Tahitian Wedding

by Angela Devine

  As she stumbled across the room, she bumped straight into Danny. He looked down at her with concern.

  ‘You’re awfully pale, mate. Everything all right?’

  Tears blurred her eyes and she snatched an agonised glance over her shoulder at Alain before looking up at the brawny cameraman.

  ‘It’s just the heat,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I’ll slip outside for some fresh air.’

  Danny’s hazel eyes took on a murderous glint as his gaze followed hers to where Alain stood. Putting one arm protectively round her shoulders, he gave her a gentle push towards the door.

  ‘Go on then, love,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘And if that bastard tries to follow you, I’ll thump him.’

  Threading her way through the densely packed guests, Claire slipped out of the reception room on to a spacious patio surrounding a pool. Even here, there were waiters with trays of golden, bubbling champagne held high above their heads, the hum of lively conversation, bursts of sudden laughter. Slipping between the groups of chattering people, she turned a corner, skipped hastily down some stairs and found herself on a secluded deck overlooking the lagoon. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Yet even here she was not alone. A thickset man seated on a garden chair, glanced up guiltily at her approach. Claire gave a low gasp of surprise.

  ‘Papa! Whatever are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Just having a little rest,’ he muttered. ‘I sneaked away.’

  As she came closer she saw with concern that his lips were blue and that he panted slightly as he spoke.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked in dismay. ‘Shall I fetch a doctor? Or Maman?’

  She was already moving backwards, ready to fetch help, but he seized her wrist and shook his head.

  ‘No, chérie,’ he begged. ‘It’s nothing new, this breathlessness, and I’ve taken my tablets. All I need to do now is give them a chance to work. And I don’t want to go upsetting Marie Rose on her big day. You just let me sit here for a while and I’ll be fine again.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Claire unhappily. ‘But I’m going to stay and make sure that you are.’

  She sat down on another chair beside him and he kept hold of her hand, as he laboured for breath. After a while, she was relieved to see some colour creep back into his grey face. Then he gave her a familiar, conspiratorial wink.

  ‘Well, who’d have thought it?’ he mused, gesturing up the stairs. ‘Little Marie Rose married, eh? Odd, you know. I always thought you’d be the first, being two years older and the pretty one.’

  ‘Don’t, Papa!’ begged Claire. ‘I’ve got my career, you know.’

  Her father stared at her searchingly.

  ‘But are you sure that’s enough for you?’ he asked in a troubled voice. ‘I don’t know, Claire, I’m not an educated man and I never made a real success of any job I had. But I do know this. You two girls and your mother have always meant everything in the world to me, far more than any career ever could have done. And I don’t like to think of you missing out on that kind of happiness.’

  Claire forced a smile.

  ‘Oh, I’m not missing out on anything, Papa!’ she assured him. ‘I’m perfectly happy with my job. I always have been.’

  Roland sighed.

  ‘Well, if you say so,’ he agreed dubiously. ‘And you know I’m proud of you, chérie. But if I’d known what was going to happen when you went off to Australia, I’m not sure that I’d have let you go. I only wanted you to see a bit of the world and stretch your wings for a year or so. I never dreamt you’d stay there permanently.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ murmured Claire inadequately.

  ‘Don’t be,’ urged Roland. ‘It’s your life. But I can’t help feeling sad that you didn’t settle here in Tahiti. The place just doesn’t seem the same without you.’

  Claire was touched by the pathos of these words, delivered with such simplicity. Putting one arm around her father’s shoulders, she stared out at the blue vista of the ocean beneath them and bit her lip. Her throat tightened as she thought of leaving her family yet again. But as long as Alain Charpentier continued to hate her, there was no way she could remain in Tahiti. Whatever she felt for him, whether love or some strange alchemy of the emotions, she could not bear to stay here and know that he detested her.

  ‘Come on,’ she said brightly, jumping to her feet and offering her hand to Roland. ‘They’ll be cutting the cake soon and it would never do for us to miss that.’

