Philip smiled. ‘That’s one way of putting it. I have also been called a bloody bureaucrat.’
‘Haven’t we all?’ agreed the Frenchman drily. ‘But you certainly kept the convoy moving along today.’
‘The secret,’ said Philip, ‘is to make it plain that you will go into everything in minute detail. And you’re prepared to sit there all through the night if necessary. When they start to get hungry, they get concise.’
He put the cap on his fountain pen and stowed it in the inside pocket of his jacket and picked up his folder.
The Frenchman picked up his papers more slowly.
‘And what would you do if they didn’t?’
‘Sit as long as it takes,’ said Philip coolly.
‘No limit? Days? Weeks?’
‘It wouldn’t come to that. They have henchmen to keep under control. Wives to get back to.’
‘And you don’t?’ said the Frenchman curiously.
He had heard a lot about Philip Hardesty on the grapevine. He was said to be an obsessive, a man without a single human emotion, a workaholic and possibly a genius. He had heard nothing at all about the workaholic’s private life. Now he began to wonder if the man had one.
‘No wife. No henchmen,’ said Philip lightly. What was it about this place? He had never had to keep admitting it before. His solitary life had never felt so arid before, either. ‘My life was bought and paid for a long time ago. I’ve never had to cut short a meeting in my life and everyone knows it.’
‘That’s quite a bargaining point,’ said the Frenchman, rather taken aback.
Philip gave him his sudden engaging grin. ‘I’m counting on it.’
Even more taken aback, the Frenchman found himself laughing.
‘Come and have a drink,’ said Philip. ‘Tell me how you really think it went today—and what elephant traps are waiting for us tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Frenchman, surprised by the friendliness. It did not go with the image, somehow.
‘You too, Fernando,’ Philip said to his aide. ‘There’s a bar down by the lagoon. We might avoid the trumpets and the belly dancer there.’
The Frenchman and Fernando looked at each other. They sighed. They did not particularly want to avoid the belly dancer, an imported beauty who seemed to dress entirely in mosquito netting and gold coins. But Philip was the boss. They went.
The bower bar was by the lagoon. It was lit by old-fashioned Chinese lanterns. The tables were set amid high-planted box trees for maximum privacy.
‘Designed with lovers in mind,’ said Lisa. Her tone was just on the hither side of sour.
She avoided a stone monkey god, playing an instrument of bells suspended from a stick, and sank into a luxuriously cushioned rattan sofa. It was set under an orange tree in a planter. The leaves moved gently in the breeze off the sea, stirring scented airs around the enclosed corner.
A place for lovers indeed, thought Kit. The sofa under the hedge was designed for a couple to hold hands and kiss without anyone else seeing them. And they were supposed to be meeting Nikolai. He had telephoned Lisa only half an hour ago to suggest it.
‘I don’t really think I should be here,’ Kit said uneasily. ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean me to come too.’
‘And how long do you think he’ll keep me waiting here on my own?’ asked Lisa, unanswerably. ‘That is, assuming he comes at all. If he gets started counting numbers of rainforest primates or something, he’ll forget me altogether. I’ll believe that his meetings are over when I see him. Not before.’
Kit could not put up much of an argument against that.
Lisa was wearing a pretty cotton slip dress that left her shoulders and a lot of alluring cleavage bare. Kit thought without envy that she looked even sexier than she had done when Nikolai married her. What on earth had gone wrong?
She said firmly, ‘The moment he comes, I’m leaving.’
Lisa sighed. But she did not protest.
‘All right. Another one of your midnight swims?’
‘What do you know about my midnight swims?’ said Kit suspiciously.
Lisa laughed. ‘Only that the waiters approve. It’s what brides are supposed to do.’
‘Brides!’
‘Well, it’s what the hotel staff were all trained for, I suppose. I kind of got the impression that they appeared out of the undergrowth and scattered roses over a harem couch while you were swimming. Then melted away when you came back to shore. The two of you, that is.’
Kit shivered involuntarily. The idea was unexpectedly erotic. Kit did not usually respond to erotic ideas.
