Spindrift

by Rebecca Stratton

  ‘Oh yes, of course!’ She agreed hastily, glancing at Dominic as she did so, to see what he made of the idea. ‘Is that all right with you, Dom? I can catch up on my jobs when I get back.’

  Grey eyes watched her steadily for a moment and she felt a curious little shiver slide along her spine. ‘You don’t have to ask my permission, petite, you are old enough to make up your own mind about spending time with your friend. Of course you can go over on the Felicite and come back the same way, there’s no problem at all there, but—’ He shook his head after a second of consideration and smiled. ‘I hope you enjoy your holiday—Jules is right, it’s time you spread your wings a little.’

  Somehow his words made her feel strangely emotional, as if he had changed her entire life by uttering them, and yet he had said no more than Jules had, in effect. She reached across and laid her own small hand on his, squeezing the hard fingers for a moment.

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Dom.’

  Tim looked sceptical about the trip having Dominic’s blessing, and his scepticism annoyed Bryony. Somehow lately Tim seemed to have the habit of seeing an ulterior motive in every move Dominic made, and she did not believe it was true, neither did she like to think of him having such an opinion of his half-brother.

  ‘You just won’t give Dom credit for being human, will you?’ she asked. She sat perched on the divan beside him, waiting for someone to tell her it was time for her to leave. She had Tim’s gratitude for her proposed endeavours on his behalf with Sarah Bryant, but he was much too nervously anxious about Dominic finding out. ‘He really means it when he says he hopes I enjoy myself, you know, Tim; he was very sweet about it, especially when I’m rather a lot behind with the invoices for the past couple of months.’

  ‘He’d have been a lot less sweet if he’d known you have a letter for Sarah in your handbag,’ Tim declared shortly. ‘He doesn’t know, does he, Bry? You haven’t let it slip?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t!’

  His good-looking young face showed a suggestion of a sneer, and Bryony hated it. ‘I’ll bet he doesn’t! He’d never have let you off the leash if he did. You wait until you find yourself a boy-friend and then see how quickly he hauls in the line again!’

  Bryony sighed, resigned to his rather petulant ill humour while he was still nursing his broken ribs; no doubt they were painful, and he had never been one to sit around in the house or to take things easy. She got up and walked across to the window, looking out across the garden to where the banana leaves made gigantic scallops against the skyline.

  ‘I’m only going for a few days,’ she reminded him, ‘and I’m hardly likely to fall in love in a couple of days, am I?’

  ‘Hmm!’ He could be as hard-headedly stubborn as Dominic when it came to giving way, and it was at moments like this that she was forcibly reminded that Tim was as closely related to Dominic as he was to her. Sometimes he had a great deal of his French mother in him when he became emotional about something he felt deeply about ‘Is Louis going over with you, or haven’t they got the Chance patched up yet?’

  The fact of the schooner being damaged troubled him almost more than his own injuries, she knew, and smiled at him reassuringly. ‘She’s ready and I’m going in her with Louis. I know,’ she hastened to add when she saw his expression, ‘you’ll think he’s there to keep an eye on me for Dom, but I’d rather go with Louis, Tim, and Dom knows I would.’ She glanced at her watch, a flutter of excitement stirring in her at the prospect of her trip. ‘I’d better go and find Dom, he was putting my things into the jeep and he must be ready for me by now.’

  Tim caught her hand as she went to kiss him goodbye, and his eyes searched her face for a second narrowly. ‘You won’t let me down, will you, Bry? Not even if Dom does get wind of what you mean to do.’

  ‘No—no, of course I won’t.’

  It was not an easy promise to make when she was very unsure just what she would do if Dominic discovered she was acting as go-between for Tim and his schoolteacher. She straightened up hastily when the door opened and turned to let Dominic know she was ready, blinking uncertainly for a moment when she saw him.

  He had changed his clothes since she saw him last, and instead of the casual garb he had worn then he now had on a light grey suit with a cream shirt and a tie, and she felt a sudden fluttering beat to her heart as she stared at him. He smiled, standing in the doorway instead of coming into the room.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked, and she nodded automatically.