  They arrived back in the reception room just as the waiters were setting up the three-tiered white wedding cake on the central table. Marie Rose and Paul stood beaming joyfully in their wedding finery while cameras flashed and female relatives dabbed their eyes. Then the toasts began. It was the usual routine for any wedding, but Claire found her heart beating faster when Paul proposed a toast to the bridesmaid and Alain replied on her behalf. She had half feared that he would make some sardonic remark, but Alain was nothing, if not correct. His compliments about her beauty and talent would have touched her profoundly, if only he had looked at her as he spoke. Instead, he stared at a spot just beyond her left shoulder, effectively avoiding all contact with her. She was glad when she looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was time for Marie Rose to go and change. At least the ordeal would be over soon.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged, gripping her sister by the elbow. ‘You and Paul will miss your flight to Europe if you don’t leave soon.’

  Ten minutes later, Marie rose appeared dressed in a chic apple-green suit and everyone crowded out on to the hotel steps to bid a last farewell to the newlyweds.

  ‘Wait, wait,’ cried Marie Rose, as Paul tried to coax her away from embracing relatives and into the waiting car. ‘There’s one more thing I have to do!’

  She brandished her wedding bouquet and smiled mischievously.

  ‘I know it’s not the custom in Tahiti,’ she said. ‘But in Australia, where my mother grew up, brides throw their bouquet to the unmarried women and whoever catches it will be the next one to marry. So, line up, girls!’

  There were squeals of excitement as all the unmarried females from eight to seventy-two took their places.

  ‘Ready?’ cried Marie Rose.

  Then, with unashamed favouritism, she flung the bouquet high over the heads of everyone else and into her sister’s hands. Claire let out a groan of laughter.

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ she protested, but there were whistles and cheers from the other guests.

  ‘You’ll be next,’ said one of her cousins teasingly.

  ‘No, I won’t!’ vowed Claire. ‘I don’t intend to marry, so I’m afraid it will be a case of “Always a bridesmaid, never a bride”!’

  ‘Just as well,’ muttered Alain under his breath.

  Claire heard the remark and half turned to face him. She felt as shocked and dismayed as if he had struck her. Suddenly, amid all that laughing, milling crowd, it was as if they were alone.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ she challenged, hating herself for rising to the bait, but unable to resist.

  ‘Because I can’t imagine you ever being content with one man,’ was the cruel reply.

  Claire felt her cheeks grow hot with anger and humiliation. But at that moment there was a sudden uproarious cheer, as the car, weighted down with boots and old tin cans, pulled out of the driveway. She waved and shouted along with everyone else and felt herself grow a little calmer. Well, at least nobody heard Alain say that, she told herself. Nobody else realises how much he dislikes me. But she was wrong. When she turned back towards the hotel foyer she saw her father gazing from her to Alain with a look of anxious bewilderment on his face.

  ‘What’s wrong between you two?’ he asked, as they went back into the hotel. ‘Why was Alain so rude to you?’

  ‘It’s nothing. Nothing, Papa,’ she said in a strained voice. ‘Please don’t give it a moment’s thought.’

  Yet she could see her father’s uneasiness as they
stood farewelling the other guests and, when it was time for the Beaumonts themselves to leave, she made a valiant effort to reassure him. Alain came to the front door of the hotel to see them into their car and Claire did something which surprised him very much. After her parents had said goodbye and climbed into the car, she stood on tiptoe and kissed Alain warmly on both cheeks. He looked startled.

  ‘Thank you for everything,’ said Claire, enunciating crisply. ‘You’ve really helped to give Marie Rose an unforgettable wedding. But I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you too. You’ve been wonderful.’

  Alain’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He gripped her arms and his fingers dug into her flesh.

  ‘You’re lying,’ he breathed. ‘Why?’

  Claire darted a swift, anxious glance at her father, cocooned behind the windows of the car, but watching her and Alain with interest. Turning away so that Roland could not read her lips, she spat out her response.

