Dangerous Shadows

by Whitelaw, Stella

  Danielle had a carrier bag stuffed with yards and yards of ribbon. Holly guessed that she would be ear-marked for an afternoon making loops or whatever Danielle wanted. Holly was beginning to think that whatever Danielle wanted, Danielle got. Danielle wanted a husband so she got herself one.

  It was an unkind thought but the heat was making Holly uncomfortable. An ice-cold lemonade would be welcome but Danielle was intent on searching the market for more bargains. She found packets of gold streamers to hang from the trees in the garden and bags of gold hearts which she planned to sprinkle over the white tablecloths at the reception.

  “I’ve no idea what the caterers will be bringing in the way of table decoration,” said Danielle. “These will look fabulous.”

  Holly nodded. If only she had remembered to bring a bottle of water. She was flagging in the heat. “Shall we have a drink somewhere?” she said desperately. “I’m getting thirsty.”

  Then she spotted an ice seller. He was selling shaved ice from a wheelbarrow. He shaved off the ice from a huge melting lump into a plastic beaker, and then topped the shavings with the flavour of choice.

  Holly’s throat constricted at the sight and sound of the ice. Any flavour would do. Lemon, strawberry, orange. “Let’s have one of those,” she said, making a dart towards the ice seller.

  “Heavens no,” said Danielle, stopping her with a hand on her arm. “It looks lovely, I know. But it could be any old ice made from water from a pond and very dangerous. I don’t want a sick bridesmaid with an runny tummy. We’ll go to a reputable bar and get a drink.”

  Danielle knew all the bars and cafes. It was not long before they were in an air-conditioned café near the Careenage, drinking iced coffee with bottles of mineral water at the table to quench their thirst. Lots of the old warehouses were being turned into cafes and restaurants, thriving on the tourist trade.

  “Thank you. This is lovely,” said Holly, feeling better immediately. “I forgot to bring water.”

  “You can always buy it.”

  “I’m learning. So Danielle, what else have you planned for this extraordinary wedding of yours? Tell me more.”

  “We’re having a local steel band,” said Danielle, her eyes full of mischief. “I haven’t told Luke yet. I don’t think he would approve. It’s a bit noisy.”

  “He likes music,” said Holly, remembering with a pang.

  “But this might be a little over the top for Luke. I’ll get them to play calypso, salsa, nothing too outrageous.”

  “He is putting on Mack and Mabel,” I said. “That’s a musical.”

  Danielle laughed aloud. “What on earth are you talking about? You don’t know him at all, do you? He’s so straight-laced and formal, way behind the times. But, brother, all that is going to change. Just you wait and see. I’m going to change that man.”

  Behind the times? Holly wondered if they were talking about the same man. Luke Kenyon was ahead of his time, full of innovations for his shows, and always showing the same flair. Holly had been breathless trying to keep up with him in those early days.

  “And, of course, he’s a lot older than me so that makes a difference,” Danielle went on. “He was brought up in a different era.”

  “Surely not? What makes you think that? He’s only in his late thirties, maybe forty.” Holly was doing rapid calculations in her head.

  “How would you know his age?” Danielle asked sharply.

  “Oh, something I read in a magazine,” Holly invented on the spot. She did not want Danielle to know that Luke had been the only man in her life for one heady summer. It was the last thing she wanted Danielle to find out, nor did Holly want to be reminded. It had been a summer laced with magic.

  “You can’t believe everything you read in newspapers or magazines. They get it all wrong. We’re having a barbecue tonight on the beach. They’ll be cooking fish, red snapper and flying fish, caught today. It’ll be delicious. There’s something special about eating in the dark on the beach.”

  “You can’t see the sand in your food?”

  “It’s so romantic. All those gorgeous stars and the moonlight. Barry Armitage will be plying you with champagne. He’s the best man. He’s coming.”

  “Champagne at a barbecue?”

  “There’ll be cold beer as well, and rum punch. Anything you want. Come on, we’d better go, Holly. I’ve a hundred more things to do.”