  She could sense Tim’s suspicion even without looking at him, and she was much too unsure of her own reactions. It looked as if Dominic meant to accompany her for at least some of the journey, and she could not decide whether or not she welcomed the prospect.

  ‘You look very businesslike, Dom.’

  ‘Good!’ He gave Tim a casual wave from the doorway, ignoring the frown that acknowledged it. ‘I have some business in Basse-terre.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  Dominic’s grey eyes looked down at her steadily as she passed him in the doorway and she thought they held a hint of a smile, a smile that hovered about his mouth too, without actually appearing. ‘I shall be coming with you,’ he said quietly. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Oh no—no, of course I don’t!’

  He nodded, as if he really had needed her approval before he went, and his fingers slid along her arm as she walked on into the hall. A bright flush warmed her cheeks, she knew, and just before Dominic closed the door behind them, she heard Tim give a derisive snort of laughter.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Coming in to Basse-terre never failed to give Bryony a certain thrill of excitement. The trip over from Petitnue was quiet and as always she had enjoyed it, watching the sails billowing overhead and the spindrift fluffing about the bow and curling back into their wake, while the wind tossed her coppery-red hair into tangles she had to do something about before they landed.

  Dom stood with her for a while, his grey eyes narrowed against the wind, a commanding figure moving without clumsiness on the deck of the schooner, and lending a steadying hand when her own sea-legs proved less reliable. For some reason she could not yet determine, she had a sense of adventure this trip that she had never experienced before, and she felt convinced it had something to do with the fact that Dominic was with her, though she had made the same trip with him at other times in the past eight years.

  Approaching from the sea the shoreline of Basseterre was dominated by the towering peaks of volcanic La Soufriere and Sans Toucher, wreathed about by circlets of light cloud, and the town itself lying at their feet. Soufriere in particular seemed to brood over the lush countryside and the town, like a benevolent god who could at any time be roused from its benevolence by a quirk of nature.

  In the foreground the docks bustled with activity, loading and unloading, a babel of language predominated by French and its lyrical offspring, Creole. The larger freighters as well as schooners like the Bonne Chance slid in and out of their berths in a flurry of hurtling lines and calling voices, and Bryony found the non-stop movement and noise quite breathtaking after so long.

  Basse-terre itself was a delightful town, a mixture of old and new, with beautiful parks and handsome buildings and an incredibly varied population. It seemed so long since she had been involved in anything more than the tranquil life of Petitnue that Bryony found the sudden bustle incredibly bewildering as well as exciting, so that she willingly left the business of coming ashore in Dominic’s capable hands.

  He also seemed to take it for granted that she would expect him to drive out with her to St Claude, where her friend lived with her family, though she could perfectly well have gone there herself by taxi. St Claude was at the very foot of La Soufriere, and the spectacular way up to the summit of the mountain started from this exclusive and beautiful little community.

  Having delivered her to the gates of the house, Dominic got out and reached in for her valise, so that for a moment or two Bryony wond
ered if he meant to deliver her right to the door. Instead he stood looking down at her for a second or two, while the man waited. Then, quite unexpectedly and with startling suddenness, he put his hands on her shoulders and drew her towards him, pressing his lips in a firm hard kiss over her mouth.

  ‘Enjoy yourself, petite, but don’t get too much of a taste for city life, hm?’

  ‘I won’t.’ She laughed and it sounded remarkably unsteady, but her composure was disturbed by the unfamiliar pressure of his mouth on hers. ‘I mean, I will enjoy myself, but I don’t think I’ll get a taste for city life.’ She looked around at the big, opulent houses set in gardens of tropical trees and shrubs, and shook her head. ‘Although it isn’t really city out here, is it? It’s a bit like Petitnue.’

  Dominic’s attitude puzzled her, for she had never before sensed him so anxious, almost as if he was reluctant to leave her, and she could feel the hardness of his fingers on her arms and the tension in the lean warmth of his body that just touched her while they stood together on the tree-shaded sidewalk.

