His Last Gamble

by Maxine Barry

  Some had already arrived and were sipping cocktails at the bar further along, the men eyeing her openly, whilst their women appraised her gown with envy.

  It all felt so empty. So pointless.

  She saw Payne scan the room, his eyes finding hers and lingering for just a wonderful, wonderful moment, then moving on. She let out a long, harsh breath, and wished she didn’t have the whole evening still to get through.

  A half an hour later, Payne was still mingling with his friends and guests when Phil called her name.

  She was aware of being the centre of interest now, and forced her bare shoulders back and put a sway into her walk. After all, she was putting on a show, nothing more. Nobody in this room, with the exception of Jo-Jo, probably even thought of her as a person. To the men, she was just a beautiful model—someone to brag about meeting perhaps, over a dinner at the club. To the women, she was merely a clothes horse, someone to show how the gown she was wearing might look on themselves.

  Her hair was done up in a complicated top knot, allowing various strands of platinum hair to curl down past her ears, her neck, and rest lightly on one shoulder. With the gown she wore simple beaten copper earrings and nothing else. The dress was very much the star.

  ‘All right, I think we’ll have you by the backgammon table,’ Phil said, thinking immediately that Charmaine was oozing class, and backgammon was the game most people associated with the upper crust. She certainly looked as if she could be married to some Earl or playboy Prince.

  ‘Now, I want you to look off a little to your left and look wistful,’ Phil instructed and Charmaine nodded, doing as she was told. And found herself looking straight at Payne, who was sandwiched between an obvious husband-and-wife couple who were both talking to him at once. What was worse, he was obviously talking about her, but in that throw-away offhand kind of way that you talked about mere acquaintances.

  If he was trying to make it clear to her that he was distancing himself from her, he couldn’t have done a better job if he’d taken out an ad.

  ‘Great, wonderful,’ Phil enthused, snapping away. ‘Now, I want you look amused, as if something entertaining were happening just in front of you.’

  Charmaine couldn’t help but smile at that. Something entertaining was happening right in front of her, she thought helplessly. If you counted watching your whole world crumble as such.

  ‘Fine, fine. A little more aggro now. As if you want to hit out.’

  And so it went on. Finally she was allowed to go, and Dee-Dee took over. She began to make her way towards the dressing room, although there was no hurry to change, when suddenly the woman half of the husband and wife team, called her over.

  ‘Hello there, coo-eee,’ she called loudly, in an unmistakable Australian accent. ‘Do you want a drink chuck?’ she asked, deftly relieving a waiter of a glass of champagne as she did so.

  Charmaine could hardly turn her back and walk away, could she? But she felt her feet dragging as they carried her over to where Payne watched her approach with hooded eyes.

  ‘Madge, Timmo, this is Charmaine Reece, the fashion designer,’ he introduced her, not as a model, but under her real auspices, and she shot him a quick, angry look.

  She knew that Coral, who was flirting with a current Hollywood superstar, had overheard, and had shot a quick, surprised look her way.

  ‘How do you do,’ Charmaine said politely, shaking hands with the couple. Timmo had the look of a farmer, not too tall but wiry, and burnt the colour of a hazelnut, and she could well imagine him owning vast areas of the Australian outback. Both of them had that warm and open-hearted attitude so particular of the Australians.

  ‘Here, try this,’ Madge said, handing over the glass. ‘Bubbly always picks me right up. I reckon getting your picture taken like that takes more out of you than people might think.’

  Charmaine smiled and gratefully took the glass. She was feeling thirsty, and drained.

  ‘Hello, here’s Max,’ Timmo said, and they all turned to watch a tall, dark-haired man come across the crowded room to meet them.

  ‘Hello everyone,’ the newcomer said amiably, and instantly Charmaine recognised his voice. This was the man who’d been talking to Payne in the garden that day. The one Payne had been angry with.

  Charmaine’s eyes sharpened on him in curiosity. He was a good looking man, a few years older than Payne, and probably in some lucrative business such as antiques or wine growing. He had that look about him.

