Bride's Dilemma

by Violet Winspear

  “Well, here's my sprig, Tina,” he smiled—that endearing tinge of color seeping under his tanned skin and getting right at Tina. Shy and uncertain as she felt, she wanted to put her arms round man and child and offer all the love she was capable of.

  “Go and say hullo to Tina,” John gave Liza’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

  The child dug her toes into the carpet, then she came a step or two in Tina’s direction and shyly held out her hand. “How do you do, Miss—I mean—Tina?”

  Tina quivered into a smile. Liza was leggy and thin, with a straight black fringe above deep hyacinth-blue eyes. “Mayn’t I kiss you, Liza?” she asked.

  It was a delicate moment, and even as a faint hiss came from Paula, a flush lit the child’s rather sallow skin and she gave her cheek to Tina’s kiss. Then she stepped back against John, and he, scooping her up in his arms once more, told her to say good night to everyone and carried her away to her bed.

  As he carried me, last night, Tina reflected.

  “It looks as though you’ll get along all right with the kid,” Ralph smiled encouragingly. “She’s a nice little thing. Takes after John more than—” There he broke off and looked a trifle embarrassed.

  “Oh, go on, Ralph,” Paula had turned to the glass-fronted drinks cabinet and was helping herself to another drink, “finish what you were about to say. Liza doesn’t take after Joanna. She hasn’t her looks, or that highly strung tendency to channel all her love into one direction.”

  “The kid’s more normal,” Ralph muttered, shooting a look that was half irritated, half worried at his sister. “As soon as John comes back we’ll be off home, I think. He and Tina have had a long day of it. They’ll want to get off to bed.”

  Paula stood draped against the glossy wood of the drinks cabinet, black chiffon falling back and revealing the pale cream of her arm as she raised her glass to her lips. “I take it you didn’t have much time for a honeymoon, Tina?” she said. “Tell me, exactly how long have you known John ?”

  “Long enough,” Tina retorted spiritedly, a little more confident of her position here now she had met and had a minor success with Liza. The child was not going to be an additional problem, thank goodness', while Ralph Garrish was obviously on her side. He was loyal to John. He would be her friend, as well.

  “We live about three miles away, Tina, and we’ll look forward to a visit from you,” he said, as though picking up the thread of her thought. “I’ll show you over the plantation. I know you’ll enjoy seeing how we grow the fruit and process it.”

  “That’s a date,” Tina smiled back, a quick gleam of interest lighting her eyes.

  “It’s one of the most productive plantations on the island and John nets a very nice income from it,” Paula’s tones had grown edged, her glance travelled up from Tina’s brand new shoes to her simple but beautifully cut suit. It was plain what her glance was hinting at, and Tina felt a sudden rush of antagonism towards this green-eyed, strangely fascinating woman. It wasn’t possible that they could ever have been friends. It looked, instead, as though they were going to be enemies, and Tina was far from experienced in dealing with the thrusts Paula Carrish looked capable of inflicting.

  It was a relief to see John striding back into the salon, a lingering smile of tenderness on his mouth. “The young monkey’s asleep at last,” he said. “Your meeting with her went quite well, eh, Tina? A bit of luck, that.”

  “Tina’s very obvious youth probably helped there.” Paula drawled. Then with a bland smile die added: “We’ve an interesting new addition to our island society, John. A French bachelor. Will it be all right if I bring him along for drinks one evening? He’s interested in the arts.”

  “By all means bring him,” John agreed. “What’s he doing on the island? Enjoying a vacation?” “He’s rich, darling,” she swung a leopard wrap around her shoulders. “Pleases himself what he does and where he goes. Quite a character, isn’t he, Ralph?”

  Ralph did a grin. “I guess a female might think so. Most of you women go for husky heartbreak-ers, don’t you?”

  “Do we?” His sister flickered a look that was almost deliberate over John’s lean, faintly sardonic face. “Well, so long for now, Johnny—Tina.”

  As Ralph said goodnight to Tina, there was a questing look in his eyes and she guessed what was on his mind. She would have to be pretty slow not to sum up his sister’s feelings for John, and Ralph, quite naturally, was disturbed by the situation. He had in fact the look of a man torn by conflicting loyalties, and Tina, whose own love was an emotion leavened by pain, gave him a steady, understanding smile.