  Danielle got up in a hurry, her angel curls bouncing. “It’s lovely having you here, Holly. I’m so glad that you came.”

  Holly swallowed her reply. She was not glad she had come.

  Danielle drove along a highway out of Bridgetown, and then onto the coast road. A game of road tennis broke up momentarily to allow them to pass. The players waved, mid-serve.

  “National pastime,” Danielle grinned. “Second to cricket.”

  “I can’t see them allowing it in Brixton. The traffic wouldn’t stop. They’d be mown down.”

  *

  The barbecue on the beach was romantic, with a million stars quilting the velvet sky and a sickle moon that shone like a diamond on its own. It was still warm and Holly shed her red pashmina in minutes. It was the same one that she had lent Sadie and she wished her friend was here with her now. Danielle’s bubbly personality could be tiring.

  She had emailed Sadie earlier: The wedding is on the beach, can u believe it? Haven’t seen the dresses yet. BBQ 2nite. Groom OK.

  Groom OK? It was the understatement of the year but she was not going to tell Sadie everything.

  The men were helping to barbecue the fish. Huge bowls of salad appeared from the house, carried by Lily down the steps that were lit with a myriad of solar lights in the trees. A variety of home-baked rolls followed with breadfruit, okra, cornmeal.

  Holly was amused that there were no plastic plates for this barbecue. China plates were being brought down from the house. But there was little cutlery. It was eat with your fingers time. She was all for finger eating.

  Luke was serving the drinks. He was in blue shirt-sleeves and blue jeans. He looked relaxed and contented, his hair tousled, smiling and joking. Holly realised that he was happy, being the host to his friends on this white beach with the smell of roasting fish wafting in the air. If marrying Danielle brought this kind of happiness, then she could not deny it to him. She loved him too much to deny him any real happiness.

  It came as a jolt to realise that she still loved him. Luke was special. She had been very young when she met him but that didn’t mean that her feelings were shallow or immature. She had always known instantly that he was the only man for her. Even his abrupt departure had not ruptured her love for him. Her love had been put on hold until she could unlock her hunger.

  Jake Furrows had tried to heal the hurt without success. The rest of her life belonged to Luke. Whatever he did, whoever he married, it made no difference. She would always be there for him. Wherever in the world, in whatever city. She would pick up the pieces, make the tea, hand out the tissues. If that was to be her role in his life, then she would accept it.

  The steel band had stopped playing, taking a break. Holly was aware of the lack of throb in the air. The warmth of Barbados was seeping into her veins.

  Luke came over and sat down on the sand beside her. He had a plate full of bits and pieces which he was cheerfully eating with his fingers.

  “I want to do a programme about the festivals and carnivals in Barbados, especially their Crop-Over carnival. And link it with all their different music. There’s a vibrant musical industry on the island, with about five major recording studios and people like Mick Jagger coming over. What do you think, Holly?”

  “Sounds brilliant,” said Holly, watching his slim fingers finding his mouth. “So there’s calypso carnival and what else?”

  “Reggae, you must have heard plenty of that. It’s evolved from jazz. The island is music mad. Reggae and party soca has a faster rhythm. Then there’s the pan bands, using lengths of bamboo on tins and dustbins, o
il drums.”

  “What we call steel bands?”

  “Not quite. Tuk bands are a group using kettle drum, bass drum and flute. More traditional folk music. It’s still lively with a great rhythm.”

  “What’s the Crop-Over festival?” She was letting him talk, listening to his voice. The deep tones were soothing and mesmerising.

  “It’s a great festival to celebrate the end of the sugar harvest. In early August, I believe. There are parades and competitions. Costumed dancers, stilt walkers and masqueraders. All the bands, tuk, steel, ringbang, calypso, probably all playing at the same time.” Luke laughed, putting a fragment of hot fish into his mouth then regretting it. He took a sip of beer.

  “It sounds … overwhelming,” said Holly, searching for the right word.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” said Luke. “There’s beer and rum punch, the hot sun, and very little sleep. And the crowning of the Calypso Monarch, though I’m not exactly sure what that means.”

