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

by Roberts, Julia

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  History has repeated itself in Holly’s life …

  or has it ?

  Read on for a preview of the second book in the Liberty Sands trilogy

  IF HE REALLY LOVED ME …

  Prologue

  Holly stirred. The gentlest of breezes rustled the glossy flat leaves of the Badamier trees providing light relief from the warmth of the late afternoon Mauritian sun. As her eyes flickered open they rested on the empty buggy at her side but before panic could set in over the whereabouts of Rosie, her eighteen-month-old baby daughter, she spotted two familiar blond heads close together, hard at work down by the shore. Rosie was picking up pieces of coral one by one and bringing them back to her helper who was building a fort with them. Even from twenty feet away Holly could hear her daughter’s voice saying, ‘a du’, as she handed each piece over. It was the little girl’s way of saying thank you, which Holly much preferred to ‘ta’. The chubby little legs, well protected from the sun by a generous layer of factor 50, were on the move again. Holly watched as Rosie stopped at the edge of the water but instead of bending down to choose her next piece of coral she was pointing at something and shouting excitedly in her baby voice, ‘Ree, Ree.’

  Harry was at her side in seconds and scooped her up in his arms. ‘What is it Rosie?’

  At eighteen months Rosie had a very limited vocabulary. She could say mama, dada, a du and Ree, her name for her big brother, Harry. Whatever she had spotted in the water she had no word to describe it.

  ‘What can she see, Harry?’ Holly called out.

  ‘It’s just a shoal of fish, Mum. Go back to sleep.’

  ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Holly protested. ‘I was just resting my eyes.’

  ‘Of course you were,’ Harry said as he released his wriggling sister back on to the sand to continue her coral search.

  ‘Nice fort,’ Holly said changing the subject. ‘Is it a scale model of something you and Robert are working on?’

  ‘Very funny,’ Harry said good-naturedly and then turned his attention back to his baby sister. ‘I think Mummy has had too much sunshine, Rosie.’

  ‘Mama,’ the little girl said, reaching her hand in Holly’s direction, clenching and unclenching her fist.

  ‘We’ll go and see Mummy in a minute, Rosie, let’s finish our fort first.’

  The two of them walked hand in hand, Harry talking one pace for each half dozen of Rosie’s steps, towards the pile of stones. Holly settled back on her sun lounger to watch them, a warm feeling spreading through her entire body that had nothing to do with the sun that was starting its decent towards the sea. She had always loved the way the reflection on the water seemed to lead a path directly to the person observing it, sparkling and glittering on the way. As she reached her hand up to tuck a wayward strand of dark curly hair behind her ear something else glinted and dazzled in the sunshine. Holly’s breath caught in her throat as she admired the beautiful rings on the third finger of her left hand. There were three of them where two short years ago there had been none.

  ‘Happy?’ said a voice from behind her as two bronzed hands rested lightly on her shoulders and a kiss was planted firmly on the top of her head.

  Holly turned her head slightly to gaze into the light green eyes that were full of adoration for her and said, ‘I can’t believe this is really happening to me…’

  Chapter 1

  Two years earlier

  Holly closed and locked the door of her straw-roofed beach bungalow, descended the four wooden steps leading on to the soft white sand and headed towards the shoreline for her ten-minute walk to breakfast. She had never been to the Maldives before but had heard it described on many occasions as a ‘no news no shoes’ destination, something she had been sceptical about before arriving on Kuremnu Island seven days ago. Holly had felt sure that the phrase didn’t mean no shoes at all, so for the first couple of days she had carried her beaded flip-flops to the restaurant, slipping her feet into them at the entrance before going in. Once she realised that everyone else was embracing walking barefoot on the sandy restaurant floor she abandoned the practice for all meals except dinner. It didn’t feel right to be wearing make-up and an evening outfit with nothing on her feet. The beaded flip-flops that she had packed for daytime use had come in handy, not so the wedge-heel gold sandals, which she hadn’t bothered to unpack. They were now reunited with the rest of her belongings in the suitcase that had been collected from her veranda the previous evening by Muhammad, the house boy, for the first leg of her journey home.

