by Susan Lewis
‘What do you think?’ John murmured as he came to join her in the shade of a passenger palm, so called because it was a tree everyone paused under to take shelter.
‘I’m not sure,’ she answered, as an assistant handed him a bottle of chilled water.
‘Me neither.’ He drank deeply, then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, ‘Let’s just get it in the can, then decide when we edit how much to use.’
Carla took the bottle he was offering, and drank too, then looked up as she realized he was watching her. Raising a humorous eyebrow, she walked off in answer to Frazer’s yelled demand to know where she was, and wondered what it was about the heat that made such commonplaces as the sharing of water feel as intimate as an embrace, and unspoken attractions seem to find their own voice.
By the end of the day, which, even despite the cuts, went two hours beyond schedule, everyone was tired and more than ready to return to the relaxing, uncomplicated ambience of the Fisherman’s Resort. Carla and John rode in the same car, sharing it with Phoebe and Kit Kingsley, talking over the exceptional material they’d managed to capture, and how it was going to cut together. When they got back Carla waited as John talked to the sound-recordist about the local Taarab music he wanted taped, then before he could disappear to his room she stopped him and said, ‘We haven’t discussed the rushes yet.’
His eyes remained on hers.
‘What I saw this morning is making me wonder how it’s all going to look when you put it together. You’ve got some unusual ideas.’
He continued to look at her in the moonlight, and her heartbeat quickened as the expression in his eyes seemed to intensify the moment, and maybe, had it not been for the arrival of another crew car, bathing them in light, one of them might have taken that fateful step across the invisible barrier they’d drawn that forbade all physical contact for fear of where it might lead.
She was the first to turn away, her senses blurring and her breath shallow as she attempted to remind herself that this was only the first of six programmes, so for them to become involved now could prove not only complicated, but potentially disastrous.
‘So did you meet Gus all right?’ she asked Avril later, as they strolled over to the dining room.
‘Yep. He’s here,’ Avril answered. ‘Went straight to bed, so we might not see him till morning.’
Carla allowed a couple of seconds to pass, then in a nonchalant tone asked, ‘And did you manage to get much footage this morning?’
Avril feigned surprise. ‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘The dolphin display’s going to blow your mind, and I think John’s going to be very happy with the deserted tropical beach.’
They walked on, watching the moon shimmer a path along the sea, and listening to the harsh buzz of cicadas rising up from the gardens. ‘You know what I admire most about you,’ Carla suddenly said, ‘is how honest you are with yourself.’
Avril accepted the compliment with a laugh. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she said, ‘being honest with yourself is easy once you stop being afraid of the truth.’
Carla winced. ‘Is that what you think?’ she said. ‘That I’m afraid of the truth?’
‘Yes,’ Avril responded, ‘but you’re not on your own, because most people would rather hide behind self-deception and delusion than face up to reality.’
Carla didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent, watching the fireflies drifting in and out of the bushes, their tiny lights seeming as elusive as her thoughts. Then with an abrupt recall of where the conversation had begun she cried, ‘Just a minute, how did we manage to go from your morning excursion to a deeply depressing dig at my psyche?’
Avril grinned. ‘Funny how one led to the other, isn’t it?’ she quipped.
Carla’s eyes narrowed, then, following her into the bar, she was about to order a drink when she was waylaid by Jaffah who was asking for a quiet word.
Once out of earshot Jaffah said meekly, ‘Is OK for me to ask question?’
Carla smiled encouragingly. ‘Of course.’
Jaffah smiled too, then with a nervous glance down at his hands, he said, ‘I want to ask why is lady who come here first time not come again? She very lovely lady. My family like her very much.’
Knowing exactly who he meant Carla felt the warmth drain from her smile, but there was no way of avoiding the question, so in as neutral a voice as she could muster she said, ‘I’m afraid she doesn’t work with us any more.’
‘Oh,’ he said, clearly disappointed. ‘I hope you gonna say she coming soon.’
Carla shook her head.
