‘I don’t think Leo got much sleep last night,’ Minister John confided. ‘He looked terrible when he knocked me up at six am wanting to talk about Jack’s funeral. We have made the arrangements for tomorrow morning. Will you still be on the island, Isla?’
‘Yes. Of course. I’ll make my travel arrangements accordingly. I want to be here to support Leo.’
He settled on his mat once more and readopted his lotus position.
‘I also wanted to ask you a couple of questions, Minister John, if I may?’
‘Of course, anything. Ask away.’
‘Kate left me her journals. I have read them and so I know she often confided in you. I realise that you were both her mentor and her friend. I’m assuming therefore, that you knew Kate was not my aunt but my grandmother?’
Minister John smiled kindly and sat contemplating quietly for a moment before he spoke.
‘I’m normally not able to discuss matters that are deemed confidential between a confessional and a minister of the Lord. However, as Kate has now left this world and passed into His care, I suppose that allows me to help you with your enquiries. So, yes. She did confide in me that you, Isla, were her beloved granddaughter.’
Isla took a deep breath, finished her tea, and then asked her next question.
‘And what about her husband, Ernest, did he also confide in you?’
‘That, I’m afraid, I can’t tell you.’ Minister John said immediately.
‘Why? When he too has left this world?’ Isla enquired, thinking she might be onto something.
Minister John simply stared at her with his mouth ajar.
Isla spelled out her conclusions. ‘From your reluctance to speak to me about him, under the same set of circumstances, I can only assume that you still believe that Mr Ernest Rocha is alive. Is that right, Minister John?’
Clearly flustered, he started rubbing his forehead and muttering something about a sermon he must write for Jack’s funeral, and his concern over whether there would be any flowers left after the hurricane for the graveside. ‘So, if you’ll excuse me Isla, I really must be getting on.’
‘Interesting,’ Isla replied. ‘Very interesting indeed. Thank you, Minister John.’
She then drove down to the pearl farm feeling that she still had other important matters that needed settling except that Leo wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She checked the outbuilding that housed the filtration tanks and shouted out his name a couple of times at the bottom of the stairwell in the visitor centre. It was then she saw Anya coming out from Leo’s room upstairs. She was wearing a bathrobe.
‘Oh, hello, Miss Isla. Excuse me, I’ve not had much sleep these past couple of nights.’
‘Anya, I’m really sorry to wake you, but do you know where I might find Leo?’ Isla realised she was trembling. Anya obviously lived with Leo. Slept with Leo. In his bed.
‘Yes, sure. He’s out repairing the pontoon this morning,’ she said, covering a yawn with her hand. ‘I told him he shouldn’t, with two cracked ribs, but he wouldn’t listen.’
And that’s when Isla noticed a sparkle of light reflecting off a ring on the third finger of Anya’s left hand. She caught her breath, as her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ Anya asked her, coming down the staircase, smiling sweetly.
Isla shook her head, unable to speak for the lump of anguish lodged in her throat. Anyway, what was the point in a tactful conversation with Anya now, when she had all the conclusive proof she needed that Anya shared Leo’s bedroom and his heart?
At that moment, the phone rang and Anya practically fell upon it. ‘Oh, wow, it’s working again. Thank goodness. Excuse me, Miss Isla.’
Apparently, it was Anya’s sister calling from Grand Cayman to make sure Anya was okay.
Isla stood and waited, feeling awkward. The gash on her leg was throbbing again and she could see fresh blood starting to soak through the dressing, so she gave a wave to indicate she was leaving. Just as she reached the door, she heard Anya say something that made her blood run cold.
‘Oh, we are fine and yes, the baby’s fine too. Don’t worry.’
A baby!
What had she just heard? Was Anya expecting Leo’s child?
It all became suddenly clear to Isla. No wonder Anya hadn’t been worried about her returning to the island. She was obviously so secure in her relationship with Leo, knowing they were living together and having a baby, and that’s why she’d been so nice to her. Anya had been patiently biding her time, knowing that she was planning to leave, and that Leo was doing everything in his power to dissuade her from selling the island and to save his own interests in the pearl farm.