  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Tina,” he said, then he flipped a hand in John’s direction, after which Paula and he were escorted to the front door by the colored butler. There was a faint roar as a sports car shot away into the night.

  “Paula’s at the wheel!” John’s smile was tautly savage as he glanced at Tina. Then he came across to her and took her by the shoulders. “You’ve made a hit with Ralph. He's a nice guy, isn’t he? You and he are two of a kind.”

  “Why, am I nice?” Tina’s faintly shy smile slanted her cheekbones and gave her an impish look. Now she had met Paula she knew she was going to have to fight every inch of the way to keep the husband who might harbor a tormenting desire for that cream-skinned, magnetic creature. She who had stood and watched as his first wife drowned! Who had wanted him then—and who had not stopped wanting him!

  “Are you trying to vamp me?” John pushed a strand of flaxen hair behind her ear and watched amusedly for her inevitable blush. When it came— darn it!—he held her to his chest and softly laughed her name against her temple. “You’re falling asleep on your feet, child. Let’s go to bed!” They crossed the hall to that grand staircase of massive oak, its newel posts capped with urns of carved flowers and vinery, and John called out to Nathaniel to lock up. They mounted the stairs and the intimacy of it was something private and lovely. She had come home, perhaps to an unsettling atmosphere, but she had courage and she had hope.

  Their rooms were separated by an attractive little lounge with arched entrances at either side, screened by golden brocade drapes. Tina’s overnight case had been unpacked and her nightwear was laid out on her wide divan bed, whose lavender cover flounced to the flowering lilac carpet which matched the silken sweep of the curtains. Here again the panelling was honey-hued, there were mirrored dress closets, silk-shaded lamps on amber stands, and ribbed velvet bedroom chairs. Her dressing-table was lit by gilt lamps with silk half-shades, and laid out on the plate-glass top there was her new brush and comb set, crinoline-lady bowls, a chased silver box, presumably for her trinkets, and cut-glass sprays waiting to be filled with her favorite perfume.

  The pastel loveliness of the room took her breath away. Everything was so fresh and new that she couldn’t help but guess that John had wired orders, specific ones, regarding the furnishing of his bride’s bedroom. As she gazed around her, she wondered if the room had once been occupied by Joanna. The color scheme would have been different, not these pastels that suited her own fair looks, but colors more specific—perhaps exotic.

  Tina prepared for bed, tired out and yet so restless that she had to go out on her balcony for a few minutes. A mass of jasmine cloaked her balcony parapet, rustling and scented. The night air was still quite warm, stirring against her bare throat, where a pulse hammered as John came out of the adjoining balcony belonging to the lounge between their rooms. The light behind him framed his dark head and square, strong shoulders under the grey silk of his robe.

  “Feeling homesick for England ?” he asked her gently.

  “Not really. I’m just enjoying a breather before turning in. The air’s intoxicating. I’m drunk with the scents—there must be a thousand of them flying about like those big moths.”

  He smiled, his hands thrust into his pockets. “What did you think of Liza?”

  “She’s like you, John.” Tina’s eyes could have given her awa
y, so she directed her gaze towards the dark, cicada-haunted garden. “Did she say anything about me?”

  “She said you were little, and that you looked kind.” His voice had roughened slightly, as though he were moved to emotion by the thought of his young daughter. “I told you, didn’t I, that you’d have little trouble winning her affection?”

  “It’s an enormous relief,” Tina said, with a shaky laugh. “Just think of the added complication if Liza had taken a dislike to me?”

  “What do you mean exactly by ‘added complication,’ Tina?” He spoke rather sharply, and when she shot a look at him she saw that he was frowning. Panic struck through her heart. What had made her say such a thing just as John had drawn closer to her!

  “I didn’t mean anything specific, John.” In her distress she gripped the iron lacing of the parapet between them. “It was just a figure of speech.” “It was nothing of the sort,” he cut in. “If every ravishing woman you meet out here is going to be a cause for suspicion, then we’re in for a jolly time.” Suddenly he leaned closer to the parapet, his eyes stabbing blue fires at her. “Let’s get something straight, I want peace from my second marriage, not jealousy and scenes. Sleep on it, eh?”