‘What happen to her?’ he asked. ‘Why she not work with you now?’
‘She … She got married and had a baby,’ Carla answered, the words only just making it past the dryness in her throat. ‘She married the man who was here with her. I expect you met him.’ Her heart sank at such stupidity, for he was now going to tell her everything she didn’t need to hear, like what a wonderful man Jaffah thought Richard was, and so lucky to have such a beautiful woman as Chrissie. And how it was in this very hotel that Chrissie had first told Richard she was pregnant, then they had shared their good news with Jaffah. In fact, Carla could almost see the tenderness in Richard’s eyes as he folded Chrissie in his arms and asked her to be his wife. How she wished that no longer had the power to hurt, but it did, and now she was probably going to find out that the proposal had happened in this very bar …
‘I sorry, I no understand,’ Jaffah said, frowning. ‘There no man here with her. I only man with her.’
Carla looked at him, her self-torment coming to such a sudden stop that it was a moment before she registered what he had said. But obviously he hadn’t understood.
‘Why you say man with her?’ he pressed. ‘I see her every day. All time she alone.’
Carla was still staring at him. Maybe she was the one who didn’t understand, though his words couldn’t have been simpler, nor his certainty more convincing. ‘Alone?’ she echoed.
He nodded.
No, he’d obviously got it wrong, because she knew Richard had been here, so maybe they were talking about different people. ‘You do mean Chrissie?’ she said. ‘Tall, blonde hair …’
‘Yes, yes, Chrissie,’ he confirmed.
Carla was beginning to feel light-headed. ‘And she was here alone?’ she said. ‘You didn’t see the man who was travelling with her?’
‘No-one travel with her,’ he said. ‘I meet her from plane, and I with her all the time.’
Carla’s eyes remained on his, as she tried to remember exactly how she’d found out that Richard was in Zanzibar when he was supposed to be in Kosovo … It must have been Chrissie who’d told her, on that terrible morning when her mother had died and Chrissie had come to tell her she was pregnant … She couldn’t actually remember Chrissie’s words now, but she was sure she’d mentioned Zanzibar. Or had she? It was all such a blur, and the shock had been so immense that maybe she only thought she remembered … Maybe Chrissie hadn’t mentioned it at all and she had just assumed … She looked at Jaffah, whose confusion couldn’t appear more genuine, and as she began to realize that there was a very good chance he was telling the truth she felt the stirrings of relief lightening her heart, as though in some way she was being set free. Of course, even if he was telling the truth, it didn’t change anything – the betrayal and duplicity had still happened, so had the wedding, so had the baby – but if Richard really hadn’t been to Zanzibar …
‘Will you excuse me,’ she said, and, after signalling to Avril that she wouldn’t be long, she ran back to her room and quickly set up her computer.
Minutes later she was reading a message from Richard that was making her heart thud with confusion. ‘Zanzibar is a truly beautiful island,’ he’d written, ‘and much more worthy of your programme than it ever was of my visit with Chrissie. We thought it would allow us some freedom in our affair, a brief respite from having to shroud ourselves in secrecy, but how
wrong we were, because neither of us forgot you for a moment, and now I wish with all my heart that I could be there with you.’
She stopped reading and gazed blankly at the wall. What on earth was going on? Jaffah had seemed so sure, yet this message couldn’t be more clear. He’d been here, with Chrissie, but for some reason Jaffah hadn’t seen him.
‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ she said to Avril when she returned to the bar. ‘Why would he have hidden from Jaffah?’
Avril rolled her eyes. ‘Why would Richard do anything?’
‘Richard who?’ Kit demanded, coming to join them.
Carla looked up and smiled. ‘No-one,’ she answered, and, sliding effortlessly into her producer’s role, she said, ‘I’m glad to see you, because I want to talk about these extra lights.’
