Dangerous Shadows

by Whitelaw, Stella

  Jake was handsome in a raunchy way, tall, flaxen-haired, debonair. She had been without a boyfriend since Mr Producer Right turned into Mr Desperately Wrong and Jake decided to help her to forget. He hoped she would be grateful, very grateful. He often forgot his wallet. Holly didn’t mind. She was generous.

  It was therapeutic at first, a few pub lunches by the river, a film, an after show party. He steered her towards a new job helping Zoe Carter run her blossoming model agency, Boys & Girls Inc. It was never serious even when Jake moved in with Holly and Sadie while he looked for a new flat. He slept on the sofa bed in the sitting room. It was a dark and wet Saturday evening in winter when Holly discovered that Jake had a deeply flawed side to his character.

  *

  But this early spring Saturday, six months later, was dry and sunny. British Summer Time had just gone forward an hour. It was chores galore day. The laundry, flat cleaning, supermarket shopping. Sadie was busy de-waxing legs, face masking, re-tinting, pressing numerous outfits.

  “What shall I wear?” she howled. “Nothing fits.”

  “Nonsense,” said Holly. “You’ll look gorgeous in anything. What about that short black skirt and skinny silver top? You can borrow my red pashmina.”

  “Boots and black fish-net stockings?”

  “Definitely. You’ll be a knock-out.”

  Holly went to the girls night out in her uniform indigo jeans, trim white shirt and navy fleece. She’d read that clothes were a protection from being touched. Sadie’s friends did not seem to feel the cold. They dressed as if it was the middle of a hot July all year round.

  The nightclub by the river was crowded. The table was soon littered with empty bottles. Holly was nearly deafened by the DJ’s choice of music. She dipped into the bowl of crisps in order to keep herself sane. More friends joined the table and pulled up chairs.

  “This is my friend, Holly Gray,” said Sadie, already high on brightly coloured Alcopops. “She’s the famous local girl who got swindled out of a roll-over lottery win by her two-timing boyfriend.” Sadie had forgotten it was a taboo subject. Holly flushed, hating talking about it. It made her feel sick.

  “Not now, Sadie,” she whispered. “Please.”

  But it was too late. Sadie had told them. She had said it. No taking the words back. Sadie raised an eyebrow, looked a few degrees sorry but not a lot.

  “How could you, Sadie?” Holly gulped.

  “The world should know,” Sadie giggled. “It’s not a secret.”

  The women at the table gasped. They were high on sympathy and concern, wanting to know the full story. Holly shrank into her shell. She hated reliving it. She didn’t want to tell them the sordid story but they wouldn’t leave it alone.

  “What happened, Holly? Come on, tell us.”

  “How did he swindle you?”

  “Come on, tell us. Spill the beans.”

  Holly had told the story so many times and was tired of repeating it. “I paid for the lottery ticket. They were my numbers. He claimed the prize.”

  “The nerd! The bastard!” There were more gasps.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Jake Cheating Furrows,” she said wearily.

  “Didn’t he share it with you?”

  “No. He scarpered with the loot, the lot.”

  It was as simple as that. And all because it was raining, coming down in torrents. Holly had given Jake the stake money and her usual six numbers, and asked him to rush out to the corner shop and buy Saturday night’s Lotto ticket before it was too late. It was a roll-over, a big prize. Her numbers were family birthdays including her own on New Year’s Eve. It was raining heavily or she would have gone herself. She simply didn’t want to get wet.

  “Jake never came back,” said Sadie. “Someone saw him down the pub when the winning numbers were drawn, drinking whiskey. He kept quiet that he had a winning ticket but days later presented the ticket and collected the cheque. His mobile phone went dead. No one knew where he had gone.”

  Holly felt sick. It wasn’t only the strong smell of beer. She had never seen him since that evening, despite searching all his past addresses and the office where he worked. He never showed up for work again or came back to the flat. There was nothing she could do except pick up her life and carry on.

  The lottery organisers were sorry but there was nothing they could do either, since there was no proof that Holly had paid for the ticket or picked the numbers.