  She nodded dumbly, and watched him swing on his heel and disappear through the french windows of the lounge. The light plunged out, and shivering now in the warm, scented darkness Tina groped with the curtains of her room and let them fall into place behind her, shutting out the starlight. Her heart felt banded by pain. It wasn’t enough to love someone. You had to trust them, and the atmosphere there had been between John and Paula Carrish did not make for a feeling of trust.

  Chapter Five

  TINA awoke to dazzling sunshine and the beaming, coffee colored face of a trimly uniformed maid who was holding a tray with tea things on it.

  “I’se Topaz ma’am.” Splendid teeth sparkled, matching the bluey whites of the colored woman’s eyes. “Massa John, he give orders fo’ you to have tea, an’ he say he join you fo’ breakfast after he take his mornin’ swim.”

  Topaz had looped back the mosquito netting and Tina sat up, pushing the tumbling hair away from her eyes, the sun glistening on it and bringing a rather awed look into the maid’s eyes as she settled the teatray across Tina’s lap. It stood on little legs and was attractively fashioned from bamboo. Tina poured herself a cup of tea and added cream from a little silver pitcher. She smiled at Topaz. “You’re Joe’s wife, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Lahd, ma’am, that I is.” Topaz rolled her eyes, back-slanting and moistly dark. “Him like a big pickney mos' times, but all right, I guess.”

  Tina laughed and sipped her tea, which was a trifle weak and brewed she suspected from tea bags. “I thought he seemed very nice, and very able. Have you both worked here at Blue Water House a long time?”

  “Me gettin’ dis job only since you come, mistress.” Topaz ran proud, pink-palmed hands down the crisp sides of her blue and white uniform. “I’se a housemaid a long time, Joe, that chile, he done mos’ jobs roun’ about Blue Water since Massa John come take over. Ma Joe, him very attached to dis place and de folks—” Then Topaz seemed to realize that as a personal maid she had to be a little more dignified and less chatty, and Tina watched with a grin as the colored woman rustled importantly to the tallboy and took fresh underthings out of one of the sandalwood drawers. The possession of a personal maid went with her position here, Tina supposed, and she wondered if John had given the job to Topaz because in her inexperience she wouldn’t be likely to make Tina uncomfortable.

  It would be like him to be thoughtful in that respect, for the servants here would be quick to realize that his second wife was quite unused to life in a big house. That being waited on was something that made her feel shy and confused.

  “Most of my things were left on the motor-launch last night, Topaz,” she said, “so I shall have to wear my suit again.”

  “Yes’m.” Topaz put out the coral jacket and skirt in readiness, then as she drew a bath for Tina she forgot her dignity and hummed one of the island calypsos. Her spry cheerfulness, combined with the bright sunshine, helped roll away last night’s clouds for Tina, soon splashing in the step-down tub of the bathroom she was to share with John. It was tiled in black and white, with a shower cabinet, a deep towelling chair, and a glass-topped toilet table holding various toiletries.

  As Tina squeezed water over her shoulders with a big sponge she reflected that she had at least the small kicks of being in love. There was John’s shaving-tackle and hairwash beside her fat jar of moisturising cream. His bathrobe slung on a hook with hers, a shirt button on the floor near the linen basket, which was of natural straw and shaped like a giant melon.

  She soaped a slim leg and wriggled her toes. She was Tina Trecarrel, and all this was actually real! Some minutes later she was stepping out of the tub as knuckles rapped the door.

  “Ahoy there!” It was John. “Joe and I have just brought up your baggage.”

  “Oh, lovely!” The mirror above the toilet table reflected Tina’s startled, mermaid-wet nudity and blazing cheeks. “Start breakfast if you’re famished, John. I’ll dry off and be right out.”

  She thought he might be leaning with a shoulder to the door, for she heard his answering laugh quite clearly. “A woman’s ‘right out’ is like the islanders ‘now-now’—meaning in half an hour. I’ve had breakfast laid on the balcony of the lounge. Did you sleep well?”

  "Splendidly, thank you.” She was now towelling herself and thankfully reflecting that he sounded in a good mood.

  “I’ll go and see if the kiddie’s awake. She might enjoy breakfasting with us. Okay?”

  “Oh, yes. I was going to suggest that to you, John.”