  The week had passed quickly and Holly had found little to complain about – the service, rooms and food had all been to a very high standard – but Holly had to admit that she wasn’t in the least bit sad to be leaving this island paradise. Her job as a secret travel blogger for Soleil Resorts meant that she travelled alone, but she had never before felt so lonely on an assignment. Like most of the Maldivian holiday islands, the resort of Kuremnu took up the entire island, and there was no escaping loved-up honeymooners or older couples celebrating a lifetime spent together. In one of the blogs Holly had posted during the past week she had categorically stated that Kuremnu was not a singles’ destination, not unless you had a masochistic streak. As if to underline her solitude, a young couple stopped on the shoreline fifty yards ahead of her to kiss, and beyond them another couple were walking hand in hand. It wasn’t that Holly begrudged them their happiness, she wasn’t even jealous of it, after all she had plenty to be thankful for, but she wasn’t a member of their happy couples’ club.

  Everything had seemed so different four months ago when she had met and fallen in love with Philippe. After so long without a significant other, Holly had finally believed she had met her Mr Right. She paused mid-stride, allowing the warm turquoise water of the Indian Ocean to pool around her feet, her mind filled with images of intense green eyes, his slender Gallic nose and persuasive hungry lips. She shook her head to remove the pictures. How did I get it so wrong? she thought. Why couldn’t I have learned from my previous mistake? Subconsciously she rested her hand on her slightly protruding belly. ‘I don’t mean you, little one,’ she whispered. ‘You’re not a mistake, you’re a blessing.’

  Holly started walking again, the gentle waves lapping the hem of her colourful sarong. A hunger pang reminded her that she was later than usual for breakfast. Once she had got past the morning sickness of the first trimester Holly’s appetite had returned with a vengeance and at times she really did feel like she was eating for two. She was quite surprised that none of the guests she had got chatting to over the past week had guessed that she was pregnant. Maybe they just think I’m chubby because I eat so much, Holly thought with a smile.

  The day was already very warm and the clouds that had brought the rain of the last two days had now gone, leaving behind the most perfect blue sky. While the image of the Maldives was permanent sunshine and blue skies, and some travel agents did little to change that opinion, if you travelled in the rainy season, roughly equivalent to the British summer, you would expect to have some rain. This was different from the rain that Holly was used to back in England – warm and soft rather than cold and driving – and yesterday Holly had gone for a swim in the sea with the raindrops falling on the surface around her. Holly had written honestly about the weather, and it was exactly this honesty that had made her Liberty Sands blog so popular and driven people to the site. Holly’s blog managed people’s expectations, thus avoiding disappointment, and was seen as a refreshing change from other companies’ blogs that just regurgitated the corporate line. Soleil Resorts were happy: they had seen a significant drop in complaints received – as well as an upsurge in bookings – since Holly had started writing her ‘warts and all’ blog for them.

  Perspiration was beginning to trickle down the back of Holly’s neck as she walked past the jetty towards the entrance of the main restaurant and some much-needed shade. The hotel staff were already setting up the welcome party at the head of the
jetty for the next intake of guests. There were flower garlands to place over people’s heads, a tray of glasses waiting to be filled with a fruity drink, and the bodu beru drums, made from bamboo and sting-ray hide, which would beat out a welcome to the new arrivals. In the first blog she had written the day after she arrived, Holly had mentioned what a nice touch it was. Fortunately for Holly, the ‘no news’ bit of ‘no news no shoes’ was less accurate than the other part of the saying and most of the island resorts now embraced modern technology, although if she had actually been on holiday, as her fellow guests were, she would have viewed television and access to the Internet as an intrusion into the escape from reality that Kuremnu offered.

  In a couple of hours, the sea plane would be discharging its latest cargo of holiday-makers, blinking like startled rabbits caught in headlights as they emerged from the cabin into the brightness of the midday sun and anxious to seek shade from the intense heat. As soon as they disappeared into the reception area clutching their welcome cocktail, Holly and the other departing guests would be ushered along the jetty to the waiting plane to fly them to Malé where they would check-in for their flights home. I’ll be on my way to London Heathrow in just a few hours, thought Holly, settling at the table indicated by Farhan, her waiter, and home before my birthday starts.

