Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1)

by Roberts, Julia

  OMG Phil, this is bloody...

  Bloody what, thought Philippe? He couldn’t bear it if his editor hated what he had spent every waking hour working on for the last two months. He hovered the arrow over the email then closed his eyes as he clicked the left button. He took a deep breath and opened one eye... the next word was BRILLIANT.

  Philippe didn’t read the rest of the email, he let out a shriek and then started jumping around the room shouting, ‘YES... YES... YES,’ at the top of his voice! His only disappointment was that there was no one there to share his happy news with. Right, he thought, I’m going to shower and head to the Plantation House early. I’ll buy the champagne and Robert, Rosemary and I can have our own Happy Hour before dinner.

  Less than an hour later a freshly showered and shaved Philippe was striding up the front steps of the hotel two at a time. The first person he saw in the vaulted reception area was the assistant manager Vikram.

  ‘Afternoon, Vikram. Do you happen to know where my friends the Forresters are? I’ve got some fantastic news I want to share with them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Philippe, they checked out two days ago.’

  Philippe stopped mid-stride, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  ‘Are you sure, Vikram? I’m certain they wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.’

  ‘I’m sure, sir, but they did leave a note for you.’

  Vikram went behind the front desk and retrieved an envelope with the solitary word Philippe scribbled on the front in Robert’s handwriting. Philippe opened it:

  Philippe,

  I’m afraid we have to go back to England. It’s a shame that your latest book prevented us from spending more time together. We both hope it is as successful as your first book was.

  Robert and Rosemary

  Philippe looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand in disbelief. It was always more difficult to interpret the written word rather than the spoken word but this felt almost like a rebuke. And why had Robert written it rather than Rosemary? Was she that annoyed with him that she couldn’t even bring herself to write him a note?

  He muttered under his breath, ‘I thought she understood that a writer needs time to write!’

  He crumpled the paper in his fist, tossed it into a wastepaper bin, and left as quickly as he had arrived, all feeling of elation replaced with outrage.

  Chapter 43

  Holly woke with a start as the train jolted to a halt at Clapham Junction. It was a good job, she thought, or I would have ended up at Victoria and then had to get a train back to Clapham Junction for the connection to Reading. A quick glance up at the departures screen told her the platform number of the next train to Reading and also that she had precisely four minutes to negotiate the two lots of steps with her suitcase bumping along behind her.

  Fortunately it was the middle of the day so the train carriage was not busy and she was able to stand her case in front of the seat next to her to keep an eye on it. Not that there’s much in my suitcase worth pinching, she thought, apart from my laptop, but a thief wouldn’t know that until they had forced the case open.

  It wasn’t until the train was pulling out of the station at Virginia Water more than thirty minutes later that Holly realised she hadn’t switched on her mobile phone. She reached into her handbag, turned it on and keyed in her four-digit security code. A minute later her phoned beeped to alert her that she had new messages. She looked at the screen. There were eight missed calls and three new messages. Crikey, I’m popular, she thought, hitting the button that would identify the missed callers details.

  As well as the number of her voicemail service and Harry’s number, there was a mobile number she didn’t recognise that had called her six times. She dialled 901 intrigued. The most recent voice message was from Harry: ‘Hi, Mum. Give me a call to let me know you got back safely.’

  She was smiling broadly thinking of her caring son as she began to listen to the second message, but her smile soon faded:

  ‘Holly, it’s Robert Forrester. I hope you are well. I’ve tried your number several times as I didn’t really want to leave you a message but I guess I’ll have to.’ That would explain the missed calls from the number I didn’t recognise, thought Holly. She had only taken Rosemary’s mobile number not that of her husband. ‘I don’t want to worry you but we’re back in the UK and Rosemary is asking if you can come and visit as a matter of urgency. Please give me a call when you get this message.’

  Holly’s heart plummeted and her hands were shaking as she dropped the phone back into her bag. If the Forresters were back in the UK it could mean only one thing: Rosemary’s health must have deteriorated. She would ring from her land-line the moment she got home. This was a conversation she couldn’t have with a signal dropping in and out on a mobile phone.

  The rest of the journey to Reading seemed to take an age and when the train finally pulled in to the station Holly rushed for the taxi rank as quickly as her luggage would allow. Typical, she thought, seeing at least a dozen people already queuing and no taxis in sight. One rounded the corner and in desperation Holly did something completely out of character.

  She went to the front of the queue and said to the smartly dressed man carrying a briefcase, ‘I wouldn’t normally ask but would you mind terribly if I took this cab? I’ve just heard that my friend is dying and I need to see her.’

  The man took one look at her pale face and panic-stricken eyes then stood aside holding the taxi door open for her. There were a few glares and mutterings from people further back in line who hadn’t heard the exchange but Holly didn’t care. She was thinking through what she had just said. How bad was Rosemary? Was she actually dying? Tears spilled down Holly’s cheeks.

  Fifteen minutes later Holly let herself into her little terraced house, reached into the desk drawer for her address book and found the Forresters’ home number. Robert answered on the fourth ring.

  ‘Forrester speaking.’

