by Anne Mather
Mark’s face mirrored his impatience. ‘Damn,’ he said, wiping his mouth on his napkin before thrusting it aside. ‘Mother, you know Tobie and I only have two weeks! Surely you could have asked me before unloading Cilla on to us.’
Mrs Newman’s somewhat heavy features stiffened. ‘I am not unloading Cilla on to you, Mark. She’s a lovely girl. And I don’t think it’s unreasonable that I should ask you to spend some time with her. Heavens, she has so little company! Without Robert—’
‘No one asked the Jennings to stay on the island,’ Mark retorted, without compassion. ‘If Harvey moved to Martinique or Trinidad—or even the States, for that matter, he could do a useful job of work, and Cilla could mix with people of her own age all the time.’
His mother stared at him with real dislike now. ‘Well, that’s your opinion, Mark,’ she declared, and the glance she cast in Tobie’s direction included her in her general disagreement. ‘As usual, it’s too much trouble for you to be kind to Cilla, even though you know I genuinely care about her. I assume you’ve forgotten everything I’ve done for you in the past.’
‘Oh, Mother!’
Mark sounded reluctant now, and Tobie wished they could have conducted this argument without her involvement. It was obviously of long standing, and she wondered if Mark had got his mother’s feelings confused. Perhaps it was Mark and not Robert she expected Cilla to marry, which put an entirely different light on her hostility.
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Mrs Newman was saying now. ‘I know my feelings count for little where you’re concerned.’
‘That’s not true, Mother—’
‘It is true. You don’t care about me. You’re only interested in yourself, in your feelings, in the things you want to do!’
‘Mother, please …’
Mark tried to placate her, but Mrs Newman was determined to have her pound of flesh.
‘It doesn’t matter that I’ve sacrificed myself so that you could go to college, get your degree, take your medical training—’
‘Mother!’ Mark eventually silenced her with a conciliatory embrace, squeezing her ample body close to him and soothing her with a gentle caress. ‘All right, all right. Cilla can come with us, can’t she, Tobie?’
Tobie turned her face away from this awful exhibition of moral subjugation and moved her shoulders in a dismissing shrug. What could she say? Certainly nothing that would make him change his mind.
‘I was going to suggest taking Tobie to Lobster Cove,’ Mark went on humiliatingly, apparently unaware of her lack of enthusiasm. ‘I sorted out the snorkelling gear, and I thought we might take a look at the reef.’
Mrs Newman pulled out her handkerchief and sniffed into it before replying. But when she did speak, she was all fluttering concern. ‘Well, do take care, won’t you, darling?’ she exclaimed, all her animosity dispersing now that she had got her own way. ‘The reef can be dangerous, and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Mark patted her arm, before releasing her. ‘I’ll be careful, and Cilla’s quite an expert in underwater swimming, isn’t she?’
‘Experienced,’ agreed his mother, nodding. ‘Oh, I know she’ll be pleased. She’s been so much looking forward to your visit.’
Mark seemed to realise that this kind of conversation was hardly flattering to Tobie, and he got to his feet somewhat awkwardly, and made a display of stretching his arms. Then he came behind her chair, running smoothing fingers down her arms from shoulder to elbow, silently assuring her of his real intent. His actions did not please his mother, that much was obvious, but evidently Mrs Newman decided she had shown her hand sufficiently for one morning. With a tight smile she rose too, and making some excuse about speaking to Monique, she left them alone.
Immediately, Mark compelled Tobie up into his arms, finding her lips with his and kissing her deeply. ‘Sorry about that, honey,’ he said, against her ear. ‘But you see how it is. What could I do?’
Tobie could have told him, but it wouldn’t do to start an argument, the first real day of their holiday. Besides, Cilla was probably a very nice girl, she told herself firmly, and her presence would preclude any intimacy on Mark’s behalf. She was still not ready to commit herself in that way, and she could quite see that here on the island it was going to become increasingly difficult to keep him at arm’s length.