To disguise that she had done so this time, she said brightly, ‘Cripes, I’ve had a narrow escape, haven’t I?’
‘I don’t know.’ For a moment Lisa sounded wistful and a lot younger than the Head of a Successful Trading Room had any right to sound. ‘Rose petals and harem cushions might be nice.’
‘Go on,’ said Kit. ‘Say it.’ She imitated her sister. ‘With the right man.’
Lisa shook her head. ‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
‘What, then?’
‘If the right man wanted it,’ said Lisa simply. She was not laughing any more.
Kit was shaken. ‘Oh, Lise—’
Lisa held up a perfectly manicured hand in a blocking movement.
‘It’s all right,’ she said harshly. ‘Don’t say anything. I don’t need any more self-pity to add to the load. Get a waiter over here and let’s have one of those sunset-coloured cocktails.’
Kit stood up, looking towards the bar under its pyramid umbrella of coconut matting.
‘I’ll go and get—’
But a waiter had materialised at the entrance to their secret bower.
‘Two of the brightest cocktails you can make,’ Lisa told him breezily. She was laughing again. Her social armour was back in place and locked firmly.
I wish I could do that, thought Kit. I wish I didn’t broadcast my feelings loud and clear to the world. It makes me feel naked. It has always made me feel naked. Why can’t I put on a decent show, like Lisa?
The waiter was certainly appreciating it. He entered into the spirit of it. In a few minutes he returned with a tall glass of liquid that went from ruby at the base to apricot at the rim and another, smaller, glass of hissing turquoise stuff.
‘Tequila Sunrise, as near as dammit,’ said Lisa, taking the orange one. ‘But what that underwater stuff is, I haven’t a clue.’
The waiter grinned. ‘Not tequila. It is cane spirit and our local juices, mainly guava.’
‘And the shark bait?’ said Kit, looking at it dubiously.
His eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Champagne and powdered orchid,’ he said solemnly. ‘Good for love.’
He backed away, grinning. Lisa laughed aloud. Genuine laughter, no social pretence this time.
Kit turned indignant eyes on her. ‘Did he mean what I think he meant?’
‘Guess so,’ said Lisa, bubbling over. ‘Gosh, this place takes itself seriously. Get married here and you certainly get the full service.’
Kit looked at the hissing drink in dudgeon. ‘Stop giggling. You mean you’ve just bought me an aphrodisiac?’
‘Well, strictly speaking, Nikolai has just bought you an aphrodisiac,’ said Lisa blithely. ‘Tonight is going on his tab.’
‘Great,’ said Kit with irony. ‘Just what I need.’
But Lisa was looking at the little card the waiter had brought with their drinks.
‘Look, they’ve even got a map for a moonlit walk,’ she said, awed. ‘Everything the nervous honeymooner could want.’
‘No honeymooner is nervous these days,’ objected Kit.
Lisa looked wise. ‘Don’t you believe it. Every honeymooner is nervous.’
Kit looked unconvinced.
‘Oh, come on, Kit. Think about it. The moment you get married, you’ve burned your boats. You’re not nervous, you’re terrified.’
‘Were you?’ asked Kit, curious at
this unexpected revelation. She had never thought anything could terrify her sister. Lisa had been punching her weight since she was seven. ‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes. All the time. Every time Nikolai left me alone for a moment I went into a panic.’
Kit pursed her lips. ‘Sounds like another good reason for not getting married.’
‘You get over it,’ said Lisa drily. ‘And there are compensations.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
Lisa sighed. Kit braced herself to withstand a lecture on her empty love life. But Lisa was thinking about another subject entirely.
‘I only had to look at him then…’ The low tones were ineffably sad. It was almost as if she was talking to herself.
Kit could not bear it. She picked up the turquoise potion and took a long swig.
‘Well, if I start assaulting the talent, I’ll hold you responsible,’ she said brightly.
Lisa shook off her shadows. She laughed.
‘Not a lot of talent to choose from. The hotel is stuffed with grey men in suits. Middle-aged economists and paunchy academics to a man.’