  So Holly bandaged her pride and carried on. The modelling agency, Boys & Girls Inc. prospered through hard work and some luck. They had beautiful young girls on their books. They wore dresses so tiny that Holly could not even imagine being so small. They also had several gorgeous young men, lean and tanned, spiky hair, easy on the eye.

  The story of the lost lottery win kept everyone talking and speculating what Holly would do if she ever met Jake again. It was a coven’s convention.

  “Tar and feathers. And plenty of it.”

  “Too good for him. Soot and whitewash, alternately, in buckets.”

  “Strap him naked onto that empty plinth in Trafalgar Square with an appropriate sign. Preferably on a frosty night.”

  Holly couldn’t help laughing. They were trying to cheer her up and to a degree it worked. She stood up, finishing her drink and prepared to leave. She couldn’t cope with late nights. Sadie would stay out till the early hours.

  As she moved, she felt the stiffness of the envelope in the back pocket of her jeans. It was the envelope from Barbados. She had forgotten all about it. She opened it and found a brightly decorated card inside.

  Darling Holly

  I’m getting married next month to the most wonderful man. You must

  come. I want you to be my bridesmaid. Darling Holly, please say yes. I must have some family with me. Your air ticket is enclosed. Bring a bikini.

  Your loving cousin,

  Danielle xxx

  Holly caught her breath and started to laugh. “Heavens. It’s from my cousin, Danielle, from Barbados of all places. She wants me to be bridesmaid at her wedding and she’s sent me an air ticket.”

  “Barbados. Holly, how wonderful. All that sun and sand and sea instead of this cheerless London weather. You must go.”

  “Barbados?” Sadie asked, grinning. “Does she want two bridesmaids? I’ll come with you like a shot. We’ll have a ball.”

  “Danielle works for some international travel firm, scouting for exotic resorts and new hotels. She goes all over the world. Here, there and everywhere. Sometimes we get a Christmas card from a distant country.”

  “You must go, Holly. It’s a great opportunity. The island of Barbados is wonderful. You’ll love it.”

  “I don’t know,” Holly hesitated. “It’s a long way. I won’t know anyone.”

  “Tell us when Danielle has her hen party. We’ll all come.”

  “I haven’t said that I’m going,” said Holly.

  “Of course you’re going, Holly. It’s just what you need. A lovely climate on a lovely island,” said Sadie. “I’ll help you pack. You can borrow this red pashmina.”

  “How kind,” Holly said. “I think it is already mine.”

  *

  Holly’s partner at Boys & Girls Inc was an energetic American woman, Zoe Carter, who had started the agency in London after a difficult patch in New York. She had been hassled by male-dominated agencies and decided that London might be a quieter life. Her health and social life improved.

  Zoe and Holly had met at an after-show party. Zoe and Holly liked each other immediately, even though they were both wearing similar black and bronze dresses. Sleek, knee-length dresses with narrow, cross-over shoulder straps and a pleated bronze sash.

  “Snap,” said Holly.

  “Snap. We have the same good taste,” agreed Zoe.

  “Have we met before?” Holly asked. “I seem to know your face.”

  “My agency, Boys & Girls Inc, was featured in a recent fashion programme on television. Although
they were filming all day, most of it ended up on the floor. We had about five minutes of screen time. You might have seen my ten second interview.”

  Holly took a Bucks Fizz from a passing waiter. “Unfortunately that often happens,” she said. “Everything gets edited down. I work in television. I get sent to assist any producer who needs a dogsbody, Girl Friday, slave.”

  Holly sipped her drink, hiding the flash of pain that came with thoughts of Luke. That summer with Luke. She could not forget him.

  Zoe looked at Holly and liked what she saw. “I need a girl Friday, not a slave or a dogsbody. I need someone with brains and style, a sympathetic approach.”

  Holly’s new career move was a success. She had a way of putting the applicants, both young men and girls, at ease in the studio and getting the best out of them. She could see their potential, steered them in the right direction.

  Some of the gloss and glamour of the agency brushed off on Holly and she became well-groomed and fashionable, but never beautiful, despite her green eyes and abundant red hair.

