Tahitian Wedding

by Angela Devine

  ‘Won’t you miss the glamour and the jet-set lifestyle?’ he asked.

  She shook her head emphatically.

  ‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘In fact, I think I’ll enjoy doing Papa’s tours and trying to get the business on its feet. Besides, there are such wonderful places in the interior of the island that most people never see. I can’t wait to show them off to visitors.’

  ‘So you’re really prepared to drive a four-wheel vehicle over rugged terrain and get covered in mud and eaten up by mosquitoes, when you could be staying in glamorous hotels in London and New York?’ persisted Alain.

  Claire gave a gurgle of laughter.

  ‘Oh, don’t make me sound so heroic!’ she protested. ‘I’ll take my insect repellent along, I promise. And it really will be fun, Alain.’

  ‘It’s odd,’ muttered Alain, half to himself. ‘I’d always thought the good life was really important to you, but perhaps I was wrong. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help you, just ask me, won’t you? I’ve got a pretty good idea of how Roland was running the business.’

  A shadow passed across Claire’s face.

  ‘That reminds me,’ she said. ‘There is something I need to ask you. I want to know about the money Papa owes you.’

  The friendly warmth vanished from Alain’s face to be replaced by a forbidding scowl.

  ‘So you’ve been prying into that, have you?’ he demanded. ‘I might have known. Well, let me tell you, Claire, it’s none of your damned business!’

  ‘It certainly is my business if I’m the one who’s going to repay it,’ insisted Claire.

  ‘You don’t have to repay it, so that’s an end to the matter,’ snapped Alain.

  ‘No, it isn’t!’ cried Claire. ‘I’ll have to get my father to sign a power of attorney so I can carry on his business while he’s ill and that will give me a full legal right and duty to deal with his debts. So I want to know why he borrowed the money and when the repayment is due. There was no date given in that document.’

  Alain sighed impatiently.

  ‘You obstinate little…’ he breathed. ‘All right, I’ll tell you why. Roland borrowed the money from me because he wanted to give Marie Rose a big wedding.’

  ‘And you agreed, knowing that he had no hope of repaying it?’ cried Claire hotly. ‘I think that’s outrageous. You should never have let him do it.’

  ‘Ichi, ni, san, shi, go…‘ muttered Alain under his breath.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ demanded Claire.

  ‘I’m just counting up to ten in Japanese while I resist the urge to strangle you!’ retorted Alain.

  ‘I see,’ sneered Claire. ‘Well, that’s one way of changing the subject.’

  ‘I am not changing the subject,’ growled Alain. ‘It’s just that you make me so angry I could explode. Do you seriously think I had any intention of asking your father for repayment of that loan?’

  ‘So what was the point of having a signed agreement about it then?’ countered Claire.

  ‘Look,’ said Alain impatiently, ‘it was obvious from the start that a big wedding was beyond Roland’s means, so I offered to pay for it myself. After all, Paul is like a brother to me and I would have been happy to do it, but your father wouldn’t hear of it. He has his pride. So I offered him a loan, knowing that he’d never be able to pay me back and not expecting it. That way we were both happy.’

  ‘Well, I’m not!’ insisted Claire. ‘I have my pride too and, the way I see it, that’s a debt that my family owes to you and I intend to pay it.’

  ‘I don’t want your money!’ thundered Alain.

  ‘Well, you’re getting it whether you want it or not!’ retorted Claire.

  They sat glaring at each other across the table with their chins thrust out and their eyes blazing. Then Claire looked down and cleared her throat.

  ‘The only thing is that I may have to ask you to wait a while,’ she mumbled. ‘I have a flat in Sydney which I’ll try and sell, but it may take a while—’

  ‘Don’t be so damned ridiculous!’ said Alain through gritted teeth. ‘Do you have that document your father signed?’

  ‘Y-yes, it’s inside,’ stammered Claire.

  ‘Get it for me.’

  She returned a moment later with a folder, which she handed to Alain. He opened it, took out the document, perused it silently and then ripped it to shreds.

  ‘That should take care of that!’ he said with satisfaction.