  ‘Max, you look done in sweetheart,’ Madge said tactlessly, but the other man merely shrugged.

  ‘Combination of jet-lag and depression,’ he said surprisingly, but with a self-mocking smile.

  ‘Oh, trouble?’ Madge said, instantly and unashamedly curious, and Payne grimaced openly.

  ‘Trust you,’ Timmo said to his wife, but everyone else smiled, and it was obvious to Charmaine that these were all old and trusted friends, and that nobody took Madge’s larger-than-life personality to heart.

  ‘Actually yes,’ Max said ruefully. ‘And since it’ll be all over the island before long, I suppose you might as well be the first to know, Madge. Maria and I are splitting up.’

  ‘Oh darlin’, that’s a blow,’ Madge said, instantly sympathetic.

  ‘It’s been coming for some time,’ Max said philosophically, but not without regret and Charmaine tried to sidle away. This was obviously not the kind of conversation meant for strangers.

  ‘Payne, I was wondering if you knew a good divorce lawyer,’ she heard Max say, as she mumbled something vague about needing to get into her next outfit.

  ‘And before you lay into me, it’s not for me, but for Maria,’ Max added, whilst Madge gave her a small wave goodbye, before turning back to far more interesting goings-on. ‘I want her to have the best. I don’t want any hard feelings.’

  Charmaine wondered if that’s how all divorces were nowadays. It sounded wonderfully civilised, but she still felt sad as she walked back to the small office that was the dressing room and got into her next outfit. Even though she didn’t know the couple involved, the failure of a marriage had to be something that left the world a little worse off than before.

  Jinx was leaning across a desk, applying another shade of eyeshadow when she walked in, and Charmaine felt her spirits droop even lower. But luckily, just then Fizz came in, having finished her second stint, and immediately began regaling Jinx with the tale of her latest lover—a French Count, who was married and refusing to leave his wife and three children.

  This is definitely not the kind of life for me, Charmaine thought, trying not to feel shocked, as she slipped the fabulous bronze gown over her head and slipped into a slinky black beaded cocktail dress, her final outfit of the shoot. She was just not cut out for the hardness of it all. Perhaps a small country cottage and Wordsworth were all she was fit for.

  When she went back into the main salon, Max’s prediction that his news would soon be all over town was proving true, because already she could overhear people talking about it.

  ‘I heard he was seeing some other woman,’ a formidable looking society dowager, dripping diamonds and malice, whispered loudly to another, slightly younger and more blasé woman.

  ‘An actress I heard,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘They usually are, aren’t they. Or models.’

  And suddenly Charmaine realised they’d both broken off their conversation to look at her! Blushing scarlet, she hurried away, her head down, and feeling—foolishly—ashamed.

  Yes, there was no doubt about it, she couldn’t wait to get away from this place. It had brought her nothing but misery and heartache.

  But as she took her place next to Coral and waited for her turn with Phil, she found her eyes seeking out one man. And she knew that in spite of everything, and even given the whole wide world to choose from, there was no other place she’d rather be than right here, right now.

  Because this was where Payne was.

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight by t
he time the photo-shoot finally ended, and she was the first one away, slipping out into the gardens with relief. She guessed the ‘wrap’ party would go on until well into the early hours, but she was exhausted.

  She made her way back to the hotel, the lobby of which was deserted at that hour, and made her way to her room.

  She had just slipped off her shoes, taken down her hair and wiped off her make up when there was a tap at her door. She paused in front of the mirror, a cotton wool bud in one hand, a bottle of cleanser in the other.

  Who on earth? She put the things down and walked to the door and tentatively opened it.

  ‘Payne!’ she gasped, opening the door wider even before she considered the consequences. ‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted.

  ‘Sorry but you left this behind,’ he said, handing over her bag.

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ she said blankly. He could always have handed it in downstairs, or waited until the morning, couldn’t he?

  ‘Er, come in,’ she said. ‘I was just about to have some coffee,’ she lied. ‘Would you like a cup?’

