Tahitian Wedding

by Angela Devine

  ‘I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard of,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll bet it was earth-shaking when he kissed you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, do shut up and go to sleep!’ begged Claire, instantly regretting her impulsive admission.

  ‘All right,’ yawned Marie Rose, dropping the subject with surprising readiness. ‘Listen, one more thing. Are you really thinking of chucking in your TV job and staying in Tahiti or did you only say that to annoy Alain?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Claire wearily. ‘I’m tempted, Rosie. I didn’t realise just how homesick I was until now. But I couldn’t stay here if I felt Alain was going to keep up this feud with me. Now go to sleep, will you?’

  Marie Rose smirked.

  ‘All right. On one condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Claire.

  ‘That you come across to Moorea with me tomorrow. I’ve promised to take Paul’s parents over and show them the hotel, but I’m really dreading it. His father’s nice enough, but his mother seems to think they’re doing me a tremendous honour by allowing me to marry into the family. And they’ve got this dreadful woman staying with them who’ll be coming to the wedding. Nadine Hugo. I’ll need a bit of moral support to cope with her, I can tell you.’

  Claire grinned as she turned out the light.

  ‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘What are bridesmaids for, after all? I’ll entertain the ogress for you.’

  In spite of Marie Rose’s dire warnings, Claire was in high spirits as she prepared breakfast the following morning. She couldn’t wait to visit the island of Moorea again and surely the mysterious Nadine couldn’t be as bad as all that? Well, at least Marie Rose hadn’t asked her to entertain Alain Charpentier for the day! That would really be stretching loyalty too far. Humming, she popped a plate of croissants into the microwave oven and waited for the timer to ring. As she did so, she heard her father’s heavy footsteps behind her.

  ‘Hello, chérie,’ he rumbled cheerfully, kissing her cheek. ‘Any plans for today?’

  ‘Yes. Marie Rose and I are going to Moorea so that I can meet Paul and see where she’s going to live after the wedding.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Roland, sinking into a chair. ‘I’ll give you both a ride to the ferry. I have to pick up a party of tourists from a hotel near the wharf at nine o’clock anyway.’

  ‘Nine o’clock?’ teased Claire. ‘Whatever’s come over you, Papa? I’ve never known you get out of bed before midday before!’

  Roland sighed heavily and shook his head.

  ‘Ah. Aita maita’i,’ he muttered. ‘No good, Claire. It’s no laughing matter. If I’d been a better father to you and worked harder in the past, I’d have more to leave you now. But what’s to become of you if something happens to me, eh? Answer me that.’

  A cold chill of alarm took hold of Claire. She had never known her father be anything but cheerful before and his words upset her. But she pushed her foreboding resolutely away.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she protested, dropping a kiss lightly on his cheek. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you, Papa. Now, tell me the truth. Do I look fit to meet Marie Rose’s in-laws?’

  She pirouetted around, displaying her yellow and white floral dress in the traditional Tahitian style. Roland beamed admiringly.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ he replied. ‘There’s just one thing missing.’

  Reaching forward, he plucked a yellow hibiscus bloom from a vase on the table, dried the stem and put the flower in Claire’s hair.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘Perfect.’

  Claire smiled ruefully.

  ‘I don’t know about the flower, Papa,’ she murmured. ‘Marie Rose wants us to look dignified.’

  ‘Dignified!’ exclaimed Roland in horror, reaching for the coffee-pot. ‘This isn’t a family that cares about looking dignified, it’s a family that cares about being happy. You can tell Marie Rose I said so. And tell her to get out of bed too or we’ll miss the ferry.’

  Yet when Roland dropped them off at the waterfront just before nine o’clock, Marie Rose did not go to the ferry office. Instead she led the way along the waterside path that bordered the Boulevard Pomare.

  ‘Where are you going?’ demanded Claire. ‘The ferry’s over that way.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed her sister. ‘But I’ve organised a ride on a private launch.’

  Claire followed her in silence, intent on watching her steps on the uneven pavement. A listless, salt-laden breeze was blowing in from the harbour and the air was heavy with the scents of diesel oil and tropical flowers. Overhead banks of grey cloud were building ominously, bringing the threat of an impending squall. A few foreign tankers were moored in the harbour and a row of luxury yachts was tied up along the water’s edge. As they came towards these, Claire was conscious of a sudden spasm of memory that was almost a physical pain.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Marie Rose, looking at her pale face and haunted eyes. ‘Do you feel sick?’

