Candle in the Wind

by Sally Wentworth

  Towards noon Big Annie went out to buy fish from the boats that had just pulled into the harbour, and Sam went back upstairs to wait for Mike. She tried to read a paperback novel that he'd bought her, but she couldn't settle and wandered aimlessly round the room. She sorted through the shopping he'd bought: new socks and a tie for him, shampoo, lipstick, handkerchiefs for her as well as a handbag. Picking up the bag she held it against the sandals; it matched quite well and she liked the style. It was stuffed with bunched- up newspaper which she pulled out so that she could put in her few possessions. That done, she went to throw the newspaper away, but on impulse spread it out and sat on the bed to read it. It was a copy of the local daily newspaper, a very old one, dated over a month ago, but it was still interesting to read of the things that had made headlines then and were now probably completely forgotten. Idly she turned the sheet over and then went suddenly tense as her eyes fell on a large photograph in the centre of the page. It couldn't be! It just couldn't !

  Legs shaking, she slowly got to her feet and walked over to the dressing table. Her pale face stared back at her and then she looked at the photograph again. Yes, there could be no mistake. It was definitely her own image that smiled back at her from the news-sheet. For a long while she gazed at this girl she couldn't remember and then, almost as if she were hypnotised, she raised her eyes to the headline over the photograph: 'MILLIONAIRES DAUGHTER FEARED KIDNAPPED'.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For a moment the words danced in front of her eyes and she felt as if she was going to faint, but somehow Sam managed to pull herself together and to read the caption under the photograph: 'Multi-millionaire James Ashby, who owns considerable property and business interests in the West Indies and who has a branch office in St Vincent, seen here with his daughter, Samantha, aged twenty-two, on board his luxury yacht the Medusa.'

  It took a little time for Sam to take this in, her brain seemed to have become numbed by shock and it was all too much to assimilate at once. She raised her eyes to look at the man with the girl in the photograph. He was in his late forties, she judged, but still an extremely handsome man, with only the slightest shading of grey at his temples. They were both dressed in clothes that were casual but obviously expensive and the yacht looked big and luxurious. And they both looked so happy, the man laughing and with his arm round the girl's shoulders. Could it really be her? Even now she couldn't really believe it. Almost she didn't want to believe it, because she had a sudden flare of jealousy for the girl who knew who she was and was secure in her father's love and her own environment. And if she and the girl were one and the same, what did it make her position now?

  There was more about the story in the paper and Sam read it through carefully, but it didn't tell her a lot more. It mostly reiterated and enlarged on what had been in the caption, giving the address of the man's office in Kingstown and more details of his business interests, which seemed to range all over the world. It then went on to say that Miss Ashby had last been seen early one morning when she had left the family mansion in Barbados to go water-skiing. Her car had been found abandoned in the north of the island, but there was no clue to her whereabouts. No random note had yet been received, but it was feared that she had been taken away by boat and police throughout the West Indies were on the alert for any sign of her. It also said that Miss Ashby had often stayed in St Vincent and had many friends there.

  Sam sat down on the bed and looked down dully at the paper. So that was why Mike had made her wear a headscarf and dark glasses when he took her to the market, why he'd made her stay in the hotel room all day and taken her to a cheap restaurant where she wouldn't be recognised. And he hadn't really worried about going out himself because it was only her they were looking for, not him. But then why had he kept the beard? Her numb brain wrestled with the problem and all she could think of was that possibly he was already a known criminal and was wanted for other crimes. The enormity of the thought made her shudder and for a while her mind shied away from the whole thing, but as she sat there a great many things began to fall into place: Mike's reluctance to talk about himself and unwillingness to leave their island, her lack of a wedding ring or any proof that they were married, but, most of all, her overwhelming conviction when they had first been shipwrecked that she wasn't his Wife and that she didn't love him.