  When she had received the dates for her latest assignment Holly had initially been disappointed that she wouldn’t be spending her birthday in paradise but now she was glad that she would be back in the UK, even if it rained, as it often seemed to in June these days. At least I won’t be on my own, she thought. Her son Harry had invited her to spend the day with him in Bath where he was finishing his second year at university. Just the thought of seeing Harry caused her mixed emotions. Theirs was such a close relationship. There had only ever been the two of them after Harry’s father, Gareth, had disappeared from Holly’s life before the baby was born. She had never regretted her decision to keep her baby but there had been many times when she had wished there had been someone to share those special moments - Harry’s first step, his first day at school, learning to ride his bike without stabiliser wheels – precious memories that only she had witnessed. And now history was set to repeat itself. She had fallen in love with Philippe – the first time she had allowed herself this emotion since Gareth had abandoned her – only to have her heart broken again. Philippe had no idea she was pregnant and she was going to keep it that way. She didn’t want him back in her life because of some misplaced sense of duty. Harry was a different matter. He had been her entire life for twenty years but she had no idea how he would react to what she was about to tell him. She had already delayed longer than she had intended because Harry was in the middle of end-of-term exams but Holly knew she would have to have the talk with him when she returned from the Maldives.

  ‘Can I get you some mint tea?’ asked Farhan, bowing slightly as he spoke.

  ‘You’ve got a good memory. That would be lovely,’ Holly said, smiling. She guessed Farhan was probably about the same age as Harry. As she watched his retreating back she wondered what career path he might have chosen if he had been born somewhere else in the world. Maybe in England or America he would have gone to university to study architecture like her son. Or maybe he would have waited tables in a greasy spoon café, returning home after a twelve-hour shift to a tiny bedsit in a rough part of town. At least when the staff in Kuremnu had finished their work they lived in idyllic surroundings.

  Farhan returned with a pot containing fresh mint leaves and boiling water. ‘Would you like me to pour for you?’ he asked.

  ‘No thank you, I’ll get my breakfast first. You’ve been here every day of my stay, do you have a day off soon?’

  ‘I am going home tomorrow,’ Farhan said, barely able to conceal his excitement.

  ‘Home?’ Holly queried. ‘I thought this was home.’

  ‘None of the staff live on the resort islands, we only work here. My home island is still in the Lhaviyani Atoll but it is a thirty-minute boat ride away, near the tuna cannery island. Did you go on the tour?’

  Holly had, as she thought it would be good to put on her blog, with the added benefit of escaping the loved-up couples for a few hours. She had enjoyed the boat-ride in the colourful dhoni, a traditional Maldivian boat, but the moment they drew near to the island she began to regret her decision. There was an overwhelming stench of fish, which made her feel as nauseous as she had during her first few weeks of her pregnancy, and she was still surrounded by couples.

  ‘How long will you stay at home for?’

  ‘Usually it is only a week but my wife has just had our second baby so I am allowed to stay for a whole month.’

  If Holly had been drinking her mint tea, she was pretty sure she would have choked on it after that revelation.

  ‘You don’t look old enough to be married let alone a father of two,’ Holly said.

  ‘I’m twenty and my wife is nineteen,’ he responded, somewhat defensively. ‘I think people in England have children at this age too?’

  Holly realised the absurdity of what she had said. Although she would be thirty-nine when her new baby was born, she herself had given birth to Harry at nineteen. At least this young couple were married and, judging by the look of pride in Farhan’s eyes, happy.

  ‘Of course,’ said Holly, anxious to avoid offence. ‘Was it a boy or a girl?’

  ‘I have two beautiful girls but I love them anyway.’ Holly raised her eyebrows but said nothing. ‘Do you know what you are having?’ he asked with an almost imperceptible glance at her rounded belly.