Leaving them to it, Avril wandered over to join John and Phoebe who were on their way in to dinner. This news about Richard was making her more suspicious and uneasy than ever, for nothing about the man, or the way he’d behaved these past few months, was making any sense at all, and the fact that Carla seemed unwilling to do anything about it was frustrating in the extreme. After all, it wasn’t as if Carla had no doubts of her own, but getting her to act on them, or even voice them, was proving damned near impossible. Well, Carla could keep her head buried in the sand for as long as she liked, but there was no way in the world Avril was going to join her. She wanted to know what that man was about, and the minute they got back to London she was going to start finding out.
Chapter 19
AFTER FIVE FULL days of shooting in the main town and surrounding spice plantations the unit travelled across the island and north to Mapenzi Beach, where a strong and constant breeze blew in from the ocean, making the forty-degree temperature slightly easier to handle than the oppressive humidity of the dense and malodorous town. For those whose digestive systems were still in trouble, life definitely became more bearable, as this part of the shoot was concentrating on the sprawling white hotel with its typical coconut-thatched roofs and the exquisite silvery stretch of beach beyond. Since there were other guests staying, some members of the unit were having to double up, so it wasn’t long before the inevitable jokes about their partner’s sleeping or hygiene habits started to abound. And as for the blossoming affairs, well, Carla didn’t ask, though she was in no doubt of their existence – she just hoped they didn’t end up causing any problems.
The quaint little ocean-front bungalow she was sharing with Avril was simply furnished: two single beds with mustard-coloured covers and white muslin drapes, a large minga-wood chest of drawers with dull brass handles, a set of narrow, leaded-glass French windows that opened onto the beach, and a cooling clay-tiled floor with a couple of green and purple rush mats next to the beds. It was where they were now, taking refuge from the sun, much like the rest of the unit who’d been more than happy to take advantage of the unscheduled siesta, before shooting again this evening.
While Avril dozed Carla stared at the joyously contorting figures of the colourful ‘batik’ painting that was facing her bed, and thought about going online to check if there was any more mail from Richard. The idea had no appeal, however, for the pleasure of lying there, beneath the fan, feeling her body responding to thoughts she should really be avoiding, was simply too blissful to give up.
Smiling sleepily to herself she turned onto her side and wondered if John ever thought about her the same way, and if he did, was it possible that their thoughts, in some other dimension, were morphing into reality? An interesting idea, but too artificial to rival the very physical pleasure she was experiencing now. Better still would be if he were to come quietly into the room, lie down beside her and start to undress her. A small sigh shuddered from her, as her mind moved on through the exquisite feel of his hands on her skin, his tongue in her mouth, his legs between hers …
Sighing as someone knocked on the door, she swung her feet to the floor and went to see who it was, half-annoyed and half-relieved to have been torn from such a crucial moment. ‘Gus?’ she said, surprised to see the reporter. ‘You’re not still interviewing, in this heat?’
‘No,’ he answered, dabbing his face with a towel. ‘I’ve just been for a swim, and I thought, while no-one else is around …’ He looked anxiously past her to where Avril was still sleeping. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’
Carla’s eyebrows went up. ‘Is everything all right?’ she said.
‘I’m not sure. Nothing to panic about, but there are certain things you should know …’
Curious, and not a little concerned, Carla said, ‘I’ll meet you in the bar. Say, five minutes?’
After he’d gone, she went into the bathroom for a quick freshen-up, pulled a T-shirt on over her shorts and crop top, then, letting herself quietly out of the room, she wandered along the beach to the steps that zigzagged up to the hotel. There was hardly anyone around, though she soon spotted Gus, on the half-moon terrace that overlooked the glistening blue pool with its surrounding loungers and parasols.
‘You’ve got me worried,’ she told him, sitting down and signalling the waiter to bring her a passion-fruit punch as she stretched her legs out into the sun.
‘Sorry,’ he said, stubbing out a cigarette and immediately taking another from its packet.
She watched him light it, noticing the awkwardness of his movements, though this was typical of Gus, whom she’d known for several years, so there was no need to read anything into it – right now though, she was finding it hard not to. ‘Come on, don’t keep me in suspense,’ she chided.