Cilla arrived about fifteen minutes later, driving a battered old Mini that had obviously seen better days. She came running up the steps from the courtyard, small and slender, in cotton shorts and a halter top, her cap of dark hair gleaming softly in the sunlight. Tobie guessed she was about twenty-two or twenty-three, her own age, but her lack of make-up and the immaturity of her figure made her appear younger.
‘Mark!’ she cried, when she saw him stretched out with Tobie on an airbed beside the pool. ‘Oh, Mark, it’s good to see you!’
Mark vaulted politely to his feet, his handsome face creasing into a formal smile. ‘Cilla!’ he greeted her stiffly. ‘It’s good to see you, too. How are you?’
‘I’m fine.’ Cilla lifted her shoulders in a little gesture of pleasure as she halted in front of him. ‘You look well. Your mother worries about you, but you seem to be thriving.’
‘Oh, I am.’ Mark visibly relaxed beneath her casual friendliness. ‘You know what she’s like, always worrying about something or other.’
‘Yes.’
Cilla’s laugh was conspiratorial, and when her eyes moved to Tobie, Mark remembered his manners.
‘Honey,’ he said, as Tobie crossed her legs and sat up, ‘I guess I don’t have to introduce you, but I will anyway. This is Cilla Jennings, our only neighbour. Cilla, meet Tobie Kennedy, my fiancée.’
Tobie’s eyes glinted impatiently at him for his deliberate distortion of the truth, but she smiled without rancour at Cilla, liking her more than she had truthfully expected.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ she suggested, indicating the lounger beside her. ‘It’s too hot to stand on ceremony.’
‘Thanks.’ Cilla perched on the edge of the chair, grinning at both of them, obviously not at all perturbed by what she had just heard. ‘So—how are you enjoying your holiday so far?’
‘Very much.’ Tobie resisted Mark’s efforts to draw her back against him as he came down beside her again. ‘I’ve never been to the Caribbean before.’
‘Haven’t you?’ Cilla sounded almost amazed. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned to survey her surroundings. ‘Well, I think this is the most beautiful place on earth.’
‘I suppose you know the islands very well,’ Tobie said politely, and Cilla turned back to look at her.
‘Reasonably,’ she admitted. ‘Daddy’s taken me to Jamaica and Martinique, and Robert and I have sailed to lots of the smaller islands.’
Robert and I? Tobie’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She had said it so casually.
‘Cilla sometimes crews for Rob,’ Mark commented, as if Tobie’s sudden silence required some explanation. ‘She’s quite an expert sailor, aren’t you, Cilla?’
Cilla was apparently an expert at many things, thought Tobie, trying not to feel bitchy. But that remark about Robert had really thrown her. Somehow, since learning of his incapacitation, she had dismissed her notions of his involvement with other women. But suddenly she was realising how naïve she had been. Robert was still Robert, in spite of his debility, and her own reactions that morning should have alerted her to the awareness that he still possessed the magnetic attraction that women seemed to find irresistible.
‘Do you like sailing, Tobie?’ Cilla asked now, and with a wrench Tobie dragged her thoughts back to the present.
‘What—oh! Oh, I don’t know.’ She shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m afraid I’m a novice when it comes to boats.’
‘Like me,’ approved Mark, earning her gratitude for his support. ‘Anyway, you aren’t thinking of going sailing this morning, are you, Cilla? I thought you might like to come with us t
o Lobster Cove. I’m going to teach Tobie how to snorkel.’
‘Oh, that would be nice,’ exclaimed Cilla apologetically, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t. I promised Robert I’d come over and help him clear those old canvases out of the storeroom.’
Mark, contrarily, looked put out now. ‘Hey, come on,’ he exclaimed. ‘You can help Rob clear out the storeroom any time—’
‘I can’t.’ Cilla got determinedly to her feet. ‘We’ve had to wait until he finished that portrait of Mrs Booth Harrington, and if he starts work again—’
‘One day! One morning!’ demanded Mark disparagingly, but she was adamant.
‘I’m sure you and your fiancée will be much happier without me tagging along,’ she declared, winking at Tobie, who returned her stare solemnly. ‘Where is Robert, by the way? Do you know?’
