by Gloria Bevan
She thrust the picture away and wrenched her mind back to Mrs. Daley's tones. "Noeline's got wealthy parents and they've absolutely spoiled her from the time she was born. What could you expect with four brothers coming along first? She's as hard as can be and she'll get her own way at whatever cost to anyone else. It was just lucky that Johnny found out his mistake in time and called the wedding off, even if it was at the very last moment ... three days before the ceremony, actually. A girl like Noeline wouldn't forgive that in a hurry, I can tell you — Oh dear, you must think I'm awful, gossiping like this, but Johnny's like a son to me and in these small places you can't help knowing what's going on."
"Still ... three days before the wedding . . . did she care?"
"Oh, she cared right enough ! She was furious, but I can't imagine her feelings being hurt, more likely it was her pride."
"It wouldn't be very pleasant, being stood up at the last minute. Whatever was Johnny thinking of to let things go so far —"
The older woman's smile was quizzical. "He'd met Pam by then. I can't say that I blame him for what he did. Oh well, better late than never. You should thank fate that he met Pam in the meantime.., and keep your fingers crossed he doesn't change his mind again."
"It seems to me he's too popular, with the women, that's Johnny's trouble."
Mrs. Daley said teasingly, "Including his sister?"
Robyn laughed, "I guess you could count me in too."
As she moved away she mused on the muddle of Johnny's affairs. She could only hope he would sort it out, instead of running away. The thought came out of the air and she thrust it aside. Come to that, she had problems of her own, one in particular with smiling dark eyes and an unflappable manner. She wished David Kinnear wouldn't persist in regarding her as a sort of overgrown schoolgirl. It wasn't as though he was all that old. Thirty was really a perfect age for a man. Heavens, where were her thoughts leading her? She wrenched her imaginings away and went out to the thatched-roofed patio where guests were lounging in bamboo chairs as they watched the approach of a fishing boat returning from a day's excursion to one of the outlying islands.
At that moment a yellow and black rental car braked to a stop on the path and a few moments later a group of air crew and hostesses passed her on their way inside. A little later they returned, accompanied by Pam. "This is Robyn !" the other girl told her companions, and immediately Robyn found herself drawn into the laughing, friendly group.
"We've got a reprieve," a young pilot was saying gaily. "The message has just come through that the plane's developed slight engine trouble of some sort and we're off duty until midnight !"
As the party settled themselves at a low table a young Fijian waiter, evidently accustomed to the air crew, welcomed each one by name. Soon he returned from the bar carrying a tray of long iced drinks which he put down on the low table.
"We're all going over to the island dinner at the Pacific," Pain said gaily.
Under cover of the babel of talk, Robyn whispered, "But what if Johnny should come back?"
Pam put down her glass. "I don't care anymore." Robyn saw that the other girl was very pale, her eyes dark with despair. "I've been waiting here for hours, and what does he do? He takes off just to avoid seeing me. It's too bad he had to
go to the trouble of spelling it out, but he won't need to any more. I'm finished with waiting around just like he's finished," all at once her voice broke, "with me."
Presently someone suggested a swim and a blond flight-engineer who was seated opposite fixed Robyn with his blue gaze. "Coming down for a dip? It cools you down, makes you fresh enough to get up the energy for the hotel dinner —"
"But I'm not --"
"You are, you know! It's all organised. Swim first, then the makiti."
Everyone dispersed to change into swimming trunks and bikinis and soon the party of men and girls were strolling towards the tide lapping softly on the sand below. Robyn was surprised to find the others so suntanned, but of course to the air crew on the jet-run between North America and Australia, swimming in the warm blue Pacific waters must provide a welcome change.
They stayed in the sea a long time. Robyn still couldn't become accustomed to not feeling chilly after being so long in the water.
When at last they made their way back along the sand, the sun was sinking over the sea in a spectacular blaze of apricot and gold.