  ‘Robert, it’s Holly. What’s happened. Is Rosemary OK?’

  ‘Holly, thank God it’s you. Rosie has been asking for you.’

  In the background Holly could just make out Rosemary’s voice. ‘Can she come, Bobby?’

  Without waiting for him to ask the question Holly said, ‘I’ll be there as quickly as I can but you have to tell me what’s happened.’

  Robert told her that Rosemary had started to feel unwell about a month after Holly had flown home. She was having excruciating headaches that no amount of paracetamol could touch and she was starting to have dizzy spells. Then one morning Robert had been unable to wake her.

  ‘I thought I’d lost her, Holly,’ Robert said in a muffled voice, fighting back tears. ‘I phoned for the hotel doctor but by the time he arrived I had managed to rouse Rosie. He wanted her admitted to the hospital in Port Louis for tests but Rosie was adamant that she wanted to come home so they sent an ambulance to take us to the airport instead. It was all such a rush I barely had time to pack. Thankfully she slept for most of the flight and then an ambulance met us at Gatwick to take her straight to University College Hospital. It was during the ambulance ride that she told me you knew everything and begged me to ring you. That was two days ago and I’ve been trying to reach you since.’

  Holly groaned. ‘I’ve just got back from Dubai and I didn’t have my phone on the last day I was there because I was fed up with constant interruptions when I was trying to work.’

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone and then a confused Robert said, ‘You’ve been working in Dubai?’

  Holly was too tired to try and explain. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. So how is Rosemary now?’

  ‘Well, they hooked her up to an intravenous drip with the experimental drug they wanted her to try months ago and it seems to be working for the moment. They kept her in overnight and gave her another chemotherapy session yesterday before letting her come home. We were back at the hospital this morning for another three hours, in fac
t we only got home about ten minutes before you rang.’

  Robert sounded exhausted and Holly was furious with herself for not being on the other end of the phone when her friends needed her.

  ‘How did you explain it to Philippe?’ she asked.

  ‘We left in such a rush that I just scribbled him a quick note to tell him we had to come home and left it with the hotel reception. We hadn’t really seen much of him after you left because he’s been busy writing, which of course I totally understand with deadlines to meet.’

  ‘Maybe you should let him know what’s really going on with Rosemary?’

  ‘I agree, Holly, but it’s Rosie’s decision and at the moment she doesn’t want to tell anyone else but us.’

  Holly heard Rosemary’s voice in the background again. ‘What time will she be here Bobby?’

  ‘Tell her I’m leaving right now,’ said Holly grabbing her car keys.

  Chapter 44

  The traffic on the M4 and M25 motorways had been fairly light as Holly had beaten the afternoon rush hour but it was still almost two hours before she took the exit at junction 6 onto the A22 towards Woldingham. She followed the directions Robert had hastily given her, turning left up the hill by the station and then right into a private road. There were no house numbers, instead she was looking out for a house called ‘Valley View’ which he had simply described as single storey at the front and painted white. She spotted it on the right-hand side and turned into the gravel driveway, pulling up outside the dark oak, double front doors. Before she had even got out of the car the front door was open and Robert was crunching across the gravel to greet her.

  He flung his arms around her. ‘Thank you so much for coming so quickly.’

  Holly was taken aback by his appearance. Gone was the suave elegant Robert she had met in Mauritius nine weeks previously. He had lost weight, his eyes were sunken and dark-rimmed and he had the look of a desperate man.

  ‘It’s all right, Robert. I’m here now,’ she said gently.

  She followed him into the house and, despite the reason for the visit, couldn’t help but gasp in wonder at the magnificence of the interior. She was standing on a galleried landing with stairs descending from either side down to the reception area on the lower level. There was a huge double height window the width of the room showcasing the most amazing view of the valley and the wooded Surrey hillside beyond. Of course, she reminded herself, you would expect no less from an architect of Robert’s reputation. She hoped Harry would one day design something so stunning.

  ‘Holly, is that you?’ Rosemary’s voice brought her sharply back to the present. ‘I’m down here. Robert, you’re forgetting your manners. Offer Holly something to drink.’

  Robert raised his eyebrows and for a moment a twinkle returned to his anxious eyes.

  ‘Tea or something stronger?’

  ‘I could murder a cuppa. I haven’t had a decent one in over a week.’

  ‘How do you take it?’

  ‘A drop of milk and one sugar please,’ she replied, following him down the stairs.

  Rosemary was sitting on a plump, three-seater sofa which was beautifully upholstered in a pale grey-and-white striped fabric. She was wearing a loose-fitting, navy-blue silk shirt over winter-white tailored trousers and the tan from her recent time in Mauritius was lifted by a touch of blusher and lip-gloss. Although she didn’t attempt to get up as Holly approached, the younger woman was pleased to see that Rosemary looked almost exactly the same as the last time she had seen her at the Plantation House hotel, just slightly thinner. It was a relief as she had been fretting on the drive over not really knowing what to expect with all the talk of chemotherapy drips.

  ‘Holly, I’m so happy to see you. I’ve been driving Robert crazy trying to get in touch with you. I thought maybe you were away again.’ As she pulled Holly into an embrace she whispered, ‘I haven’t told Robert about your alter ego. Your secret’s safe with me.’