  Claire sat gaping.

  ‘You can’t do that!’ she wailed.

  ‘I already have,’ pointed out Alain.

  ‘I’ll stick it together!’ she threatened wildly, snatching at the torn fragments.

  But Alain was too quick for her. His lean brown hand closed over hers and ruthlessly turned her clenched fist over. Then, as easily as if he were unfurling the petals of a flower, he prised her fingers apart and picked the shreds of paper out of them. With a bored expression he stuffed them into the pocket of his shorts.

  ‘Your honesty does you credit,’ he drawled lazily. ‘But I won’t allow you to ruin yourself out of stupid pride, Claire. Now tell me, when do you plan to start doing these tours?’

  She sat silently for a moment, her shoulders heaving as she fought for breath. It was humiliating to be beaten in such an absurd contest of strength and she could not miss the gleam of amusement in Alain’s narrowed blue eyes.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said stormily, tossing her head. ‘As soon as possible, I suppose.’

  Alain smiled with infuriating smugness.

  ‘Well, you’ll need to know the route before you do anything else,’ he said. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock tomorrow morning and take you on the tour myself.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  CLAIRE woke early the next morning with a pleased sense of anticipation. For a moment she lay staring at the ripples of sunlight dancing on her bedroom wall, then memory came surging back. Of course. Alain was taking her on the inland tour today. In spite of her various worries, a surge of excitement bubbled up inside her. For the first time she really felt convinced that everything was going to end happily. Her boss in Sydney had granted her extra leave from her job. Her father had spoken to her on the phone and was doing well. She had contacted Marie Rose, who had taken the news with her usual sturdy common sense. And Alain, while he might be arrogant and infuriating, was obviously going to do all he could to help her. Claire was singing light-heartedly when at last she padded along to the shower. But not for long.

  ‘Oooh!’ she gasped, as a hail of freezing water shot her in the back.

  Five minutes later as she stood towelling her hair in the kitchen and watching the coffee bubble, Claire was still covered in goose bumps. A knock at the door caught her by surprise as she stood rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.

  ‘What? Shivering in the tropics?’ demanded Alain incredulously, as she opened the glass door. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  Claire giggled.

  ‘You would if you’d washed your hair under our shower,’ she assured him. ‘I’m sure that thermostat has packed up again and something tells me Papa is never going to get his ticket as a plumber. Well, never mind that. Why didn’t you come to the front entrance?’

  ‘I did,’ said Alain drily. ‘But your doorbell’s not working either.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ groaned Claire. ‘I can see there are a few things I’ll have to get organised around here.’

  ‘If you give me a list of what needs to be done, I’ll see to it for you,’ offered Alain.

  Claire stiffened.

  ‘There’s no need,’ she said in a small, tight voice.

  ‘Just as you like,’ replied Alain with a shrug. ‘Any chance of a cup of coffee before we leave?’

  Thankful for something to do, she poured him a cup of fragrant black coffee. As they drank, she watched him covertly. She felt ashamed of being so prickly, but her family’s comparative poverty embarrassed her and made her feel defensiv
e, especially when Alain had already done so much for them. And yet deep down, she could not help admiring the careless generosity that made him tear up a loan agreement and offer to take on her burdens. If only he loved her as she did him, she would accept gratefully. As it was, pride would not allow her to owe him anything.

  ‘Well, are you ready, then?’ asked Alain, draining his cup.

  Claire stood up and nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling in her pocket for the keys to the four-wheel-drive vehicle.

  ‘You look very nice in that outfit,’ said Alain, glancing down over her trim white blouse and yellow shorts. ‘But you’ll need a jacket to wear up on Mount Marau. And a swimsuit if you want to go in the pool at the Faarumai Falls.’

  He himself was dressed in blue shorts and a striped polo shirt, but he had an expensive-looking beige windbreaker slung carelessly under one arm.

  ‘All right,’ agreed Claire. ‘Just a jiffy.’