  ‘Love it. It’s been one hell of a night,’ he said wryly, coming in and looking around the small but pretty room with interest.

  Charmaine, more nervous than she could ever remember being in the whole of her life, plugged in the kettle and reached for one of the sachets of coffee that the hotel provided. ‘Milk, sugar?’

  ‘Black’s fine,’ he said, his eyes going to the bed, and smiling at the sight of her plain white night-shirt. No sexy teddy for Charmaine.

  He prowled the room, coming to a halt at the dressing table and the photograph placed in pride of place on it. It was a picture of two women, faces pressed together, both laughing at the camera. Charmaine was unmistakable of course, her face make-up free, big blue eyes like Ceylon sapphires sparkling out at him.

  And he recognised the other woman instantly too.

  Lucy.

  His eyes narrowed, his hand, which had been in the act of reaching out to bring the photograph closer, suddenly froze in mid air.

  Was Lucy part of her famous family? Well, why not? Now he came to think of it, he could remember Lucy talking about having an older sister. And he’d instantly recognised the name of the venerable doyen of the British stage and screen for the last fifty years when Lucy had talked about her father.

  So Charmaine was the other daughter. The one who didn’t like the limelight.

  Things were beginning to make sense at last.

  He turned abruptly as he sensed Charmaine coming towards him with two coffee mugs, and he quickly moved away from the table.

  ‘Thanks,’ he headed towards the French windows and stepped out onto the modest balcony and Charmaine, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped out to join him.

  ‘Are the nights always this lovely?’ she asked wistfully, looking up at a velvety sky, the stars bright as diamonds, whilst a half moon silvered the Caribbean Sea as it lapped against the white sandy beach just yards away.

  ‘Yes, usually,’ Payne said quietly. ‘You’ve fallen in love with the place too then?’

  Charmaine caught her breath. ‘Yes,’ she husked. ‘Yes, I’ve fallen in love with Barbados.’

  And you. Oh, and you.

  She turned abruptly and leant on the rail, looking out over the sea, turning her face from him, lest he read the truth in her eyes. Even in the moonlight, she was afraid that he’d be able to see right through her.

  ‘You looked wonderful tonight,’ Payne said. ‘You were really professional. You could carry on modelling if you wanted.’

  Charmaine laughed. ‘Oh no. Once was enough. Never again.’

  Besides, there’d be no reason to go on with this farce once she was back in England.

  The thought of going back to Oxfordshire held no appeal anymore, and the thought saddened her. Once her little cottage and pretty garden, Wordsworth and her work, had been her entire universe and more than enough to keep her happy.

  Now though, with the exception of Wordsworth, she felt she could give up all the rest tomorrow without a moment’s regret. If only this man would say he loved her.

  ‘Why don’t you stay?’ Payne said, startling her nearly out of her wits because, just for a moment, she was convinced that it was her own mind that had asked the question out loud.

  ‘Oh no. No, I couldn’t do that,’ she said at last.

  ‘Why not? You can design clothes here as well as anywhere. Who knows—Barbados might even inspire you to greater heights,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I have a cat,’ she said flatly, then jumped as he burst out laughing.

  ‘Well you can always bring your cat over here. What’s her name?’

  ‘His name is Wordsworth. He’s a black and white long-haired.’

  ‘I’d like to meet him,’ Payne said seriously, although his eyes, when she looked up at him, were twinkling.

  Charmaine knew that the likelihood of Payne ever meeting her beloved pet was virtually nil. Now the shoot was over, the girls would be flying back after a few days’ holiday, and she would go with them.

  And never see this man again.

  ‘It’s late,’ she said abruptly, her voice unknowingly harsh and brittle.

  ‘Is that a polite way of asking me to go?’ Payne mused dryly.

  ‘Perhaps. But I thought you’d be only too pleased to go. You’ve been doing your best to make it clear you want to keep some distance between us,’ she snapped, then stopped, appalled.