  She tried desperately to think back to when she had regained consciousness in the boat; had he told her they were married before he realised she had amnesia or afterwards? It hit her with sickening clarity that it was the latter, and she remembered how he'd hesitated before he'd said it. Other things came back: his curt denial that she had any family and the brusque way he'd told her that nothing that happened before she'd lost her memory was of any importance. Not of any importance! A father and possibly other members of a family who were probably sick with worry about her. She looked again at the newspaper item, eagerly reading to see if she had overlooked mention of a mother or brothers or sisters, but there was nothing. Still, even to have a father would be a wonderful miracle.

  There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and, afraid that it might be Mike, she hastily folded the newspaper and hid it at the back of the drawer where she'd put her underclothes, but the footsteps went on by and she could breathe again, released from the suffocating fear that had suddenly filled her. Fear? Fear of Mike? But he had never hurt her physically in any way. Even when he had wanted her so desperately he hadn't forced himself on her, had let her make the first move. No, but he had threatened violence and there was no knowing how much longer he would have held himself in check. Doubt raged through her mind. Could he possibly have been speaking the truth? She might have run away to marry him, against her father's wishes, after all she appeared to be rich and he was just… just what? A drifter, one of those people who just sailed eternally to different places and never settled anywhere, a sea-tramp?

  And if he'd kidnapped her why did he want to marry her? So. that he could suck more blood-money out of her father to keep it quiet? But he'd saved her life. Of course he had, she wasn't worth any money to him dead. The arguments raged back and forth in her brain until she had an agonising headache, but still she couldn't leave it alone. In the end it all boiled down to the fact that Mike had said he loved her. If that was a lie, a pretence to make her give herself to him willingly… Oh, God, she had to know the truth, she just had to, or she would go mad! She sat with her head in her hands, her thoughts an agonising turmoil.

  When Mike came back she was sitting waiting for him, outwardly calm. He looked tired, but he had a smile and a hug for her before he went to shower and change.

  'After we've eaten perhaps you'd like to go for a walk in the Botanic Garden near Government House,' he suggested as he put on a clean shirt.

  'In the dark?'

  'The scents of the flowers come out then; and you could do with some exercise, you look pale.' He crossed to her and bent to kiss her lightly on the forehead. 'I'm sorry, Sam, I know it hasn't been any fun for you these last few days, but I'll make it up to you, I swear it.'

  An overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him all about the newspaper article was countermanded by a feeling of revulsion because his professed concern might only be a sham, so she just sat still and did nothing, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap.

  She managed to say with just the right edge of worry, 'What if we're seen?'

  'There won't be much moon tonight and if we see anyone we'll just have to go into a huddle and pretend to be a counting couple. Not that that will be any hardship,' he added with his crooked grin.

  But for the life of her Sam couldn't respond and she merely turned away to pick up her bag.

  They went to the usual restaurant, but she couldn't eat and Mike looked at her in concern. 'What's the matter? Aren't you well?'

  'I—I have a headache. Tell me how you got on today,' she added hurriedly, afraid that he might guess.

  'Everything's going along fine. Th
e engines need only minor adjustments and the owner's agreed to do that straight away, and the Consul tells me that my money will be through tomorrow and that if I take the marriage certificate along to him immediately he'll be able to give us our passport, so we shall be able to leave St Vincent tomorrow night on the evening tide.'

  Tomorrow? Sam gazed at him in alarm; she hadn't realised that everything was happening so quickly. A surge of panic filled her. Tomorrow they would be married, whether they had gone through a ceremony before or not, and then they would leave here and be alone together again on the high seas where he couldn't be traced, where there would be no one to come to her rescue. She had to know the truth before then, somehow she had to make him prove himself tonight.

  With nails digging cruelly into her palms beneath the table, she said, 'Mike, don't I have any family at all who would like to see me married, who would come to the ceremony tomorrow?' and gazed at him searchingly, eager for any reaction.