It was later as they climbed into the station wagon that Robyn noticed Pam's swift searching glance along the darkening road, caught the other girl's disappointed sigh. The next moment Pam was gay again, laughing and chatting vivaciously as she squeezed into a seat between Robyn and a young co-pilot.
The road followed the curve of the bay and Robyn was surprised to find how near was the newly built modern hotel around the point from the Islander.
As they swept towards the big white building with its blaze of lights a red-haired air hostess leaned forward to touch the driver on the shoulder. "Don't forget that tonight it's sarongs for the girls, sulus for you men ! "
Soon everyone was crowding into a small gift shop in the
foyer of the hotel. The group made their way towards the glorious array of softly flowing silks and vividly patterned cotton sulus heaped on the counters.
Robyn watched Pam choose a length of scarlet silk from the pile. Draping the material around her shoulders, she turned towards Robyn. "Now it's your turn."
"But I haven't an idea what to do with it."
"We'll show you."
With a wide and friendly smile a Fijian girl held towards Robyn a length of palest green silk embroidered in gold threads. Obligingly Robyn took it from the attendant. "Though I haven't a clue —"
"Allow me." Bruce, the blond flight-engineer, already wearing his skirt-like sulu, was at her side. In a few deft movements he had draped the flowing material around her. "Now, shut your eyes —" His laughing face was very close as, hands pinning her shoulders, he guided her towards the mirror. "Now you can look ! "
Her face, flushed from the hours spent on the beach this afternoon, stared back at her.
"One more thing —" Taking from the native girl a fragrant, sweetly-perfumed lei of frangipani blossoms, he slipped the ring of flowers over her head.
Bruce was eyeing her with beaming approval and she had to admit that the delicate colouring of the silk sarong flattered her, lent her an air of deceptive fragility. Would David approve of her could he see her like this? If only she could stop herself from thinking of him
CHAPTER IV
THE gentle strumming of native guitars fell around them as they left the car at the modem building facing the lagoon and made their way along a path lighted by flares in iron stanchions. The swift tropical night had fallen and fairy lights strung in the sweet-scented foliage overhead threw their gleam over smoke rising from a barbecue, the flower-bedecked islanders moving amongst long tables set on the grass.
Robyn took her seat with the others at a long table covered in banana leaves and tropical blooms and set with succulent seafoods and native delicacies. There were lobsters, prawns, mounds of fresh fruit, pineapple, paw-paw, golden melons —jugs of coconut milk.
Bruce, the flight-engineer, followed her gaze towards a heaped wooden platter. "That's kokoda."
"Sorry," Robyn said with a smile, "but I still don't know —"
"To you," he interpreted, "raw fish marinated in coconut cream. And don't be put off by the 'raw' part. It's delicious. Let me help you to some —"
"Wait a minute," Pam called gaily. "First she has to have a drink — Talei."
Robyn glanced down at the glass with an orchid clinging to the rim, that the waiter had set down before her.
Laughingly Bruce raised his glass. "It's almost Fiji's national cocktail. I'll even give you the recipe if you like! You take some Bacardi —"
"Add a dash of rum, passion-fruit nectar and bitter lemon," a co-pilot put in. "Serve decorated with a frangipani flower —"
"And don't forget
a sliver of sugar-cane for a swizzlestick," Pam cried laughingly. "Afterwards you can chew the stick — like this !"
Pam was strung-up, excited, talkative, a different person entirely, Robyn thought, from the distraught heartbroken girl
of earlier in the day. If Pam was wearing a mask she wore it well and no one would guess that her gaiety wasn't of the genuine variety.
Soon, to the infectious beat of guitars throbbing through the darkness, Fijian girls and men approached the coconut mat outspread on the grass for entertainers. Robyn watched as fibre skirts and flower leis swung as the troupe swayed in the graceful rhythm of their native dances.
Presently their place was taken by a Fijian girl, young and attractive with her flowing, flower-bedecked hair and long sulu skirt. In the still air her voice rose poignantly sweet in the age-old melodies of the Pacific islands.