Kit sat bolt upright. ‘No, they’re not,’ she said indignantly.
‘Well, apart from Nikolai—’ Lisa broke off, rather suddenly.
Too late Kit remembered that she had unwarily told her sister about the man at the lagoon. Lisa might tell her never to get married in a moment of despair. But in reality she was concerned that Kit continued to avoid dating. She said so, frequently.
I should never have told her, thought Kit, irritated.
She took another drink. ‘This tastes like shampoo.’
But again she misread her sister. Lisa was looking over the top of the hedge fixedly.
‘Nikolai,’ said Lisa in a strange voice. ‘He’s made it after all.’
A tall, dark figure was standing in the archway under the Chinese lanterns. He scanned the bar area in one quick, dismissive movement. Then he set off purposefully, pausing at the entrance of each bower for just as long as it took him to discover his wife was not there, before moving on.
Time I was not here, thought Kit, watching his methodical approach. She picked up her glass and stood up.
‘I’m sure he’s put the wrong stuff in this,’ she announced. ‘No one would pay to drink shampoo. I’m taking it back to the bar.’
‘Fine,’ said Lisa.
Kit had the impression that if she’d said she was going to slap a power pack onto her back and try to fly to the moon, Lisa would have said exactly the same thing.
She was watching Nikolai, too intently. She sat as still as a mouse, waiting for him to find her. And she made no attempt to help him.
Definitely time Kit was not there.
Lisa did not even notice her go.
Philip had not even realised that he was looking for the girl. For four days he had put her out of his mind. Well, nearly. But as soon as he saw her he knew that he had been waiting for her.
She came out of one of the box-hedge bowers with a glass in her hand. She walked as she swam; gracefully, powerfully. She was quite unselfconscious. She seemed to have no idea that anyone was looking at her, though Philip was not alone. Both the other men at his table paused, watching the tall blonde with her easy, athletic stride and her proud profile.
Philip was aware of a sudden stab of possessiveness. They had no right to watch her. They had not helped her out of the water. They had not told her about the ocean’s fireflies. Or made her laugh. Or been invited to join her in the water.
Or kissed her.
He stood up abruptly.
‘Excuse me. I see a friend over there.’
He left them before they could say anything.
‘Signs of life, at last,’ murmured the Frenchman, amused and rather impressed.
But Fernando looked after his boss with a worried expression. ‘That is so not like him.’
‘Oh, come on. What’s the harm? There’s no more he can do tonight. Why not kick back and enjoy? Tropical island, balmy breezes, pretty girl. You’d be inhuman to pass it up.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Fernando. ‘Philip Hardesty is inhuman.’
But the Frenchman was watching the little tableau. The girl was moving fast, but Philip stopped her with only a word. She turned to him. Her face lit up as soon as she saw who it was.
Fernando turned his head. So he, too, saw Philip take the glass away from her with a smile. The smile went all the way to his eyes.
‘Oh, no, he isn’t,’ said the Frenchman, a connoisseur. He gave a sigh that was nearly envious. ‘Tonight he’s as human as you get.’
‘Hello again,’ said Philip.
The girl turned to him almost eagerly. She seemed to have forgotten that she had plunged back into the sea and raced away from him the last time.
‘Hello.’ It was that husky voice that had been haunting his dreams.
His pulse quickened in response. He did not let it show.
‘Where are you taking that drink? Down to the shore?’
‘Back to the barman. I can’t drink it,’ the girl confessed. ‘It’s supposed to have powdered orchid in it. But I think it tastes filthy.’
He smiled and took it away from her.
‘Then let me get you something you can drink. Unless you’re waiting for someone?’
Her eyes lit with laughter. She shook her head. The rainbow colours of the Chinese lanterns danced over it, turning it to gleaming gold. Her fairy-story hair fell over her shoulders and down her slim back like a princess’s cloak. He thought of the unicorn again.
‘Well, I was. Only he’s arrived and I’m a gooseberry.’