  His eyelids flickered, but he didn't look at her. 'Is that what's worrying you? No, I told you there's no one.'

  Sam had to bite her lip hard, but she forced herself to go on—after all, he might not have known she had a father. 'Back on our island, you said that we had to get married when we could, that we couldn't choose the time. Why was that?'

  He looked at her then, his blue eyes trying to read hers, and Sam quickly looked down at her plate.

  'It just worked out like that. There was no point in waiting.'

  'I wasn't—we weren't running away from anything or anyone? You'd tell me if we were?'

  There was a short silence and then he said harshly, 'No.' He caught her chin and turned her face round to look at him. 'Why are you asking all these questions now? You're not—you're not starting to remember things, are you?'

  Sam looked at him, sure now that he was lying, a hard ball of grief and disillusionment growing inside her. 'Why, don't you want me to remember?"

  His eyes regarded her steadily and his reply shook her. 'I want it more than anything else in the world. I always have.'

  She dropped her eyes and said dully, "No, I'm not starting to remember. I just wondered, that was all.'

  They left the restaurant and began to thread their way through the outskirts of the town. Sam had never felt less like wandering through a tropical garden, but she was afraid of arousing his suspicions further, and even more afraid of being alone with him in the hotel room and having to lie beside him in the big bed. They walked around the gardens for the better part of an hour, and it was as he'd said, the flower scents stole unforgettably into the air and clung to the night until she could hardly bear it. There were a few other people about, mostly young couples, so that thankfully they didn't have to pretend to be lovers. Pretend? A few hours ago it would have been true, but not now, not any more.

  When they got back to the hotel she undressed quickly while Mike was in the bathroom and was already lying huddled in bed when he came in. Silently he undressed and put but the light and climbed in beside her. Sam moved as far away as possible, but he reached out for her and tried to pull her to him.

  'No!' she said sharply. 'I told you I have a, headache.'

  He chuckled. 'Only married a few weeks and already you're having headaches?'

  'I mean it, I'm not pretending.'

  'So I'll try to soothe it away.'

  He' put his arm round her and began to stroke her forehead gently, but after only a moment Sam could stand his hypocrisy no longer and jerked angrily away.

  'Damn you, leave me alone, can't you?'

  His voice was terse as he moved away. 'All right, I've got the message. I'm sorry. I hope your head feels better in the morning,' and he turned on to his side.

  Sam lay miserably in the darkness. She wanted to cry out her hurt and humiliation but was afraid to in case he heard her and forced the truth out of her. What she was going to do about the situation seemed of little importance, all that mattered was that Mike had lied to her from the start. Everything, right from the beginning, had been one big lie. It was obvious now that she wasn't married to him and he had only said so to stop her trying to find out who she was. And it had kept her at his side when they were rescued, made her believe him and obey him when he'd spun her the tale about being wanted by the police. Wretchedly she wondered why he'd kidnapped her. Simply for money, she sup posed, with the threat of selling her to a brothel on the South American coast if her father didn't pay up? Running into that storm must have really upset his plans. He must have had it all worked out, and her loss of memory must have been a godsend after they were shipwrecked.

  Suddenly terrible pictures began to come into her mind. She remembered a phrase he'd used on the boat, something about 'do I have to knock you unconscious again?' Then he had been joking, but now it made her wonder if he had in fact knocked her out when his boat was sinking. Had she struggled with him, tried to get off on her own? And if she hadn't lost her memory, what would he have done to her then if a boat had rescued them? Would he have terrified her into keeping quiet?

  She trembled violently and Mike stirred, so that afterwards she lay very still, hoping he would think that she was asleep. Memories came back to her then, pictures of what really had been. Mike giving her their last drop of water, of his hands, raw and bleeding after rowing for hours on end, of his holding her when they hit the reef, and of his half carrying her to look for water on the island when he was already so weak he could hardly stand. He'd said he wouldn't let anything happen to her and he'd kept his word, but he had also said that he loved her, and that could only have been a lie.