She was followed by a stamping band of warriors, upraised pointed spears in their hands, shark-tooth ornaments in their ears. The wild movements and ferocious cries left no doubt as to the significance of the war dance.
It was all novel and colourful. Robyn, applauding with the others, wondered why she wasn't enjoying the entertainment more, instead of feeling merely as though she were watching a scene in a play. Come on now, admit it. If only David Kinnear had brought her here everything would have been excitingly different. Wasn't that the reason too why she found herself glancing around her in search of a certain dark masculine head? It was a long drive back to Suva. He might be staying at this hotel for the night. Not that she wanted to see him here, not after having refused his invitation. She was just ... wondering ... But in the warm velvety darkness she could see little beyond the flare-lighted radius of the tables. And anyway, she chided herself, in this gay company why on earth was she wasting time thinking of anyone else, especially him!
The dinner was coming to an end now and couples were leaving the tables to move over the grass and join the guests who danced under a canopy of stars.
"Dance, Robyn?" A trembling ran along her nerves. Wouldn't you just know that David would appear tonight, after she'd refused his invitation to join him at the island dinner? Giving her no time for explanations, he drew her to her feet and in a few moments they were moving to the pulsing beat of singing guitars.
In the glimmer of the fairy-lights overhead, she searched his face. He appeared as affable, as cool as ever. What had she expected? Disappointment at finding her here with a party after having refused his own invitation? Annoyance? But of course it would take a lot more than that to shake his cool composure. Don't forget, she chided herself, that he regards you as a silly schoolgirl, an unknown girl whose company he's forced to endure because of a business deal.
"I changed my mind," she told him breathlessly, moving to the tempo of an island melody, "about coming here tonight, I mean."
He merely nodded smilingly, uncaringly. Clearly what she did was a matter of indifference to him. She wasn't important enough in his scheme of things for it to make any difference, one way or the other. The thought was somehow unbearable. Suddenly it became very necessary to make him understand. Unconsciously her movements slowed to a routine in time with the beat. "I didn't mean to go to the dinner when I was talking to you, then afterwards Pam wanted to come and all of a sudden I —"
"Had second thoughts. I'm glad you did."
Somehow the cheerful words were more hurtful than straight-out annoyance. They made her feel more than ever stupidly young, and awkward, and foolish. "Are you — staying here?"
"Just for the night. Actually I was hoping to run across someone here, someone I knew."
"Oh ! Did he — she turn up?"
"Yes, wasn't I lucky!".
The notes of music died away and David strolled across the grass beside her. At the table he left her and her swift sideways glance showed her he was moving to join a group seated a short distance away. She strained her eyes in an effort to distinguish the woman seated beside him, but the crowd obscured her vision.
Around her the light chatter became general, until a smiling young Fijian waiter approached them, saying in his soft tones : "Airport control is on the phone with a message for the captain. Could you speak to them, please?"
"I'll be right there." The captain left the table, to return in a few minutes, a wry grin curving his lips.
"Don't tell me," called the red-haired air hostess, "let me guess! You've gotta go fly your plane —"
"Right! They managed to fit in the new engine sooner than they expected and we're due back at the airport right away. We can just make it if we step on the gas !"
"Who'd be an air hostess?" Pam joined the others standing in a group around the table. As goodbyes were called, she turned back towards Robyn. "Sorry we can't take you home! But you'll be all right," she added carelessly. "You can get David Kinnear to take you back to the Islander."
"Don't worry about me. 'Bye !"
She watched the group as they moved into the darkness pricked by flickering flares. Get David Kinnear to take you! That would be the last thing she'd do! She had other ideas on the subject. Feeling all at once conspicuously alone at the deserted, leaf-covered table, she slipped unnoticed into the shadows, found a winding path beneath the trees and soon she was down on the starlit sands below.