He was astonished at the relief he felt. ‘You’re here with a girlfriend?’
‘My sister.’
He led the way to the bar. He was tempted to put his arm round her. But it was too soon, too public. He was not sure how she would respond. She had run away last time, after all.
But she was glad to see him. And she was free for dinner, by the sound of it.
Play it carefully, Philip.
He attracted the barman’s attention without even raising his hand.
‘The lady doesn’t like your concoction, Sariel. Give her—’ He turned to the girl with one eyebrow raised. ‘What would you like? Something familiar? Or another experiment?’
She hardly hesitated. ‘Another experiment.’ She gave a soft, excited laugh. ‘This seems to be my week for new experiences.’
He cast an experienced eye down the drinks card and rejected all of them.
‘Bring me rum, mango juice, angostura, that nutmeg you’ve got over there and some fresh limes,’ he said. ‘Soda water and a mixing jug.’
Grinning, the barman did as he was ordered.
‘Mango is wonderful but it can cloy.’
Why did he always end up sounding as if he was a schoolmaster? Had he forgotten how to talk to women who attracted him? he thought, annoyed with himself. He gave her a deprecatory smile.
‘That’s what the guy who taught me how to make this said, anyway. The lime is supposed to cut through the sweetness and the rum gets rid of the vegetable taste,’ Philip explained, working neatly. ‘So all you’re left with is that scented fruit. Then the soda water makes all these tastes explode on the palate.’
What am I doing? I want to take her into the shadows and find out if she feels what I feel. And I’m giving her a lecture on tastes!
He couldn’t seem to stop. ‘You know there’s a legend that says the apple in the Garden of Eden was really a mango?’
The girl did not seem to have any criticism of his subject matter. ‘Paradise fruit,’ she said, as if she liked the idea.
He stirred the mixture briskly and pushed her glass across to her. ‘Try it.’
She sipped. She looked like a girl who took her new experiences seriously.
‘It’s very—exotic,’ she said carefully.
Philip laughed, throwing his head back with delight.
‘You
don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it. Have a nice, safe beer instead.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want a nice, safe anything. What’s the point of coming to a tropical island and playing safe?’
Philip’s pulse took another few seconds off its resting rate. But he kept it under control. He was good at that, after all.
‘Feeling reckless, are you?’ he teased. He sounded detached, amused. He was proud of that.
The girl twinkled shyly at him. Her eyes were a strange colour. Grey? Green? He’d have to get closer to be sure.
‘Not reckless, exactly,’ she demurred. ‘Maybe—braver than usual.’
For a moment he thought a shadow touched her face. But then it was gone. He was not certain it had even been there. These lanterns cast a deceptive light.
He said lightly, ‘Brave enough to have dinner with me?’
Not very original. Well done, Philip.
He found he was holding his breath for the answer.
She looked down at the nutmeg-dusted froth of her cocktail. ‘Dinner? Where?’
‘Anywhere you want. As long as it’s somewhere in the hotel complex.’ He was carefully unconcerned. ‘The nearest pizza parlour is twenty islands away.’
She smiled at that. ‘Pass on the pizza.’
‘Then eat one of the local curries here with me.’
‘Paradise curry?’ she laughed.
‘Exactly,’ he said, smiling back straight into her eyes.
He saw the effect it had. Her eyes—those strange eyes; now they looked almost golden for a moment—widened. Then they fell and he saw that she had the longest eyelashes in the world. They lay on cheeks as soft as a child’s. It startled him.
How young is she, for heaven’s sake? What am I doing?
He said with sudden constraint, ‘Of course, your sister and her friend must come too.’
‘He’s her husband. And I think they really need to be on their own.’
‘Oh.’
Philip did not know whether to be glad or sorry.
Actually he was feeling as uncertain as a schoolboy. He could not remember when he had last felt like that, if ever. Even as a schoolboy he had always known what he wanted. This ambivalence was new. All his training taught him to deplore it. But in practice, it was rather exciting. Like suddenly being a student again with all his life before him. All his options still open.
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