Anya probably felt sorry for her. Even pitied her.
Oh, what a stupid fool she had been!
Isla’s hand instinctively fluttered to her neck to touch her necklace, only it wasn’t there anymore. Oh no! She must have lost it. It must have come off during the chaos of yesterday. It could be in the sea, or in the grotto pools or under tonnes of rock… but it was gone.
A sob escaped her throat as she accepted this as a fateful sign. A compelling one.
A sign that she should be happy for Leo and Anya.
So why did she suddenly feel so heartbroken and empty all over again?
Was she jealous? From the heartache she was experiencing right now, it certainly felt that way.
Was this all because Leo had turned out to be a hero rather than a villain?
Was it because she had finally forgiven him?
Or was it because she still loved him?
But it was all too late. Far too late. He was with Anya and they were having a baby together.
Selling the island and her share in the pearl farm was clearly now her only option. She needed to get away and never come back here. She couldn’t face seeing Leo marrying Anya.
In dismay, she got back into the golf cart and headed back up the hill to the house. All the time she was imagining Anya and Leo standing together in front of Minister John at the small altar in the church. Staring adoringly into each other’s eyes and repeating their wedding vows while she, as matron of honour, stood holding the bride’s bouquet while trying not to be physically sick.
She arrived back at the house to find that she’d received several emails from Evie all at once – all of them expressing concern. She messaged back to let her know she was safe and to ask if she could once again rearrange all her travel plans. She explained how she would be attending a funeral tomorrow morning but would really like to leave here tomorrow afternoon as a matter of urgency.
At that moment, another message pinged into her inbox. It was from Mr Smith.
Message: Dear Miss Isla, I trust you are well after your hurricane experience. I’m emailing to say that the interested buyer, a Mr Goldman, had just been back in touch to ask if he and his wife could fly over this morning to view Pearl Island?
Isla caught her breath. Yes, this was just what she needed. Positive affirmation that selling the island was the way forward.
Thank you, Mr Goldman, and thank you, Mr Smith.
She called Mr Smith back now that cell phone service had been restored and gave him the go ahead to arrange the viewing. In turn, he called back to say that Mr and Mrs Goldman were very keen and on their way. They would be on Pearl Island in just over half an hour.
Before she could leave for the airstrip, Isla knew she had to speak to Grace. To her amazement and delight, she found her in the garden, with Carlos. They were wearing matching sombreros and laughing while raking up all the windblown fruit and flowers.
‘Grace, I have some news. Carlos, how lovely to see you again.’ Isla blurted. ‘Erm… there is a couple coming over from Grand Cayman to view the island and they are on their way right now.’
To her even greater amazement, Grace turned and smiled and responded to this with civility.
‘That’s all right, Miss Isla. I expect you’d like me to prepare a lunch for o
ur visitors?’
‘Yes, lunch would be great. Are you okay? I mean, is it all right? Are you all right? Are you not still angry about all this?’
‘No, I’m not angry. Hurricanes are a great reminder of the fragility of life. I’ve decided that I’m going to have my cottage built at the end of the driveway and I’ve just asked Carlos to marry me.’
Isla stared at them both in astonishment.
‘And he’s accepted. Isn’t that right, Carlos?’ Grace gushed.
Carlos nodded and grinned from under his sombrero in delight. Isla threw her arms in the air and erupted with a high-pitched squeal of congratulations before landing in Grace’s arms.
Grace laughed and hugged her back. ‘I do know he’s the one for me.’
All this time and Grace had been in love. Who knew? Certainly not Carlos.
Carlos accompanied Isla to the airstrip in the golf buggy. Both were still grinning. Isla knowing that Grace had finally found both companionship and happiness and Carlos at knowing his happy fate.