There was no moon, but the southern sky blazed with stars and the murmur of the surf breaking on the reef drowned out the haunting notes of the island band. Drowned too the sound of footsteps. When a vibrant familiar voice behind her called, "Hi, Robyn, wait for me !" she froze.
In a moment he had caught up with her. "You didn't think you'd get away that easily, did you?" he laughed, and linked her fingers in his.
She was swept by a heady excitement. It was because of him that her feelings were so mixed up. She should hate him. In a way she did — but in another way ... And how could you think straight about anything when he was clasping her hand in his, drawing her closer, saying in that relaxed way of his, "That's the trouble with you, little one. You're always running away —"
"I'd be all right on my own —"
"Better this way."
She was waging a losing battle against her own senses, and the languid tropical night. The gentle wash of waves on the beach, palms outlined against a dark sky, it wasn't fair. But she made an effort to pull her thoughts together. "How about your ... friend? Won't she ... miss you?" Horrified, she caught the betraying note of feeling in her tones.
"It was you," he said calmly, and tightened his arm around her.
"Well!" She turned to face him, but at something in his expression the words died away. All at once her heart was beating thud, thud, thud and a delicious warmth was stealing through her senses. "But I told you I wasn't coming. I ... didn't know myself."
"But you wanted to come — admit it, Robyn!" The teasing tones softened, deepened. "It was just that you didn't want me to bring you along. That was it, wasn't it?"
She didn't know how to reply, so correctly had he divined her state of mind, and she'd thought she'd been so convincing. It would be easy to fall in with his mood. Easy, and disastrous, for whatever would Johnny say if he returned to find her fraternising with the enemy? His enemy and hers ... or was that really the truth? Confused by the caressing note in his voice, his touch, she said very low, "Being under an obligation to someone makes a difference, and with Johnny feeling about you the way he does —"
"Robyn! Look at me !" But she knew that to do that would be to lose her argument and wrenching her hand free of his clasp, she hurried on.
"You're in a big hurry," he observed, "for a stroll along the beach. Hasn't anyone ever told you that no one ever hurries in Fiji?" Suddenly he had dropped down and pulled her down beside him on the sand. "Mmmm ... heady stuff, frangipani. I wanted to have a word with you —"
All at once the magic slipped away. He was the man Johnny hated, the man he had warned her about, and they both entirely in his power.
"It wasn't Johnny's fault, what happened," she
said with spirit, "he did try! What's wrong with enjoying yourself, anyway?"
"Nothing. I'm all for it, so long as —"
"I know what you're going to say — so long as it isn't on someone one else's money !" Why couldn't he understand that Johnny was particularly vulnerable because of hurt pride, that later when he'd had time to get over the loss of the schooner, he would feel differently about everything? "Well, it wasn't like that with me. Coming here, I mean. If I'd known about Johnny —"
"Couldn't we leave your brother out of it, just for tonight?" "It was you," she said in a low tone, "who wanted to have a word about all that."
"About you and me, Robyn! Just the two of us! No Johnny, no debts, nothing like that. Let's take it from here, shall we? It's start-again time, didn't you know?"
"It's not as simple as all that," she pointed out in a distressed tone. "Johnny thinks you —"
"I get it. Brother John blames me for the lot. But do you have to be all on his side? If he behaves himself —"
"There you go," she flashed, "expecting him to do what you want him to ! That's what he hates. He thinks you want him here for your runabout man."
For a moment he was silent. "Does it ever occur to you or your brother," came the lazy tones, "that what I'm doing is for your benefit too? I'm on your side, Robyn. Think of the profits that are going to come rolling in once we get the place known about."
"Profits for you!"
"And you."
"You're a funny girl." He raised a hand and very gentle brushed back the long hair blowing across her face in the night breeze.
Nervously she plucked at the creamy blossoms of the flower necklace. It was the silence that was dangerous. It did things to her, made her forget everything but his nearness.
His voice softened, deepened. "Do you have to try so hard, Robyn?"