  ‘No,’ replied Claire, gritting her teeth. But a pang had gone through her as she realised that this was the very spot where she had met Marcel Sauvage all those years ago. Marcel has made it impossible for me to feel free and relaxed in my own home, she thought bitterly. Not to mention ruining any chance I had of friendship with Alain Charpentier. Well, thank heaven I don’t have to face Alain again for a while anyway!

  Which made it all the more of a shock when Marie Rose led her aboard a gleaming white motor launch and babbled an obviously well prepared speech.

  ‘Ah. All ready and waiting for us, I see? I’d like you all to meet my sister Claire Beaumont. Claire, you already know Alain, don’t you? And these are my future parents-in-law Denise and Charles Halévy. And their friend Nadine Hugo.’

  Claire’s swift, horrified gaze met Alain, unsmiling in immaculate white shorts and matching shirt, and she murmured something incoherent. Then the habit of long years in front of TV cameras took over and she turned pleasantly to the other members of the party.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said with a warm smile.

  Charles Halévy was a grey-haired man with vivid, blue eyes and a humorous expression, while his wife had piercing brown eyes and a pinched mouth. They both returned Claire’s greeting civilly enough, although Denise looked her up and down closely like a TV director conducting an audition. But it was the third member of the party, a woman of about thirty, who really caught Claire’s attention. Nadine Hugo was small and very well groomed, as if she had just been taken out of a plastic wrapper. Her ginger hair was cut into a geometric style, her tawny eyes were enhanced by a mere suspicion of eyeshadow and she wore a tailored suit of lightweight pale green linen. In spite of the heat, her legs were encased in sheer stockings and white peep-toe shoes which showed off her tiny feet.

  ‘Hello,’ she murmured languidly, extending two beautifully manicured fingers to Claire.

  ‘Hello,’ said Claire. ‘Are you living in Tahiti, Miss Hugo, or just visiting for Paul and Marie Rose’s wedding?’

  Nadine shuddered.

  ‘Oh, just visiting,’ she replied. ‘I’m staying for six weeks and that’s quite long enough, believe me! Of course, Tahiti’s very pretty in a primitive sort of way, but there’s nothing to do here, is there?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ responded Claire with a twinge of annoyance. ‘Over a hundred thousand Tahitians seem to occupy themselves somehow.’

  A faint, superior smile hovered round the corners of Nadine’s glossy red lips.

  ‘Yes. Well, it’s lucky they’re easily pleased, isn’t it?’ she retorted. ‘But, as for me, I’ll be only too glad to return to Paris and the Montmartre cafés.’

  ‘Montmartre?’ echoed Claire. ‘Oh, then you really are a close neighbour of the Halévys!’

  ‘And the Charpentiers,’ added Nadine. ‘In fact, Alain and I often used to share a cab to work when he lived in Paris, didn’t we, chéri?’

  As she spoke, she put one arm around Alain’s shoulders and leaned her he
ad playfully against his arm. Her expression was so blatantly seductive that Claire expected Alain either to scowl or burst out laughing. But, to her dismay, he did neither. Instead he stood looking down at Nadine for a moment with a strangely nostalgic look in his dark eyes.

  ‘Ah, yes. Those were the days,’ he agreed with an undertone of bitterness. ‘Back when life was simple and I hadn’t fallen a victim to the lure of the South Seas. Perhaps I would have been wise to stay there.’

  ‘Perhaps you would,’ murmured Nadine. ‘But it’s not too late to change your mind.’

  A wave of uneasiness surged through Claire and she turned away, feeling as if she were spying on a private conversation. Did Nadine really have to gaze up at Alain with that breathless fervour, as if she were longing for him to fling her on one of the blue-cushioned lounge seats and ravish her? Even worse, did Alain have to look down at her as if he found the idea rather tempting? I wonder if a cab was all they shared in Paris, thought Claire sourly. Then, bringing her turbulent emotions firmly under control, she turned back to Alain with a cool smile.

  ‘I expect you’d like to get out beyond the reef before the rain starts,’ she pointed out. ‘Do you want me to cast off for you?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ growled Alain. ‘I can manage without your help.’