  ‘All right, I’m lying,’ she hissed. ‘But I’m prepared to lie in a good cause. My father heard what you said to me and it upset him. He’s not well and I don’t want him to worry, so, if you’ve any compassion at all, for heaven’s sake play along with me.’

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Alain swept her into a crushing hug.

  ‘I’ve missed you so badly while you were away,’ he said hoarsely. ‘But it’s been wonderful to see you again. I’m only sorry that you have to leave so soon.’

  Claire felt a heart-stopping moment of pure joy as his arms tightened around her. Then she reminded herself fiercely that this was only acting.

  ‘Yes, well,’ she replied briskly. ‘It’s been lovely to see you too, Alain, but I’ve got my job to get back to. Still, if I come again next year, maybe we can get together.’

  Alain had his back to the car, so it did not matter that his eyes became suddenly hostile.

  ‘Maybe we can,’ he agreed indifferently. ‘But I’ll say goodbye now. I’m off to Bora Bora on Monday, so I don’t suppose we’ll see each other again.’

  Claire swallowed the lump in her throat.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose we will,’ she said.

  He seemed on the point of saying something else, but then he evidently changed his mind. Clamping his lips together, he turned and wrenched open the car door.

  ‘Get in,’ he ordered.

  And, without another word, he slammed the door and walked away. Claire was still gazing after him when another figure appeared beside the car.

  ‘Danny!’ she exclaimed, winding down the window.

  ‘You look a bit down in the mouth, love,’ said the good-natured Australian. ‘Weddings do that to people, don’t they? So listen, what do you say to going out on the town with me for a few hours?’

  Claire shot a quick glance at the hotel entrance, where Alain was standing with his arms folded and a grim expression on his face. Yet she could have sworn he was listening. A defiant rush of adrenalin surged through her. Well, she’d show him a thing or two!

  ‘Good idea, sweetheart,’ she replied clearly. And for good measure she gave the startled Danny a provocative kiss on the lips. ‘Pick me up in half an hour.’

  * * *

  In a curious way the evening with Danny helped to soothe Claire’s troubled feelings. Not that it was in any way the sizzling orgy which she hoped Alain was imagining. After so many years of working with Danny, Claire felt she could trust him like a brother. And, like a brother, he joked and teased and coaxed her out of her misery. Danny’s view of the situation was extremely simple. If Alain was going to treat Claire decently, she should stay and marry him. If not, Danny would personally disembowel him and then put Claire on a plane for Sydney. This barbarous solution to her problems made Claire choke with laughter and Danny quickly followed up his advantage by persuading her to dance. After several hours amid the raucous vitality of the La Cave nightclub her spirits were restored. But it’s like taking aspirin for an aching tooth, she thought as they drove back to Acajou Beach at two o’clock in the morning. It doesn’t really change anything, it only numbs the pain for a while.

  Yet as they turned into her parents’ yard, the pain flared up again with agonising insistence. Alain’s Citroën was parked in the driveway and there were lights on in the house.

  ‘I hope nothing’s wrong,’ said Claire on a sharp, rising intonation. ‘That’s Alain’s car there!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ soothed Danny. ‘They’re probably just continuing the wedding party.’

  But Claire was already wrenching open the car door and racing across the uneven lawn. As she reached the steps of the front veranda, a dark figure appeared against the lighted doorway. A chill sense of foreboding clutched at Claire’s stomach.

  ‘Alain!’ she cried. ‘Where are my parents? What’s going on?’

  He was down the stairs in an instant and gripping her shoulders.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded harshly. ‘I’ve had men looking for you all over town for the last two hours.’

  ‘But why?’ she croaked. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Your father’s had another heart attack,’ he said heavily.

  She reeled and would have fallen if he had not caught her.

  ‘He’s not—?’ she began.

  ‘No! But it’s serious.’

  Raising one hand to her face, she shook her head distractedly.