‘We haven’t seen him this morning,’ retorted Mark grumpily, and then, realising he was arguing against something which earlier he had objected to, he changed his tone. ‘I expect he’s in his studio. But I shouldn’t disturb him, if I were you. He doesn’t take well to intrusions.’
‘Oh, I’m not an intruder,’ asserted Cilla confidently. ‘I’ll see you two later, then.’ She set off in the direction Robert had pointed out to Tobie the previous day. ‘Enjoy yourselves!’
With her departure, Mark made another attempt to put his arms around Tobie, but again she repulsed him, getting to her feet and pacing restlessly across the patio.
‘Why did you tell Cilla that I was your fiancée?’ she demanded, turning to face him impatiently. ‘Our marriage has never been discussed, and I don’t care to be told something like that when I can’t retaliate.’
Mark sighed, resting back on his elbows. He was wearing shorts, and his white legs stuck out conspicuously from their pale blue cuffs. Already a few freckles had appeared across his nose, but Tobie found herself comparing him unfavourably with Robert’s dark-skinned complexion. It didn’t help to know that half her anger with Mark was motivated by the proprietorial air Cilla had adopted towards his half-brother, and frustration churned like turbulence inside her.
‘It’s only a matter of time before we get engaged,’ he protested soothingly. ‘You know that and I know that, so what are you getting so steamed up about?’
Tobie didn’t honestly know. Expelling her breath swiftly, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘You didn’t tell your mother that, when she was lining you up with Cilla, did you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, no, then it was much easier to let her think we were just holidaying together!’
Mark gazed up at her for a startled moment, then he sprang delightedly to his feet. ‘You’re jealous!’ he cried, grasping her by her shoulders. ‘Tobie, you’re jealous! Hell, don’t you know you have no reason to be? I love you, only you. I only agreed to take Cilla to keep my mother happy.’
Tobie tore herself away from him, angry with herself now for precipitating such a scene. ‘I am not jealous,’ she contradicted him shortly. ‘Heavens, I don’t care if you fetch half a dozen girls along with us! Just so long as you don’t go giving people the wrong ideas about our relationship!’
Mark’s face dropped. ‘Tobie!’ he exclaimed woundedly. ‘What did I do? What did I say? I only wanted to show Cilla how things stood between us.’
‘No.’ Tobie could not let him get away with that. ‘You were using me, Mark, as protection. You thought, if Cilla got the picture, she wouldn’t cause any problems you couldn’t handle.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean your mother, that’s who I mean!’ retorted Tobie coldly, and then wrapped her arms about herself protectively as she realised they were rowing in earnest now.
Mark shook his head. ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘Don’t you?’ Tobie’s anger dispersed as quickly as it had appeared. ‘No, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps that’s how I know we’re not ready for that kind of commitment yet.’
Mark took a step towards her. ‘Look, whatever I said, don’t be like this. Don’t speak to me like this.’ He spread his hands. ‘Okay, maybe I did give in too easily this morning, but Mother has done a lot for—’
‘Oh, please.’ Tobie didn’t want to hear this. ‘Mark, forget it! I’ve said my say now, so let’s leave it, shall we?’
‘You mean you’ve forgiven me?’
‘What’s to forgive?’ Tobie shook her head. ‘Look, are we going to Lobster Cove or aren’t we? It’s after ten.’
Mark touched her arm. ‘Friends?’ he asked tentatively, and compassion vied with the exasperation he aroused in her.
‘Friends,’ she muttered, turning abruptly away. ‘I’ll get my sunglasses. Wait for me.’
CHAPTER FOUR
IN the event, Tobie enjoyed the trip to Lobster Cove.
Whether it was that each of them in their own way was trying particularly hard to please the other, she couldn’t be sure, but one thing was certain, Mark gave her no further cause to feel any resentment towards him. On the contrary, he was a cheerful companion and a patient instructor, and their forays out to the reef proved so captivating, Tobie forgot everything but her gratitude that he should have shown her this new and exciting world.
Until now she had swum underwater only rarely, and then relying on the strength of her lungs to support her. Learning to swim with a snorkel was different, and she could remain submerged for much longer periods.