  ‘N-not yet,’ Holly stammered, thankful that she had been wearing the old gilt ring that Gareth had given her twenty years ago to back up her cover story of a grieving widow that she used to explain why she was travelling alone.

  ‘Well, I hope you and your baby will have a happy life,’ Farhan said, bowing slightly as he left Holly’s table to attend to other guests.

  Holly poured herself some mint tea and sipped it to calm her nerves. I’ll definitely have to tell Harry about the baby when I see him on my birthday, she thought, if my bump is that obvious to a stranger.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Holly emerged from the comparative cool of the restaurant, with its high ceilings and overhead fans, into a temperature already climbing towards thirty degrees. She deftly twisted her dark curly hair, now dry after her morning shower, into an elastic band before setting off on the post-breakfast walk around the island she had enjoyed every morning since her arrival on Kuremnu.

  The island was larger than most in the Maldives but you could still circumnavigate it in under an hour. From the restaurant Holly headed along the beach to the northern-most tip of the island where the sand gave way to rocks and the lush vegetation draped in the water, making it difficult but possible to pass when the tide was low. It was only 9.30 a.m. but the sun was already high in the sky and as she had done on previous mornings Holly was tempted to stop for a drink at the small bar, The Outcrop, where very early risers could get a light breakfast of fruit and watch the sunrise. A quick glance at her watch told Holly that there would be no time for this particular indulgence if she was to have another shower before assembling in the Lionfish bar with the other guests who were leaving that day.

  A smile spread across Holly’s face as she remembered her reaction to her bathroom the night she arrived from England after a fourteen-hour journey. Muhammad had welcomed her to a beautifully appointed room with petals scattered on her bed and towels folded into the shapes of an elegant swan and her cygnet. Holly was tired. She had been anticipating slipping into a relaxing bath before dinner with water made silky to the touch by the addition of her favourite bath oils.

  Muhammad had opened the door in the far corner of the room and said, ‘And here is your bathroom.’

  The door led outside to a small enclosed garden. A raised tiled area covered by a sloping straw roof housed the toilet, shower and washbasin. Although it was outside, it felt quite
private but the bath was a different matter. It was standing isolated in the middle of the garden, completely open to the heavens.

  ‘Well, this is different,’ Holly had managed to say, trying not to show her disappointment.

  After Muhammad had left, Holly sank on to the bed wondering what to do. She had really been looking forward to a soak, particularly as her ankles were swollen from the flight, but she was a private person and not given to displays of nakedness in public. The walls enclosing the garden didn’t seem very high but then there were no two-storey buildings on the island, apart from the restaurant and nightclub, so she was pretty sure that no one would be able to see in, unless they climbed a tree or walked around on stilts. In the end her desire for total relaxation won over her fear of being seen naked but she had lowered herself carefully into the inviting bath water nonetheless, only releasing her towel at the last possible moment. As she had lain in the fragrant water with the skies gradually darkening to indigo, revealing a multitude of stars hidden from view in most of the light-polluted parts of the planet, Holly couldn’t help wishing that she had been sharing the experience with Philippe. He would have made her feel completely at ease, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘Damn,’ Holly swore, as she stubbed her toe on a partially sand-covered rock. Normally she was careful on this side of the island where the beach was punctuated by vegetation and rocky groynes designed to prevent sand erosion, but her thoughts had drifted to Philippe, making her lose concentration. After finding Rosemary’s note while en route to the Seychelles, urging her to forgive Philippe, Holly had decided that she would give him a chance to explain his actions but only if he tracked her down, which Holly reasoned wouldn’t be too difficult as they had a mutual friend in Rosemary’s husband, Robert. But there had been no contact from Philippe even though Robert had told her that he was back in the UK to promote his new book. Disappointment had turned quickly to anger, and the sense of betrayal returned with a vengeance when she started to read pre-release reviews on his ‘new masterpiece’, as one magazine put it. His true identity was still a mystery to most people but Holly had begun to hear rumblings in the book world that maybe the elusive Veronica Philips was not really a woman.