  His tone was abrupt, as if he hated the thought of owing anything to Claire, even the trivial favour of untying a rope from a bollard. Claire felt her entire body stiffen with resentment and her dark eyes flashed. For an instant she was on the point of turning her back on Alain and simply marching ashore, but Marie Rose was staring at her with a miserable, imploring expression. For an instant the friction between Alain and Claire scorched the air, as potent as the threat of approaching thunder. Then, with an uneasy glance at the two combatants, Charles Halévy stepped between them.

  ‘I’ll cast off for you, Alain,’ he offered. ‘After all, I wouldn’t want you to ruin that pretty dress, Miss Beaumont.’

  Claire smiled crookedly.

  ‘You’re very kind,’ she muttered. ‘And do please call me Claire.’

  Marie Rose gave a faint sigh of relief as the awkward moment passed and Alain sat down at the controls of the launch. Yet Charles was not so easily fobbed off and, when the older man returned, Claire was conscious of his shrewd blue eyes resting thoughtfully on her. However, he said nothing as the engines throbbed into life and Alain turned the craft towards the break in the reef.

  ‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ invited Alain, gesturing with one hand towards the luxurious, cushioned lounge seats that lined the walls. ‘I’ll get you all a drink once we’re clear of the harbour.’

  For some reason it annoyed Claire unbearably to see how Nadine Hugo immediately chose a seat right next to Alain’s swivel chair. Of course, this meant that when Alain turned his chair to look out to starboard his bare, tanned leg brushed against Nadine. Simpering idiot, thought Claire fiercely. Just look at her lapping it up while he apologises for touching her! And any fool can see she’d lie down and strip off every stitch she’s wearing if only he’d give the word. Although he’s just as bad, with those brooding, sidelong glances he keeps giving her. I don’t know where Marie Rose got the idea that he was in love with me, because he certainly doesn’t look at me that way. If he did, I wouldn’t just sit there with a half-witted grin on my face, I’d…I’d what? For an instant she let herself imagine Alain’s smouldering blue eyes searing down over her flesh while his lips curled with that hint of sensual abandonment. She had to admit that the thought was disturbing. Several wildly erotic fantasies flitted before her eyes and an aching throb of desire caught her completely by surprise. She shivered.

  ‘You’re not feeling sick, are you?’ asked Charles in a concerned voice. ‘It does look as though the weather is going to be rather rough out there.’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ protested Claire.

  But a glance through the wrap-around windows of the bridge convinced her that Charles was right. Beyond the reef the water was changing from deep blue to murky green and threatening masses of charcoal cloud were piling up above the horizon.

  ‘You don’t think it’s too dangerous to go, do you, Alain?’ asked Nadine uneasily.

  Alain shook his head.

  ‘No. It won’t be anything worse than a tropical thunder-shower,’ he replied. ‘Actually it can be quite exhilarating, provided you don’t suffer from seasickness.’

  Ten minutes later they discovered that he was right as there was a sudden rumble of thunder and the skies opened above them. Rain came hurtling against the windows in violent bursts and the launch thudded into the oncoming seas. Claire, who was an excellent sailor, stood with her legs braced to keep her balance and peered eagerly ahead, enjoying the way the boat moved beneath her like a live thing. But Nadine was not so fortunate. Above the roar of the weather she uttered a plaintive moan and then fled to the tiny bathroom amidships. When she returned, Alain cast her a concerned glance and patted her on the knee.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘But it’ll probably blow itself out by the time we reach Moorea. Why don’t you go and lie down in one of the cabins?’

  The squall continued thoughout the entire crossing, but suddenly, when they were only a couple of miles from Moorea, it lifted miraculously. Everyone except Alain, who was piloting the launch, and Nadine, who was convinced she was about to die, scrambled out on to the deck to watch the approach of the island. At first it seemed to float like a dark blue cloud between the sea and the sky, as mysterious and beautiful as a mirage. But as they came closer it took on shape and substance. Craggy peaks appeared, a lacy collar of foam marked the contours of the reef and coconut palms waved their fronds like green feather-dusters along the shore line.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ breathed Claire fervently, giving her sister a swift hug. ‘You are lucky, Marie Rose, to be marrying somebody you love and living in paradise.’