When they got to the airstrip, she realised she had forgotten to bring along the ice cooler and bottles of drinking water for when people arrived hot, sweaty and thirsty after being jammed into a tiny and cramped Cessna. Nor had she had time to change out of her shorts and vest top – as being late would have been even less courteous. So much for first impressions.
A few minutes later, a plane could be heard approaching.
As it came into view, Isla realised that these weren’t actually the hot and sweaty jammed into a Cessna type of people because they had their own shiny Goldman Inc Learjet.
Isla took a deep breath and she sincerely hoped these were the sort of people who could accept that they hadn’t yet had time to clear up all the debris from pathways and all the rubbish and seaweed that had washed up on the normally pristine white sand beaches.
The jet landed gracefully and then taxied towards the airstrip building. Once the door had opened, a very cool and glamorous looking couple in their late forties/early fifties got out. The man wore a beautifully cut summer-weight suit, probably Armani, thought Isla. The tall, slim red-haired woman accompanying him wore a white linen trouser suit, very Stella McCartney, over a bright orange silk top. Oversize sunglasses and a wide-brimmed white hat with a matching orange silk band completed the ensemble. She looked so stylish that Isla cursed her own attire while smiling at them welcomingly.
‘Hello and welcome to Pearl Island. I’m Isla Ashton.’
‘I’m Damion Goldman and this is my wife Gloria,’ the man said to Isla. ‘I do hope you don’t mind us popping in so soon after the hurricane. It’s just that Mr Smith informed us you were keen to head back to the UK and we are very interested in Pearl Island.’
Isla shook their hands. ‘Popping in is absolutely fine, as long as you appreciate that we have suffered some hurricane damage and, sadly, a man was killed yesterday. We are all trying to come to terms with what has happened and also prepare for his funeral tomorrow.’
‘Oh dear, we are so sorry for your loss. Had we realised this we would have rescheduled our appointment for sure.’ Gloria seemed genuinely quite horrified at their timing.
‘Then our condolences and apologies are in order,’ Mr Goldman reiterated. ‘Please be assured that we intend to take up very little of your time today, Miss Ashton.’
‘Oh, call me Isla, please. It’s no trouble. And yes, I am planning to head back to the UK very soon. I have some pressing business matters to attend to there.’ By mentioning business, she hoped to come across as a serious businesswoman, albeit one in shorts and a vest. ‘Let me take you back to the house for some refreshments, after which I can give you a full tour of the island.’
‘That would be lovely and I’m so looking forward to seeing the main house. It looked so pretty from the air.’ Gloria said, while fanning herself with a glossy map of Pearl Island.
‘It’s even prettier from the ground,’ Isla added, beaming a smile her way.
‘It’s the pearl farm that we’d like to see first, if you don’t mind,’ Mr Goldman insisted.
Isla felt herself go into a little panic. She would have to call Leo and warn him.
They headed back to the house in the golf cart, avoiding windblown coconuts and palm fronds that were strewn across the path. When they arrived, Grace had refreshments laid out on the porch.
Isla explained that she needed to contact Leo, but that so far he wasn’t answering his phone.
‘Why not try calling him on the radio instead,’ Grace suggested helpfully, as she went about pouring tea and serving sandwiches and cake. ‘I do admire your hat, Mrs Goldman,’ she gushed, as she tried to force another slice of her lime drizzle cake onto Gloria. ‘Now, tell me, are you and Mr Goldman originally from the Cayman Islands?’
‘Oh, do call me Gloria. Actually, no, we are from California although my husband is Scottish.’
Isla took a few sips of tea and heard Grace offering the Goldmans a tour of the house.
What a pleasant surprise. Maybe Grace really had come to terms with the situation after all.
Isla had just put a call out on the radio for Leo when she heard a loud scream from the kitchen. She practically fell over her own feet running in there to find Gloria Goldman hyperventilating over the sight of an enormous tarantula spider sitting on the worktop. The other thing she immediately noticed was how Grace was standing back and looking rather pleased with herself.