The most exciting thing of all was the enormous variety of fish and plant life to be found in the pools and crevasses around the reef. She was amazed at how little notice the fish took of her, and the exotic colours of their scales and their weird expressions were a continuous fascination. It seemed hardly credible that the coral itself was a living thing, growing and expanding, in spite of the ceaseless battering of the surf, its mysterious shapes and crenellations forming and reforming over hundreds of years.
It was early afternoon by the time they arrived back at the villa, and it was obvious from the table in the dining room that the rest of the household had already eaten. However, the meal had been a cold buffet, and Mark immediately began helping himself to wedges of quiche, and stuffed olives, indicating with his eyebrows that Tobie should do the same.
‘I’m starving, aren’t you?’ he demanded, when he emptied his mouth sufficiently to speak. ‘Hmm,’ he picked up a half empty bottle of red wine and sniffed it, ‘the ’57, no less. Cilla must have stayed for lunch.’
‘Actually, I’d prefer to go and take a shower,’ Tobie said quietly, her own exhilaration at the morning’s expedition fading as the influence of remembered emotions once more cast their web about her. ‘I feel hot and sticky, and I’d like to wash the salt out of my hair.’
Mark shrugged. ‘Couldn’t you do that later?’
Tobie sighed. ‘I’m a little tired, too. Perhaps I’ll just miss lunch and have a rest.’
‘All right.’ Mark frowned, but he didn’t argue. ‘I’ll see you soon, then.’
Tobie nodded, and left the room with some relief, mounting the stairs on legs that refused to dawdle. She was eager to escape before Mrs Newman appeared and demanded an explanation for their tardiness, and she breathed in relief when she closed the door of her room behind her.
Once there, however, the reasons for her panic seemed ridiculous. She wasn’t afraid of Mark’s mother. On the contrary, she thought she understood her very well. What she wanted to avoid, she realised, was the kind of discussion about Robert that aroused emotions she neither recognised nor wanted to.
After taking a cool shower, she felt more capable of handling the situation. She was allowing what had happened in the past to colour the present, she told herself reasonably, and it was foolish. Robert didn’t remember her. They were strangers. And she could hardly blame him for creating these circumstances, when she had known what to expect before she came here.
But had she? Seated before the vanity unit, running her brush through the damp coils of her hair, she realised she had not anticipated anything like
this. For one thing, she had expected Robert to recognise her, and for another she had known nothing about his injuries. The bitterness she had felt over losing the only thing she had left to care about languished beside the truth, now that it was revealed to her, and the knowledge that Robert had known nothing of her frantic efforts to see him cast an entirely different light on what came after.
Yet nothing could alter the fact that they had quarrelled, and violently, or change the cruel things that he had said. He had not wanted her then, and he certainly did not want her now, so why was she allowing his presence to create so many problems in her life? Let Cilla run after him; let her fetch and carry for him; let her find out what manner of man he really was.
Going downstairs again some time later, Tobie felt more relaxed than she had done since coming to Emerald Cay. Bringing out her fears and facing them, she had realised how pathetic they really were, and her step was lighter as she came down into the hall.
With the skirt of her cheesecloth dress swinging about her slim legs, she crossed the polished floor in search of Mark. She had worn the dress deliberately. It was one of his favourites, and she knew its lilac colour suited her honey-gold complexion. Besides, it was a little more formal than the skirts and pants she had worn so far, and she needed the fillip it gave her.
The hall, garden room, and pool area were deserted, however, and she was turning back with a puzzled frown puckering her brow when Mark’s mother came out of the house behind her.
‘If you’re looking for Mark, he’s not here,’ she declared without preamble. ‘He and Cilla have gone to play tennis, and I don’t expect he’ll be back much before dinner.’
‘I see.’ Tobie glanced surreptitiously at the slim gold watch on her wrist. It was barely four. ‘Where are they playing?’
‘At the Jennings’ house,’ replied Mrs Newman with evident satisfaction. ‘Shall I ask Monique to bring you some tea? I was just about to go and lie down for an hour.’