  As they left Papeete behind them and headed up into the hills, she felt a marvellous sense of freedom sweep through her. Alain had insisted on driving, so that she was able to enjoy the breathtaking views as the shoreline dropped steadily away behind them.

  ‘Now, when you get off the tarmac on to the dirt road up here, it’s very important to get out of your vehicle and turn on the four-wheel-drive,’ announced Alain. ‘Never, never forget to do it, because these mountain roads are very dangerous, especially in wet weather. And if you go over the edge, it’s a very long way down. Are you listening to me?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ said Claire meekly, dragging herself away from contemplating the panorama below.

  ‘All right. Well, hop out and I’ll show you how to change over to four-wheel-drive,’ ordered Alain. ‘Unfortunately in the older models like this you have to get out of the car and engage the hubs on the front wheels to do it. That can be a damned nuisance in the middle of a tropical downpour, but don’t ever be tempted to neglect it. I don’t want you going over the edge of a precipice. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes!’ agreed Claire impatiently.

  She sighed as she followed Alain out of the car. In her opinion he was making entirely too much fuss about the four-wheel-drive, but no doubt it was all part of his complex personality.

  ‘Does everything you’re involved in have to be perfect?’ she complained, as he crouched down beside the wheel.

  His dark eyebrows drew together in an arrogant frown.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied curtly. ‘I like to feel that I have things under control, that everything will work the way I want it. Is there anything wrong with that?’

  There was a challenging note in his voice and Claire felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She shrugged.

  ‘No-o,’ she admitted. ‘Probably not, if you’re only dealing with four-wheel-drives, but what about when it comes to people? Do you apply that principle to them too?’

  A smile twisted Alain’s lips into a momentary sneer.

  ‘Unfortunately I don’t seem to have the same success at making people behave the way I want,’ he retorted. ‘Now, all you have to do is turn this knob, see?’

  She knelt beside him and peered at the knob on the hub cap. If they had been lovers, she would have slipped her arm around his waist and laid her head briefly against his shoulder. For a moment she was tempted to do it anyway. She could almost feel his warmth and the hardness of his arm coming down to grip her. A shudder went through her and she stepped hastily back.

  ‘Yes. I see. Thank you,’ she said jerkily.

  A look of grim amusement flashed across his face as if he had read her thoughts. Then he rose to his feet.

  ‘We’d better get moving,’ he announced. ‘We have a lot of ground to cover.’

  Claire’s thoughts were whirling furiously as the vehicle took off again, carrying them up a sheer hillside, where market gardens were hewn out of the steep red earth. She had always loved these trips into the interior of the island as a child, but now she scarcely noticed the scenery that was unfolding around her. Down to the right, the land fell away in a precipitous green blur until it collided with the sea far below. To her left was the rainforest, lush and tangled, with occasional rampant bursts of pink and orange lantana or delicate green spider ferns. The sound of running water assaulted her ears above the grinding roar of the car’s engine and sunlight flashed intermittently through the windscreen in a weird Morse code of light and shadow. Yet Claire noticed little of this. Her attention was completely taken up by the man who sat hunched over the wheel, sending the vehicle hurtling up the mountainside in controlled bursts of hard driving.

  Alain’s whole posture seemed to radiate energy, power and a bitter, consuming frustration. Claire had no clear idea of what impelled him so violently, but she had her suspicions. Her own body was vibrating like a tautly stretched string at the realisation of his nearness. That brief, unfulfilling kiss the previous day had woken a hunger in her that clamoured for satisfaction and she was willing to bet that Alain was suffering in the same way. Desire, after all, was no respecter of persons. The fierce, voracious need that made her want to trail her fingers teasingly down Alain’s hard, muscular thigh was probably tormenting him in exactly the same fashion. And the fact that she loved him with an aching sweetness that thrilled through her in waves, while he in all probability still despised her, really had nothing to do with it. It was all just a cosmic joke, nature’s little trick to ensure the survival of the species. Nothing more than a primitive instinct, in fact. But perhaps primitive instincts had quite a lot to be said for them? In an earlier and more primitive time, wouldn’t Alain simply have led her into the jungle and taken her? The thought sent such a sharp quiver of longing through her that she caught her breath.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ growled Alain.