  How had she let her own pain make her blurt out her sense of injury like that? What was wrong with her? But to her incredulity, he didn’t try to deny it. Instead he looked at her long and levelly for a few moments, then nodded.

  ‘Yes, I suppose I have,’ he said at last, with devastating honesty. ‘The thing is, I feel so guilty still, and I’m not used to it. I felt like such a heel over that shark business, that I told myself I’d never let anything like it happen again. It seemed the only way was to keep you at arm’s length. But it doesn’t seem to be working, does it?’ he added ruefully, and looked down at her, so close beside him that he could feel her hair brush against his arm as the sea breeze fanned the long silvery locks against his forearms.

  All he had to do was reach out and there she’d be—warm and sensuous, a honey trap no man would ever regret falling into.

  Charmaine gaped at him. ‘Guilty? But why? I mean, you have nothing to feel guilty about.’

  ‘No? Not even nearly frightening you to death?’

  For a second, she couldn’t even think what he meant. Then it hit her. ‘Oh, the shark,’ she said dismissively, waving one hand negligently in the air. ‘Oh, I’ve forgotten all about that already. Anyway . . .’

  She stuttered to an abrupt stop.

  ‘Anyway what?’ he all but whispered, but she was already drawing away from him and shaking her head.

  ‘Oh nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

  For a second he was silent, as if giving her a chance to change her mind or tell him something. Then he seemed to sigh heavily.

  ‘So we’re calling a truce then?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Yes, a truce,’ Charmaine heard herself repeating, even if against her better judgement.

  ‘In that case, how about a picnic tomorrow? I know just the place. I’ll pick you up at eleven?’

  Charmaine nodded weakly. She knew she should have put him off and made an excuse. She knew she was only prolonging the inevitable and letting herself in for more heartache this way, but she just couldn’t resist it.

  A few more hours in his company. A little while longer to hear his voice and bask in his attention. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask?

  Lucy need never know.

  ‘All right, eleven,’ she said softly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Payne drove around the outskirts of Speightstown and headed north, knowing the perfect scenic spot for their picnic. Every now and then he glanced across at her, wondering what she was thinking, and believing that now, at last, he ha
d a pretty good idea.

  The thing was—what did he do about it?

  ‘You’re quiet today,’ he observed, changing the sports car down into a lower gear as they toiled up a steep incline. ‘Nothing wrong is there?’

  ‘No,’ Charmaine said instantly. ‘What could be wrong?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Payne shrugged, and when she still didn’t speak, sighed quietly to himself. Well, he’d given her every chance to come clean. But since she seemed determined to keep on her chosen path, he had no choice but to follow her along it. But that didn’t mean to say he wasn’t going to influence the direction it took. Or throw up a few interesting diversions along the way!

  He parked not far from Cuckold Point, with its spectacular views and wild, windswept coastline. The spot he chose was a hollow in an open field, in the shelter of a large tree which kept them discreetly hidden from any other visitors roaming about on this part of the island.

  Charmaine watched him take a large picnic hamper from the back of the car and then followed somewhat nervously. All around gulls and other inshore birds sang and called, whilst under her feet, wild flowers grew in profusion. She couldn’t see the ocean, but could both hear and smell it, its evocative presence a constant seduction.

  Payne had tossed a fleecy red and black plaid blanket over his arm and now he flung it out, covering the grass and flowers, before slipping onto his knees and reaching into the basket.

  ‘I hope you like Bucks Fizz,’ he said, bringing out a cooler. ‘I had the chef squeeze the oranges fresh from the tree this morning, and the Brut is from a friend of mine in France who always ships over a crate of his premiere best every year.’

  Charmaine sank down on the other side of the blanket and nodded. ‘It sounds wonderful,’ she said, and reached for a blade of grass and plucked it restlessly.

  She was wearing a pale lemon summer dress in faux silk with a silver and blue geometric pattern. With her long fair hair falling loose, and her blue eyes bluer than the sky, she looked more beautiful than Payne could ever remember seeing her appear before—even when in full ‘model’ make up and cutting edge, designer chic.