Isla scooped up the offending hairy creature into a plastic bowl and despatched it into the garden. Upon her return, she heard Grace professing to the Goldmans that ‘it was only a baby one and we often got much bigger ones in the house after it had been raining.’
Mr Goldman had his arm around his wife’s shoulders protectively. ‘I’m afraid Gloria isn’t so keen on spiders. Are you, darling?’
Gloria, who was shaking violently, nodded keenly. ‘I absolutely detest them!’
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Isla interrupted, while glaring at Grace, ‘but you’ll be happy to know they are in fact quite harmless. Isn’t that right, Grace?’
‘Quite harmless,’ Grace repeated, with a satisfied smile. ‘Unlike the tiny black scorpions, which are highly venomous and can hide in the most unlikely places.’
‘Tiny black scorpions…’ Gloria repeated, looking pale and terrified all over again.
‘Oh look, I see the sun is shining on the garden.’ Isla beamed. ‘I suggest we start your tour outside. Grace can show you the tennis courts and the putting green and the swimming pool.’ She threw Grace a discreet look of caution.
‘Oh, yes. I’d love to see the swimming pool,’ gushed Gloria.
‘Great. I just have to make a quick call and I’ll join you,’ Isla excused herself as Grace escorted their visitors outside.
As she tried to get Leo again on the cell phone, she overheard Grace telling them how many fruit trees they had lost in the hurricane and how the garden might never recover.
Finally, he answered.
‘Leo, there are prospective purchasers here to view the island and they want to come and see the pearl farm first.’
There was a total silence at the other end of the line.
‘Leo, are you there?’
‘Yes, I’m here, Isla. Of course they want to see the pearl farm first. Everyone with five million dollars in change is going to want to buy a pearl island that actually produces high-grade pearls. That’s one of the reasons why I can’t actually believe you want to sell it. Who are they? Have you checked them out? Do you know anything about them?’ His tone was dry and laced with bitterness.
‘Look, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Please be ready?’ Isla begged him.
At the pearl farm, Anya greeted them and then helpfully suggested that Mr and Mrs Goldman should take the fifteen-minute guest tour, so that they could learn more about the origins of the pearl farm. While the couple watched the video, Isla went to find Leo.
He was in the laboratory. When he saw
her, he gave her a look of cold disapproval.
She felt her heart sink. ‘I came to see you this morning but you’d already gone out to the pontoon. I wanted to know how you are and to talk to you about the funeral. Would you like to hold the wake up at the house tomorrow? Grace and I are happy to do the catering.’
He lifted his eyes as if he were surprised by her generosity. She saw that his face was etched with pain and grief and that his eyes looked heavy with sadness and were bloodshot from lack of sleep. He looked truly exhausted.
Her heart ached at seeing him like this. She reached out her hand to touch his arm as a gesture of concern but he took a step back from her as if her touch was fire.
‘Sure. Thanks. That would help a lot. Now, who are these people?’
‘So far all I know about them is that they are interested in buying the island. I imagine they’ll have some questions for you about the farm. They’ll probably want to see you open an oyster. But if they ask you anything about finances or potential profits, then I’d prefer it if you were discreet,’ she told him.
‘Whatever,’ he snapped, more like a petulant teenager than a grown man.
Isla introduced Leo to the Goldmans as her business partner and as the head technician in the pearl farm. Mr Goldman immediately began asking him lots of questions. The type of questions that suggested to Isla that this man knew a lot more about pearl farming than she’d first assumed.
He asked how the farm had faired in the hurricane, of course, and about grafting success rates. He also seemed very interested indeed in how Leo was growing oyster spats from larvae that would host future grafting.
Isla hung back, feeling redundant, as they only seemed interested in hearing what Leo had to say.
Leo spoke knowledgeably. When they did touch on the topic of dollars and profit on future yield projections, he played it cool and offered to forward his business plan and accounts to Mr Goldman’s lawyers, should he be seriously interested in taking matters further.
He then gave them a tour of the lab and the Goldmans wanted to see him open a pearl oyster.
Island in the Sun Page 24