  Zoe was happy to leave the interviewing to Holly while she got on with the administrative side of the agency. She arranged the bookings, argued about money, settled the bills.

  Next Monday morning Holly found it difficult to ask Zoe for time off. There was never a suitable gap to take holiday leave. They were always busy.

  Zoe agreed immediately. “Of course, you must go to this wedding in Barbados. You deserve a proper holiday. You still haven’t taken last year’s entitlement, so I insist.”

  “But how will you manage on your own?”

  “The same way that I did before you came along. In a frantic muddle. Trying to do six things all at the same time. It’s only three weeks, for heaven’s sake, not the end of the world. You can do some work for me while you are out there.”

  “Gladly, but what do you want me to do?”

  Zoe took off her designer glasses. “I’d like you to find a couple of youngsters from Barbados to put on our books, a stunning pair. An unspoilt but spirited young couple. Take lots of photographs, outdoor shots, and email them to me.”

  “But I’m no good at taking photographs. You don’t want cut off feet and upside-down heads.”

  “I think a few lessons with one of our photographers would do the trick. And, we’ll make sure you have the best digital camera. So you can delete all the bad shots.”

  “Thanks. I don’t want to hang around, wasting time, before the wedding.”

  “You’ll be surprised. Weddings are all consuming. You will eat, drink, think and sleep wedding. I hope your cousin finds a lovely dress for you to wear.”

  “Fat chance,” said Holly without enthusiasm. “Most bridesmaids don’t have a choice. They wear whatever the bride chooses.”

  “It’s your body,” said Zoe. “Lay down the law. You know what suits you, something simple. Borrow anything you like from wardrobe for your trip. We’ll be needing new gear soon, so it won’t be missed.”

  “Thank you,” said Holly, amazed at Zoe’s generosity. “That’s really kind. I’ve very little in the way of holiday clothes, only a black swimsuit.”

  “We’ve got dozens of swimsuits. And don’t forget to pack a bikini.”

  *

  Sadie came to see Holly off at Gatwick airport. Holly was glad it wasn’t Heathrow. She remembered waiting there for hours, for a man who didn’t turn up. A man who left her a note at the checkin desk. Thank goodness, she had got over Luke but airports still gave her an unpleasantly hollow feeling.

  Gatwick was bustling with people with wheelie cases and trolleys laden with removal size suitcases. Holly couldn’t understand why people took so much with them. Her own case was small and compact. She also had a carry-on hold all, her few cosmetics in a see-through plastic bag, and her laptop.

  Holly was flying club class so she could use the VIP lounge. It was comfortable with armchairs and sofas, drinks and nibbles, plenty to read and excellent washroom facilities.

  “This is the way to travel,” said Sadie, stretching out in a big armchair. Visitors were allowed till the flight was called. “So worth paying the extra.”

  “Fortunately I haven’t had to pay. Danielle is forking out for everything. Perhaps her fiancé is helping. I get the feeling he is quite well off. A wedding in Barbados must be expensive.”

  “I shall want to know everything,” said Sadie. “You must email me every day. I want an hour by hour account. Perhaps you’ll meet a millionaire.”

  “I’m not looking for a millionaire,” said Holly. “Twice bitten, twice good-bye. No more men. It’s the celibate life for me.”

  “That’s rubbish,” said Sadie, pouring out cups of coffee and adding cream from a jug. “One day you’ll meet the right man and you won’t know what’s hit you. Maybe the best man will sweep you off your feet.”

  “No, thank you,” said Holly. “My feet are staying firmly on the ground.”

  “Or on the sand,” said Sadie, laughing.

  Holly’s flight was called. It was hugs and kisses, not tearful, because she was only going to be away three weeks. Sadie sprinkled a packet of silver confetti over Holly as she left.

  “Don’t get so enthusiastic,” Holly laughed. “It’s not my wedding.”

  “I’ll clear it up,” Sadie assured the aghast lounge attendant. “Don’t worry.”

  “Is your friend getting married?” the attendant asked.

  “Not quite. But it could be on the cards.”

  As Holly walked the half mile to her departure gate, brushing off the confetti, she fervently hoped that the best man would not take a shine to her. All she wanted was sunshine, sand and a complete absence of men.