  ‘Rosemary, you look amazing,’ Holly said. ‘I appreciate you not telling Robert but it’s really not that important in the grand scheme of things.’

  ‘Well, I promised I wouldn’t tell him so I haven’t. I keep my promises and I’m hoping that you do too.’

  Holly racked her brain to try and remember what she had promised Rosemary but jet lag wasn’t helping her powers of recollection.

  ‘You promised you would help me do something when the time came,’ prompted Rosemary. ‘Well, the time has come.’

  Holly felt a little shiver run down her back.

  ‘Oh yes, I remember. That day at Philippe’s house you said you might need me to help you with something. What do you need me to do?’

  ‘I can’t talk in front of Robert but I’ll send him out to the shops in a little while to buy something to make dinner. You will stay for dinner won’t you?’ It was less a question, more an assumption. ‘And while he’s out we can talk properly.’

  Right on cue Robert walked into the room carrying a tray filled with bone china cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits. She reached to take the cup of tea that Robert was offering, wondering what Rosemary wanted to ask of her that she couldn’t talk about in front of her husband.

  Chapter 45

  There was a hammering in Philippe’s head brought on, no doubt, by downing the entire contents of the bottle of champagne that he had intended to share with the Forresters in celebration of his publisher’s email. He had followed that with half a dozen bottles of beer, the only alcohol in the house, as he waited for a reply to the email he had sent Holly. At first he had assumed that, due to the time difference, she might be at work with no access to her personal emails, but as one beer turned into five or six and the time ticked on past midnight, Philippe finally staggered off to bed while he could still walk.

  The hammering was getting louder and Philippe realised it was not just in his head, there was someone at his front door. Who could it be? he wondered. His cleaner, Delphine, had her own key so that she could let herself in and out without disturbing him while he was writing. He gingerly hauled himself into an upright position and crossed towards the door, shuffling his feet to minimise any jarring to his head. He tried unsuccessfully to open the door before noticing that he had put the deadlock on. He flicked the button and the door swung open to reveal a very worried-looking Delphine.

  ‘Mr Philippe, you scared me,’ she said. ‘When I couldn’t open the door I thought something was wrong. You look terrible.’

  ‘Sshhh, please, my head,’ was all Philippe could muster.

  ‘Ah, the demon drink. I’ve told you before you should be teetotal like me. You sit down and I’ll make you some strong coffee.’

  Philippe slumped onto the sofa. ‘You’re an angel.’

  Half an hour later, somewhat revived by the bitter dark liquid, Philippe turned on his computer and was disappointed to see that there was still no word from Holly. There was however another email from his editor:

  Phil,

  How soon can you pack up there and get back to the UK? I’ve got the team working on the cover and the sleeve blurb, and I’ve already sent it to the copy editor with instructions for the lightest touch. I want to get the publicity on this started asap so I need you here... it’s going to be monster. Talk about the pressure of a deadline – I guess that’s the journalist in you. LOVE the title, and love the title character, she feels so real... not sure whether to feel sorry for her or whether she’s just a money-grabbing bitch! Poor Pierre! I’m already thinking bidding wars for the film rights.

  Let me know when you’ve got your flight booked.

  Jo

  Chapter 46

  The late afternoon April sunshine was streaming in through the double-height windows, flooding the room with a soft amber glow. Not only was Valley View a stunning piece of architecture it also had a south-westerly aspect at the rear. Holly was standing by the window gazing out at the beautiful garden which was coming into bloom with red and white camellia bushes and fresh green
leaves on the cherry trees preceding their frothy pink blossom. If I had a home like this I would never want to leave it, she thought.

  She wondered whether she should wake Rosemary who had dozed off halfway through her cup of tea. She knew Rosemary wanted to talk to her privately and Robert would be back from his trip to the shops soon. He had seized the opportunity to nip out while his wife was sleeping but had company so she would not wake up alone.

  ‘It’s beautiful isn’t it?’ Holly turned at the sound of Rosemary’s voice. The decision to wake her had been taken out of her hands. ‘Sometimes I wonder how Robert and I could ever have left this place to go on holidays.’

  ‘I was just thinking the same thing. How are you feeling?’ she asked, crossing back to the sofa where Rosemary was reclining.

  Rosemary sidestepped the question. ‘I think the house at Tamarina Bay is the only one I could have given all this up for and now I won’t need to make a choice between them. Don’t get me wrong, Holly, I know how blessed I’ve been in my life to have all this and Bobby too, but I just wish it could have been for a little longer.’

  There was no anger just a quiet acceptance that her time was almost up.

  ‘But Robert said the experimental drugs they have given you for the past three days are working and you look amazing considering what your body is going through.’

  ‘I know, it’s ironic isn’t it? I’m the one dying of leukaemia but I feel like it’s killing Bobby. I can’t bear to see what prolonging my life week by week, or at the very most month by month, is doing to him. It has to stop and that’s why I need your help.’ She paused. ‘I’ve been investigating a clinic in Switzerland.’