  Sam had thought that by giving herself to him it would reawaken a love she'd forgotten. It hadn't, there had been no sudden awareness of love, only an aroused passion and a fulfilled physical need that had quickly grown into something deeper. He had the power to arouse her sexually and. to make her give herself to him time and time again and to glory in the giving, but she still didn't know if that was love. She had thought that everything would be clear cut; you either loved someone or you didn't, but all thoughts of analysing her feelings had been lost beneath the tide of passion and physical delight that had consumed her.

  Her fingers dug into the pillow in helpless anger and wretchedness. Oh, why have you done this to me, Mike, why? Her thoughts became bitter. Mike Scott—she didn't even know if it was his real name!

  By the time morning came, Sam had made up her mind what she was going to do. She lay in bed while Mike dressed, but then he came over and gently shook her.

  'Hey, sleepyhead, wake up! We've got a busy day ahead of us.'

  Sam sat up in bed and pulled the sheet up; they'd never got round to buying any night-clothes. She found that she couldn't look Mike in the eye, so instead leaned back against the bed rail and closed her eyes again.

  Mike looked at her white face and dark shadowed eyes in concern and came to sit on the edge of the bed. 'Headache still there?' She nodded slightly and he put his hand on her forehead. 'You feel a bit hot.' The anxiety in his voice increased. 'Are you sure you'll be all right to go through with the wedding this afternoon?'

  Sam gripped the bedclothes tightly and tried to keep her voice steady. 'Yes, I'll be all right.'

  'Good girl. You'd better stay in bed and rest this morning. I'll get Big Annie to bring you up some breakfast and a couple of aspirins. Unfortunately I have to go out to make sure the boat is properly provisioned before we leave and also to buy you another ring. Here, give me your finger and let me measure it.' He made a loop in a piece of string and knotted it round her finger. 'That should do it. Is there anything else you want me to get you while I'm out?'

  'No.' She shook her head, still not looking at him.

  'I'll be back as soon as I can, but it may not be for a few hours, but don't worry—I'll be here in plenty of time for the wedding.' He bent to kiss her, but Sam hastily turned her head away. He looked at her for a moment and then said quietly, 'Isn't it rather late to have wedding day nerves, Sam?'


  'It—it isn't that.'

  'Then I must have upset you in some way. Won't you tell me what it is?'

  'No, there's nothing.' Her voice was little more than a whisper.

  'So why won't you kiss me goodbye?'

  Somehow she made herself look at him and found him watching her with a quizzical expression in his eyes. Leaning forward, she went to give him a light kiss, but the moment her lips touched his she was lost and her arms went round his neck and she pressed her mouth against his fiercely as if she'd never let him go. When she finally did, she leaned her head against his shoulder and said huskily, 'Goodbye, Mike.'

  He looked at her in wry amusement as he put her from him. 'I got more than I bargained for then, didn't I?' He stood up and looked down at her. 'Rest now, sweetheart, I'll see you soon.'

  When he'd gone Sam lay back against the knobbly bedhead, eyes tight closed, her hands' gripping the covers, willing herself not to cry. Crying wasn't going to help now. There would be time enough for that later. Presently Big Annie came in carrying a breakfast tray of coffee and toast with the promised aspirins and sat with her while she ate it, exclaiming in sympathy at her headache. She was being kind, Sam knew, but she wished with all her heart that the native woman would go away so that she could get what she planned to do over and done with.

  At last she waddled away, saying that she had to get to the market, and Sam hardly waited for her footsteps to recede down the stairs before she jumped out of bed and dressed herself in her denims and sun-top. After making sure that there was no one about, she ran lightly down the stairs and into the street. The doors of the restaurant were open and a woman was sweeping out the place. Sam slipped past her and into the public phone booth in the small foyer. With trembling hands she picked up the receiver and nerved herself to speak to the operator.