  ‘Where is he?’ she demanded, her voice rising and growing more shrill. ‘I must go to him! And Maman…oh, heavens, it’s all my fault! I should never have gone out and left them.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd!’ snapped Alain. ‘It could have happened at any moment. And your mother’s coping very well. I saw her safely aboard the ambulance myself.’

  Claire gave him a dazed look.

  ‘What were you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Eve phoned me as soon as she had called the ambulance. Luckily I arrived just before he went into cardiac arrest. But between us we gave him mouth to mouth and cardiopulmonary massage until the ambulance came.’

  Claire shuddered.

  ‘Thank you,’ she choked.

  He took her hand. There was nothing sexual in that warm contact, but Claire found it infinitely comforting. Another involuntary shudder went through her and she squeezed Alain’s fingers tightly, gripping on to him as if he could save her from disaster. His hand gripped hers back for a brief moment, then he thrust her towards his car.

  ‘Come on! Let’s get moving,’ he ordered curtly.

  Danny was standing on the lawn and he came forward as they neared the Citroën.

  ‘I heard everything,’ he explained. ‘Is there any way I can help?’

  ‘No,’ said Alain brusquely.

  Danny took Claire’s hand and squeezed it hard.

  ‘Good luck, love,’ he muttered. ‘Let me know how it goes.’ Then he ran to move his hire car so that Alain could get out of the driveway.

  From that point onwards, the whole night seemed to dissolve into a whirling kaleidoscope of fractured images for Claire. The suburbs of Papeete with sulphur-yellow street-lights and stately palm trees. The polished floors and white lights and echoing voices of the hospital. And hours and hours of waiting in a small, bare room with shuttered windows and old copies of Paris Match lying on a table. Until shortly after dawn when slits of red-gold light filtered through the shutters and a grave-faced doctor came and asked for Madame Beaumont. Claire gripped Alain’s hand again, unaware that she had suddenly turned as pale as the wall behind her. Oh, let him be all right, she prayed silently. Please, please, let Papa be all right. Tears pricked her eyes and spilt over on her cheeks as she watched her mother’s blurred figure walk out of the room.

  Eve was gone for several minutes and when she came back she was crying openly. A cold feeling went through Claire’s entire body and she rose to her feet in sickening slow motion.

  ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ she said through frozen lips.

  Somewhere, far off, sh
e felt Alain’s arm tighten protectively round her shoulders.

  ‘Dead? No!’ choked Eve exultantly. ‘I’m only crying because it’s such a blessed, blessed relief. He’s regained consciousness and there’s no sign of brain damage. Your Papa’s going to live, Claire! He’s going to live!’

  They all went slightly crazy at the news, hugging each other and laughing. Claire came back to earth to find herself squeezed hard against Alain’s muscular chest with the scent of his cologne in her nostrils and the warmth of his arms around her. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she wriggled free and smiled at him uncertainly.

  ‘Well, what do we do now?’ she asked.

  ‘I can drive you both back home, if you like,’ suggested Alain.

  ‘Not me,’ replied Eve firmly. ‘Although Roland is conscious, the doctors haven’t allowed me in to see him yet and I’m not leaving until they do. But if you could take Claire home, Alain, that would be very kind.’

  ‘But don’t you want me to stay with you, Maman?’ asked Claire.

  ‘No, dear,’ said her mother. ‘It’s no use. They won’t let anyone else see Papa today and there are the chickens and the dog waiting to be fed at home.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ agreed Claire doubtfully. ‘You will get a taxi when you’re ready to come home, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, darling,’ promised Eve. ‘Now, off you go, both of you. And thank you, Alain. You were wonderful.’

  ‘Maman’s right, Alain,’ Claire agreed in a strained voice. ‘You were wonderful. I don’t know what we would have done without you. You were so calm and dependable.’

  His dark blue eyes met hers, with that intense, brooding look that seemed to mask some hidden sorrow or anger. Then he looked bleakly away and addressed his reply to Eve.

  ‘I hope you’ll always feel you can depend on me,’ he said.

  CHAPTER FIVE