  On the other side of the Atlantic, the man she never wanted to see again was making his own flight arrangements.

  On the far side of the VIP lounge at Gatwick, another man hid his face behind a tabloid newspaper. He did not touch his whiskey until Holly had gone. He never wanted to see her again. She was a deadly toxin. She could ruin his life.

  Chapter Two

  Holly caught her breath as the plane circled twice over Barbados before coming in to land at Grantley Adams Airport. She heard the undercarriage wheels crank into place. The bright blue Caribbean sea was washing endless stretches of pink and white coral sand. The luscious, verdant green fields and hills reaching inland were a far cry from the crowded streets of London

  She needed this holiday. Perhaps the wedding festivities would give her back a zest for living. Surely no one could fail to be happy on this beautiful island?

  As Holly came down the flight of steps from the plane to the tarmac, coat over her arm, the heat hit her in the face. It was like walking into an oven. She could hardly see the glinting of the chromium steps. Perspiration began to trickle down the back of her neck.

  The short walk from the plane to the arrivals area seemed like a mile, the heat rising off the tarmac. The vast new glassed-in arrivals area was a few degrees cooler, the air conditioning struggling against the outside temperature.

  Her one small suitcase seemed to be the last off the plane and onto the carousel. She got dizzy watching the same huge cases going round and round, unclaimed. Then came her navy case and she heaved it off.

  “Thank goodness,” she breathed.

  “Thought you’d lost it, did you?” said the young man standing at her side. “I think my luggage has gone to Bermuda instead.”

  “Could be the Bahamas.”

  “I was going to do a lot of surfing on the Atlantic coast. I’ve got my boards. The surfing is fantastic that side of the island, you know.”

  “Hope it comes along soon,” said Holly. “I must go. I’m meeting my cousin.”

  “Lucky cousin,” he said, with a grin. He was a pleasant looking young man, clean shaven, wearing skinny jeans, grey T-shirt, nothing special. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  Holly smiled but had no intention of standing there, being chatted up. Danielle would be waiting somewhere. Th
ey had been great friends in their childhood years. They’d spent many summer holidays in Cornwall, searching for crabs in rock pools, paddling in the waves. There were half-term get-togethers and Christmas parties. But their very different careers had taken them along paths that were far apart.

  Holly could hardly remember when she had last seen her cousin. She hadn’t even realized that Danielle was engaged to be married. Danielle had forgotten to tell them. It would be like her, to forget the most important bit of news.

  Danielle rushed through the crowd, ignoring the barrier, and flung her arms round Holly.

  “Holly darling, you’re here! All my dreams are coming true. I’ve always wanted you at my wedding, to be my bridesmaid. It’s all so wonderful.”

  The words came tumbling out. Danielle was radiantly pretty, but so different. At first Holly was not sure that it was Danielle. She had changed. She was in a miniscule white pleated skirt and yellow cropped top, her arms laden with gold bracelets and beads, so heavy, it was a wonder she could lift her arms.

  “Danielle, you look amazing,” began Holly.

  “How was the flight?” Danielle prattled on. “Did you have a good flight? Did you get some sleep? Is that all you’ve brought with you? We’ll get you some more clothes. Airline food is usually awful. Never mind, we’ll feed you up.”

  “Danielle, it’s lovely to see you,” said Holly. “The flight was fine. But cousin, you look so different. What have you done to your hair? You’ve gone platinum blonde. You used to be brownish, didn’t you? It does look absolutely gorgeous.”

  Danielle laughed, tossing back her hair. “This is the latest look, all these long frizzy curls. The angel look it’s called. I’m supposed to look like an angel. Without the wings, of course.”

  “I’m relieved about that. I don’t know how we’d manage the flapping wings in church,” Holly laughed.

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you? We’re not getting married in a church. We’re getting married on the beach. It’s going to be a beach wedding.”

  This was the first Holly had heard of it being a beach wedding. She had imagined a traditional and dignified ceremony in a church with organ music, hymns, flowers, signing the register. She bit her lip, thinking about all that sand. She wondered what other surprises Danielle had in store for her.