  “Were you?” His laughter was faintly sardonic. Then there was silence and Tina knew he had gone out of her bedroom. She talcumed off, then went in to dress. Topaz was busily unpacking her suitcases and she chuckled away to herself as she stood one of Tina’s shoes on the palm of her hand.

  “You has the smallest foot I done see, ma’am. You jus’ take a look at that, now.”

  Tina slipped into the pastel shift Topaz had laid out in place of her suit and zipped the waist. “I’m afraid there isn’t much of me,” she agreed. “Toss over those beige sandals, please.”

  Topaz, however, was determined to take her duties seriously and she insisted on helping Tina into the sandals, a comfortable beach pair from her Chorley days, for John and Liza might go exploring with her.

  “You like fo’ me to fix yo’ gold hair, ma'am?” Topaz coaxed, and Tina submitted after warning her maid not to take too long. The large, pink-palmed hands were curiously soothing and gentle, and Tina asked Topaz if she had any children.

  “Coupla pickney. They at school, ma’am.” Topaz beamed at her young mistress’s reflection in the mirror as she swirled the bamboo-straight hair to the crown of her head and fixed it with a ribbon. “You find that mos’ refreshin’—lahd, you don’ look more’n a pickney yoself, Mis’ Trecarrel.” Then a rather shy expression crept into the dark brown eyes. “We all wonderin’ what you be like— wait I tell Aspasia what yo’ like.”

  “Who’s Aspasia?” Tina jumped up from the dressing stool and slipped on to her finger the ruby ring she had removed while taking her bath.

  “She ma fren’ down in the village, ma’am. She work here when Mis’ Joanna alive. She care personal fo’ Mis’ Joanna.”

  Tina went still as a bird, then edging her tongue round lips that had gone rather dry, she said: “Was this room very different when the first Mrs. Trecarrrel had it?”

  “Dis room, ma’am?” Topaz shot Tina a look of surprise as she tidied the dressing table. “Why, bless you, dis ain’t Mis' Joanna's room. She slep’ on other side of Blue Water, where de sea sound reach her. She loved de sea—maybe too much!”

  Tina shivered at these words, with the undertone of dark meaning Topaz superstitiously gave them. “What was she like?” The words escaped from Tina b
efore she could stop them. “I mean— was she kind ?”

  “Ah reckons Mis’ Joanna okay to work fo’.” Topaz arranged Tina’s brush and comb with exactitude on the lace mat. “She have long hair lak’ dark red silk, an’ Aspasia say she brush an’ brush it until it near sparked. She lak’ Miss Paula to look at, only more beautiful." Topaz shook a regretful head and pressed a hand to her scooped cheek. “Ah recalls de way dem peacocks cryin’ de night before Mis’ Joanna done get drowned. Dem peacocks cryin’ lak’ dat a sure sign there goin’ to be trouble. I tell Joe, and dat why he near when dat big barracuda snap at Massa John’s leg. Ma Joe he kill dat tiger fish. Lahd, we think Massa John goin to die as well, him laid real low from loss of blood an’ shock . .

  Tina went cold, for her maid’s sing-song English painted a scene so vivid that she felt she had been on the shore that morning to witness John’s struggle to save Joanna. She saw him cutting through the blue silk of water that creamed, red-tinged, when a silver-grey streak flashed up from among the roots of the coral and took his left leg in tooth-filled jaws. Had John then cried out Joanna’s name ... in love and despair ... or guilt?

  She found herself in the adjoining room and walked to the open glass doors of the balcony. John and his daughter had finished breakfast, and with an elbow propped on the circular table he was talking about his trip to England. Liza, her gaze fixed lovingly upon his face, was taking nibbles at a creamy custard-apple while she listened to him.

  Tina paused to watch them for a moment, their dark heads close together, the child in pirate pants and a sundust halter-top, John looking lean and hard in beige slacks and a short sleeved tan silk shirt. The deep warmth of his voice carried to Tina, while his hair was rough from his swim. Love was so certain in her that whatever he had said last night had to be forgotten. Not to forget was to hand Paula a minor victory.

  Then John glanced up and took in rapidly the fresh picture Tina presented in her apricot shift with its scooped neck and cutaway sleeves, his rings winking so new on the hand she held against her. He rose to his feet and held in readiness one of the cushioned, wrought iron chairs. “You look very nice,” he said. “Doesn’t she, Liza?”