  ‘N-nothing,’ she replied hastily.

  But everything was wrong. She admitted that to herself when they climbed out of the vehicle on the summit of Mount Marau. It was unexpectedly chilly up here, with razor-sharp mountain peaks looming out of the drifting fog and an icy breeze that tugged at her hair and sent it flying in long, dark skeins across her face. She wished that she hadn’t come or that things were different between her and Alain so that she could huddle laughing into his embrace and enjoy the exhilaration of this eyrie in the clouds. Yet Alain showed no sign of wanting to embrace her. Instead he hunched his shoulders, dug his fists deep into the pockets of his windbreaker and jerked his head towards the plunging abysses and jagged green peaks in front of them.

  ‘Well, there you are,’ he shouted above the breeze. ‘Tahiti’s Grand Canyon. And, after you’ve shown the tourists that, I suggest you take them down to sea-level and thaw them out. You can always tell them a few stories about explorers and cannibals on the way.’

  Perhaps to cover his own disquiet, he did exactly this, and Claire was fascinated to find out how much he actually knew about Tahiti’s history. As he sent the car hurtling round the hairpin bends, he talked about the voyages of Cook and Bougainville as vividly as if he had first seen the islands from the crow’s nest of a sailing ship.

  ‘What made you settle in Tahiti, Alain?’ asked Claire curiously. ‘Didn’t you like France?’

  Alain’s eyes narrowed keenly, as if he were staring down a long tunnel into the past.

  ‘No, it wasn’t that,’ he murmured. ‘I still have business interests in Paris and I fly there quite often. And enjoy it. But Tahiti seems to have reached out and assaulted me from the very first day I set foot here. It was a total culture shock, coming from the roar of traffic and the throng of people to this incredible jewel of a place. In a way I resented it.’

  He stopped abruptly, as if he had said too much.

  ‘Why?’ asked Claire swiftly.

  Alain drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  ‘Does it matter?’ he retorted.

  ‘Yes,’ said Claire slowly. ‘Look, Alain, I don’t want to pry, I’m only trying to understand the way you feel about things that are impo
rtant to you. It seems crazy to me that we’ve been through things like my father’s heart attack together and yet I still don’t really know you. I always end up talking silly small talk with you and I hate conversations like that. But you don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather not.’

  Alain was silent for a moment, scowling at the road ahead. Then suddenly he spoke in a curiously clipped monotone.

  ‘Well, if you must know,’ he said, ‘I resented Tahiti because, once I arrived here, my life seemed to change in ways I couldn’t control and it alarmed me. I felt torn in two directions, because I knew I’d have to make a choice between the old life and the new. And being in love didn’t make it any easier.’

  He darted her a brief, slanting look that was cool and almost hostile. Claire’s heart began to pound violently. What on earth did he mean? Was he talking about his broken engagement or was Marie Rose right? Had Alain really been in love with her, Claire Beaumont, six years ago? The mere thought made her dizzy with hope and terror. Yet surely he wouldn’t be talking so calmly if that was what he meant? She must stop leaping to such ridiculous conclusions. What a fool she would make of herself if she weren’t careful!

  ‘In love?’ she croaked, desperately trying to conceal her agitation. ‘Oh, you mean with Nadine?’

  Alain’s gaze steadied on the approaching outskirts of the town.

  ‘No, not with Nadine,’ he said wryly. ‘Although that might have made things simpler. With somebody else, but it’s not important now. Look, shall we drive to the Arahoho blowhole on our way to the falls? I’m not sure whether your father includes it, but it might make an interesting visit for your tourists.’

  The thunderous tumult of Claire’s pulses gradually quietened as they drove south on the coast road. For one wild, intoxicating moment she had thought Alain was telling her obliquely that he had once loved her, although, as she watched his granite profile, that interpretation seemed less and less likely. Her turmoil slowly ebbed away, but her exhilaration vanished with it. She was conscious only of a bleak, twisting misery when at last Alain parked the car and led her along to the blowhole.