  Marie Rose squeezed Claire’s hand.

  ‘I only wish you were doing the same,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Oh, look! There’s Paul down on the wharf. Paul! Paul!’

  Marie Rose’s fiancé proved to be a large, blond, genial man who came forward to meet them as the launch pulled alongside the wharf. After kissing his parents on both cheeks, he lifted Marie Rose right off her feet, swung her in a whirling circle and deposited her giggling on the concrete. Then he greeted Nadine before turning to Claire.

  ‘It’s good to meet you at last,’ he said warmly, clasping both her hands in his. ‘Marie Rose has told me so much about you. She really misses you a lot, you know.’

  ‘I miss her too,’ replied Claire. ‘But I’m very happy for you both. I was thrilled when I heard you were getting married.’

  ‘Where would you like your parents’ suitcases, Paul?’ asked Alain, stepping ashore effortlessly with two heavy bags in his hands and another pair slung around his shoulders.

  Paul hurried to help him.

  ‘I’ve brought the hotel minibus,’ he said, gesturing to a smart blue and white vehicle twenty metres away. ‘I thought you might all like to do the circle island tour that we’ll be giving the hotel guests when they arrive.’

  Once aboard the bus, Paul swung himself into the driver’s seat and turned with a smile to the others.

  ‘Sit on the left side,’ he advised. ‘Then you’ll get a view of the sea.’

  Marie Rose, chattering a mile a minute, plumped herself down in the front passenger seat beside Paul. With so many spare places, the others could easily have occupied a windowseat apiece, but Nadine had other ideas. Sinking gracefully down, she patted the blue padded cushion beside her and smiled up at Alain.

  ‘Do sit beside me, Alain,’ she pouted. ‘Then you can explain all the sights to me.’

  There was very little that needed any explanation, Claire thought impatiently, as the bus pulled away from the wharf. Moorea was an idyllic place where man’s imprint was barely visible and the distant roar of the surf on the reef, the glimpses
of occasional thatched huts or outrigger canoes drawn up on a white sandy beach would have been more enjoyable without Nadine’s incessant babble. But as the bus made its way around the island at a leisurely pace of fifteen miles per hour, the French girl kept up a non-stop interrogation and commentary on everything she saw. ‘Alain, what are those spiky bushes growing over there? Pineapples? Is it true that vanilla was once the largest crop on the island? Did you know that the name Moorea means “yellow lizard”? Well, of course, you did, you’re an expert on French Polynesia, aren’t you? I’ve heard that all the local people want to do is enjoy themselves fishing and dancing. Is that true? Doesn’t it make it difficult to find reliable staff?’ And on and on. By the time they had reached Cook Bay, Denise Halévy had dozed off and Claire was ready to scream.

  How can Alain bear it? she wondered in disbelief. I know Nadine is glamorous and well dressed and he’s known her for aeons, but can’t he see how boring she is? To listen to her, you’d think she was an expert on the islands and yet she seems to have missed every single thing that makes them so special. She doesn’t even have the sensitivity to be quiet for a while and let the atmosphere of the place flow over her. So what on earth does Alain see in her?

  ‘Oh, look!’ cried Nadine, as they rounded a curve in the road.

  It was not the magnificent spectacle of the bay that she was pointing to with its sheet of glassy green water and the towering crags on the opposite shore, but a low building with a sign outside.

  ‘The Pearl Centre!’ exclaimed Nadine. ‘Oh, do stop, Paul! I desperately want to buy some black pearls to take back to Paris.’

  At the words ‘black pearls’ Denise Halévy woke with a start and added her entreaty to Nadine’s. With a grin and a shake of his head, Paul stopped the bus and let them all climb out. As Alain stepped to the ground, he turned and offered his hand to Nadine. It might have been only courtesy, but his gaze lingered on the opinionated little redhead far longer than mere courtesy demanded. There was something about that grave, searching expression that stabbed Claire to the heart. Even if he wasn’t in love with Nadine, it was clear that he felt a deep wholehearted respect for her—the sort of respect he had never felt for Claire. Which made it all the more distressing when he released Nadine’s hand and reached up to help Claire. She did not miss the small, contemptuous tightening of his mouth or the narrowing of his blue eyes as they met hers.