‘No. No,’ he said, waving away a cloud of smoke. ‘It’s just … Well, I’ve managed to talk to a few of the cast and what I’m getting’s going to make a pretty good piece. The local photographer’s been getting some good still shots too. Obviously John’s the one everyone wants to read about, so nothing’s going to pull together until he can spare me some time, then I’ll need to talk to Avril about where she wants me to sell it …’
‘Gus, come to the point,’ Carla said softly.
He nodded, took another puff and said, ‘We’re friends, Carla. I like you, and I don’t want to write anything bad about this shoot, which is why I’m telling you what I’ve been hearing. If it were anyone else, I’d be filing an exclusive.’
Carla’s smile was fading. ‘So what have you been hearing?’ she prompted.
‘Things about Avril. You too, and about how some of the crew are taking drugs …’
‘What!’ Carla cried. ‘Gus, this is serious. If you even so much as hint that drugs are being taken on this unit, my programme’s finished. We’ll never get permission to film anywhere else, our sponsors will pull out …’
‘It’s OK,’ he assured her. ‘I’m not going to do it. And to be honest, I don’t think it’s happening, and even if it is, it’s probably the locals, which you can’t do anything about. I just want you to be aware that someone’s spreading these rumours, and though I might not intend going to print with them, there’s a good chance she’ll find someone who will.’
‘She?’
His eyes fixed on hers.
Carla stared back, then her eyes closed, as, sighing, she said, ‘Rosa Gingell.’
He nodded.
‘That damned woman!’ she muttered. ‘So what’s she been saying about me and Avril?’
His eyes went down as he flicked ash from his cigarette. ‘It’s mainly about Avril,’ he said. Then with an embarrassed laugh, ‘I don’t want to spell it out, but she’s putting a pretty sordid spin on whatever Avril’s got going with that driver. For the right publication it might make sensational copy, especially with the pot-smoking allegations, and the bribery of local officials …’
‘Bribery?’ Carla cried.
‘That’s what she intimated you’re up to. And I mean you personally. She’s making it sound as though you’re paying them to turn a blind eye to the drugs.’
Carla’s eyes closed. ‘We pay facility fees, just like any other unit,’
she told him through her teeth. ‘You know that.’
‘Of course. I just want you to know the way she’s telling the story.’
Carla turned to look down at the pool, watching the clear blue water glisten and ripple, as she considered the best way to handle this. To fire Rosa and send her back would be favourite, were it not the kind of knee-jerk reaction guaranteed to bring the worst results. Besides she had further scenes to shoot, so they couldn’t get rid of her now. But something had to be done, so maybe she should discuss the problem with John – and Avril – before coming to a decision on what action to take.
‘Gus, I really appreciate you telling me this,’ she said, looking up as Jaffah wandered into the bar. ‘I know you’ll keep it to yourself, but if you hear anything else …’
‘You’ll be the first to know,’ he assured her.
‘Is OK for me to sit with you?’ Jaffah said, respectfully holding back.
‘Of course,’ Carla assured him. ‘In fact you’re just the person I want to see. Will you have a drink?’
He glanced over at the barman. ‘Same,’ he said, indicating the glasses of passion-fruit juice already on the table.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Gus told him, getting up, ‘but I’m in need of a shower. See you later,’ he added to Carla.
After he’d gone Carla waited only until Jaffah had his drink before asking him bluntly if he knew anything about the local crew members taking drugs. To her relief he couldn’t have looked more shocked, as his hand froze in mid-air and he stared at her in horror. Then, setting his glass back on the table, he spoke very earnestly as he said, ‘I don’t think is true, but Jaffah will make certain, and if is true, I call my cousin in the police and he arrest them.’ He was shaking his head gravely. ‘Is very bad thing, drugs. Is problem all over …’
‘Yes, but hopefully not on this shoot,’ Carla interrupted, more sharply than she’d intended, and he looked so chastened that she immediately said, ‘It’s OK, I know you’ll take care of it.’