  “Do you want me to do some research for you?” Holly found herself suggesting. It was the last thing she wanted to do, to get involved with Luke again, but somehow the words still came out. Her slave mentality.

  But Luke didn’t answer. He leaned towards her. “They are playing our kind of music now, Holly,” he whispered. “Do you want to dance?”

  Someone had begun playing a keyboard on the beach and the liquid notes fell like shooting stars on the silvery sea. Holly remembered the plaintive notes of the Hoagy Carmichael song, half-forgotten words floating through her head. Lover man, where can you be? She remembered the song and only too clearly that she had been at Ronnie Smith’s with Luke that evening. Luke loved moody jazz and when he was exhausted after a day on set, it was the only way he could wind down.

  Now someone was playing the same moody music on a starlit beach. Luke stirred. Perhaps he wanted to be dancing cheek to cheek with Danielle, his bride to be, her angelic curls in his face.

  “I’d rather be dancing with you.” She thought she heard him saying the words but he had not moved.

  The music changed to Cry Me a River and Holly felt the tears welling up. They threatened to spill over. She got up quickly, almost dropping her half-eaten plate of salad. She had to get away. She couldn’t stay a moment longer.

  “Don’t go, Holly.” It was Luke. He had his hand on her arm, just as Danielle had done earlier that day.

  “Leave me alone,” Holly whispered.

  “Don’t you remember?” he went on. “Don’t you remember Ronnie Scott’s? We had so many good evenings there, listening to jazz.”

  Holly shook off his hand. His touch was like electricity. “Don’t touch me, Luke. Of course, I remember. How could I ever forget? What sort of woman do you think I am?”

  “I think you are mixed-up, unhappy for some reason.” His words were almost drowned by a burst of music. The steel band had started again, eclipsing the keyboard. “Please, Holly, don’t be unhappy. Be happy, for my sake.”

  So Luke had noticed her, enough to know that her feelings were in a turmoil, even if he did not understand that he was the reason for her torment.

  *

  It was warm on the Promenade deck, rocked by the swell of ploughing through the endless blue Atlantic. The barbequed buffet lunch on the sun deck had been delicious. So many dishes to choose from. He had eaten as much as he could as it was difficult to get into the dining room in the evening without a reserved table. He’d also put some roasted chicken drum sticks into the pocket of his trousers, wrapped in a napkin. They were reserve for supper.

  He stretched out on a lounger, library book in hand. He never returned the books, put them in a bin or left them lying about.

  “This is the best part,” said his neighbour, an elderly man, dozing off his lunch and a couple of martinis. “The sea voyage. I don’t care where I’m going. Sometimes I don’t even get off when we dock.”

  “Me, too. I don’t always get off.” He couldn’t disembark at the ports. He’d had to miss the Azores. He didn’t have a boarding pass. The passengers had to present themselves for a photo imprinted pass and were scanned on a screen, getting off and on the ship.

  “Don’t I know you? Your face seems familiar. On the telly, are you?”

  “I’m a sort of celebrity,” he admitted with a grin. “The tabloids mostly. But don’t let on. I’d rather travel incognito.”

  “Quite right, too. These damned press people. We should have a drink to celebrate travelling incognito. Please join me.” He called over a passing steward. “What would you like, young man?”

  “A whiskey, please. Ice and soda. Why not make it a double as it’s a celebration?”

  “Splendid idea. What are you doing this evening? Fancy a turn at the tables?”

  Jake hesitated. He didn’t have any money for the casino.

  “I’ll stake you,” said the Colonel. “Play the fruit machines. You might be lucky.”

  Jake had a feeling he was going to be lucky. He was sick of steering rich widows round the dance floor. The dimly-lit casino would make a change.

  “I look forward to that,” he said. “Let’s drink a toast to lady luck.”

  Chapter Six

  Holly spent the morning wandering round St Michael’s Cathedral in Bridgetown. She could imagine a wedding in this splendid building with its long and broad side balconies and fine vaulted ceiling. It had a unique single handed clock and some ancient 1675 tombs were built into the porch.

