas. She blew away a film of dust and stood looking down at a portrait of a Fijian warrior in all his glory of hair ornaments, long earrings and war paint. Still she could find little merit in her father's work, which seemed to her not to have progressed beyond a certain stage of development. Perhaps he hadn't realised it himself; she hoped not. Carefully she flicked over one canvas after another, then at last she propped the stack of paintings back against the wall.

  Outside, a hairy brown coconut was lying on the lush

  green grass and she glanced around her at the closely-growing coconut palms, long fringed banana leaves; papaya, the great yellow fruit half eaten by the myriad birds flying overhead amongst the tropical growth. Then they were following a twisting path, passing bushes of flowering hibiscus with their brilliant yellow, red and pink blossoms. Suddenly they came on a line of thatched huts, half hidden amidst thick greenery. Doors opened on to an overgrown concrete terrace. Robyn paused. "Who sleeps in these?"

  "No one uses them much. In the old days Eve used to put the overflow from the house out in the bures, so she tells me. Like to sleep out here yourself, instead of up at the house? They've got fans, of a sort, and the windows are meshed against mosquitoes."

  "Oh, I would!" She was enchanted with the small native-style dwellings. Sleeping in one of these she would be close to the beach, hear the surge of breakers pounding ceaselessly against the reef. With all the flowers and perfume around her it would be like living in the centre of a garden. "I'll move in today ! What's along at the end of the path?"

  He shrugged. "Nothing much. The path leads to a native village a couple of miles away. It's just a sort of bush walk."

  On the way back to the house they were met by a tall, big-framed Fijian girl in a long printed sulu that swirled around brown ankles She smiled shyly towards Robyn. "Kula."

  On this occasion Robyn could return the greeting without self-consciousness. At least this was something David Kinnear had taught her. The way things had turned out, she couldn't imagine their ever being as friendly as on that unforgettable day out at Castaway Island. Now being forced to meet him again under such different circumstances promised to be a strain, an ordeal she was already coming to dread.