  ‘But it isn’t Petitnue, Bryony, and I hope you won’t forget it.’ He sought for words of explanation for a second, then shrugged in that indisputably Gallic way he had, and which she now found quite inexplicably touching. ‘You’re not a little girl, as you’re always telling me these days, and I mustn’t behave like a guardian or you’ll be angry, won’t you?’

  ‘Not angry, Dom!’ She felt curiously reluctant to see him go now that it came to the point, and she was reminded of those days when she had to leave home to return to school, and how she had always missed his gentle concern for her. Impulsively she tiptoed and reached for his mouth, her lips soft and light, a kiss as breathless as the laugh that followed. ‘I’m well able to take care of myself, Dom, and you don’t have to sound as if I’m leaving home for good!’

  ‘No.’ He let his hands fall and stood back for a moment, his eyes on her face, then he shook his head slowly. ‘I simply feel that this is a step in a—a new direction, that’s all, petite. Your friend is—’

  ‘You’ve met Marion, don’t you remember?’

  He was nodding even before she finished reminding him, and she was curious. ‘I remember her!’ he said, and something in his voice made her even more curious. ‘She’s a year or two older than you, isn’t she, and very—sophisticated?’

  ‘Is she?’ She wondered why they hadn’t discussed this aspect before they left Petitnue, instead of doing so now while the taxi stood waiting. ‘I haven’t seen her for a year, but I suppose you could say she was quite sophisticated for her age.’

  ‘Bryony—’ He spread his hands in a gesture that suggested resignation, and half-smiled. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, huh?’

  ‘You’ll come for me?’

  Heaven knew what had prompted her to ask him that, but he was looking at her as if it was a matter of course. ‘If you’d like me to,’ he said. Grey eyes searched slowly over her face and she thought they smiled, a warmth that showed in the dark depth of them without touching his mouth. ‘I’ll come for you, of course.’ Once more he drew her towards him and lightly touched her mouth with his lips. ‘Au revoir, petite!’

  Turning from her, he got back into the taxi while she stood watching him, waving a hand to her as he gave the driver instructions in his own tongue, and Bryony was left wondering at the curious sense of loss she felt suddenly. Bringing herself back to earth, she turned and looked at the house as she walked along a wide, tree-shaded driveway.

  Tucked away among a riot of hibiscus and frangipani, plumbago and thunbergia, it was virtually half buried in a chaos of colour and scent, and it reminded her once more of Petitnue. The style was similar to the Laminaire home, but it was newer and, to Bryony’s eye, rather less attractive than the old plantation house.

  A balcony ran the width of the house, supported by slim columns that formed a cool shaded cloister below, where shuttered windows stood wide, and an arched doorway, similarly ajar, seemed to suggest a welcome, although there was no one about to meet her yet. Venturing under the overhanging gallery, she had a hand already raised to knock on the open door when a young man appeared in the hall beyond and she hastily lowered her hand.

  He was about twenty-three or four, she guessed, and enough like Marion, her friend, to make a relationship almost inevitable, and he was smiling with the same self-confident air that Bryony had always envied at school. He had changed direction as soon as he saw her, and he took her bag from her without hesitation, drawing her inside the house while he shook her hand.

  ‘Hello, you must be Bryony! I can’t give you another name, I’m afraid, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard it.’

  She went with him across a wide airy hall where an electric fan in the ceiling kept the air constantly moving and deliciously cool. ‘I’m Bryony Charn.’

  ‘And I’m Edward Fuller, Marion’s brother.’ Enlightened at last, Bryony smiled. She had been under the impression that Edward Fuller was still in England attending university, but obviously things had changed and Marion had omitted to mention it. ‘I hope it isn’t inconvenient my coming now, Mr. Fuller. I mean if there’s a problem about room—’

  ‘The problem will be if you go on calling me Mr. Fuller.’ He set down her bag at the foot of the stairs, presumably to await someone else’s attention, and turned to smile at her. ‘I’m Ned to everybody I like, and I’m certain I’m going to like you, Bryony.’ He had rather nice brown eyes and he was watching her with a suggestion of laughter in them. ‘You just missed Marion and Pop; they went to meet you, but you must have passed them on the road somewhere between here and the docks.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ So far she had seen no one else about, and she was uncertain just what she ought to do about Marion and her father. ‘Should we—I mean should I—’