  It did not feel at all creepy and when Holly went inside, a choir was having a practise and she sat and listened to the glorious gospel music before continuing her wanderings.

  She knew that William Hart Coleridge, the first Bishop of Barbados, had a lot to do with the emancipation of African slaves and it was through Coleridge that this came about without bloodshed in 1838. She would have looked for the famous names in the graveyard but there wasn’t time today.

  The all-important visit from the dressmaker was due at midday. It was an event of cataclysmic proportions. Danielle was already on the verge of epic panic.

  “Don’t be late,” said Danielle, almost trembling. “Madame’s time is valuable. She can be difficult. And the last thing we want is to upset Madame Latisse. She’s French and very easily offended.”

  “A French woman? Living here in Barbados?”

  “There were some French settlers, way back. They were soldiers, taken prisoner during an attack on the island. She’s very proud of her name.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time.”

  “You’re going to love the dresses! Promise me you won’t be late.”

  “I’m sure I shall love the dresses,” said Holly, injecting her voice with enthusiasm. She was going to have to like her dress but whether she would wear it or not was another matter. She felt exhausted with the thought of the coming conflict. She had no idea what she was going to say to Danielle. She could hardly run away in the night without a word.

  The atmosphere in St Michael’s Cathedral had calmed the turmoil in her mind to a degree. Churches always gave her a sense of life going on whatever mortals thought or did. But Holly made sure she was back at Tiger Bay Plantation House in good time.

  She was existing in a vacuum. Some part of her was in Barbados, pretending to be a happy bridesmaid at a fabulous Caribbean beach wedding. The other half was wrapped with hurt, in grief that the man she loved was marrying someone else.

  Her grandmother had died of a broken heart. It was on her death certificate. The doctors could find no other cause. Her handsome Irish husband had died ten days earlier in a flu epidemic, and the night he died she walked all the way home through the small hours, to their small terraced house in Clapham.

  Holly often thought of her grandmother and how intensely she had suffered. She knew she held the same intensity within her, but she would not die from it. Those days were different. Holly would pick up the pieces and somehow carry on. She would find some point in living. The gift of life could not be
solely for suffering.

  Her mobile phone did not seem to work in Barbados. Some satellite hic-cup. But Holly put a call through to her mother from the house phone. It would probably cost a bomb and she could offer to pay.

  “Mum? It’s me, Holly. I’m in Barbados.”

  “Darling, I was beginning to wonder where you were. But I did realise that mobiles don’t work everywhere in the world. So how is everything? How’s Danielle?”

  Holly gave her mother the run down on all the arrangements, the parties, the barbecue, the plantation house. The only person she did not mention was the groom.

  “Have you met the groom yet?” Grace was interested.

  “Yes, he’s very nice. A successful person.”

  “Danielle always had her eye on success,” her mother laughed. “Even as a little girl she said she was going to marry someone famous.”

  “Well, she has got her wish. He’s famous in the television world.”

  “You don’t sound too happy.”

  “I feel in the way. There’s nothing for me to do. The wedding arrangements are all made. I only have to stand behind the bride and hold her bouquet.”

  “I thought Zoe had given you a photo consignment?”

  “I haven’t forgotten but somehow I haven’t been able to concentrate. Danielle is pretty intense about everything.”

  “I suggest you make time, girl. Or you’ll lose that interesting job of yours.” Her mother was always blunt. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Danielle will marry and go on with her life with a famous groom, disappear into the sunset, and you will be left with your job. If you don’t get those photos, you’ll be looking for a new one.”

  “You’re right, Mum. It’s been a bit hectic.”

  Holly wanted to hear an angel sing but instead it was her mother twittering on about joyous weddings and hymns and speeches.

  “I have to go, Mum. The dresses are arriving. Bye now.”

  “Let me know what they are like.”

  “Sure, as soon as I can.”

  “Have you met the best man? He might be a catch. They often are.”