  ‘Walk the four miles back down into Basse-terre? Oh, I don’t think so, do you? I’ve promised to hold the fort, and that includes entertaining our guest when she arrives.’ He led the way into a big, cool room that looked as if it had been transferred complete from an English country house. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’

  He indicated a large and slightly shabby settee just behind her, and she realised with what intent when he sat down beside her. ‘I think we docked rather earlier than I told Marion,’ she explained, made vaguely uneasy by the frankly admiring brown eyes watching her. ‘We had the advantage of the wind, and the Bonne Chance always makes the best time.’

  ‘A schooner?’ He looked interested. ‘Oh, but of course, the Laminaires still use them, don’t they?’ A short laugh explained his interest. ‘I’m supposed to be going into shipping, so I’m swotting up on the various people who trade in and out of the port. You’re one of the Laminaires, aren’t you?’

  ‘Not exactly, but Dom—Dominic Laminaire, is my guardian. He’s the only real Laminaire left now.’

  For some reason she found hard to fathom at the moment, she had named Dominic as her guardian rather than her stepbrother. For one thing because it always required an effort to remember the tenuous link that related her to Dominic, for she could never really see him as a relation, even by marriage.

  Edward Fuller’s interest was quite genuine, she thought, and he smiled enquiringly at her. ‘Aren’t there two more brothers?’

  ‘Half-brothers,’ Bryony corrected him with a smile. ‘My father married Dom’s mother after she was widowed, and then Jules and Tim were born. When she died he married my mother, so I’m not really related to Dom at all, and Jules and Tim are only half-brothers to him. They’re not Laminaires.’

  ‘Complicated!’ That self-confident smile stirred curious reactions in her, and she could not yet decide for certain whether or not she liked Edward Fuller. ‘So—Dominic?—is the last of the Laminaires? Pity really, they’re a very old family in the islands, aren’t they?’

  ‘About three hundred years.’

  ‘And now they’re dying out.’

  ‘Only if Dom doesn’t marry!’ Something about tha
t smile of Edward Fuller’s brought a bright flush of colour to her cheeks, and she was almost unconscious of sounding defensive. ‘He’s a young man and he could marry and—’ She felt a curious reticence about suggesting that Dominic could be followed by sons of his own, and yet she was sure it was going to happen, especially so since that rather disturbing conversation she had had with him a few days ago. ‘I can’t see Petitnue ever being without a Laminaire.’

  ‘So Marion might get her way after all, then?’ He laughed when she stared at him uncomprehendingly, and shook his head. ‘My sister harbours visions of his marrying you,’ he explained a little more diffidently, and Bryony felt the colour in her face as she hastily avoided looking at him.

  She had never imagined Marion thinking along such lines and the idea of her not only doing so, but making the fact known to her brother made her flush with embarrassment. ‘I remember introducing him to Marion last year when Dom fetched me home, when I left school, but I didn’t know she knew him apart from that.’

  Edward smiled wryly, as if he might have said more than he ought, and she could not help feeling that he was relieved when they heard the sound of a car stopping, followed by voices coming closer and footsteps in the hall. ‘And talking of angels,’ he said, getting up from his seat beside her, ‘I think Pop and Marion are here.’

  ‘Bryony!’ The familiar tall thin figure of her school-friend seemed to have grown taller in the past year, and she was a little less thin and more shapely, but the biggest change Bryony thought was in her manner. She held out her hands and eyed Bryony critically for a second with the privileged frankness of long acquaintance. ‘You haven’t got any taller, have you? And you still wear your hair long!’

  After so long Bryony found her rather overwhelming, and some indefinable something in the other girl’s manner did not suggest quite the warmth she expected, though she was probably being too sensitive. A hand to her coppery-red hair, she smiled. ‘I like it long best, it seems to suit me better.’